Close Encounters

by Kitt, Sandra

  “Because…” she shrugged.

  “Because why?”

  “Because I wouldn’t have gotten chosen anyway,” she said impatiently.

  Lee was surprised by Erica’s touchiness on the subject, but he decided not to push. He had another thought instead.

  “How would you like to go to one of her classes some Saturday?” Ricca’s eyes widened with interest. “Carol teaches a sketch class, and she told me you’re welcome to attend anytime you want. I told her you’re a pretty good artist yourself. Would you like that?”

  Her interest became tempered. “Maybe.” She glanced at her father from beneath long lashes. “Are you still investigating her accident?”

  Lee was so surprised by the question that he couldn’t think of an adequate response. He stood up abruptly.

  “Yep. It’s still on the books.” He began to pick up his clothing from the floor. “I claim the shower first,” he said, heading for the bedroom to get a fresh change of clothing. “Then we’ll get something to eat. I’m hungry.”

  “I can make breakfast,” Erica volunteered, getting up from the floor and following him to the bedroom door.

  Lee looked at her in surprise as he got jeans from the closet and a black henley shirt from a bureau. “You know how to cook?”

  “Well, don’t say it like it’s physics or something,” she smirked. “It’s just breakfast. It’s not that hard.”

  “Maybe not,” he said in mock seriousness, “but will I be able to eat it?” Erica gave him a look of tolerant exasperation. “I’ll be out in ten minutes,” he said.

  When Lee exited the bathroom a few minutes later, completely dressed, he could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen and could hear Erica rummaging around. He took the opportunity to take care of some personal business.

  Lifting the cordless phone from its cradle in the living room, Lee stepped out onto the terrace, pulling the sliding doors almost shut behind him. Lee punched in familiar numbers. He waited for some sense of regret, some surge of hesitation to make him stop and think. But there was nothing except the desire to make this quick. Cut to the chase and be done with it.

  He was taking a chance calling Karen so early on a Saturday morning. She might not be alone. She answered on the second ring, bright and wide awake.

  “Hello?”

  “Karen. Hi, it’s Lee.”

  The silence was long enough for Lee to wonder if she was surprised or merely trying to figure out what to say to him.

  “Well hello, Lee,” she said, without enthusiasm.

  “We haven’t talked in a while. I wanted to call…”

  “I’ve been busy,” she interrupted, as if to make it clear that she had not been sitting around holding her breath.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “I have a new job,” Karen supplied.

  “Really? Congratulations. Where? Another restaurant?”

  “No. For your information I do have other talents, Lee,” she said, sounding peeved. “I was hired by a West Coast film company. They have a huge office here in New York. On Madison Avenue. I met this guy…”

  Of course, Lee thought. “Film company…”

  “You don’t have to sound that way about it. They’re not going to make me an actress, for God’s sake. I’m going to be in public relations.”

  Interesting euphemism. He glanced at his watch and peered through the sliding doors to see if Erica was looking for him. “You should do well there, Karen. You’re a people person.”

  “That’s what I was told at my interview. So, what made you decide to stop pouting and acting silly and give me a call?”

  He raised his brows. Is that how she thought he’d been behaving? “I’ve been thinking a bit since we last saw each other. We had a disagreement, as I recall.”

  “It was your own fault,” Karen said firmly.

  “You’re right. I can see that now, and I’m not going to argue the point. But I thought I should call and tell you… I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

  Again there was silence on the line, making Lee wonder what she was thinking.

  “If that’s your decision, fine,” Karen said defensively. “I’m not going to apologize for that night. It was business.”

  “Well, you’re right. You shouldn’t have to apologize if you feel that way. So let’s just say good-bye and move on, okay? No hard feelings?”

  “You are blaming me, aren’t you?”

  “No, no. I’m not.”

  “Oh, what does it matter. I’ll be meeting a lot of high-profile, Hollywood-type people. And I—I don’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything, Lee, but we aren’t right for each other anyway.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  “Actually, I’m glad you called first. Don’t get upset, but—you’re just too old for me.”

