by Dana Mentink
Candace was looking at Dr. Finch with that tiny quirk of the head that meant she’d detected a curious nuance that had eluded Marco.
“You look as though there was something about the case that was not so cut-and-dried,” she said. “It might help us to hear your thoughts.”
Finch stared as if he was looking somewhere inside his memory. “My case report is clear and comprehensive. The police never caught the driver as far as I know. I believe her son was sent to live with a relative, an uncle or aunt. Her mother was contacted, but she was too ill to make the trip to the hospital, as I recall.”
“So what bothers you about the case?”
His mouth quirked. “I’m not sure I should say. Conjecture sometimes makes things worse.”
“Please,” Candace said, her brown eyes so soft with entreaty that Marco would have told her anything. “It’s very important.”
“There was both old and new bruising around the throat.”
“Old?” Marco said. “Indicating a pattern of abuse?”
He huffed out a breath. “Possibly. It wasn’t what killed her ultimately, but I did tell the police.”
“So you suspect the hit-and-run driver was the same person who hurt her previously?” Candace said.
“I can’t say for sure, but the car that hit her did not slow down,” Finch said. “There were no brake marks and nothing to indicate he or she stopped and considered helping her before fleeing the scene. To me, that hints at some impairment or...”
“Or what?” Marco pressed.
“Hatred.”
Yes, it would take a heart full of hatred to intentionally run a woman down in the street, Marco thought.
Finch looked from him to Candace. “I have nothing, no proof, just the instincts of an old doctor who has seen too much of man’s inhumanity to man in his time in the emergency room.”
“Instincts are everything, Doc,” Marco said.
“Not enough to change much in this case.” He pulled a vibrating cell phone from his pocket and checked the screen. “I’m needed downstairs. I’ll call Dan when the culture comes back.”
They said goodbye and watched him go.
Marco gave Candace a minute before he asked, “Tell me where you’re going with this.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Even if the death of Kevin Tooley’s mother was murder, not an accident, how does that help us?”
Candace appeared lost in thought. “Just a feeling,” she finally said, “but someone I know said instincts are everything.”
He chuckled. “Someone probably doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, someone has done pretty well so far, so I’m going to think about what my instincts are trying to tell me.”
“Fair enough. Time to... I mean, is it okay to pack up Tracy and get moving?”
“Yes,” she said. “And thanks for making it a question, not a command. Be right back.”
A question, not a command. Maybe you’re learning after all, Marco.
She returned to the exam room and he checked his phone. Dev was circling the building on the ground floor. All quiet except the usual clinic business.
The elevator doors opened and Brent stepped out, holding a ducky slipper. “Found this in the car. Didn’t want her right foot to catch a chill.”
“She’s—” Marco didn’t finish the sentence as the stairwell door opened and Champ poked his head in. His eyes flashed in recognition, but not surprise. This wasn’t a coincidental meeting at the clinic.
Marco sprinted toward him, shouting to Brent over his shoulder, “Get the girls out!”
He slammed through the door, in time to hear Champ’s shoes squeaking as he took the stairs two at a time. Marco radioed Dev. Then he vaulted over the railing dropping straight down to the second-floor landing, cutting the distance between himself and his quarry.
* * *
The exam room door shot open as Candace was searching for Tracy’s other slipper.
“They’re here. Gotta go,” Brent said. “Marco’s chasing down Champ.”
Fear thundered through her. Not again. Not with her daughter in the line of fire.
Brent scooped up Tracy, then peeked out the door and listened. “I’m going to make a run for the elevator. If there’s anyone bad in it, we’ll retreat into the nearest exam room and barricade the door, okay?”
She managed a nod. Keeping as close as she could, she scurried along behind him.
They didn’t get far. The elevator doors opened. Inside stood Shoe Guy, who had tried to kill Candace in the college parking lot. With an evil smile, he reached behind him. Brent gripped Tracy tighter as they backed away. There was no way they would be able to get to the exam room.
“The stairs,” Candace screamed.
Brent was already sprinting in that direction, shouting at her to follow. “We’ve got an intruder,” he hollered to a nurse, who ran immediately for the phone.
Candace whirled to follow Brent just as a shot exploded the cabinet door behind her, sending shards of glass tumbling through the air. She dropped down behind a laundry cart. An orderly took cover in a doorway near her, his eyes wide with fright.
The elevator doors closed. Her breathing sounded so loud in her own ears she wasn’t sure she could detect signs that Shoe Guy was still there or not. He might have retreated to another floor. She saw a nurse and a doctor scurrying to shut patient doors, and talking into radios, following their safety protocols.
Had Brent made it to the stairs with Tracy? It was the only thing that mattered. If she kept her pursuer close, he couldn’t go after them. The delay might allow them to get clear of the building.
Hurry, Brent, she willed. Get her out of here.
Creeping a few feet forward, she tried to take a look. At first she saw nothing, but she heard the tiniest scuff of a shoe on the tile floor. She froze as the sound drew closer to her hiding place. A patient peeked out of a room, mouth open in shock. Candace gestured for her to retreat and phone for help.
