Rarities Unlimited 02 - Running Scared

paused, swallowed, “Gold, I guess.”
    “What gold?”
    He ignored the question. It was too much effort to explain. The only thing that was worth the pain of talking was sending some bad luck down on Socks. “His name—Cesar.”
    “Another man?”
    “Socks.” The word was a desperate exhalation.
    “You mean that Socks’s real name is Cesar?”
    A groan that might have been yes was Tim’s only answer. Then another groan. “I killed him.”
    “Socks?”
    “Cline. Don’t want prison. Never.”
    “Don’t worry, Timmy. Your father will take care of you. He loves you.”
    Tim would have laughed, but he was trying to find a place on his body that didn’t hurt. He was still trying when black closed around him again. He welcomed it like a lover.
    Miranda picked at her cuticles and looked down at her frighteningly pale son.
    Soon there was a light knock followed immediately by the door opening. The nurse looked in. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Seton, but the doctor wants your son to rest as much as possible. Please come with me. Dr. Wells can answer your questions.”
    She started to object, saw that Tim had slid back into unconsciousness, and sighed. “How long before I can visit him again?”
    “Several hours at least.” The nurse’s broad, hairy hand gently gripped Miranda’s elbow as he steered her out of the room. “Dr. Wells is waiting. There will be plenty of time for all your questions before your son wakes up again.”
    And, the nurse thought cynically, plenty of time for the worried mother to slip out and buy more booze and mints. From what he’d seen on the clinic’s discreet surveillance cameras, she was about at the end of her bottle.
    Not that the nurse really cared. He was used to alcoholics and their games. When the Bateman-Molonari Clinic wasn’t tucking up sagging skin, it was drying out and feeding up rich patrons so that they could go forth and drink themselves back into a coma. Between vanity and booze, the clinic always had a waiting list. Still, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the lady. The patient might wake up a few more times, maybe even have a real lucid spell . . . but that would be it.
    The lady’s son was dying.

Chapter 40
    Las Vegas
    November 4
    Morning
    I an pulled his car up near Shane in the cracked parking lot of the Jackpot Motel. He noticed that Shane was doing the same thing Ian had been since they left the casino—looking over his shoulder.
    “Where is he?” Shane asked as Ian walked over.
    “Who?” asked Risa.
    “The guy who followed us,” Shane said.
    “The blonde in the red car?” she asked.
    Shane gave her a quick look. He hadn’t thought she noticed.
    The look she gave back to him said that there were a lot of things about her that he hadn’t noticed, and number one of all was that she could take care of herself.
    “That’s the one,” Ian agreed, drawing their attention to him. “He’s half a block down.”
    “You get his plate?” Shane asked.
    “Already called it in to Rarities.”
    “If they can’t access Nevada’s state license bureau in a hurry, I can.”
    “Yeah, Niall said something about you learning to be a world-class hacker at your daddy’s knee.”
    Risa said, “I’m not listening to this. I haven’t just heard my boss—my ex -boss—say that he can hack into government computers. Think of the blackmail possibilities. But I’m not listening.”
    “Good call,” Shane said. “Let’s go.”
    Armed with photos taken from the security cameras of Cherelle and “Bozo,” the three of them walked into the Jackpot Motel’s office door. The office reeked of smoke and the contents of an overflowing ashtray the size of a soup plate. The woman behind the fake wood counter looked old enough to have kids on Social Security. She was wearing a scoop-front, thigh-length orange sweater and black tights. Her hair was improbably black. Her face looked like it had been slept in for eighty years.
    “Sorry to bother you, ma’am,” Risa said, “but I’m trying to find my friend, Cherelle Faulkner.” As she spoke, Ian slid a photo onto the counter. “She was staying here a few days ago and might not have checked out yet.”
    “You lose your friends often?” the woman asked in a raspy voice.
    Risa smiled from the teeth out. “No. But Cherelle is a little careless about things like checking out and paying bills. So I kind of go along behind her and see that nobody ends up short. How much did she owe you?”
    The woman glanced