The Finishing School

26

CHELSEA PIERS WAS not a place he would normally choose to visit on a night like this, with a frigid wind blowing off the Hudson. Hell, there were icebergs bobbing in the river; he could see them from here. Fucking winters. Whatever happened to global warming? Urban renewal had turned the piers into a city kid’s sports paradise-bowling alleys, climbing walls, and the like housed in brightly painted buildings. The transvestites and drug dealers of years past were long gone, but it was still a no-man’s-land down here. Dimly lit, desolate. The perfect place to corner a vulnerable young girl. Which was exactly why he’d come.

There was so much information on the Internet if you had the first clue where to look. Like Lulu Reyes’s ice-skating schedule, for example. There for all to see, with minimal digging. The evening hours were cheapest, it turned out, and the girl ranked competitively in her age group. She came here all by herself. People were so careless, so arrogant. They assumed that nobody would ever want to hurt them or their children. They almost deserved it, when you thought about it.

To get to the Sky Rink, you had to pass through a cavernous, deserted parking garage. His shoes had soft soles; they didn’t make a sound on the concrete. Even if they did, the wind howling through the open rafters would mask the noise. Lulu would come this way when her ice time was over, huddled in her parka against the bitter night, and go wait alone at the bus stop. Nobody was around. It was very dark. Lulu was exhausted, grief-stricken, distracted. She wouldn’t notice anything until it was too late, and then the river was right there to dump the body. Not that he planned to do that tonight. He needed her alive, to ensure her sister’s cooperation. It was tempting, though. He had to admit, he was beginning to enjoy killing people, even though murder wasn’t in the original game plan.

The big metal elevator heaved and shimmied its way up to the Sky Rink. He came out into a large seating area that reeked of what he first thought was vomit and then realized was the soggy cheese on the pizzas at the concession stand. A bunch of janitors sat around watching the Islanders game on a wide-screen TV mounted high on the far wall. None of them gave him so much as a glance, which was lucky, because the place was lit up like the Fourth of July. Anybody looking would have no problem identifying him later. But he wasn’t worried. Like he always said, people were oblivious.

There were two rinks, one on either side of the seating area. He chose the one on the left. Got it on the first try. Lulu was immediately recognizable, nearly alone on the ice at this hour. She had the stringy limbs of a colt and an adolescent awkwardness, but you could tell she’d be really good with the proper coaching. A lot of the elements were already in place: impressive technical skill for her age, a ferocious energy in the way she attacked the moves. But she lacked artistry. He should really stop, though, shouldn’t he? It wouldn’t do to start thinking of Lulu as too much of a person. Better to keep his emotional distance and be free to take whatever action proved most…advantageous.

He climbed the aluminum bleachers and took a seat front and center. All she’d have to do was look up once and she’d see him. He had no doubt that Lulu would immediately understand why he was there. She wasn’t stupid, and she knew enough about what had happened to the other girls. She must, or else she would have told the cops by now how to find her sister. Because she’d definitely seen him the other night.

He sat there for a while, the cold seeping into his bones as Lulu skated and skated. Jumps and spins and arabesques. Eventually she turned and began gliding smoothly toward the half door that led off the ice. That was when she looked up and saw him-and instantly tripped over her skates, tumbling facefirst to the hard, gleaming surface.