One Step Ahead

Sucker Punch

      Ashley simply stared at the strange man for several seconds, unable to process what he'd just been told. He had given the journal, and the other items, to the detective less than forty-eight hours earlier, so how the hell could it be connected with her death? What could she have found that would make her a target?

      Realizing that the so-called "journalist" was still staring expectantly at him, Ashley slammed the car door and pushed past him, walking toward the building. The lanky redhead dashed after him, continuing to bombard him with questions, as he held his phone, filming the entire encounter.

      "Where did you get the items, Mr. Purdy?"

      "Do you know who they originally belonged to?"

      "Do you have anything to say to Detective Whitman's family?"

      And, finally : "Do you have any concerns for your own safety now?"

      Ashley wheeled on him, practically snarling. "No, but if you have anything resembling a self-preservation instinct, you sure as hell should! Because if you don't get the fuck out of my face, I'm gonna put you on your ass! Get the hell off of my property, or I'll have you arrested for tresspassing, and anything else I can come up with! If I decide that I have something to say, I'll talk to the cops, not an opportunistic piece of shit like you, so haul your ass!"

      But instead of doing as he was directed, Keel continued to trail Ashley, all the way to the entrance of the building, where they were met by a pair of security guards. They both looked at Elton Keel as if he were a particularly unattractive species of insect, and one of them inquired, "Is there a problem, Mr. Purdy?"

      Keel gave them what he considered to be a winning smile. "No problem at all, boys, just doing an interview."

      "Get rid of this asshole," Ashley snarled through his teeth. "And if you see him around here again, have the stupid fucker arrested."

      Noticing that Keel was still recording, one of the guards reached out and jerked the phone from his hand. "Did you give him permission to record, sir?"

      "No, I sure as hell didn't," Ashley replied, and the guard promptly dropped the device to the pavement and ground it under the heel of his boot.

      "Hey, you can't do that!" Keel sputtered. "That phone cost me three hundred bucks!"

      "Looks like I just did, fucknuts. Now, do you have a car for us to haul you back to, or should we just dump your scrawny ass in the street?"

      "Calm your tits, dude, I'm going. No worries, I've still got people to talk to. Maybe they'll be a little more reasonable. Catch ya later!" 

      He crossed the street and jogged to his battered green Taurus, checking the dashboard clock as he fastened his seatbelt. 9:30, it read, and he started the engine and pulled out into traffic. As he drove, he ran through the list of questions that he hoped his next subject would be willing to answer, and watched the clock carefully, because timing was critical. He had to catch this one at exactly the right time, or he'd be out of luck. Deciding that he had just enough time to stop and pick up a burner phone to use until he could get the other replaced, he cranked the steering wheel and whipped into the parking lot at Wal-Mart, earning himself several horn blasts and upraised fingers.

      Quickly making his purchase, he dashed back to the car and careened back into the flow of traffic, making his way across town until he finally reached his destination and shut off the engine, settling in to wait outside the gates of the bustling movie studio.