Page 26 of Crossing the Line
Waverly looked like she was going to argue with him.
“I mean it, Angel. Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He knew he had her when her bottom lip poked out just a bit. It was another one of her tells.
“Be careful,” she warned him.
Xavier nodded and turned back to Jim.
“Just ask for Ricardo down there. He’ll hook you up.”
“Thanks, Jim. Keep an eye on her,” he said, jerking his thumb at Waverly. “She’s sneaky.”
Waverly rolled her eyes and Xavier winked at her.
Downstairs he found a makeshift security hub commandeering the section just left of the entrance. Ricardo was as short as Jim was tall, and he moved in quick, jerky movements.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he nodded vigorously at Xavier. “Saint. Jimbo said he’d send you down. We got a possible suspect a few rows back behind the barricade. Black ball cap and a Texans t-shirt.”
He tapped the screen of a security monitor showing a live feed of the crowd on the right hand side of the red carpet. “Can’t tell on this piece a’ crap. But Jim spotted him when he was doing a sweep outside.”
“Mind if I take a look out there?” Xavier asked, fully intending to do so regardless of the answer.
“Have at it,” Ricardo nodded. “Grab a walkie so you can let us know if you need backup.”
Xavier snagged a radio out of the charger, slipped on his sunglasses, and ambled out the door. He’d make it look like a routine sweep. He walked down the inside of the barricade behind the mini makeshift stages where entertainment reporters had recorded interviews with new arrivals. The crowd started up against the front of the wing of the museum, still several rows deep despite the fact that it had been hours since anyone had arrived. He took his time scanning each face, running it against the pictures of Ganim he’d memorized.
He was almost done with the sweep when the black ball cap caught his eye. He was further back from the barricades now and not very tall so it was harder to spot him. He was looking down at his hands, probably at a phone.
Come on, buddy, look up. Let me see your face.
He could only stare into the crowd so long before someone caught on that there was an issue, and he didn’t want Ganim to get nervous and run. If he could get to the man, he could detain him, ask him some questions, and alert the cops if there was any trouble. But he knew full well that no action would be taken until Ganim made some kind of move. There was nothing illegal about mailing a wedding dress.
“Come here often?” The question came slyly from a woman in overalls clutching an “I HEART DANTE” sign.
Xavier pretended not to hear her, and the man in the hat finally turned. He got a hit on the profile. Ninety percent sure it was him.
“Come on. Come on,” Xavier muttered. “Show me.”
His radio squawked. “Any familiar faces out there, Saint?” Ricardo’s voice crackled.
“Got a possible,” Xavier answered back. Only one way to find out, he decided. “Hey, Ganim!” he shouted over the din of the crowd. Ball Cap lifted his head and looked Xavier in the eyes. Those dark, empty eyes widened. Xavier could see the thoughts swirling for a full second before the man spun around and took off at a dead run.
Xavier knew that jumping the barricade and fighting his way through the crowd was futile. Instead, he sprinted down the remainder of the red carpet into the street and fought his way through the line of limos and cars parked on the street. By the time he ran behind the crowd, Ganim was gone, lost in the bustle of Wilshire.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
“Missed him?” Ricardo skidded to a stop next to him, not even breathing heavily.
“Yeah,” Xavier straightened. “It was definitely him, though. Good eyes on your team’s part.”
Ricardo shrugged jerkily. “Most action we get at these things are cat fights and coked up D-listers tryin’ to get in. Maybe once in a while a bum takes a piss on some signage. Was nice to have something to do,” he said. “Expectin’ trouble from him?”
“Always a possibility,” Xavier said mildly as Ricardo led the way around to a side door, keyed in the entry code. Xavier’s phone signaled in his jacket.
“Kate,” he said by way of a greeting.
“Hey, X Factor. I just got a Facebook message from Les Creeper. He’s there. He sent a pic of the museum and said he’s waiting outside for Waverly. I think it’s for real.”
He could hear the edginess in her voice.
