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“What else did you have in mind?” she asked.“Uhm ... a movie or dinner or a walk along the riverfront... ?” I said.“They’re all very good ideas,” she said. “But I think we should call it a night.”“Okay...” I said, trying not to sound disappointed. She looked like the cat that swallowed the canary.I was pretty sure that I had figured out her game. She was a misandrist. It had nothing to do with Ed, or with me, Wendy simply hated men. She enjoyed seeing us disappointed and hurting us. The more I thought about it, the more I saw through her game.Ed had been smitten with the bitch from jump street. She had built up his affection to the point where she was satisfied and then dumped him without actually giving him the dignity of being dumped.What I’d originally taken as kindness, was just more game playing. If she’d simply told Ed that she didn’t want to date him again, it would have been far easier on him. Instead of chasing her around and begging her to go out with him, she got him. He was a damned smart, and uncannily intuitivedetective who had proven himself more than once in the past few yearssince making the grade. If Allen was showing his clownish side, orbumbling around, it was usually because he thought he was ontosomething.Mike felt no reason to point that out.He damn sure wasn't going to defend his friend to this asshole.What confused him, though, was that if the Sarge wasn't with Allen, andthe assassin hadn't nailed him, where was he? Or she?He had yet to pin down the Doc, either, and it seemed Mrs. Drake hadgone to ground so well the clever bastard still couldn't find her. Heknew, because the man had the tendency to talk to himself, and he wasslowly getting the feeling the man wasn't quite tightly wrapped.He couldn't deny he was smart, and deadly, but he was definitely onestep from a straitjacket."Nothing to say," the man asked with a smirk as he turned in his chairto eye Mike as he dangled from his chains, his bruised and swollenfeatures dark with.
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