Page 50 of The Accomplice
‘I swung by her place this morning and there was no one there. I tried her cell but no answer. I thought she was already on her way to the office. I’ll call her again,’ said Bloch.
‘Denise ! Come on in and pick up a phone,’ I said.
She came in with a stack of today’s mail. I hadn’t seen real office mail since we started the firm. Kate always went through it in the morning. The envelopes were all various sizes and shapes, mostly white or brown, but sticking out of the bottom of the pile in her arms I saw what looked like the kind of envelope for a greetings card. There was no mail stamp on it, which meant it had been hand delivered. It was addressed to me.
She dumped the pile on my desk and began sorting it, then she saw the envelope, looked at it front and back and gave it to me.
‘Your birthday ?’ she asked.
I shook my head, opened the envelope while Bloch helped Harry navigate the new phone, and Denise started ripping open the mail.
Inside the envelope was a single page, folded in half. It had been torn from a yellow legal pad. I recognized the handwriting and the gel ink Kate liked from those Japanese pens. It was part of Kate’s draft opening speech to the jury in Carrie’s case. I turned the page over.
A message was scrawled in red, in block capitals, over Kate’s notes.
I HAVE HER.
SHE IS ALIVE, FOR NOW.
IF YOU TELL THE AUTHORITIES, KATE DIES.
IF CARRIE IS CONVICTED, KATE DIES.
IF YOU GET AN ACQUITTAL FOR CARRIE, I LET HER GO.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EDDIE
Sometimes you get hit. Hard.
My office seemed to lurch to the right, as if the building had broken in two and tilted, violently, throwing me off balance. Spots formed in front of my eyes, and I tasted the pancakes I’d had for breakfast. Saliva flooded my mouth. The note left my hand, drifted to the desk.
The desk.
I lurched for it, grabbing the sides with two hands to steady myself.
The same words were banging through my head like a snare drum,‘not Kate, not Kate, not Kate, not Kate …’
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t think. I needed to get a hold of myself, or I would be sick.
Harry picked up the page in both hands. He’d seen my reaction, and his eyes widened as he read, his lips moving soundlessly, mouthing the words, making them real, the page shaking so much in Harry’s hands it was almost vibrating. His legs gave way and his ass hit my clients’ chair. If that seat hadn’t been directly behind him, he would’ve ended up on the floor. As he read, Bloch leaned over, and read the note, even as it slipped out of Harry’s hand.
Bloch covered her face with both hands. And stood there. Unmoving.
‘Bloch,’ I managed to say, reaching out for her, fighting down the nauseous sensation, getting my breath back.
‘Bloch, we’re going to get her back,’ I said, but she didn’t hear me. She wiped her face and ran out of my office.
‘Oh, Jesus,’ said Harry, and crossed himself. He bent over, laced his hands together and started to say a prayer.
I heard something. Cracking and smacking on something hard. I managed to get out of the office, feeling a little steadier on my feet. The door to the ladies’ room was open. Hearing the same booming cracks, Denise ran inside. I followed her in. She stood with her back to the stalls, hand over her mouth, watching Bloch.
Each punch took another piece of white bathroom tile off the wall. Her hands moved quicker, like she was working the heavy bag. A pile of broken tiles was forming at her feet and a small cloud of plaster dust billowed with each strike.
I grabbed her from behind, trapping her arms, and, gently, I pulled her away from the wall. She resisted at first, and I got the impression she could retaliate if she wanted to, starting with throwing the back of her head through my nasal bones.
She didn’t of course.
