Hannah was nervous. It was difficult for her to ask for help. "Let's walk. I'm tired of standing here like an idiot."
The park was quiet. Spring was taking its time, and the air still had a sharpness that made most people think they were better off indoors. The paths glistened with rain, and the trees looked as if coming into leaf was too much of a struggle.
"Is this about Lucas?" Elizabeth asked.
"Do you think he killed himself?"
"Actually, I do."
"You didn't think Natalie killed herself."
"That was different."
"How?"
"Natalie had no reason to kill herself as far as I can see, but no one would listen to me when I was looking for answers."
"You mean me."
"Among others."
"I had my reasons."
"For lying to me?"
"I lied about Lucas saying you were bothering him and that he thought Natalie had killed herself. He believed she was murdered. He even asked for my help in finding the killer."
"Why didn't you help him?"
"Because it wasn't good for him. I was worried about him. I didn't want him chasing what I believed to be a fantasy."
"Do you still think it was a fantasy?"
Hannah stopped walking. "I'm not sure anymore. Something isn't right, that's why I need your help." She paused, struggling to form the words. "A man called a few days ago and asked me to supply him with a gun."
"I didn't realise that art dealing and gun dealing go hand in hand." Elizabeth couldn't resist. "Is gun dealing a sideline when the art market slows down?"
"Is that another attempt at a joke?" Hannah asked contemptuously. She started walking again. "I'm a gun collector, not a criminal. Please don't insult me."
"Who called you?"
"He didn't give his name."
"Did you recognise his voice?"
"I've never heard it before."
"Do you think it's the Shooter?"
She paled. "Possibly. Who else would come to me for a gun? It's not like he can go through the usual criminal channels; most of the criminal world is awaiting his next move so they can cash in on the promised reward."
The trees roared above them as the wind came from nowhere, drowning out the noises of the city. For a moment, it seemed they were lost deep inside a forest. "What did you say?"
"I said I couldn't help him. I'm not a gun dealer."
"Why didn't you go to the police?"
"He threatened to reveal certain information that I'd prefer to keep secret."
"Such as?"
"I'd rather not say."
"Well, you need to tell me, unless you want to be front-page news tomorrow morning."
"Are you serious?"
"I'm waiting."
Hannah looked away. "I admit there were occasions when I may not have entirely lived up to the professional standards expected of me."
"For example?"
"I may have slightly adjusted my commission percentage when money was tight." She coughed, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Look, I don't need any more bad publicity. Since Lucas died, clients have cancelled appointments, and buyers have postponed visiting the gallery. If people found out that I had made some accounting errors, my professional life could become awkward."
"Why not ask the Assistant Commissioner for help? I thought you two were bosom buddies."
"I think I've already pushed the boundaries of our friendship far enough."
"Are you referring to the fact that you gave Natalie the gun she used to kill herself?"
"How do you know about that?"
"Don't worry; your secret's safe with me."
"It was a bad judgement on my part, and one I regret every day. I lost a friend. I would never have given her the gun, but she threatened to expose my mistakes. She confronted me a few months ago about some irregularities in her payments. We drifted apart after that. "
"What does any of this have to do with me?" asked Elizabeth.
"Because the caller specified that you should be the person to hand the gun over to him."
Elizabeth peered up through the trees at her apartment building, trying to find her balcony and picturing herself up there, looking down at the world. She imagined someone else standing in the park, waiting and watching for the moment she left so he could climb the stairs and let himself into her home.
"What exactly are you asking of me, Hannah?"
"I think you should do what he said."
"You're out of your mind."
"Please, at least think about it."
"There's nothing to think about. You're saying you want me to take my life in my hands and meet a killer."
"I'll pay you: ten grand, twenty grand, whatever. Name the price."
"It's not about the money. The man's a killer. Why should I help you? You have some nerve even asking me."
"Is this payback? No one would listen to you about Natalie, so now you're going to turn your back on me."
"It's not that simple."
"So what is it? I'm desperate. You can't imagine how difficult it is for me to tell you this, not knowing how you'd react or what you'll do with the information. I want my life back. Please help me. You're my only hope."
"Your desperation is the reason you're not thinking straight," said Elizabeth. "Can't you see how much worse your life will be if people find out that you've knowingly assisted a serial killer? If you help the police bring him in, no one's going to bother you about a few accounting misdemeanours. Don't you care that more people will die if you do what he wants?"
"Of course I bloody well care," she snapped. "But I'm no hero. I have to think about myself and my future."
"Do you really think he'll disappear if you start giving him what he wants? I can almost guarantee that he'll come back for more. There'll always be something else that he wants, and he won't forget the person who gave it to him so easily the first time: you."
"What do you suggest I do?"
"When's he calling back?"
"Sometime between ten and midnight. He's going to tell me the time and place for the handover."
"Take the call. Behave as if everything is grand. Agree to whatever he wants. Arrange the details, and then call me."
"What will you do?"
"Trust me. I'll do my best to help you, but I'll do it my way. I'll try to keep your name out of it."