  “You think so? Now, you see, I saw it completely differently.”

  “You did? What do you mean?” Karen asked.

  Lee was momentarily distracted by a gentle tap-tap on the terrace doors. Erica was beckoning to him, waving a spatula and drinking from a glass of orange juice. Lee felt enormous relief.

  “I was going to tell you—I think you’re way too young for me.”

  Karen said something profane. And then hung up.

  “Julio… que pasa, eh?” Mario greeted.

  He stood against the wall outside the apartment door so that he could be aware of anyone coming and going and so that Julio was forced to step partly out to meet him.

  “Mario! Hey, man… what you doing here? How you know where I was at?”

  “How come you’re surprised to see me? Ain’t we friends no more? I heard you been out of town.”

  “Yeah,” Julio said, glancing nervously down the hallway. “Just for a few days.”

  “How ’bout a few weeks. Your grandmother died again?” Mario cackled goodnaturedly.

  “Quién?” a female voice called out to Julio from the depth of the apartment.

  “No es nadie que tu sabe.”

  “Quién?” she insisted.

  “Cállate, mujer!” Julio hissed angrily. He turned to Mario. “What you want?”

  “You hidin’ from me or something?”

  “Naw, that ain’t it but… you know…”

  “I gotta talk with you,” Mario said abruptly, jerking his head toward the end of the hallway.

  “Mario, come on, man…” Julio whined.

  He made a movement as if to step back inside and close the door. Mario’s hand shot out and braced against the door to keep it open.

  “This is business. It’ll only take a minute, I swear.”

  Julio shook his head. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. My woman…”

  “You ain’t scared of some bitch, are you? Hurry up.” Mario released the door and walked down the hall to wait.

  Julio still hesitated, quickly assessing the worst of two evils—defying his common-law wife or crossing Mario. But Mario had brought him into the crew. He’d made some serious money in the last year.

  “My coat…” Julio murmured.

  “Forget it. We ain’t going nowhere. Hablamos aquí, ahorita.”

  Julio’s shoulders hunched in as he stepped slowly out the door. He carefully made sure that it wouldn’t close completely behind him. He stood a moment longer before following Mario to the end of the corridor.

  “Say, what’s up, man?” Julio inquired casually. He stopped and leaned against the wall, facing Mario.

  “It’s hot out there,” Mario commented.

  Julio nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Ever since that night with Willey, the cops, that woman…”

  Julio stared down at the floor. “Yeah,” he said again. “That shit got fucked up.”

  “You ran, man.”

  “I had to. I wasn’t gonna hang around, know what I’m saying? We coulda got caught.”

  “I hear you.” Mario put his hands into the pockets of his coat and glanced around the hallway again, look
ed down the stairwell, and then back to Julio. “So, you seen anybody?”

  Julio shifted and shook his head. “Couple of them called, but I ain’t talkin’ to nobody right how.”

  “You seen Earl?”

  “Not since… you know, that night.”

  Mario examined the precise fall of his pants over the top of his boots. “Suppose you see Earl. What you gonna say to him?”

  Julio’s chuckle sounded like he was choking. He shook his head emphatically. “I don’t know nothin’. If Earl ask me, I’m gonna say straight up, I didn’t see a damn thing.”

  Mario nodded thoughtfully. Slowly, the nod became a shake of his head. “Now you see, Julio, that was the wrong answer. You wasn’t even there, remember? Ain’t that right?”

  Julio’s eyes widened and he blinked as his mistake registered. His eyes rolled shut and he moaned. “Oh, shit… Come on, Mario. You know I wasn’t going to…”

  Mario held up a warning finger to his lips until Julio fell silent, but with a pained expression on his face.

  “You know, it’s a damn shame. You can’t trust anyone no more.”

