Authors: Sarah Andrews

Fault Line (31 page)

BOOK: Fault Line

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I HOBBLED UP THE STEPS TO THE MAIN GUARD DESK IN THE City and County Building, past the splendid travertine wainscoting, across the intricately patterned tiled floor. I had taken my time coming in from the sidewalk, where the taxi had dropped me. I went slowly, making certain that if anyone wished to see me, they would. The bulletproof vest I wore beneath my down parka was making me sweat, and it was difficult to swing my crutches, but just now comfort was not foremost in my mind.

Once past the guard's desk, my progress became somewhat easier. I boarded the elevator, tensing as the doors opened. I got off at the fourth floor, for fear my enemy might be on it. I proceeded to the stairs that would take me up to the tower.

At the door to the stairs, I tapped three times, then once. Heard two faint taps in reply. I opened the door.

Jack was inside, waiting for me in the darkness. He moved up the stairs ahead of me as silent as a wraith.

My heart pounding in my chest, I distracted myself with thought.
Now he's a ninja. A new Jack Sampler persona for the archives. What next? A dipsomaniac granny carrying a birdcage?

At the next door, he whispered, “Ready?” He tugged at my vest, making sure it was firmly in place, then checked the metal collar I wore beneath my turtleneck shirt.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” I whispered back. I smiled. I was
not concerned about bullets from someone who used their hands to strangle or a SUV to crush, but the weight of the bulletproof vest felt comforting, as if Jack himself were wrapped about me.

“Radio?” he whispered.

I tapped my breast pocket.

Jack pointed over his head. “Jim's already up there.”

“Good,” I whispered. “How's he doing?”

“Not so good,” Jack replied. “But he's a little guy. I can carry him down when we're done.”

“Ray?”

“It took a little persuasion, but I got him here.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I didn't tell him anything. I called his superiors and requested his services. He's up past the bells, on the wooden part of the stairs. Above Jim. Hiding where Enos can't see him.”

“He has the radio?”

“Yup.”

I shook my head doubtfully. “He's a good cop. It's a shame. Anything happen yet?”

“No.”

“Hayes?”

“No show.”

“As expected. He sent Enos?”

“Enos came. He's up there with Jim.”

“Did he use his keys to get in?”

“No. He knocked. Jim opened up for him.”

“Then where are the keys?”

“Exactly. I covered things as best I could, but this place has way too many doors and staircases. Watch your back.”

“Who's protecting Jim?”

“He's wearing a vest, too. And Ray's up there, remember.” He smiled wryly.

“Jim's taking too much of a chance.”

“He welcomed it. Seemed to perk him up.”

“Okay,” 1 said. “Any more visitors, you make like a ghost and let them through.”

Jack glanced at his watch. “Show time,” he said, and gave me a little kiss, again in the center of my forehead. It was a friendly thing. An affectionate thing. An intimate thing. Something that seemed to happen naturally between us. “Remember,” he whispered, “don't go up above the clock faces.”

I waved one crutch a half inch. “Not on a bet.”

He opened the door.

I stepped through.

I hobbled up to the next level and ducked underneath the air duct. Waited, staring up at the thin steel rods that drove the hands around the mammoth faces of the clock. I lowered my gaze and turned slowly 360 degrees, checking out every shadow and blind angle in the place, taking special note of the two doors that led out onto the catwalks along the roofs, leading to the twin flagstaffs. If cornered, I must remember not to feel tempted to run out onto one of those. With the steep pitch of the roofs, it would be a quick trip down five stories to the walkways below.

“Hello?” I called.

High above my head, I heard Jim cough. “Em Hansen?” he said, his voice bouncing down the cold face of the masonry.

“Yes.”

“I'll be down in â¦ five minutes,” he said uncertainly.

A minute ticked past. I heard their low conversation. Enos and Jim, discussing engineering. Was I dreaming?

Two minutes.

Nothing. Jim and Enos had completed their discussion of the seismic retrofit. Jim asked about moment frames, as I had suggested. Asked if indeed Enos had been the one who had specified the frame for the new stadium. Enos said he had. He sounded calm, though somewhat dejected. Hardly murderous.

Three minutes. Enos's voice still droned on, just talking. Did that mean he was innocent of both murders? Had I misgauged?
Was he hoping to catch me after Jim left, or ask to meet me elsewhere? Ray thought him innocent, so deeply that he had misunderstood my assertions. The puzzle must fit, but perhaps with the pieces in a slightly different arrangement.

From which direction would the attack come?

I glanced all around me, watching, wishing my eyes could slide around the sides of my head. Glanced again at my watch. Wondered whether my precautions had been sufficient. Considered pressing the button on the radio, just to hear it squelch above me, just to make certain Ray could hear what I thought he would soon hear. But I didn't want to give away his position.

Four.

After another furtive look at my watch, I glanced overhead, checking again to make certain that no one could drop anything on me. I was clear. But it was not the stairs overhead that worried me most.

Thirty more seconds ground, one at a time, deep into my skull.
It's taking too long. It isn't working!

A tick. A whirring noise issued from the hydraulic tank, and the arms above it began to move, rising, pulling, moving the long steel cables that rose high overhead, where Ray waited. As the armatures began to descend, the bells chimed, ringing, clanging, filling the dark column of space with sound. Under the cover of their titanic noise, I saw something from the corner of my eye: the door to the catwalk that led to the flagstaff opening, the flag whipping against a dark sky, framing a silhouetteâ

Fast, coming like a bulletâ

I dropped one crutch, whipped my hand for the radio, pushed the button, knowing its sound would be lost in the bells. Fear cut through me like ice.

