Page 3 of Destroyer
After several long seconds, she snuck a peek onto the street. It was dark. If her contact didn’t come though, she needed to get herself the hell out.
Okay, Sydney, think.
Her phone vibrated. She glanced at the screen, answered. “Tell me something good.”
“A woman driving a black four-door sedan is three minutes out. She’s going to park near your car, get out, and walk her German Shepherd. Share your GPS location with me.”
Sydney did.
“Got it,” he said. “Stay on the phone with me.”
“A car is coming,” she whispered. The security patrol car drove slowly by, the floodlight shining into the bushes. “It’s security.”
The car stopped, then backed up. He shone the light on the other side of the street, then shone it in the yard where she was hiding. Like a child playing hide-n-seek, Sydney, lowered her masked head and held her breath.
Keep moving.
Then, the car continued slowly up the street, and she breathed.
“What’s your rental car?” asked the man on the phone.
“A white two-door coupe,” Sydney replied.
“She parked near you. She’s got the dog on a leash.”
Sydney peeked out from behind the bush. “Tell her to walk toward the patrol car. He’s driving toward the corner. I’m crouched behind the second house.”
“As soon as she’s there, tell me,” he said. “I’ll have her stop. Walk over to her and take her hand.”
“I’m in a ski mask.”
“Yeah, so do something about that. She’s fifteen seconds out.”
Sydney removed the mask, shoved it inside her jacket, and ran her fingers through the blonde wig to fluff it up. A tall woman with long, dark hair, sauntered by, then stopped, a large dog by her side.
“You trust her?”
“Absolutely. It’s my cousin Monroe.”
Relief coursed through her as she sauntered toward the sidewalk. Once there, she smiled. “Thank you.”
The woman nodded, then clasped her hand. “I’m Monroe. Good to finally meet you.”
“Same.” Sydney eyed the quiet street.
“Take off your gloves,” Monroe said.
“I can’t leave any prints,” Sydney pushed back.
The wailing siren of a police car crashed into the silent night.
“Showtime,” Sydney murmured.
The car sped past as the trio made their way toward Sydney’s car. She didn’t feel the need to make small talk and was relieved Monroe stayed quiet. They rounded the corner, heading toward Sydney’s parked car. Headlights lit up the street, the security guard pulled up alongside them.
“Buonasera, signoras.”
“I got this,” Monroe whispered. “Buonasera, signore.”