"Are you going to the police?"
"You have to trust me," Elizabeth repeated. She could see the panic in Hannah's eyes.
"I suppose I don't have any other choice."
"I want one thing in return."
"Name it."
"I want to see the photographs and diary in your locker at the bus station."
"How do you know where they are?" She looked taken aback.
"I followed you."
"Why didn't you break in and steal them?"
"I considered it, but there were too many people around. I wasn't sure if the photos were worth the risk. Are they?"
"I don't know. I haven't looked at them."
"Yeah, right." Elizabeth didn't believe her.
"Natalie asked me to look after the photos and the diary and that's what I did. I have my faults, but I'm not a snoop. I'm sure she had her reasons for wanting to keep them secret."
"What do you think they are?"
"The truth is that I don't know what they are and I don't really want to know. I'm afraid of what I might find."
Chapter Twenty-Six
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Assistant Commissioner McGovern yelled. "You have no right to make such demands."
Elizabeth was enjoying every moment of his discomfort. Even when he ranted, he wasn't original. She tuned out his voice so that it merged into the background. She watched his lips move, but the words broke apart and evaporated before they hit her ears.
"Time's up, McGovern," she said, when he paused for breath. She tapped her watch.
"Have you heard anything I've said?"
he yelled again.
"In a word: no."
And he was off again.
Elizabeth had told McGovern that she would pass on a tip-off about a possible hand-over of a gun, as long as she was allowed to be part of the action. Not only did she want to be there, she also wanted to be the first to speak to the suspect.
However, McGovern had a few issues with her plan. The first issue was that she was a civilian and if anything happened to her, he would have to face the public. If it all went wrong, he'd lose any chance at getting the Commissioner's job and he'd also lose the job he had. His biggest issue was that he couldn't stand Elizabeth, but she had no intention of simply handing over her information.
"Where exactly did you get this so-called tip-off anyway?" McGovern demanded.
"I can't divulge that information." She emphasised each word to maximise his irritation. "My source prefers to remain anonymous."
"What if I refuse to do what you want?" His face was red and his lips puffed up like a petulant child.
"Then you'll never know if he's the man you're looking for."
"You'd actually allow him to get away rather than back down?"
"All you have to do is agree to my conditions and then everyone will get what they want."
"People are dying." McGovern started again. "It's your responsibility to hand over any information you have."
"You are the one who's going to have to explain to the Commissioner why you let crucial information go because of your personal problem with me."
"Don't flatter yourself, lady. What makes you think I have a personal problem with you? I'm trying to stop you getting killed tonight. Of course, I'd be more than happy to have you arrested; a few hours behind bars should bring you to your senses."
"Quit threatening and get on with it." She held out her wrists, daring him.
McGovern turned to Frank in exasperation. "Chief Superintendent, is there anything you can do?"
Elizabeth could see by Frank's expression that he was desperately trying to disguise his enjoyment of McGovern's dilemma. "Sir," he said calmly. "We're in the same position here. I have no more access to the information than you have. I think Elizabeth has made her bottom line crystal clear."
McGovern stared hard at Frank, as if sensing how much he relished his discomfort. Frank didn't flinch. McGovern turned his stare back to Elizabeth. She could see that his fight was fading. "Would you prefer to let this killer escape than back down?" he repeated. "Are you prepared to let more people die so you can get your way?"
"Go ahead and repeat your "how dare you?" speech again if you like. It's really rather amusing. Unfortunately, it won't get us anywhere. Tonight could go wrong, and yes, you might end up looking bad. Everything's a risk if you think about it. On the other hand, the investigation could be over by the morning. I think it's too important to let this chance slide, don't you?"
"Why do you want to talk to this headcase?"
"If he is the Shooter, I want to ask him why he killed Natalie."
"Oh, not that again." McGovern closed his eyes. "Don't let your obsession with her death cloud your judgement tonight. She killed herself: end of story."
"I want the Shooter to tell me that himself."
McGovern looked out the window at the dark clouds. Shadows flecked the fading light. "Okay," he said eventually. "I agree. Tell us where the handover is taking place; you can be there. You can make the first approach to the suspect."
Elizabeth bit her lip to suppress her smile.
"There's one condition," McGovern continued.
"What?"
"Delaney will accompany you."
"Delaney?" she echoed.
"Detective Delaney is one of our most experienced Murder Unit officers. He's going with you. Take it or leave it."
"Fine. I'll take it."
***
"Are you sure you're okay with Delaney going with you?" asked Frank for the umpteenth time.
"I'll get over it. Besides, I don't have much choice." She didn't meet his gaze. Being alone with Frank made her feel guiltier than ever. She'd told him that her source was Hannah Moynihan and that the caller had threatened to blackmail Hannah if she didn't do as he asked, but she neglected to tell Frank that the caller had insisted that she should be the person to make the drop.
Frank was already worried about her presence there. He'd tried to talk her out of going, but she had to be there. She couldn't let it unravel, not when she was so close to having with Natalie what she'd never had with her brother: closure.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
"Let's establish some ground rules, shall we?" said Delaney.
