The Wrong Girl

78

“Operator, I’m at the-at one-twenty-five Linden Street. Jake!”

“Jane!” His voice was loud, and strong. “It’s okay, get in here!”

She grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, pushed. Jake was on the couch. No one else in the room.

“Ma’am?” the dispatcher’s voice crackled through her cell phone. “What’s your emergency?”

“Jake! What-?”

“In my pocket, Jane.” Jake held up both hands. He was cuffed to the arm of the couch? “My wallet, back pocket. The key.”

“Ma’am, you’ve got to tell me-”

She dropped her tote bag to the floor, raced to him.

“All units,” Jake yelled. “This is Jake Brogan. Officer down. Officer down. Jane, let me talk.”

She held the phone against his cheek as he twisted onto his stomach, letting her lift his leather jacket and grab his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

“In here?” She punched the phone on speaker, then flipped open the wallet, looking for-and there it was, a tiny silver key tucked into a credit card slot. She held it between two fingers. “This?”

“At one-twenty-five Linden, Forest Hills, officer down, officer in trouble, all units, all units, you copy, dispatch?” Jake sat up, cocked his head toward the handcuffs. “Do it, Jane. Hurry.”

He could have kissed the hell out of her, but he didn’t have time. Jake yanked his wrist out of one of the cuffs, then the other, clicked them back on his belt and threw himself across the room. Slammed open the file drawer. Grabbed his weapon, tucked D’s into the small of his back.

“Yes, sir, we copy. Dispatch out.” The phone went silent.

“Stay in here. Do not come out.” Jake said. The radios. He tossed one to Jane, put the other in his jacket pocket. “I’ve got backup on the way. I’ll call you when-”

He yanked back the curtains, looked out the window. Past the low hedge and the stand of hemlocks to the parking lot. Only two cars. One was Jane’s. The other a Mercedes. No Munson yet. They had to be taking Munson’s car. This was the only parking lot.

He twisted the latch, pushed open the window, then clicked up the storm window.

“What are you-who was-?”

“Tell you later. Close the window after me. Stay here.” Would he have time to stop them? Would D and that asshole still be in the parking lot? Would Ardith Brannigan be alive? Would D?

She had no idea what was going on. None.

“Jake!”

But he was out the window. The curtains fell back into place.

“Be careful!” she said.

He was gone. Moving the curtains, she slid the storm back down, then clicked the frame shut as Jake had instructed. She looked outside. Couldn’t see him.

“Be careful,” she whispered.