  Before Julio could plead or cry out, or turn and make a futile run for the door, before he could draw his next breath, Mario had withdrawn his right hand from his pocket and thrust the knife forward with the full force of his arm behind the motion.

  Julio grunted, and his body jerked. His face registered not surprise but resignation. The second thrust finished the job. His body slid down the wall, crumpling to the floor. He landed in a seated position, his knees drawn up to his chest. His head bowed forward. Except for the smeared trail of his blood, anyone finding him would think he’d only fallen asleep.

  He’d waited for more than an hour outside the building, watching everyone who went in or came out. He was looking for the right time and opportunity to get in.

  It had taken him two fucking days to get Gina to tell him the woman’s address. It wasn’t like she wasn’t fine and all. And who was he to turn down pussy? But it had been a pain to listen to her running her mouth about how he wasn’t treating her right. So he’d picked her up one night after her shift and taken her to a little Cuban place near the hospital where she worked. He knew the owner and their meal had been quick and free. Then, once at her place, they were in bed in under two minutes. He’d done her twice, making her squirm hotly beneath him. Gina had been ready and willing to give him whatever he wanted. Even where that woman lived.

  “Aiyee… Goñyo, Mario. Take it easy,” Gina had hissed as he’d plowed into her, hurting her with the driving force of his hips.

  That hadn’t stopped him. He had a lot on his mind and he figured he needed to be good to himself after what he’d been through. There was still business to take care of if he wanted to stay out of the joint.

  Julio had been the easiest to get out of the way. But what did that Taggart bitch really remember? What had she told the cops about him?

  Mario had it worked out. He’d hang around and get into the building. He didn’t even remember what she looked like, but he’d find her. Gina had said she wasn’t married, so she lived alone. That was good news.

  Finally, a young boy returning home from school opened the building door and Mario slipped into the lobby behind the absentminded kid. He knew where she lived, he’d already checked that out. All he needed now was an opportunity.

  Mario felt himself getting more angry the longer he thought about how everything had gone wrong lately. All because of the woman and her dog. He knew there was no way he could trust that Detective Peña either. And if he wasn’t careful, he was going to be the one who got fucked.

  Carol closed the door behind her and headed for the elevator. She was carrying her keys and a small laundry bag of dirty clothes.

  An older man and his health-care companion entered the elevator on the second floor and they got off at the main level. Carol continued to the basement. Someone’s linens were tumbling in a dryer, and the humming sound of the machine along with the fragrant warmth of clean sheets were comforting.

  She filled one washer with her laundry, set the cycle, and started it. Before heading back upstairs, she stopped a moment to browse idly through a short stack of popular magazines discarded in a recycle box.

  Carol realized she wasn’t alone when, in her peripheral vision, she saw a shadow starting to grow on the wall. It moved slowly enough for her to become suspicious. Her heart went into overdrive, with an adrenaline rush of fear that didn’t come soon enough.

  A gloved hand clamped over her mouth. Another hand grabbed her around the chest and held tightly, restricting her movements. Carol felt the hard coldness of the leather gloves and coat the man wore. His scent jarred her senses and sparked a memory she couldn’t quite place. She tried to pull the hand away from her mouth, tried to scream even as her assailant began dragging her into a dark alcove of the basement.

  She began to struggle in earnest. She beat her fist at her attacker’s arm and leg, but only hurt herself in the process. She kicked at a garbage bin, but it was made of plastic and didn’t make enough noise to attract anyone’s attention.

  The man grabbed her flailing arm. “Too bad, mija,” he said in her ear. “Wrong place, wrong time. Again.”

  Carol suddenly let her body go completely limp, even as the urge to keep fighting made her heart thud rapidly in her chest. He cursed at having to take her full weight. He grew angry and jerked her up.

  “Stand up! Stand up!”

  “What’s going on in there? Who is that?” The booming female voice seemed to come out of nowhere. “What are you doing! Let her go. Let her go, I said.”

