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outweighing revulsion . His crotch no longer carried the hard woody he so desperately wanted to relieve just a few moments earlier. He had thought he was going to get the blow job of his life , and in a real sense, he had. She grinned at that.
    Her eyes moved to the three crimson holes ripped into his chest and the third eye staring up between the other two. The black powder residue bordered the wound like eye shadow, and the escaped gases from the gun’s barrel g ave it a more pronounced, jagged appearance. There also seemed to be more blood this time. A lot more. But she really hadn’t taken time to notice the last time . It had been darker , and she had been much more concerned (first - time jitters) with dragging Mitchell Morse away from her car and planting him at the dumpster. It had been farther than she thought. Maybe thirty yards, but adrenaline was an amazing ally.
    Things you learn.
    The air was cooling, the way Michigan fall evenings do, and she could smell the faint crispness of autumn riding the breeze as she raised her face to the sky . But there was another scent, unpleasant, out of place — a stench really. One that threatened to spoil the jealous euphoria she had c r eated . It was him. She felt her blood pressure rise. He had to ruin the moment, didn’t he? The narcissistic degenerate couldn’t even die gracefully. But what did she expect? Zebras never changed their stripes.
    The woman in black slid the s tilettos silently back over her feet and fastened the large silver buckles . She promptly kicked Ashcroft’s right ribs so viciously that she heard bones crack. She kicked again and felt the pointed tip go deeper. It was on. There were no thoughts of anything else, no other picture. Just red rage that spoke in a straight - line language she understood, no need for an interpreter .
    When she finally stopped, she was breathing hard, sweat trickled down her temples, and her ankles hurt. She looked at him and noticed he was lying on his face, several bones pressing against graying skin at weird angles , n ot breaking through his beaten hide , but close. She had no real recollection of turning him over; but using him as a trampoline remained vivid. One last point to make.
    Somewhere, a siren wailed, reverberating through the clear evening. Maybe someone saw or heard . M aybe not. Had she screamed? Perhaps . A t any rate, it was t ime to go . She picked up her bag and moved in the direction of the grocery store parking lot two blocks over. She pulled out of the lot just as a red sports car sped by, chased by an LPD cruiser . They were b oth driving like bats out of hell with each driver’s destiny at different ends of the justice spectrum .
    She smiled.

Chapter -12
     
    “So, geniuses, what’s a six - letter word for guardian or protector?”
    Manny looked up from his book, Devil ’s Moon , by Rebecca Stroud . Alex Downs was passing time on the flight to St. Thomas working crossword s with his usual intensity . He sat across the aisle of the FBI’s swanky, corporate-like, Gulfstream G-V , Sophie sitting to the left. Alex’s glasses rest ed on the bridge of his pointed nose . He look ed like a serious, no- nonsense judge from the 1770s.
    Sophie cocked her head to the right, pulled out one earphone, and turned the volume down on her pink MP3 player . “What did you say?”
    “I said, what’s a six - letter word for guardian or protector?” repeated Alex.
    She scrunched up her nose and looked up to the ceiling before suddenly clutching Alex’s chubby arm. Manny placed the bookmark in his book, closed it , and waited.
    “Oh my gosh, I’ve got it. Condom, the word is condom.”
    “What? Is that all you think about, woman? The word is not condom.”
    “No? Are there any letters?”
    “Yes, an N.”
    “Where?”
    Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s the . . . ah . . . third letter.”
    “Do you have any other letters?”
    Manny saw the exasperation forming on Alex’s face.
    “No! I don’t have any