I finally found the vehicle I was looking for in a distant corner of the lot. I paused, listening to my wipers slapping back and forth and peering out through the windshield. The rental sticker on the back of the Runabout was the only identifying mark distinguishing it from the dozens of similar models I’d passed in the lot. The car appeared to be empty, but I’d learned, back on the beat, never to take chances. So before getting out to take a closer look, I slipped a hand inside my jacket and drew the Beretta from my shoulder holster. It was a lightweight pistol, sleek and easy to conceal. I flicked its safety and cracked the door of my car.