Crouched behind the laundry, she heard footsteps. Her fingers turned to ice as she clutched the end of the cart. It was too late to run and too soon to expect help from security. She readied herself behind the cart, trying to quiet her gasping breaths. Only a few feet separated Candace from the man who she knew had been ordered to kill her. Sucking in a shaky breath, she tensed. When she saw the top of his head appear, she shoved the laundry cart with all her strength.
It caught him in the stomach and he went over onto his back with a grunt, arms and legs splayed out. She didn’t hesitate, but sprinted to the second elevator, smacking the buttons with panicked fingers.
The ding was the most comforting sound she’d ever heard. The doors slid open, and this time the elevator was empty. Behind her, the orderly took off, running after the fleeing Shoe Guy. She jabbed the button repeatedly and the metal walls began to close around her. Before the doors could seal her off completely, Jay Rico appeared in the gap, reached out his hands and wrapped them around her throat. Futilely, she clawed at them as he dragged her from the elevator.
“Hey, baby. What’s your hurry?” he whispered in her ear. She tried to scream, but the pressure on her windpipe prevented it. Feet slipping against the tile, her hands trying to pry loose his arm, she was forced back into the room where Dr. Finch had examined Tracy.
Rico said in her ear, “Stop struggling. My boys have your daughter. If you give me trouble, I’ll have them kill her. Got me?”
Candace went limp, her lungs unable to draw sufficient breath.
He increased the pressure until she thought her throat would collapse. “I said, do you understand me?”
She managed a nod. He released his grip, and she scooted away from him, scuttling back against the w
all, gasping. He wore a black jacket and jeans, his shirt scrolled with some sort of fancy print she couldn’t decipher. His hair was loose, black waves that melded with the shadows of his clothing, a scruff of beard darkening his jaw.
Maybe he was bluffing about having Tracy. It would be just his style, to terrorize her with the thing she feared the most. Her only option was to buy time until Dev and Marco could find Brent and then get Tracy to safety. They had to. She couldn’t think about any other possibilities or she would become too paralyzed to keep herself alive. “Don’t hurt my daughter.”
He shook his head in disgust. “Still giving orders? You brought this on her.” He jabbed a finger in her direction. “You. All you had to do was refuse to testify, and you and your kid could have walked away safely. But you didn’t.” His expression was incredulous. “And now you think you should dictate terms?”
“I’m testifying against Tooley because I want my daughter to know what’s right.”
“What’s right,” he said, “is taking care of your family. But here you are, going to get yourself killed, and then it’s game over and there’s nothing changed for all your heroism.”
“There’s a life after this one,” she said with a gulp. “Don’t you believe that?”
He rolled his eyes. “We gonna start up with that religion stuff? My grandma used to tell me, ‘Jay boy, you need some humility. Greatest are gonna become the least in the end.’ Well, I’m only interested in the first part.” His eyes shone. “In my world, I am the greatest. I control a whole network, a half-dozen chop shops, and I got more money and power than I know what to do with. Everyone thinks about me. Some people adore me, others are scared of me and some just plain hate me, but everybody knows my name. I made my choice, you see?”
“You have a chance to change. It’s not too late. Your grandma was right. She was trying to show you that God—”
He laughed. “Don’t go all Bible on me, baby. I ain’t leaving this world until I take every last thing that I want and finish my business. If God’s gonna judge me for my sins after I die, then there’ll be plenty of other folks in that line.” His jaw tensed as he stared at her. “Folks who wronged me and my kin.”
“What about the people you wronged?”
“They crossed me, they earned it.”
“Some of them didn’t. You’ve hurt people who didn’t deserve it, haven’t you? Innocent people.”
Something flickered in the depths of his eyes. “No more time for this. You so sure about where you’re going when you die, then might as well get started.” He grabbed her wrist and shoved her through the fire escape door onto the metal platform outside. She resisted, but he was strong and he twisted her arms behind her. The spatter of drizzle hit her face, slithering down her neck. Rico didn’t seem to notice as the droplets spangled his hair.
“Climb up on the railing.”
She couldn’t believe what he was telling her. “What?”
He leaned so close his mouth touched her ear. “I said climb up on the railing.”
She still didn’t fully understand, so he cinched her arms so tightly she cried out from the pain.
“So you can jump,” he hissed in her ear.
Her throat closed in terror. “No,” she gasped.
“Headfirst, three stories, probably gonna kill you but maybe not. Maybe just paralyze you or bust up your legs and arms.” He chuckled. “It’s okay, though. You know where you’re going and all.”
Horror rippled through her. “I am not going to jump.”
His hair grazed her cheek as he pushed her against the railing. She could smell his cologne, cloying, dizzying, filling up the air around her. “Yes, you are. It’s neater than me shooting you. No bullets to trace.”
“No,” she whispered.
“You see what I’m doing for you here, don’t you? Your kid will live, and she will know you did the right thing. That’s what you wanted, huh? That’s why you’re so bullheaded about testifying? I’m letting you do the right thing to save your daughter. I am helping you do exactly what you want without the need for a trial. You should be thanking me.”
