Ambush

Chapter 93

I needed something to happen. I know that sounds crazy, but lying on a carpet next to a dead woman can screw with your head. Then I got my wish. From my cover position behind the receptionist’s desk, I heard gunshots and braced for the impact on my thin wall of protection. Then I realized the shots weren’t directed at me.

I heard another noise and glass breaking. That made me pop around the edge of the desk with my gun up. I didn’t have a clear view of anything, but it looked like the assassin had fled through a broken window.

Then I heard other people in the lobby. Women sobbing and someone calling out for help.

I crawled back and checked the receptionist for a pulse, but I could tell before I even put my finger to her throat that she was dead. I had to check.

I stood up behind the counter and saw a woman helping an older man from the office area. Other people were starting to stand, too. I didn’t notice them in my tunnel vision as I ran into the room.

Just as I was about to bolt for the door, the woman with the older man said, “Thank God. The police are here.”

I couldn’t ignore them no matter how much I wanted to chase the assassin. I could hear sirens in the distance and knew help was on the way. The arriving cops just needed to seal the area before she could escape.

When I stepped around the counter, the woman with the older man was right next to me, and the man almost tumbled over.

I grabbed him before he hit the floor and said, “Were you shot? Are you injured?”

He shook his head feebly and pointed to his chest. I eased him onto a bench, but before I could loosen his collar and really make an assessment, a man who had been hiding in the corner of the lobby ran up to me and said, “The woman who shot Tia ran that way on the outside walk.”

I peered out the window in the direction he pointed but didn’t see anyone.

A middle-aged woman hustled toward me and said, “Don’t let her hurt us. Please — you have to protect us.”

“You’re safe now. Let me help this man.” I had already holstered my pistol, and I could see this man was starting to go into serious distress. But I couldn’t help thinking about the killer who was running away without anyone chasing her.

Just then the door opened, and a young patrol officer, in a fresh uniform and with shoulders almost as wide as the door, stepped inside.

He called out, “Are you folks all right? We’ve had reports of a gunfight going on somewhere on the property.”

I yelled over my shoulder, “Michael Bennett, Manhattan North Homicide. Get over here. We need help.”

The earnest young man raced to me, never asking for identification.

I even felt a little guilty pawning this whole set of scared people off on him. I said, “Get fire rescue rolling for this man. We’re looking for a female with long dark hair about thirty years old. She’s armed and has already shot at least two people. Get on your radio and put it out to everyone right now.”

I didn’t wait for a response. I was up and running out the door before anyone had anything else to say.

I thought about what Father Alonzo had told me. Use my advantage. Understand the city.

Then I had an idea.