Desperate Measures

28

It was nearly two AM when Cilla dropped Stone off at his house. “Let me know if you hear anything,” she said.

“I will.”

He was getting into bed when Dino called.

“Did I wake you?”

“You would have in another ten minutes,” Stone said.

“We’ve got nothing, not a trace. She went into the Caswell-Massey store on Lex and bought some soap, but after that, nobody saw her on the street.”

“This is bad,” Stone said wearily.

“The search is still on,” Dino said. “Not to be pessimistic, but nobody will be able to dump a body in that neighborhood without being seen.”

“I don’t think it will happen tonight,” Stone said. “The kinds of injuries the ME described won’t happen fast. He’ll want to enjoy himself.”

“Until he gets tired of her,” Dino added. “Talk to you in the morning.”

Dino hung up, and Stone fell into bed, exhausted by his worry and his inability to do anything to help Faith.

Faith knew the man would be coming back for her. She managed to get the cloth between her chin and her shoulder and move it until, with her head pitched back, she could see out through one of the small breathing holes if she tilted the chair back a bit. She nearly went too far and fell on her back, but caught herself in time.

She could see a stool on the floor in front of her, next to the wall, and there was a window above it. The window appeared to be fixed, with four large panes. There was no sign of a lock. Then she heard a noise: the sound of an elevator running. She had an idea, but she would have only one shot at it before the elevator reached wherever she was.

She stood on her feet, bent over because her hands were tied to the chair. For an instant she wondered what floor she was on, but she pushed that thought out of her mind. If she was going to die, then better to do it now.

She backed up against the wall behind her and judged the distance to the stool, then, leaning into it, she began to run as fast as she could under the circumstances. She knew she needed momentum, and her thoughts went back to the high school track team, when she would lean forward into the tape at the finish line for that last bit of speed.

She leapt and got a foot on top of the stool and pushed off, as high and as fast as she possibly could, and dove headfirst into the window. There was the crash of breaking glass, then she was falling in cold air, falling and falling.

It was nearly five AM as two uniformed cops sat in their patrol car at the corner of Lexington Avenue, facing downtown. One of them reached for the radio’s microphone and called in their position. “We’ve made two dozen sweeps uptown and downtown and found nothing. Are we getting a shift change soon?”

“Come on in to the precinct,” the operator said.

“Let’s go, Max,” the cop said to the driver, who put the car in gear. Then there was a very loud noise heard from the direction of the driver’s window. He stopped the car and reversed a few feet. “What the fuck was that?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but I heard it, too.”

They both stared east, at the empty street. Nothing was moving or making more noise.

“It sounded almost like a car crash,” the driver said.

“I don’t see anything,” his partner said.

“Let’s take a stroll,” Max said.

They got out of the car and began to walk east.

“You take the other side of the street,” Max said. Halfway down the block he encountered some broken glass on the sidewalk, but he could find no broken windows.

The two cops continued to Third Avenue, then turned and walked back toward Lexington. Halfway up the block, in line with the broken glass, he passed a dumpster and thought he heard a small sound from its direction. He looked up and could see that both of the steel lids were propped open. They should get a ticket for that, he thought.

“Max, where are you?” his partner called from across the street.

Max walked to the east end of the dumpster, stepped up on the bumper of a car parked next to it, and got out his flashlight. He played it over the contents: broken drywall, short pieces of lumber, broken glass — the detritus of demolition. He saw a wooden chair, broken, and fixed on that for a moment. He was about to get down from the bumper when he saw something else that transfixed him.

There was a hand — a woman’s hand from the size of it — tied with rope to the chair.

He reached for his radio and called in his location. “I’ve found something: requesting an ambulance right now!”

“Harvey!” he yelled at his partner. “I got something here. Get to the car and turn on the flashers, so an ambulance will see it.”

“What have you got, Max?”

“At least part of a woman!” Max yelled back, wading into the dumpster.

Stone’s phone rang, causing him to sit straight up in bed; he was unaccustomed to calls at this hour. “Hello?”

“It’s Dino. I thought I’d call you because I’m awake, and I’m not going back to sleep.”

“That was thoughtful of you.”

“My people found Faith. At least, we think it could be Faith. She’s about the right size.”

Stone’s heart sank. “Is it so bad that she can’t be identified?”

“Not yet, not for sure. They’re taking her to Bellevue.”

Stone woke up a little more. “Why not the morgue?”

“Because she’s still alive,” Dino said. “At least, she’s not dead yet.”

“Thank God.”

“Don’t thank Him too soon,” Dino said. “This is really bad.”

“Where are you?”

“About to leave home. Shall I pick you up on the way?”

“Please. See you shortly.”

Ten minutes later, Stone stood at the curb, watching the black SUV turn the corner. He got into the backseat with Dino. “Anything new?”

“Nope, and no news is good news,” Dino replied.