Pressing buttons, I returned the call.
'Hi, Rink. Where are you now?'
'Watching some kinda fireball from out on Biscayne Bay,' Rink said. 'Don't tell me that was your doing.'
'Not responsible,' I reassured him.
'But as usual you're smack bang in the middle of it.'
'Who, me?'
Rink laughed. 'Glad you're OK, Hunter. Did you get Marianne away?'
'Afraid not,' I said. 'Something else went down here, Rink. But at least the girl is safe. We can pick her up later.' Then I told him about the killer, and what he'd done.
'Sounds like one desperate son of a bitch,' Rink offered. 'Any idea who he was? Why he was there?'
'I overheard a little. Sounded like a real sadist: he wanted Jorgenson to pick which of them died first.'
'Ah, just your typical whacked-out freak with his own agenda, huh?'
'He came across like a psycho killer, Rink. But there was more to it. He was a professional. He wasn't there just to get his kicks. He'd been sent by someone who wants Jorgenson and Marianne dead.'
'But they got away?'
'Yeah. And when this asshole realises he missed them, he'll be back.'
And we'd be waiting.