Fireproof

reply.
    “Sometimes he’s not a very nice guy.”
    “Really? Seems like an odd thing to say about your partner.”
    “We’re not partners by choice,” he said, but he didn’t want to go into the long explanation. He looked back over his shoulder again. “I’m supposed to meet Maggie. Should I warn her that Cole is here?”
    “Don’t worry. If he doesn’t have a camera on him”—and she tapped her shoulder bag—“he’s pretty harmless.” She seemed to reconsider that, then added, “But you might want to keep her from seeing the second part of his profile later tonight.”
    “Why did he decide to target Maggie?”
    Sam shrugged. “You’d have to ask him.”
    He was sorry he’d asked because now she glanced down thestreet like she couldn’t wait to escape from him. Maybe she was keeping someone waiting.
    “I know you must have someplace to go, but would you like to join us? Get a quick bite? Didn’t look like you got anything to eat.”
    “Thanks, but I need to get home to my son.”
    “Oh sure. Ignacio.” He tried not to sound relieved that it wasn’t a date she was running off to.
    “You remember my son’s name?”
    “I remember a lot of things if given a chance.” He said it and immediately wanted to kick himself.
    He had never been good at flirting. The remark, however, registered a slow smile from Sam as she glanced away and shook her head. But she made no attempt to walk away.
    “Maybe another time, Murphy.”

CHAPTER 52

    Tonight’s motel had a large flat-screen television. He made sure of it before he checked in, looking inside a window after he saw the maids leave. He didn’t mind that this one was an extra twenty bucks a night. Money wasn’t a concern as much as privacy and, now, a big flat-screen television.
    He was tired after a full day of work. He’d stayed out most of the night, blowing off steam, driving in the sleet, and finding the right place to lie in wait for just the right target. He was so good it wasn’t much of a challenge anymore. He constantly had to add something to the mix, change things up. Last night’s kill had calmed him, but it wasn’t as satisfying as the doubles he had pulled off just days ago.
    It didn’t matter. He was finished with this job. He wanted to go home. He would get back on the road after one final task.
    He hauled in his treasure trove from last night, everything fitting nicely in a small black garbage bag. It had leaked in his vehicle. He had to throw out the brand-new liner. He had chosen a Dumpster behind a truck-stop diner that was already ripe and foul smelling. No one would notice his addition. For now he’d set the sticky bag in the bathtub. He’d get to it later.
    He took out his burger and fries and arranged them on the greasy paper bag they’d come in. He made himself comfortable on the middle of the bed, where he could lounge, eat, and watch part two of Margaret O’Dell’s life.
    He had been looking forward to seeing Cole’s next piece, though he didn’t like the man interjecting so much of his own opinion. Cole pretended it was journalism, but he’d do better by sticking only to the facts. Still, it was extremely enjoyable.
    He’d gotten delayed in traffic on the interstate, so by the time he found the channel Cole was already asking Kathleen O’Dell about her daughter’s childhood.
    He saw the resemblance. The same auburn hair and brown eyes. He was hoping there would be more photos. Maybe some of Margaret as a child. A teenager.
    “Her father called her Magpie,” Kathleen O’Dell was telling Cole. “He died when she was twelve. Sometimes I think she loved him so much that when he died she didn’t have any more love to give.”
    He didn’t hear what Cole asked next. All he heard was “magpie” and his mind went into a tailspin. His own mother had all kinds of superstitions that she tried to instill in him and his brother. He remembered her story about the magpie. It was the only bird that refused to enter Noah’s ark and preferred instead to perch on the roof. It was bad luck to see one when you set off on a journey. And if you dared to kill one, misfortune would strike you down. It was best to treat a magpie with respect.
    From the first time he saw Margaret O’Dell, he felt there was something special about her and now he knew.
    By the time his mind came back to the television the interview was over. Someone else had replaced Jeffery Cole. His burger wascold and his fries were hard. He lay on