Desperate Measures

54

Stone took Faith’s coat, sat her down, and got her a cognac. She sipped it gratefully.

“Did you call the police?” Dino asked.

“I left my cell phone,” she said. “It’s in my apartment.”

“Did you tell the nearest cop?”

“Dino,” she said, “you’re the nearest cop.”

“Then tell me what happened.”

“Wait a minute,” Stone said. “Faith, this may not be the best time to speak to the police. You’ve reported the shooting, and now you need to be represented by an attorney before you speak to them again.”

“Stone, you’re the nearest attorney,” Faith said. “I’d like you to represent me.”

“All right,” Stone said.

Dino spoke up. “Caroline, Charlotte, Viv, will you leave us, please? Have a seat in the living room, and close the door behind you.”

“You mean we don’t get to find out what happened?” Caroline asked.

“Not just yet,” Stone said, herding them toward the living room and closing the door. He sat down again. “All right, Dino, do you want to go off the record here?”

“I don’t see how I can do that,” Dino said.

“Then please go and join Caroline, Charlotte, and Viv in the living room, while I speak to my client.”

Dino shot him a dirty look. “Lives may be at stake here,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“All right, Faith,” Stone said. “Tell me what happened.”

Faith took a deep breath. “I walked up Park Avenue for a while,” she said, “then I started home. I was walking down Lexington Avenue, and I passed the hotel where I used to overnight in New York. Somebody opened a door and walked away, and as the door slowly closed itself I heard something familiar.”

“And what was that?”

“Classical music,” she said.

“What kind of classical music?”

“Like chamber music. I’m not sure if it was exactly the music I heard after I was kidnapped, but it was a lot like that. I got to the door before it closed and stepped inside. The lobby has been gutted, but it was clear of debris and appeared to have been swept. There was one work light standing in the middle of the room; the front desk was gone, but I could see a light coming from where the manager’s office was. The music was full and rich, like before, and it was pretty loud.”

“What did you do then?”

“I started walking slowly toward the manager’s doorway. I wanted to see who was in there. My gun was in my bag, and I took it out and worked the action as quietly as I could, then I put the safety on.”

“Is the gun still in your bag?” Stone asked.

“Yes.”

“Please take it out, pop the magazine, and eject the round in the chamber, then put them on the coffee table.”

She followed his instructions.

“Now show me how you were holding the gun.”

“Like this,” she said, holding out the weapon in her right hand and cradling it in her left.

“Your finger is outside the trigger guard,” Stone said. “Was it like that when you were approaching the manager’s office?”

“Yes. It’s how I was trained. You never touch the trigger, unless you intend to fire.”

“All right, now set the gun on the coffee table.”

She did so.

“Continue, please.”

“I could see part of the office, and it seemed to be intact — I mean I could see a corner of the desk and a lamp. I halfway tripped over something, and as I regained my balance, my heel struck the floor, which is marble, and it made a noise. Immediately, the music was turned off.”

“Completely off? Not just turned down?”

“Off or down so low I couldn’t hear it anymore. I was right outside the door by then, and I heard something move inside the office. I stuck my head inside, and there was a man standing behind the desk.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“No, he was wearing black coveralls, like a jumpsuit, and he had a hood over his head, with holes cut out for the eyes.”

“Was he armed?”

“He had his right hand inside the coveralls at his chest, so I assumed he was about to draw a weapon. I stepped forward into the office and yelled ‘Freeze!’ the way I was taught during training.”

“Where was your trigger finger at this time?”

“I moved it from the trigger guard to the trigger. Then it was like slow motion. His hand started to come out of his coveralls, and I fired once, at his chest, then the lights went off, and I felt him brush past me, knocking me off balance. I reached for something to steady myself, but I fell to one knee, which hurt, because I still have stitches in that leg.”

“Which leg?”

“My left. I reached out ahead of me and felt the desk, and I used that to support myself while I got my leg under me again, then I ran to the door and looked into the lobby.”

“Did you see the man?”

“No. The work light had gone off, and the only light in the room came from the lights on Lexington, coming through the glass front doors. I ran out into the street and looked both ways. Some cars passed, but I didn’t see anyone on foot.”

“Where was your gun then?”

“Still in my hand but pointed down at the ground. I kept it in my hand but turned the safety on and put the weapon in my coat pocket.”

“Did you go back inside to look for the man?”

“No, I was afraid to. I looked in my bag for my cell phone, then remembered that I had left it charging in my apartment. There were no pedestrians in sight and I didn’t see a police car. I started to walk downtown, half running, really, but that hurt, so I slowed down and walked as fast as I could without causing pain. Next thing I knew, I was back here.”

“All right,” Stone said, “I’m going to ask Dino to come back, and I want you to tell him everything you’ve just told me.”

“All right.”

Stone went to the door and opened it. “Dino,” he said, “Faith would like to speak to you now.”

Dino came into the room, sat down, and saw the gun on the coffee table. “Is that the gun you used to shoot the man?” he asked.

“She doesn’t know if she shot him,” Stone said. “She only knows that she fired, once.”

“Okay, let’s hear it all from Faith,” Dino said.

Faith began again, and when she had finished, Dino started asking her questions.