JК
Ыоуве Been Warned :: Patterson James
Страница: 82 из 138“You don’t know anything about me.”
The volume dips abruptly on the radio. “Everything okay back there?” asks the cabbie.
It’s clearly not a courtesy question. There’s a note of suspicion and alarm in his voice. He can probably tell something’s wrong.
I don’t want to get this driver killed, but I know about the “panic button” – most every New Yorker does. It triggers a light on the back of the taxi that signals to police that something’s wrong, like a robbery or carjacking in progress.
Or whatever this is.
How do I tip off the driver to push the panic button without getting caught?
The Ponytail clears his throat. He’s not about to let me figure that out.
“Everything’s fine,” he announces.
The cabbie seeks out my eyes in his mirror. “Are you sure, lady?” he asks. “Everything’s fine?”
The Ponytail whispers fast and forcefully in my ear. The way he’s squeezing my arm really hurts. “Tell him to mind his own business.”
I take a deep breath and sigh. “We’re okay,” I say. “No need to panic.”
I don’t know if the cabbie gets the hint, but the Ponytail sure does.
Dumb move, Kris!
“I told you not to get cute,” he says, reaching inside his coat. “How many times do you have to be warned?”
Chapter 64
THE PONYTAIL’S GOING to kill me. Right now, right here. That’s what this is. Everything’s been leading up to my death, my murder.
The thought seems to reach every nerve ending in my body at once. All of a sudden I’m shaking all over.
But it’s not a gun that comes out of his jacket. It’s his wallet.
“Stop the cab!” barks the Ponytail.
He pulls out twenty bucks and pushes the money through the slot in the divider as the taxi swerves over to the curb. It happens so fast.
“Consider this your last warning, Kristin,” he says. “Go home and pack your things. Move out of town. Disappear from the Turnbull family before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?” I ask.
“I think you already know. There are four people involved, Kristin. Don’t hurt them!”
He steps out of the taxi, slamming the door hard behind him. He stares at me through the side window. Murmurs a few words. I’m pretty sure the last one is warned.
“Friend of yours?” says the cabbie sarcastically.
“JUST GO!” I yell. “PLEASE, GO! GO!”
He hits the gas and we take off, those bald tires screeching again.
The volume dips abruptly on the radio. “Everything okay back there?” asks the cabbie.
It’s clearly not a courtesy question. There’s a note of suspicion and alarm in his voice. He can probably tell something’s wrong.
I don’t want to get this driver killed, but I know about the “panic button” – most every New Yorker does. It triggers a light on the back of the taxi that signals to police that something’s wrong, like a robbery or carjacking in progress.
Or whatever this is.
How do I tip off the driver to push the panic button without getting caught?
The Ponytail clears his throat. He’s not about to let me figure that out.
“Everything’s fine,” he announces.
The cabbie seeks out my eyes in his mirror. “Are you sure, lady?” he asks. “Everything’s fine?”
The Ponytail whispers fast and forcefully in my ear. The way he’s squeezing my arm really hurts. “Tell him to mind his own business.”
I take a deep breath and sigh. “We’re okay,” I say. “No need to panic.”
I don’t know if the cabbie gets the hint, but the Ponytail sure does.
Dumb move, Kris!
“I told you not to get cute,” he says, reaching inside his coat. “How many times do you have to be warned?”
Chapter 64
THE PONYTAIL’S GOING to kill me. Right now, right here. That’s what this is. Everything’s been leading up to my death, my murder.
The thought seems to reach every nerve ending in my body at once. All of a sudden I’m shaking all over.
But it’s not a gun that comes out of his jacket. It’s his wallet.
“Stop the cab!” barks the Ponytail.
He pulls out twenty bucks and pushes the money through the slot in the divider as the taxi swerves over to the curb. It happens so fast.
“Consider this your last warning, Kristin,” he says. “Go home and pack your things. Move out of town. Disappear from the Turnbull family before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?” I ask.
“I think you already know. There are four people involved, Kristin. Don’t hurt them!”
He steps out of the taxi, slamming the door hard behind him. He stares at me through the side window. Murmurs a few words. I’m pretty sure the last one is warned.
“Friend of yours?” says the cabbie sarcastically.
“JUST GO!” I yell. “PLEASE, GO! GO!”
He hits the gas and we take off, those bald tires screeching again.