The Finishing School (44 page)

Trevor
! A wave of nausea rushed through her. Just at that instant, Hogan lunged for Melanie, dragging Carmen with him, using her as a human shield. Melanie fumbled frantically at the Beretta’s safety, diving out of Hogan’s way. She hit the floor hard and grunted in pain, rolling back toward the desk, her brain intensely focused on her fingers’ work. The safety finally clicked, and she sat up, finger on the trigger. Hogan and Carmen were at the threshold, shards of glass crunching beneath their feet. If Melanie fired now, she risked killing the girl.

Hogan gave a smile of pure evil. “You make a pretty target,” he said, pointing the gun at Melanie’s head.

MELANIE’S HEART was in her throat. She held her breath, waiting for the sharp report of Hogan’s gun.

“If you follow me, she dies,” Hogan said. The next second he and Carmen vanished through the door.

Melanie breathed out. She was shaking uncontrollably. Damn, she’d faced down killers before. You’d think it would get easier.

As their footsteps receded, she leaped to her feet, and the room went black for a second. When her vision cleared, she yanked several tissues from a box on the desk and wrapped her dripping hand. It was tough to fire a gun when your hand was slick with blood.

Melanie rushed to the door. Hogan and Carmen were just disappearing down the main staircase. She ran after them. She’d catch this lunatic before he harmed the girl.
You can run, but you can’t hide, scumbag
. The route Hogan had chosen would take them all smack through the middle of the gala. That must be his plan—to fade into the crowd. She paused at the top of the stairs to be sure they were out of earshot before starting down after them. The buzz of voices drifted up to her from the floor below. Guests were streaming out of the auditorium toward the main doors of the school. Melanie glimpsed Hogan far ahead, gripping Carmen tightly by the arm and pushing her through the crowd. Nobody seemed to pay them any attention.

Melanie flew down the remaining steps, struggling to keep her prey in sight. But the minute she reached the first floor, the throng engulfed her. Even standing on her toes and craning her neck, she could no longer see Hogan. She fought her way to the exit, earning outraged stares from the power elite. Just as she was about to barrel through the red doors, somebody grabbed her from behind in a powerful grip.

“Hey!” she yelled, whirling.

“Where you going, princess? You don’t like to stay put,” Dan said, looking down into her eyes.

“Where’d you come from?”

“The airport. Lulu Reyes called my cell phone, said to get over here right away.”

“Oh! I told her to hit redial. I thought it would call Detective Leary, but she must’ve done something wrong. You’ll have to do.”

“Gee, thanks a lot.”

“Seriously! We’ve got to catch Hogan. He has Carmen Reyes. He’s using her as a hostage.”

“Any weapons?”

“I have a gun,” she replied, patting her coat pocket.

“Not
you
—Hogan.”

“He has one, too.”

“Where’d
you
get a gun? Never mind! Which way?”

“Outside. Come on, let’s go!”

Out on the sidewalk, the snow was coming down hard. Between the flakes and the horde of guests milling in front of the school, visibility was limited. Melanie scanned the block frantically.

“I don’t see them!” she cried.

“Any idea where they’re headed?”

“No. God, I wish I had a megaphone.”

She turned around to face the well-heeled crowd and held up her hand, wrapped in blood-soaked tissues. She projected in her best courtroom voice.

“May I have your attention, please! There’s been an abduction from the school. We’re federal law enforcement. Did anybody see Harrison Hogan just now?”

People gasped and murmured, looking at one another in surprise.

“We need your help,” she demanded.

“I saw Dr. Hogan with a girl. They were running toward Central Park,” said a woman in a black satin cape.

“Me, too!” a man yelled.

“Somebody call 911 and tell the police about this!” Melanie exclaimed, and she and Dan took off at a run toward Fifth Avenue, snow whipping into their faces.

Within minutes Melanie’s feet were soaked through and numb with cold. The cut on her hand stung bitterly in the harsh wind. She slipped and slid, trying desperately to match Dan’s pace. At the intersection the light was against them, but Fifth Avenue was deserted in the heavy snow. They tore across the street and entered the park at Seventy-ninth Street. Snow lay thick on the path, and two fresh sets of footprints led straight ahead. In the halos cast by ornate street lamps, thick flakes blew sideways. They sprinted forward as fast as they could, following the footprints, their breath billowing up in great puffs as they ran.

