Page 45 of The Accomplice
‘Call a paramedic,’ Bloch shouted, and Lake swung around, pointed to Miggs and one of the feds got on his earpiece.
Gripping Miggs by his shoulders, Bloch tried to steady him. It was no good, he lay down on the sidewalk, unable to speak. His lips were moving. Mouthing a name.
‘Julian.’
‘I’m sure he’s fine. Take it easy,’ said Bloch.
‘I-I shouldn’t have left him …’
‘Don’t try to talk,’ said Bloch.
She was aware of passers-by stopping, crowding around her and Miggs. She heard their whispered gasps, and their muttering,‘heart attack,’ ‘has he been shot ?’ ‘what happened to him ?’and then, somewhere close by – a woman let out a scream.
Bloch looked around, but she couldn’t see past the people surrounding her. And she couldn’t leave Miggs.
‘I shouldn’t have left him …’ said Miggs, then clutched his arm tighter, grunting.
Cradling his head, Bloch said, ‘He’s fine. He’s absolutely fine. Don’t worry.’
She heard the crackle of the radio. Loud voices. Agents in urgent conversation. Then, his expression changed. His eyes shut tightly, squeezing a tear loose. And she knew. Right then, that Miggs had heard his partner was dead. Reaching down, she pulled out Miggs’s earpiece.
When she looked back at him, he was staring straight up, past her. His vision skyward. There was no breath. No heartbeat.
Bloch started CPR. She opened his airway, blew into his lungs, and as she rose again, to start compressions, she glanced up. Through a gap in the crowd, she saw a man walking away. His back to her. Far in the distance now.
The man in the yellow jacket.
Bloch looked around, saw that the woman was sitting on the curb, hunched over, crying.
In the center of the crosswalk, lay an overturned baby carriage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE SANDMAN
His plans, even those made on the spot, always accounted for eventualities. As much as it confused him at times, he felt like he understood human behavior. It was something he had to work at, because he often had unnatural reactions which made his friends and family uncomfortable. He had to fake grief when his grandparents died. It was hard to cry. He found that if he dug his nails into the soap in the bathroom, he could fake it easily by rubbing a little of the soap from beneath his fingernail into the corner of his eye. It stung, but it was better than the looks he got from his parents. He tried hard to learn what so-called normal behavior was expected of him, and in turn, it gave him an advantage. Having studied human emotions, and how people responded to certain situations, he found that he could predict their reactions.
He did not understand why the mother let go of the carriage.
He saw her hands in the air, free of the handle, as she reached for the baby. And then, her hip shoved into his, unexpectedly, throwing him off balance. She grabbed baby Josh into her arms, screamed as loudly as she could and ran to the other side of the street.
The child began crying.
Bloch and Lake were already across the street, lost in a crowd. He skipped off the road onto the sidewalk and gave the mother a wide berth as he ducked down the street ahead, walking quickly away.
The witness was dead.
Carrie was a step closer to freedom.
He checked his phone, saw a dozen notifications. He had alerts set for Carrie Miller. He checked each one, it was the same news report. Carrie had disappeared, breaching her bail conditions and a warrant had been issued for her arrest. The judge had ruled her trial would proceed in her absence.
The screen on his phone cracked with the pressure from his grip. He tossed it in a nearby trashcan.
Where the hell was Carrie ?
She must have run. The pressure was too much for her to take. No matter, he would find her when this was all over. And then they would be together. Then, their new life could begin.
He needed to make sure she was acquitted, even if she wasn’t there for the trial.
