Son of the Morning by Linda Howard Page B

studied the effects of his work. Both of the punk's eyes were swollen nearly shut, his nose was a bleeding mass of crushed cartilage, and instead of missing just a few teeth he now had few left. That had been nothing more than the softening up, though. The real persuasion had taken the form of broken ribs and fingers.
     
    "You saw her," he said softly. "You robbed her." "No, man," The words were mushy, almost unintelligible.
     
    That wasn't the answer Conrad wanted. He sighed, and twisted one of the broken fingers. The punk screamed, his body arching against the tape that held his ankles strapped to the chair legs and his wrists lashed to the wooden arms.
     
    "You saw her," he repeated patiently. "We don't have the money no more!" the punk sobbed, his minuscule store of courage already depleted.
     
    "I am not interested in the money. Where did the woman go?"
     
    "We got the hell outta ’ there, man! We din' hang around, y'know ?"
     
    Conrad thought about it. The punk was probably telling the truth. He glanced at the crumpled body behind the chair. Too bad the young black man had used very bad judgment and pulled a knife on him. Perhaps he would have noticed something this cretin hadn't.
     
    To be certain, he twisted another finger, and waited until the screams subsided. "Where did the woman go?" he asked again.
     
    "I don' know, I don' know, I don' know!" Satisfied, Conrad nodded. "What was she wearing?" "I don' know-"
     
    Conrad reached for a finger, and the punk shrieked. "No, don't, stop!" he screamed, blood and mucus streaming from his broken nose. "It was raining', all her clothes was dark."
     
    "Pants or a dress?" Conrad asked. It had been raining, and if the woman had been out in it all the time she would have been soaked. He wasn't unreasonable; he didn't expect this idiot to notice colors at night, and in the rain.
     
    "I don'-pants. Yeah. Maybe jeans, I dunno ." "Did she have a coat, a jacket?" The weather had turned colder, which wasn't unexpected. It was the warmth that had been unusual for Minneapolis, not this more seasonable chill.
     
    "I don' think so." "Short sleeves or long?" " Sh -short, I think. Not sure." He gulped in air through his mouth. "She was carrying a garbage bag, kinda hid her arms."
     
    No jacket, and short sleeves. She had been wet to the skin, and she would now be very cold. Conrad didn't wonder what was in the garbage bag; it was a commonsense solution to keeping papers dry. Mr. Sawyer would be pleased.
     
    She had gotten money from an ATM, and this piece of excrement had promptly robbed her. She was without funds, without any means of coping. Conrad thought he should be able to find her within a day, if she hadn't sought out the police by then. Though Mr. Sawyer had everything under control even if she made accusations against him, Conrad preferred to find her himself. It would be easier that way.
     
    He looked at the human trash in the chair. The punk had no redeeming qualities. He had no skills, no morals, no value.
     
    A bullet was too expensive for exterminating vermin, and too quick. Conrad reached out his gloved hand and closed it on the punk's throat, and expertly crushed his trachea. Leaving him suffocating in the chair, Conrad walked out of the abandoned house in the worst part of the city. He moved silently, unhurriedly. Screams were common in the neighborhood. No one paid him any attention.
     

Chapter 4
     
    DISTANCE, GRACE LEARNED, WAS RELATIVE. EAU CLAIRE,
Wisconsin
, wasn't all that far from Minneapolis if you were driving, a matter of an hour or two, depending on where you were in Minneapolis when you began and how fast you drove. In a plane, it was nothing more than a hop. On foot, and having to hide during the day, it took her three days.
     
    She didn't dare take a bus; with her long hair and carrying a computer case she would be too easily recognized. She didn't know, but she thought it would only be common sense for the police, knowing she didn't have