The path sloped steeply upward past Cedar Hill. As she sprinted up the incline, Melanie’s feet went out from under her and she fell hard, coming down on her injured hand. Dan turned to help her.

“No! Go! Help Carmen. I’ll catch up,” she said.

“But you’re bleeding. I can see it in the snow.”

“It’s just a cut.
Please
! Don’t worry about me.”

He helped her to her feet and brushed her off. “I’ll take it from here, sweetheart. Just turn around and go for backup, okay?” he said.

“Sure. But hurry, you’ll lose them!”

Dan turned and bolted up the hill. Once he reached the top and disappeared from view, Melanie took right off after him. Go for backup, my ass! Who did he think he was dealing with here? The little woman? She heard sirens in the distance anyway, hoped it was for them, but she had no intention of waiting around to find out. Sweet Jesus, the boy was fast! Melanie reached the crest of the hill and sprinted across the Seventy-ninth Street Transverse, getting her second wind. Dan was nowhere to be seen.

She was alone in an eerie, magical landscape. To her right, Turtle Pond was a frozen expanse, and the lights of Central Park West shone so dimly through the snow over the Great Lawn that she might have been at sea glimpsing a distant shore. She plunged into a tunnel of dark, overhanging trees, still following the footprints. Counting Dan’s, there were now three sets, and they were clearly heading toward Belvedere Castle. Did Hogan plan to murder Carmen and leave her body in the castle tower? He would be just demented enough to come up with a plan like that.

At the end of the path, Melanie emerged into a clearing. Belvedere Castle rose steeply from the ground like a Gothic apparition, its turrets draped in snow. She stumbled up shallow stone steps and across an open plaza, still following the footprints. Shadowy figures were barely visible moving on a high balcony. Melanie shaded her eyes against the driving flakes. It looked like Dan and Hogan.

Inside the castle a narrow stone staircase the width of her body spiraled to the floors above. She raced up the stairs and found herself in a rectangular room with a flagstone floor, empty except for a small display entitled “Birding in the Four Seasons.” Out of breath, hurrying across to the French doors, she looked out onto the wide, flat balcony, but it was deserted. She’d gone only halfway up: Dan and Hogan must be on the highest level. She ascended the next flight slowly. Not just to catch her breath—she wanted to do reconnaissance first and make sure she had the lay of the land before she took action.

The second flight of stairs dead-ended at a narrow door, which was propped open and led directly out to the balcony. Melanie pressed herself against the curving wall into the cover of darkness, so she could look out without being seen.

She had to suppress a gasp at the sight that greeted her. They were in midconfrontation, at a complete standoff. Dan stood in firing stance, both arms outstretched, pointing his nine-millimeter at Hogan’s head. But Hogan held Carmen in a death grip. He clutched her by the neck and pressed his gun to her temple.

Melanie’s mind raced. There was no way for her to storm the group on the balcony. Hogan was facing the door. He’d see her the second she made her move, and when he realized he was being attacked, he’d shoot either Carmen or Dan—or her. It would only make things worse.

An iron ladder rose steeply above her head, disappearing into the hollow interior of the tower. Melanie stepped onto the first rung. But she was so unstable in the wet Manolos that she kicked them off and clambered up in stocking feet, using her toes to grasp the slick rungs as her wet coat flapped against her legs. Inside the darkened tower, a large round window looked down onto the balcony. She had a bird’s-eye view of Hogan from about ten feet above his head. And what’s more, she had a perfect shot.

Leaning forward against the ladder for balance, she took the Beretta from her pocket. It was ready to fire, but she was terrified to try. Carmen and Hogan stood mere inches apart. And she’d have to shoot through the glass. Did she need to compensate for that somehow? She didn’t have the experience to know how the window might affect a bullet’s trajectory, or even whether the bullet would penetrate the thick glass at all.

But as she hesitated, to her horror, the situation below deteriorated. Hogan’s face was contorted in anger. He was shouting something at Dan, but she couldn’t make out the words. He must’ve threatened to kill Carmen. Dan lowered his gun. Hogan turned his. He was about to shoot Dan! Melanie raised the Beretta fast, aimed, and squeezed the trigger, turning her head away as the window exploded all around her. She opened her eyes, panting in fear, and looked out to see Dan on top of Hogan, struggling to get his gun away. When the window shattered, Dan had charged. Within seconds he flipped Hogan over on his stomach and cuffed him. Carmen sank to her knees, sobbing hysterically.

