CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
As Nash left the interrogation room, he watched Jacobs walk hurriedly out of the main entrance and light up a cigarette.
Nash was about to follow Jacobs when Mac stopped him and handed over the clothes. “I think someone was following me as I drove here.”
“Did you get a look at them?” Nash asked, his gaze still fixed on Jacobs.
“Nah, the inside was too dark. But it parked over there and sat facin’ us. Too b****y weird if ye ask me.” Mac nodded toward the view of the train station.
Nash looked over to see the red pickup. The inside was bathed in darkness, hiding the occupants from view. Nevertheless, Nash was sure it was the same truck he had seen leaving Mrs. Marshall’s hotel.
“What do you make of that?” Mac said.
“I’m not sure. Might just be somebody picking som
