"How do you want to play this?" I asked as we approached Carter's unit.
“Stay out of sight,” he said. "I'll handle this."
We reached the door to unit #8. I stood to the side, just out of view of the peephole. The sound of a TV filtered down the foyer and seeped through the door.
Tyson banged a heavy fist.
Commotion inside rumbled, and footsteps padded down the hallway.
The peephole flickered as somebody peered through. "Who is it?"
"It's Randy,” Tyson said. “Jamaal said you might be able to help me out." Tyson flashed a disarming smile.
The deadbolt unlatched and Carter pulled open the door with curious eyes.
Chills shivered my spine, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood tall. Adrenaline coursed through me, and my body trembled. I had only seen him for an instant in the foyer of Grayson's house, but the man's build was unmistakable. So were his eyes. It was the only feature I had seen of him. More than that, I felt his presence.
My initial reaction—I wanted to kill him right then and there. It took every ounce of self-discipline I had not to draw my weapon and empty the magazine into his chest.
Better judgment prevailed.
Carter looked at Tyson with a wrinkled brow, then his eyes looked at me and filled with panic. "Oh shit!"
It just slipped out of his mouth. An involuntary expression as he recognized me. He stepped back, slammed the door, and flicked the deadbolt.
"We just need to talk to you," Tyson shouted.
There was no response.
Tyson gave me a look.
I nodded.
"Well, that answers that question," he said.
We headed back to the car.
"What do we do now? Can you get a warrant for that guy's arrest?"
"No. Not enough probable cause."
"I'm telling you, that's him. How much more do you need?"
"If I put five guys with his build in a lineup, do you think you'd be able to pick out who's who?"
"The eyes, Tyson. The eyes."
"You told me the guy wore a balaclava. That's never going to hold up, and a judge is not going to sign off on it. I need something physically tying him to the crime scene.”
I frowned.
"Next time, shoot them both," he said dryly.
"Well, he was gone before I had the opportunity," I said.
We climbed back into the Porsche, and Tyson started up the engine.
"What now?" I asked.