"You're the boss," Elizabeth mocked.
"First rule: I'm in charge."
"We've already established that." She couldn't help herself.
"We do things my way," he continued. "I know the north side of the city better than most. I grew up there. Some of my old school pals still live there. They're not always on the right side of the law, but I know I can count on them.
"Rule two: if I feel at any time when you're talking to the Shooter that it's starting to go wrong, I'm moving in, regardless of whatever deal you've struck with McGovern. Understood?"
"Got it: loud and clear."
"Back off when I tell you to back off and leave the rest to the big boys. If it gets too much for your delicate female sensibilities, just say the word and I'll drop you off somewhere safe where we can pick you up when it's all over."
"I wouldn't miss the chance of learning something from the legend that is Detective Derek Delaney."
"Let's go," he barked.
He led the way to an unmarked vehicle. "Where's the handover taking place?" he asked, starting the ignition.
"How do I know you won't take the information, throw me out and leave me standing alone at the side of the road?"
"You don't know," he replied bluntly. "But a deal's a deal."
She told him the address as they pulled into the flow of traffic. They quickly moved out of the areas that she was familiar with and past the sprawling estates of the north side. She sat back and gazed out the window.
Delaney spoke to Frank on the radio to let him know where they were headed. Frank sounded anxious. The Murder Unit planned to stay far enough out of the way so that Hannah's mysterious caller didn't get suspicious, but close enough to be there if needed. However, that still left a large enough margin of error.
"Here we are," said Delaney.
Elizabeth saw the outline of a derelict building and a doorway lit by a broken streetlight, where she was supposed to wait. Her chest tightened as the minutes ticked down to the arranged time of 12.30a.m. Delaney pulled into a side street and they got out. He took up his hiding place behind an overflowing skip, across the road from the building.
Elizabeth crossed the road alone and stood in the doorway. She checked her watch. He was five minutes late. She wondered if he'd seen Delaney and the others. She tensed as the sound of footsteps approached. A figure walked towards her, illuminated by the streetlights. He stopped a few metres from where she waited. All she could see was an outline and a shadow. She took a step towards him.
"Stay where you are." She stopped in her tracks. "Do you have the gun?" he asked.
She didn't recognise his voice. "Yes," she replied.
"Give it to me."
"I'll need to come closer."
"Throw it along the path."
She reached inside her jacket and pulled out the bag that Delaney had given her. Inside was a fake pistol, which felt the same as the real thing. She prayed that the dim light would hide the fact that it was a fake. She put the bag on the ground and kicked it across the path towards him.
He bent to pick it up. He pulled out the gun and nodded in satisfaction. "Is it loaded?" he asked.
"Yes, as you requested." She didn't bother mentioning it was full of blanks.
"We're done." He turned to go.
"Tell me one thing before you leave," she said quickly. "Did yo
u kill Natalie Doyle?"
"I did," he said without hesitation. "It was my proudest moment." He pointed the gun at Elizabeth. "I'm sorry about this."
"Police! Drop the gun!" yelled Delaney from the other side of the road.
Suddenly the headlights of a joyrider lit up the street. The stranger froze in the spotlight. The stolen car raced down the middle of the road, swerving from side to side, as shouts of laughter burst from the windows. The moment before the stranger flung up his hands to shield his face from the glare, Elizabeth had a chance to see him properly.
She recognised him instantly. He was the guy in the fancy suit who'd been watching her in the restaurant the day after her apartment was burgled. His face was a study in panic as he looked from Delaney to Elizabeth, as if he was trying to decide which of them was more threatening. Incredibly, he pointed the gun at Elizabeth even as Delaney walked towards him. She wasn't afraid; the gun wasn't loaded, but her blood froze as the stranger took aim and fired.
Elizabeth's ears rang. Her eyes burned with the flash from the blank shell. She stared at the stranger as he stood with his arm outstretched, clutching the gun in his hand.
"Put your hands up and get down on the ground," ordered Delaney. "You're surrounded."
The stranger looked up the road, as if confused by the emptiness. He threw down the gun, and didn't resist as Delaney reached him and told him to turn around. As he turned, Elizabeth saw him pull something silver from his pocket. Before she had time to shout a warning, he spun around and sank the knife into Delaney. Delaney gasped and sank to the ground.
The stranger ran.
"Are you okay?" Elizabeth rushed to Delaney's side.
"Never been better." He clutched his stomach. His fingers were covered in blood.
"I'll get help."
"Go get the bastard. They're on their way. I'll be grand."
She wavered.
"Go!" he yelled. "You're losing him."
She started running, feeling vulnerable without her gun. She didn't know what she'd do when she caught up with him. His footsteps echoed in a side street, and she turned the corner just in time to see him run into an alley. She followed him blindly. A driver blasted the horn in protest as he almost ran into her, but he didn't stop to find out what was wrong. Behind her, sirens blared as backup finally arrived.
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