The muscular man in jeans rubbed his palms together vigorously, then pointed at the Sleeping Jaywalker. “Told ya we shoulda killed the guy the first night he showed up.”
“We had enough problems covering our tracks with that nurse,” replied the man in the suit as he walked out from behind the wooden desk. “Someone goes missing one night, most people shrug their shoulders and go through the motions. Two missing people on the same night — especially if they were seen in the same area — people start asking questions.”
“Cops wouldn’t.” The police officer who had been reported missing sounded insulted, but the man in the suit shook his head. “We haven’t paid off everyone on the force. All it would take is one honest detective — or a federal marshal, even someone in the press — someone starts putting the pieces together, and it could lead them to us.
“But you . . . ” The man in the suit poked his right index finger into the chest of the Sleeping Jaywalker, who didn’t even flinch in response. “You’re just as out of it as you were on that first night. And not only are you not asking questions, but if somebody did come sniffing on our trail — your scent would be just as strong. And unlike us, you wouldn’t have an alibi.” He suppressed a laugh. “No jury’s going to accept ‘sleepwalking’ as an excuse for being present at a crime scene.”
The fat man got up from his chair. “So what we do with him now?”
The man in the suit raised his eyebrows. “If the past is any indication, he’ll just follow us if we just leave. Can’t restrain him, in case somebody stumbles across him.” He stared into the Sleeping Jaywalker’s unblinking eyes. “Think the best course of action — is to take him with us.”
The muscular man in jeans snorted. “To the other warehouse?”
The man in the suit twisted in the muscular man’s direction. “Yes. The Tower warehouse, on 16th Street.”