Page 40 of The Accomplice
‘Bullshit. No woman in New York is going into a dark alley with a stranger.’
‘There’s something which might make her walk into that unlit alley. The witnesses, they didn’t hear a struggle or a scream, but they did hear—’
‘Cats,’ said Bloch.
Their eyes were locked on each other. But they weren’t seeing. Their minds were elsewhere, caught now in the electric current of a breakthrough. There was something important, something absolutely vital that Bloch could almost taste, almost touch, it was right there, just in front of her …
Lake moved toward the kitchen, bent down and picked up one of the cat bowls. The red one said ‘Poochie’ on the side of the dish. The other, a blue one, said, ‘Mr. Paws.’
‘The neighbor, one floor up, took the cat. That’s what the file says. But there was more than one …’ said Lake.
Bloch took a look at the bowls, then opened up the iPad, looked again at the photos taken in the alleyway. She swiped away from the close-ups, looking for a broader angle.
‘There,’ she said. ‘The flyer on the wall.’
She pinched the screen to enlarge it. Beside the old band poster was a flyer that had been partially torn. She couldn’t read all of it. It was black and white, and printed in block capitals.
—ST CAT
And below that a cell phone number. Lake took out his cell, dialed the number and hit speaker.
The phone didn’t ring. Straight to voicemail.
‘You’ve reached Lilian Parker ; please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’
‘He stole her cat. That’s why she went into the alleyway. She heard it. Motherfucker was holding that cat, luring her in there,’ said Lake.
‘He would have to know she loved cats for that to work,’ said Bloch.
‘He knew her ?’ asked Lake, but even as he asked the question, he was shaking his head. The Sandman, so far as they knew, didn’t target anyone in his circle. There was no evidence of any link between Daniel Miller and Lilian Parker. That had already been checked by the FBI, exhaustively. Lilian Parker didn’t get any visitors to her apartment.
‘No, Lilian Parker didn’t have male visitors. No one came in here. Wait, he was …’ began Bloch, but the thought took hold in her legs, and she approached the window that overlooked the street and the buildings opposite.
‘He was watching her,’ said Bloch, taking in the scratched-up furniture, the cat tower, the litter box. ‘Lilian Parker loved cats. Anyone looking through her window, into her apartment, could tell that in a heartbeat. If they saw the locks on her door, they’d know there’s no way of sneaking inside without the keys.’
‘That meant he had a vantage point,’ said Lake. ‘And not one he wanted to reveal either. I bet he’s linked with one of the apartments across the street – something identifiable, like a short-term lease.’
There were two buildings opposite. One was commercial office space. A tower forty-stories high and all glass. It was the same story on every floor. Bloch saw office workers at their desks, bunting for sales conferences hung on the windows, meeting rooms with multi-colored chairs surrounding white desks, men on the phone, their ties already loosened by the stress of the morning and interns milling paper through Xerox machines. The Sandman would not have chosen this building as an observation point – way too exposed. The other building, much smaller, about the same size as the apartment complex they were in now.
The top floor of the building opposite looked perfect. A loft space. Big window, almost directly opposite this one. Perhaps just a little higher, giving a better view of the apartment they now stood in. And there, at that window, Bloch saw a man staring back at them.
Her phone rang.
‘Is that someone looking at us ?’ asked Lake.
‘Teresa Vasquez has the apartment next door to Lilian Parker. She would have the same view,’ said Bloch.
If someone wanted to keep an eye on Teresa’s movements, the same vantage point that worked for Lilian Parker’s apartment would work for looking into her neighbor’s.
It was Eddie calling. She picked up.
‘We have a situation. I need you. Have you caught the Sandman yet ?’said Eddie.
‘No, it couldn’t be …’ said Lake, staring hard at the man in the loft apartment across the street.
He was so far away it was impossible to make out any features. He was white, wearing dark clothing.
He was holding something black in front of his face. Something which caught the light.
