He caught the shuttle for the off-site car rental place he’d phoned the night before. Half an hour later he was on I-10, his six-foot frame chafing beneath the seat belt in the Chevy Impala. He’d never driven in Phoenix before, but at that early hour there was little traffic and he’d studied maps. He also had a sense of direction that could get him from one dark hole to the next without a spot of light. Mostly what he wanted to do was remain inconspicuous. As inconspicuous as a long-haired, broad-shouldered man could be. He’d shed his leather vest and figured his white T-shirt blended in as well as anything might. He’d signaled his exit and followed his preset route to his destination. The neighborhood, once he got to it, was a nice one. Elegant. Expensive. The best. He’d expected nothing less. The gated entry slowed him not at all. Saying he was surprising his sister with a visit, he’d coaxed a garbage guy down the street to give him the service code. Jay had been investigating those who didn’t want to be found too long to let things like gates stop him.
