Gridlock: A Ryan Lock Novel by Sean Black Page A

like it.’
    ‘You have any regular correspondents?’
    ‘A couple.’
    ‘Anyone who’s threatened to harm you or others?’
    ‘Apart from the stalker?’ she asked.
    ‘Yeah.’
    She shook her head, then seemed to study him for a moment. ‘You were a cop originally, right?’ she asked him.
    ‘Military one.’
    ‘I thought MPs and the investigators were two different things.’
    ‘They are here. But I served overseas.’
    He gave the street a quick scan, then turned back to her. He had to keep his vigilance up, especially in places she was known to frequent. ‘I served in the Close Protection Unit of the Royal Military Police.’
    ‘They’re good?’ she asked.
    ‘The best.’ Something caught in his throat and he coughed. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Have you given the TMU people access to your email and any social networking sites you use?’
    ‘Yeah,’ Raven said. ‘I gave Stanner all the passwords but I don’t think the stalker’s been in touch that way.’
    ‘Good. Then are we done here?’ he asked.
    Raven tapped the edge of the final envelope against the palm of her hand. ‘I guess so.’
    ‘So where next?’ he asked.
    ‘Food!’
    ‘It’s better if we don’t order takeout. The fewer people we have coming to the front door the better. But it’s your call.’
    She frowned. ‘That makes sense. Grocery store it is, then.’
    Five minutes later Lock pulled the Range Rover into the parking lot of the Vons supermarket on Laurel Canyon Boulevard. He stopped near the front and got out first. The early-October heat was brutal. The Santa Anas must have picked up again. He walked round to open Raven’s door.
    Stepping out, she left the mail she’d collected on the passenger seat. ‘So what do you and Ty like to eat?’
    Lock put his hand just behind her back, escorting her into the cool of the store. ‘You spend time in the military, you learn to eat what you’re given.’
    ‘So, tofu,’ she said, then added, with a nervous smile, ‘I’m kidding. Let’s get some steaks.’
    ‘Sounds good,’ Lock said, his eyes flitting over everyone who rolled a cart past them. The customers were predominantly white with a scattering of Hispanics and very few African-Americans. The distinct racial profile of Los Angeles’ sprawling neighbourhoods was one of the things that had most struck him about the city. It contrasted sharply with New York, where every race, creed and colour were stacked, almost literally, on top of each other. Here the boundaries of social class and race were sharply differentiated.
    As they turned the corner at the end of the aisle, Lock noticed a middle-aged man wearing business casual attire of slacks and a white shirt with no tie, staring at them. His hair was matted from the heat and he had a nice little paunch going. Lock met his gaze – but he didn’t look away, as most men usually did when Lock made eye contact in a way that suggested he, and anyone he was with, wanted to be left alone.
    Raven must have noticed the man too because she gave a little shudder.
    ‘Ignore him,’ he reassured her. ‘He’s probably starstruck. If he’s something else, I’ll deal with it. Relax. Do what you were doing.’
    They were next to freezer cabinets full of ice cream. ‘Could you grab me some Rocky Road?’ she asked him.
    ‘Sure.’ He reached in, pulled out a tub and placed it in the cart for her. The guy was still staring. They moved on down the aisle and he followed, trying to make it seem coincidental.
    Next to him, Lock heard Raven mutter, ‘This is bullshit.’ Then she started towards the man. ‘Can I help you?’
    He was clearly surprised to be confronted. He stepped back, then looked around as if searching for a hidden camera. ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘You were staring at me,’ Raven said.
    The guy recovered his composure. ‘Maybe I thought I recognized you.’
    ‘And do you?’ she asked him.
    The guy smiled.