  Carol found herself being released and shoved violently aside. She crashed into the wall, hitting her head, and crumpled to the floor. The assailant ruthlessly shoved the older woman out of his path, and broke for the basement exit that would let him out the back of the building into a narrow alleyway.

  “Get out, get out, you maniac!” the aged voice shouted fearlessly. Then it dropped to a maternal octave as a pair of cold, bony hands attempted to help Carol to her feet.

  “Are you all right, dear?” the woman asked.

  Carol rose slowly. Her knees hurt. And she’d strained the muscles and nerves in her chest again. “I’m fine,” she said. She glanced at her neighbor. It was Gladys.

  “Did you know that man? Were you just having a fight with your boyfriend?”

  “Boyfriend?” Carol repeated blankly.

  The absurdity of it overrode the desire to cry. Someone had attacked her. For all she knew, he might have intended to kill her. And she’d been rescued by Gladys, a wizened old lady with a cane, rock-solid nerve, and a voice loud enough to wake the dead. “No, that wasn’t my… my boyfriend.”

  “Well, how did he get in? What did he want?”

  To kill me, Carol thought wildly, unable to fathom why he might want to. At the very least he intended to hurt her. “I don’t know.”

  Gradually she began to calm down. To think. To remember and make sense. She thanked Gladys, assuring her that all was well. And yes, she would report the incident to the building management, although she was pretty sure there was no point in doing so.

  She headed back to her apartment. For a while she replayed the incident in her head, trying to figure out who would want to hurt her… wondering if it could have been a random attack. The more she thought about dismissing the episode, the more she was persuaded that she couldn’t. She would have to go back to get her clothes. What if it happened again?

  At first she considered calling Wesley, but it wasn’t worth having him return from his latest road trip. She’d begun dialing Matt’s number, but hung up halfway through. He would get the wrong idea. And he would tell her what any sensible person would tell her. Call the police.

  So she did.

  Carol called the beeper number Lee had given her. She didn’t have to wait even five minutes before her phone rang.

  “Carol … what’s up?”

 
; A dizzying rush of relief came over her. But instantly she began to tremble as well, her skin becoming clammy and cold. She opened her mouth to talk and all that came out was his name. “Lee…”

  And she quietly began to cry.

  Too tense to sit and watch Carol being interviewed, Lee paced her living room, listening to her being questioned. Typical of what he’d come to know of her, she hadn’t wanted to make a fuss. But he did. The assault had to be officially reported. He’d insisted on that.

  He had called in a marker and asked for two specific uniformed officers to come take Carol’s statement and fill out the report. They would handle everything carefully and keep any mention of his presence out of the report. It was a good thing, too. As soon as he’d arrived at her apartment, Lee had known that he could not objectively take her account of the incident. Carol’s attack hit him too close to the bone. He couldn’t quite explain the fear that had gripped him when he’d gotten her call. Then he had gotten mad.

  He stood so that only Carol could see him. She was calm and methodical in answering the officers’ questions, but occasionally she caught his gaze, as if to assure herself that she was giving enough of the right information. As if to make sure he was really there.

  Lee had already listened to her account twice. He’d arrived in record time at her apartment, after he’d created his own worse case scenario of what had happened to her.

  She’d met him calmly at the door, and he’d silently enfolded her in a tight embrace that was every bit as much for him as it was for her. It was unnerving to discover how badly he’d been affected by the prospect of anything happening to Carol again.

  “What happened?” Lee had asked simply.

  And she had told him simply.

  But Lee knew that the incident had left a deeper mark on her than she was yet willing to admit.

  “Do you want to come in and have a look at some mug shots?” one of the officers was asking as he and his partner prepared to leave. “Maybe you’ll recognize the assailant.”

  “What’s the point?” Carol asked. “I never even saw his face.”

  “You’re right,” the other officer agreed. “We can’t promise you much on this one, I’m afraid. Not unless we get a report of a similar assault. Anything else we can do, Lieutenant?”