Desperate Girls

16

ERIK CUT through the crowd, his gaze locked on a commotion on the sidewalk in front of Bamboo Palace. A knot of people had formed there, and Erik’s heart lurched as he saw Skyler kneeling on the pavement.

Ross lay on his side in a pool of blood, blinking up at the people gathered around him.

“Call 911!” Skyler yelled, shoving her phone at a bystander.

“Skyler!”

She looked up at Erik. “He stabbed him! Then he took off !”

“Which way?”

“East. Baseball cap, black hoodie, jeans.” She stripped off her T-shirt and pressed it against the gushing wound at Ross’s side. “I’ve got this. You go!”

Erik raced down the street, darting around people. He caught sight of the man in the ball cap as he ducked around a corner.

Erik sprinted after him, SIG in hand. He sidestepped a jogger and pushed through a knot of people clogging the sidewalk near a bus stop, then ran around the corner just in time to see Corby disappearing around a building.

Erik raced to the location. It was an alley, and he bolted down it as Corby neared the end, where he grabbed a milk crate and flung it into Erik’s path before ducking around another corner. Erik ran after him, hurdling the crate and pulling the buzzing phone from his pocket with his free hand.

“Where are you?” Jeremy demanded.

“Corby’s fleeing west on Pearl Street! I repeat, west on Pearl.” Erik didn’t take his eyes off his target as he tore after him. Horns blared as Corby dashed through traffic, then slid across the hood of a red Corvette parked at a meter.

“Give me a description,” Jeremy ordered. “We’ve got the marshals on the phone.”

Erik halted to wait for a break in traffic, then sprinted across, sliding across the hood of the same Corvette.

“Brown goatee, blue baseball hat, black hooded sweatshirt and jeans.”

“Armed?”

“Skyler reported a knife. He just turned down an alley heading north. I’m in pursuit.” Erik darted down the alley and spied a tall chain-link fence at the end, blocking off a construction site. Corby was nowhere, but Erik saw a gap in the fencing.

“He just entered a construction site. Pearl and . . . Fifth, I think. You copy?”

“Copy that.”

He shoved his phone into his pocket to free his hands as he reached the fence. He yanked back the mesh and pushed through, snagging his T-shirt. Jerking it free, he paused to scan the site, a maze of concrete slabs and heavy machinery, dominated by a towering steel skeleton in the middle. Workmen stood around swigging water and peeling off orange safety vests as they wrapped up for the day.

No Corby.

Cursing, Erik skimmed the giant steel beams and bundles of rebar. He jogged up to the nearest worker.

“Hey, have you seen—”

A jackhammer drowned out the words, and Erik’s chest vibrated with the noise.

On the far side of the job site, Erik spied a man in a black hoodie. He wore a yellow hard hat, but Erik knew it was Corby and charged after him. As if sensing someone behind him, the man glanced over his shoulder, then broke into a sprint.

Erik sidestepped a concrete barricade and leaped across a trench. Corby reached a gap in the fencing, squeezed through, and took off down the street.

“Shit!”

Erik raced after him, reached the opening, and plunged into the street, crashing into a businessman.

He looked in both directions and spotted Corby barreling through a line of people standing beside a food truck. Corby ducked into a building, and Erik glanced at the sign. Mulligan’s Pub. Erik’s gut clenched with dread when he thought of the potential hostage situation. Adrenaline fired through him as he raced to the door and yanked it open.

The place was dim and noisy. His eyes adjusted, and he heard a loud yelp, followed by shattering glass. Pushing through the crowd, Erik followed the noise to the kitchen, where he found a waitress kneeling by a pile of broken bottles.

“Son of a bitch!” she spat, looking toward the back exit.

Erik rushed past the her and plowed through the door. He was in another alley. Corby could have gone in either direction, but he seemed to be traveling more or less west. So Erik took off that way, toward Pearl Street. They’d made a loop, which might or might not have been intentional.

Erik reached Pearl and checked both directions. No yellow hard hat. No black sweatshirt.

A squeal of tires had him spinning around. A black car peeled away from the curb and swerved into traffic. The car sped through a red light as horns blared and drivers slammed on their brakes.

Erik yanked out his phone and called Jeremy.

“He’s in a black four-door heading west on Pearl! Just crossed Sixth.” Erik raked his hand through his hair and cursed as the taillights disappeared. “Repeat, a black four-door. I think it’s a Honda.”

“Copy that. Are you in pursuit?”

“No, I lost him.”