The bullet resolved into a shapeâ

Katie!

She flew at me from the shadows, hands up, teeth bared, growling, her fierce strength and jealous beauty focused on my throat.

I opened my mouth to scream Jack's name, but the bells swallowed my small sound like a furnace consuming a moth.

I lunged sideways, fellâ

She landed on me, her full weight writhing on me, eyes afire, pelvis grinding in ecstasy as her hands closed around my throatâ

Jack yanked her up so hard that I came with her, tugged to my knees.

She whirled, arms windmilling, clawing like a cat.

I hit the button again, screamed “Ray!” though my knotted throat.

Jack whipped Katie's muscular frame into a wrestling hold.

I struggled to my feet, staggered, caught my footing, leaned onto the crutches.

I heard footsteps thrumming along the steel catwalk and down the stairs. Enos coming. Ray at full gallop. Jim stumbling along behind.

Enos arrived first. “Katie!” he moaned, “Stop! Please! For the love of God!” Then, to Jack, he cried, “What are you
doing
to her?”

“Arresting her,” Jack said, his voice strained as he continued to fight her astonishing strength.

“Let her go!” Enos screamed. “I killed Pet Mercer, not her! Take
me
!” He fell to his knees in agony. Bent his head. Locked his hands over his cranium. Began to sob.

Ray hit the bottom step and charged into the melee. “Katie!” he screeched, a big brother scolding his baby sister. “You're not supposed to be here!”

Katie suddenly slumped against Jack, the fighting cat transformed in a blink to a pathetic kitten. “Ray! Make them stop it!”

Ray lunged at Jack.

My crutch was still in my hand so I swung it. Got him right in the shin. It made a very satisfying smack and he went down hard.

Ray rolled, grabbing at a leg bent in pain. He stared up at
Jack, who was now handcuffing a thrashing, growling Katie to the steel bracing of the stairs. Ray whined, “What are you
doing,
man?”

“Arresting your little sister for the murder of Sidney Smeeth,” Jack said almost calmly. “Although I'm gonna hafta add on the attempted murder of Em Hansen. Naughty girl, Katie; mustn't do.”

Ray looked up at me. He looked again at Katie. He looked lost.

Katie's face twisted into a mask of hatred. “
Kill
her, Ray!” she roared. “Use your
gun.
You're a
cop. You
know what to do! She
attacked
me. Look! You saw her! She just
assaulted
you with her
crutch!
Are you going to take that from a
woman?
Kill her, Ray! She wants to change
everything!
She wants to break up our family!
Take
from us. Take from us! You have to
kill
her, Ray!
Kill
her!
KILL HER!”

“And why did you have to kill Sidney?” I asked. “Did she threaten to expose him? She almost said it all, exposed your husband right there on nationwide TV, a ruin to all your years of planning, and pushing, and hating. Or was it just the joy of knowing you could do it? There you are, a dog off the leash. Everyone thinks you're out jogging for your morning exercise. And there she is. The meddlesome bitch is opening her gate. One instant and you're through the gate â¦”

Katie's face twisted further, knotting around her teeth in a snarl. “You spawn of the devil! I've worked
hard
to get Enos positioned! It wasn't
easy
with a hopeless fool like him, but I got him in there. Got him a job. Had to push him every
inch
of the way! Who
cares
about a few cracked welds?” She began to kick at Enos. “You couldn't just get up there and paint over those cracks? What's the
matter
with you? It's the
system!
You've ruined everything! I worked
hard
! I've got
sweat equity
in this city!”

Enos hung his head and absorbed her blows.

“And Pet?” I asked.

Enos looked up at me but didn't really see me. “She said she
knew,”
he said miserably. “I couldn't let her put Katie in the paper, could I?”

I looked at Ray, who now lay sprawled out on the floor, almost relaxed, his eyes glazed. “Let's go home now, Katie,” he said very softly. “Let's go home. Mama's got dinner ready.”

KATIE AND Enos rode away in the back of a squad car with lights flashing. The members of the media who had arrived to chase the radio calls watched them go, cameras flashing into the night, like a bad dream gone Disneyland.

I stood on the sidewalk in front of the City and County Building, leaning on my crutches, rubbing at the bruises on my neck that Katie had managed to put there in spite of the protective collar. I was almost glad for the pain, as it cut through my weariness and confusion, reminding me that what I had thought to be true was true.

Jack put a hand on my shoulder. “Okay for now?” he asked.

I nodded.

“It's gonna hurt worse later. We'll get you some rest. Quiet. When you're safe enough, you'll get the shakes, and work it out of your system. Then you'll be better by and by.”

Jim Schecter stepped up closer, a shy man ready to take flight. “Thank you,” he said. “I'm sorry that you got hurt. But I'm glad to get the story out. At last.”

I smiled and nodded. “Keep up the good work,” I told him. “People don't like to be caught at their games, but it's a job worth doing.”

His lips curved into a smile, even though his eyes still registered pain.

Now Ray stepped toward me.

Jack faded back, taking up a position on the front fender of a car a polite distance away.

Ray said, “You're wrong, Em. Katie really liked you. Family's everything to her, and she wanted you in it.”

BOOK: Fault Line

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