Bennie found a parking space down the street from Roux, having followed Alice and Carrier here from the office. Their cab was still idling, and the valet waited at its back door to meet them with a golf umbrella. They were evidently going to dinner together, and she would wait until they had finished and Alice was alone. The red Toyota sat behind a boxy white truck, so it couldn’t be seen from the restaurant.
She cut the ignition, freezing the wipers in place. The engine shuddered, and the defrost wheezed into silence. Raindrops ran in rivulets down the windshield, but if she shifted to the left, she had a view of Roux’s entrance, its blue awning flapping in the storm.
She looked around. She’d never eaten at Roux because she didn’t like the neighborhood, which was too industrial, even cheesy. A strip club sat across the street, flashing a sign that read BACHELOR, BACHELORETTE, AND DIVORCE PARTIES! Busted cyclone fencing failed to cordon off empty lots, and the municipal piers were no longer in use, had gone to seed.
She thought ahead. It wouldn’t be long until dinner was over, and it would be darker by then. The storm showed no sign of letting up. There wouldn’t be anybody out on the sidewalk, or anywhere nearby, and in between the Toyota and the restaurant was the back of a distribution center, with a loading dock shaped like a hub. It looked abandoned, too, with only a few tractor trailers rusting in place. There were no streetlights at all.
She listened to the thrumming of the rain and rubbed her eyes. She was so calm, she knew it was the drug. It didn’t feel as if she were going to kill Alice. It felt as if she were performing a series of tasks that would result in Alice’s death. The deed would ruin her, but she wasn’t thinking about that now. She couldn’t go back to her old life, anyway. A snake couldn’t wriggle back into its skin. A cicada couldn’t crawl back into its husk.
She wasn’t Bennie Rosato anymore. She’d passed the point of no return.
She pulled out the gun.
And set it on her lap, waiting.