Killing Ways

64

Ren’s heart pounded. She drew her weapon and walked toward the stairs. In the gloom, she could see feet sticking out from under the stairwell.

Oh, no.

She walked over, hearing nothing but her own footsteps.

The realtor, Valerie, dressed in her beautiful pink suit, was lying by the wall. There was a loose plug socket in her hand, its wires connecting it limply to the hole in the baseboard. She looked pristine, but she was clearly dead.

Oh my God. The electricity. The fault. Rodney Viezel was right. What the fuck?

Ren crouched down, put her fingers to Valerie’s throat. No pulse. Ren stood up, looked up, saw nothing.

No lights on. The system has shorted. Gary didn’t hang up. But why isn’t everyone down here? Surely they would have come down to investigate?

She took out her cell phone, started to dial 911.

‘Ren!’

She looked up. ‘Janine! Oh my God — what happened?’ Ren ran up toward her.

‘I know. It’s terrible,’ said Janine. ‘We’ve already called 911. They’re on their way.’

Ren ended the call, put her phone away, slid her sidearm into its holster. ‘Are you OK? Is everyone else?’

‘We have our flashlights — Gary’s insisting on finishing this meeting.’

What?! ‘Jesus — am I dead woman walking?’ said Ren.

‘No, no,’ said Janine. She turned and ran up ahead.

This is weird. She isn’t making eye contact with me. Her tone is off.

Ren made it up to the top floor and walked into the Safe Streets hallway. It was eerily quiet.

Gary sent everyone home.

Gary’s office was at the end of the hallway, the door wide open.

Empty.

‘We’re in here!’ said Janine. ‘By the cells.’

Shivers were rolling down Ren’s spine.

Why aren’t you all in Gary’s office?

Something’s not right here. Janine sounds off. Why is she not looking at me?

Ren took the right through the admin offices, and the left into where the cells were.

Oh, God.

Duke Rawlins had dragged a table into the center of the small space and was sitting on it, his arm hooked around Janine, who was now half-leaning, half-sitting on his right leg like a ventriloquist’s dummy. There was an ethereal look of calm on her face. And a knife pressed against her neck, right to her carotid artery.

I can’t risk a shot.

Janine. You look so tiny.

Rawlins gave Janine a squeeze. ‘You did good, you did good. Your colleagues here lived.’

Ren glanced to her left. To the cells. Inside the one closest to the wall were Robbie and Everett. Inside the other, closest to her, was Gary, all of them with their wrists tied behind their backs with cable ties or handcuffs.

Ren laid her weapon on the file cabinet beside her, and raised her hands.

‘I’ll do whatever you want me to.’ I really fucking will.

Everyone was looking at her.

‘What do you want me to do?’ said Ren.

‘I want you to shut the fuck up,’ said Duke. ‘I need to think.’

Ren looked around the room. What can I do? What is open to me? That won’t get someone harmed.

Nothing... yet.

There was a small cardboard box on the table beside Duke. ‘I got a box of ringing cell phones here,’ he said. ‘People beginning to wonder where your asses are at! Unfortunately, y’all are always letting your people down, aren’t you? Got called away on a case, found a suspect, chased a robber, got held hostage...’ He looked around, laughed a crazy laugh. ‘Being “unavailable” doesn’t really set off any alarm bells in your people’s lives.’ He paused. ‘Ms Ren Bryce, I’m going to have you come my way slowly, place your keys, and both your weapons in this box at my feet, and your cell phone right here in this box. Then you stand by the wall there, to my left, where I can see you. No false moves, no true ones.’ He picked up her phone right away. ‘Now, let me have a look at this...’

Janine shifted on her feet. Duke yanked her close to him.

Ren locked eyes with her.

Stay as strong as you always are. You can do this.

Ren looked over at Gary, Robbie and Everett. They looked at her with unreadable expressions.

How do we get out of this?

Ren started looking around the room again.

What is at my disposal?

‘Agent Bryce!’ said Duke, ‘you’ve got mail! Neiman Marcus wants to introduce you to a sneak preview of spring’s new line.’ He paused. ‘Dear Misters Neiman and Marcus, thank you for your kind email, but I’m not going to even make it through fall, and even if I did, there’ll be no spring in my step.’ He laughed. ‘Agent Dettling,’ he said, ‘we hoped you enjoyed your stay at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington, D.C., Detective Truax — this is from your personal account — “CJ” whoever that is, had a great night Saturday, has been thinking about you ever since. Agent King, you need to renew your subscription to the New Yorker.’ He paused. ‘Jesus, how much time do you people spend reading this bullshit every day? Beep, beep, beep, you got mail! You got a whole pile of bullshit is what you got. Aren’t you supposed to be fighting crime?’

The Hay-Adams Hotel... where have I come across that recently? Where? Written down somewhere. Gold letters. Sylvie Ross! Child forensic interviewer! Her sleek, stylish pencil with the gold writing. Hay-Adams Hotel, D.C. Gary being stand-offish, abandoning her abruptly in the bullpen. Oh God. Gary is having an affair with Sylvie Ross. Sylvie fucking Ross.

She looked at him, unable to hide her flinch.

Of course, you have no idea what I just realized. In the middle of all this...

She looked back at Duke Rawlins.

Why are you here?

There was another beep.

‘Janine Hooks,’ said Joe. ‘Thank you for your donation! To some beat-up dogs!’

He turned to Ren, his voice ice-cold. ‘Now — here’s a question for you: where the hell is Joe Lucchesi? I’m not fucking around.’

Joe Lucchesi has clearly gone off your radar. Thank God.

‘I don’t think you’re fucking around,’ said Ren. ‘But Joe Lucchesi has left Denver.’

‘You lying bitch.’

‘I’m not lying,’ said Ren. ‘You can sit here looking for information I don’t have or you can go out and try to find him yourself.’

‘Oh, if Joe thinks his little lady is in trouble, he’ll come looking for her,’ said Duke.

‘He’s a cop, I’m an agent,’ said Ren. ‘He doesn’t see me as a lil lady who needs to be rescued.’

‘He might want to keep you alive to fuck you again, though,’ said Duke.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

‘I did not—’ She trailed off. ‘Right now, Joe Lucchesi is non-contactable. Check my phone. See his Automatic Reply: he will not be answering his emails. It’s there, black and white. His phone is diverted. You know all this. You are here because of this. You’ve lost him. You want to draw him back.’

Duke was barely hiding his rage.

‘And Joe Lucchesi’s priority is not me,’ said Ren. ‘His priority is his family.’

Duke laughed. ‘Well, I can at least reassure him that one member of his family is safe.’

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Ren’s heart plunged. She saw Grace’s little face.

But as long as I can keep you here, Duke Rawlins, in the same room as me, Grace Lucchesi is absolutely safe.

Then she thought of Joe Lucchesi’s own words: Duke Rawlins will always have an accomplice.