She shook her head. It couldn’t be happening like this. God, help me.
Her fingers clung to the railing, metal biting into her skin.
He let go of her arms and stepped back. “Not got a lot of time here, baby, and my people can’t keep hospital security busy forever. Climb up on the edge and jump,” Rico rasped. “Or I will tell my guy to kill your girl.”
What choice did she have? None at all. Her only hope was that Marco or the police would see her there, perched on the railing, and capture Rico before she plunged to the street below. Body trembling, Candace grasped the metal stairs above for support and pulled one knee up on the narrow railing.
“That’s it,” Rico said with a nod of encouragement. “You got this.”
When she thought her limbs wouldn’t obey, he palmed his cell phone and dialed. “Yeah, D.J. Got her? Good.” He covered the phone. “Gonna tell him to take her to the beach. Somewhere lonely where no one will hear her scream.”
“No,” Candace sobbed. She hoisted herself up onto the railing and teetered there, arms stretched above her, clutching the stairs that led up to the roof for support.
“Okay, then.” Rico gave her a nod of encouragement, as if he was some sort of psychotic coach. “All you gotta do is let go of the stairs there and jump. If I were you I’d try to go headfirst. Might as well make it clean.”
It was as if her body and her mind were disconnected. The only part that seemed to work was her heart, throbbing a silent plea to God. If she didn’t jump, Tracy would die. If she did, she would be throwing away all the precious moments that lay ahead for her and her daughter, leaving Tracy with a legacy of loss.
Rock and a hard place. Candace had never really grasped the significance of that phrase before.
Rock and a hard place.
She didn’t want to die. Where was Marco? Dev? Anyone who could save her and rescue her daughter.
The wind seemed to whistle a low and mournful dirge in her ears.
Tracy, I love you.
FOURTEEN
In spite of his jump down the stairwell, Marco didn’t catch up with Champ until the first floor. After a flying tackle, he turned the thug over and grabbed him by the throat.
“Came to warn you,” Champ said, lips drawn taut, accentuating the gap left by his missing tooth.
“Oh, yeah. I’m sure you did.” Marco hauled him to his feet and shoved out the stairwell door, a spatter of rain hitting his face.
“No, really,” Champ said. “Rico’s out of control. He’s gonna bring us all down.”
“Tell it to the cops.” Marco marched him toward the front of the building.
“Listen to me. He has a plan. They’re gonna—”
Dev sprinted up. “They had intel. Knew we were coming again. I...” His eyes rounded in an expression Marco had never seen before on his friend’s face. His gaze was riveted to a spot somewhere above them. Marco swiveled to look.
The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Three stories up, Candace stood teetering on the narrow railing of the fire escape, one hand gripping the metal above her.
Marco let go of Champ and charged to the first-floor fire escape. He pounded up to the second floor, taking the steps three at a time, his weight vibrating the steel slats under his feet. One thought echoed with each step.
Don’t let her fall. Don’t let her fall. Don’t—
A shot erupted from above him and scorched a trail of heat past his shoulder. Candace screamed, still clutching the rail.
From below him, Dev let loose with some counterfire. Because the building was full of civilians, he aimed for a spot above the window and fired off some of the rubber-tipped bullets he’d loaded, to lessen
the chance of injuring an innocent bystander. It was an awkward angle, Marco knew, since Rico was sheltering inside the building, but the bullets stopped his attack for a precious moment more.
Marco propelled himself up toward the third-floor landing, three steps, six. He was almost to Candace, close enough that he could see the frozen disbelief on her face. Dev had stopped firing, which told Marco he’d headed inside, intending to circle around and cut off Rico’s escape. But would it be in time?
Rico squeezed off another shot, and it was so close to Candace’s face that she jerked backward, losing her grip. A siren wailed in the distance.
Marco sprang, leaping the last few feet. His fingers searched for her, slipping, grazing the fabric of her jacket sleeve.
No!
Time seemed to slow down. The silver raindrops tumbled as she fell. At the last moment, his fingers found her wrist. His desperate grasp stopped her downward motion, the momentum nearly taking him over the railing, as well. He hung there, the metal cutting into his stomach, every bone and tendon strained as he held her dangling in the air by one wrist.
Her eyes found his, her face damp with rain.
I won’t let you fall, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t spare the breath.
Moisture made his grip even more tenuous as he braced himself against the steel bars with his legs, snagging her other wrist. Sweat popped out on his forehead, mingling with the falling rain.
For a moment he could only hang on, steeling his muscles against the ferocious pull of gravity and the assault of pain. Slowly, he began to pull her toward safety. Inch by inch he dragged her closer. He wondered if Dev had got Rico, or if there would be another shot fired from behind him at any moment. It was a variable he couldn’t control. Dev would do his job, or Marco would be shot in the back and he and Candace would both die, but he was not going to let go of her. In spite of his incremental progress, his grip began to loosen as she became too weary to help hold on.
“Candace,” he grunted.
She looked at him, dangling helplessly, her rain-soaked clothes making her heavier. One hand slipped loose from his grasp, and panic roared inside him.
