found on the railroad track, Andrea knew that it was Sam. He would have contacted her if he had been able to. She showed her sister, Fran, the money and the gun, and told her what had gone down.
Fran Wallace was five years older than Andrea, but a century ahead of her in being streetwise. Fran had two failed marriages behind her, had at one time been a pole dancer at a roadhouse on the outskirts of Phoenix for a couple of years, and was now keeping bar at the Longhorn Saloon, that looked to be a throwback to the Wild West, apart from the addition of a Juke a pool table, too much neon and the absence of spittoons.
“You know who the men were that took Sam?” Fran said.
“No, Sis. But I saw them, and know their Christian names. And they mentioned some guy called Slater.”
“That’ll be Zack Slater,” Fran said.
Andrea frowned. “Who’s he?”
“Someone you really don’t want to meet, Sis, ever. He’s a real piece of shit. How did Sam get involved with him?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve realized that there’s a lot I didn’t know about Sam. I thought he worked from home as a website designer for small businesses. He didn’t talk about it much.”
“What do you intend to do?” Fran said.
“Find out what happened, and why.”
“Bad call, Andy. If Slater had Sam killed, then it was because he was involved with him in some way, and got on his wrong side. Slater has rep for making people vanish.”
Andrea sat down on a kitchen chair and closed her eyes. “I suppose I should call the police.”
“Risky,” Fran said. “Slater has connections. You could put yourself in danger.”
Andrea hit the pine tabletop with her fist as tears misted her eyes. “I can’t just ignore what fucking happened and do nothing,” she shouted. “Sam has been murdered, and I need to do something.”
“Think about it for a day or two,” Fran said. “See what happens. There’s a chance that it wasn’t Sam that was found. Don’t do anything until the dust has settled.”
Andrea knew that her sister was right. But she needed to check out Slater, and the two men that had taken Sam. She would follow them, isolate one of them, and force him to tell her everything.
“What do you think?” Gary said.
“When he comes out of the diner we’ll leave the car here and go deal with him at the motel,” Wayne said. “He won’t be expecting company.”
Gary grinned. “Deal with him?”
“Yeah. Find out why he’s poking into what doesn’t concern him, and then give him an incentive to move on and stay gone,” Wayne said.
Logan stealthily moved over to the side of the door. Silence. He waited. Felt adrenaline surge through him, and was fully prepared to deal with any intruder. Whoever it was, he would put money on him, or them, having been in the dark-blue sedan that had crawled by the diner, braked, and in all probability entered the lot and parked up.
After picking the cheap lock, Gary put his ear to the door and listened. There was no sound from within the room. The guy was obviously asleep. He smiled at Wayne and stood to the side. Wayne knew that the security chain would most likely be on. No big deal. As Gary turned the handle and opened the door, Wayne simultaneously raised his right foot and kicked hard at a point above the handle to rip the screws out of the wood of the doorframe.
A second later Gary was inside the room and pointing a silenced Glock at the shape under the bedclothes. Wayne was behind him, pushing the door to as Gary took a couple of paces towards the bed, too late in thinking that the noise should have caused Logan to sit bolt upright in surprise.
Wayne turned away from the door to be head butted in the face as his gun was taken from his hand. He dropped to his knees and did not even have chance to be aware of the pain as his weapon was used to pistol-whip him across the temple and render him unconscious.
Gary spun