Melanie raced down the ladder and out onto the snow-covered balcony, not even stopping for her shoes.

“Did I get him?” she shouted at Dan.

“That was
you
? Jesus, you are full of surprises!”

“Is he shot?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Dan hauled Hogan to his feet and inspected him. “You shot, scumbag?”

Hogan stared at them stonily, saying nothing.

Dan grinned. “
He
may be in one piece, but you sure did a job on that window.”

She looked up into Dan’s face, deeply relieved he hadn’t been hurt. “Show a little gratitude, cowboy. I just saved your butt.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, I’m thinking up some excellent ways to thank you,” and he winked at her, baby blues twinkling.

With that, Melanie went over and embraced Carmen Reyes, thrilled that she could finally reunite the girl with her father.

ON THE AFTERNOON of Christmas Eve, Melanie sat at Trevor Leonard’s bedside waiting for him to wake up. Tucked in his hospital bed, with all his piercings removed, Trevor looked like the young kid he still was. The night of the gala, Detective Leary had found him in an alley a few blocks from Esposito’s warehouse, half frozen and beaten within an inch of his life, and had rushed him to the hospital. Trevor’s jaw was wired shut, he had three broken ribs, and several frostbitten toes. But he was alive, and the doctors expected him to make a full recovery.

The courthouse had closed early today, but not before Melanie arraigned Harrison Hogan on charges of murder and assault in furtherance of a narcotics conspiracy. Hogan faced a minimum twenty-to-life sentence, with the possibility of the death penalty if aggravating circumstances were proved. His lawyer was already talking about a plea to thirty years.

While she was in court for the Hogan arraignment, Melanie had taken the precaution of obtaining sealed warrants for the arrests of Patricia Andover and James Seward on wire-fraud charges. That take-down, along with a big press conference, was scheduled for the day after Christmas. With celebrity perps like those two, it should be a media circus, and Bernadette was so thrilled that she was flinging around words like “promotion” and “award.”

Melanie had done one other thing while she was in court. She’d come here to tell Trevor about it, as well as to reassure him that Hogan would be locked up for a long time, unable to do any further harm.

Trevor’s lids fluttered. He opened his blackened eyes.

“Hey,” Melanie said, as he struggled to lift his head. “No, don’t try to talk.”

Trevor pointed to the bedside table, and Melanie picked up the water bottle that sat there, helping him drink through a straw.

“Listen, I came by to tell you how sorry I am about what happened to you,” she said. “I’m really devastated, Trevor.”

He motioned toward the table again, and she saw a pad and paper there. She handed it to him; he scribbled something and held it up so she could see.

“Chill out,” he’d written. “My choice. I did it for Bree.”

“Well, I want you to know, we got him. Hogan, I mean. It turns out he was Jay Esposito’s cousin, and his right-hand man. He was recruiting Holbrooke girls for the drug operation.”

“Expo?” Trevor wrote.

“Dead! Hogan murdered him.”

Trevor raised his eyebrows in shock.

“I know,” Melanie said. “Pretty wild, huh?
And
Hogan murdered Whitney Seward by shooting her up with heroin and OxyContin. Plus,” she said, counting on her fingers, “we have him on heroin distribution resulting in the death of Brianna Meyers, assaulting you, and an embezzlement scheme at Holbrooke that I’m charging under the federal wire-fraud statute. He’s looking at thirty years, minimum.”

Trevor gave her a weak high five. She could tell from the tautness of his cheeks that he was fighting not to smile.

“But there’s something else I came here to tell you, Trevor. Luckily, it’s Christmas, and the chain of command in my office is feeling generous, because even given your stellar cooperation, getting this approved is pretty rare.”

He looked at her questioningly.

“I dismissed all your charges. The ecstasy, that Internet-fraud thing—everything.
With prejudice
, so they can’t be brought again. That’s different from just getting sentenced to probation. It means you have a clean record. A fresh start. And I want you to make good use of it, because I see what a solid person you are. You have a lot to offer the world if you walk the straight and narrow path.”