Night kills

76

Stone was there.

Quinn and Fedderman knew it almost as soon as they entered the building. They saw him first as a lower leg in richly tailored dress slacks and polished wing tips, for only a second as he rounded the corner and began climbing the stairs.

Neither Quinn nor Fedderman said anything as they quietly gave chase. They didn't want Stone to know they were there. Ideally, they'd come up behind him before he realized he wasn't alone and take him down alive. They needed him in court, as a defendant and as a witness.

As Stone began climbing the last flight of stairs to Jill's floor, he prepared to enter her apartment by drawing a small pearl-handled gun from his suit coat pocket.

As he did so, Quinn made the slightest noise on the creaking stairs.

Stone turned in surprise. It was as if the dead man back in the office had risen up and they'd startled him.

Quinn didn't hesitate. He couldn't. There was distance to cover.

He charged.

The wind rushed out of Stone as Quinn leveled a shoulder into his midsection. At the same time, Quinn's left hand found Stone's right, forcing the pearl-handled gun to point at the ceiling.

As the two men slid toward the floor, Quinn squeezed hard with his powerful left hand. Flesh and blood vessels compacted against bone as Stone's right wrist was crushed. The gun dropped like a child's surrendered toy and clattered onto the floor.

Stone wasn't the sort to put up a fight.

He sat down winded on the wooden steps, leaning forward and gripping his aching wrist. Saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. He brushed away the drool, working hard to control his breathing, then gave a sad smile and shook his head.

Fedderman read him his rights, then leaned close to him so their faces were only inches apart. He studied Stone. "The dead guy sitting at your desk-"

"Isn't me," Stone finished for him. "Obviously."

"Your double," Quinn said. "Who thought he was going to move into your life and be well paid for it. Instead he was used to fake your suicide."

"Things had reached an impasse," Stone said. "Because of you, I might add."

"You're the one who shot the poor bastard," Quinn said, not posing it as a question. Just making conversation here. The idea was to get Stone to admit it in his own words.

Quinn held his silence. He waited, waited…

"I killed him," Stone said. "I'm not averse to doing the wet work when I must." He managed to shrug. "Business is business."

Quinn whistled out a long breath in relief.

It was over. He and Fedderman exchanged a look. Quinn thought Fedderman might have smiled.

With Stone alive and an admitted killer, and with Jill's testimony, the case against E-Bliss.org was solid. And when they found the new Madeline Scott, she'd have little choice but to reveal her true identity and testify for the prosecution.

"I think," Stone said, "I won't say anything more until my attorney is present."

Which struck Quinn as odd, considering Stone had just confessed and confirmed that they had the right man.

Very odd.

He cuffed Stone's uninjured wrist to the banister.

Pearl had reluctantly taken Quinn's earlier advice and returned to Jewel's apartment. She wasn't sure where Jill was. Weaver might have taken her someplace safer.

After cleaning up as best she could, combing her hair without looking closely at the two-inch-square bandage on her right cheek near her eye, she decided to go downstairs and check on Jill, make sure she wasn't still in her apartment.

As she turned from the bathroom mirror, the light penetrating through the narrow window was like a lance in her right eye. She put on the black eye patch the paramedic had given her and then did assess her appearance carefully in the mirror.

She decided she looked like a pirate after a run-in with the Royal Navy.

Aargh! she almost said softly. Then she decided nothing was funny and looked away from the pathetic face in the mirror.

She went downstairs and knocked on the door to Jill's apartment.

The light behind the peephole in the door changed and she knew Jill-or someone-was there. Jill, probably, too shaken to immediately open the door to anyone's knock. After what had happened to her, Jill might not trust anyone for months.

"Me," Pearl called. "Jewel." The alias had become a secret password.

The light behind the peephole remained constant.

The man peering through the peephole sized up the woman at the door. She was small, didn't look like much of a threat, and seemed to have been in some kind of accident. She was wearing an eye patch and a glob of white bandage on her face.

If he waited her out, she might simply go away. He'd already searched the apartment, looked in all its hiding places, and knew Jill Clark wasn't home. She must have been placed somewhere else for her protection. This woman-Jewel, she'd said her name was-obviously knew Jill. Maybe she'd know where Jill was. She seemed to be alone.

He decided to make the woman tell him what he needed to know, then kill her. If he could somehow get to Jill, everything might still go as planned.

The cops hadn't left that long ago. There might still be some around. He'd have to move fast and noiselessly.

He holstered the gun he was holding and drew a knife.