Page 108 of Kill For Me Kill For You
‘Tell me about your daughter,’ he said.
Amanda normally resisted talking about Jess. But not then. It seemed different somehow. The tidal wave of pain that normally accompanied her memories of her didn’t hit so hard this time.
‘She loved unicorns. She had a whole collection of soft toys – you know – teddy bears, penguins, that kind of thing. But she never slept with them. She put them up on her shelf and she’d stare at them at night. She only ever slept with one toy. A white, fluffy unicorn she called Sparkles. Jess couldn’t go to sleep without it. I was sick, after Luis took his own life. He blamed himself for Jess being stolen. I was in the hospital when Luis’s parents buried them both. They forgot to put Sparkles in the coffin with Jess. That still bothers me. Jess was just . . . I loved her more than anything in this world, you know?’
She gazed out the window of the pizzeria at the passers-by.
‘How did you feel when you thought Crone was dead?’ he asked.
‘Relieved. Like a cancer had been cut out of me. You know, when they found Jess, she was in a dumpster. Her clothes were missing. It was like she had been used, and murdered, and then just thrown away. I can’t ever get that out of my mind.’
‘They’ll get him some day, Amanda. Men like that never change. They . . .’
He stopped talking. His phone had started to ring.
‘Hello?’ he said.
Amanda couldn’t hear the other end of the call. Instead, she leaned forward, put her elbows on the table and fixed Billy with expectant eyes.
He made notes on his newspaper, flipped it over to the list of names Amanda had written out and then circled one of them.
She didn’t want to get her hopes up, but she knew they were close. They had to be. This was all that mattered for now. Billy thanked the man on the other end of the line and hung up.
‘Let’s go. One of those IDs showed up as having a credit check completed against it last week. It was a rental company. My guy called them and gave them a story about checking on the reason for the credit search, making sure it was necessary and the individual had consented, etcetera. The credit search was because the person had rented an apartment in Brooklyn. I’ve got the address. They also came back with a DMV check on a black Mercedes S Class. It’s registered to a different ID and address, but that was two years ago. The rental in Brooklyn is our best bet. It’s the most recent, and it fits with the timeline of her moving after Quinn’s attack.’
‘Let’s go find her,’ said Amanda.
61
Ruth
Ruth had parked the Mercedes outside her building. Didn’t want to be carrying the heavy basket too far. She put it on the backseat. Got in, started the car and pulled into the street. George Towers was only fifteen or twenty minutes away. It wouldn’t take long. Ruth made sure to keep the car under the speed limit, signal all her turns. Last thing she needed was to be pulled over. She would try to park as close to the building as possible. It would be important to get away fast. Her thoughts drifted to Gary, and she wondered if he really could have done this? His will and desire were there, but that wasn’t all it took.
With the online group sessions, Ruth made a point of never meeting her accomplices in person. It was safer that way. She had made an exception for Gary, because he was special. He was already homicidal. Some are like that. Others only think they can kill someone, and Ruth had become adept at spotting them. Some, like Amanda, only needed to be pointed in the right direction. Gary, though, would kill anyone, and anything. She knew if Gary had been doing this job, he would likely turn the gun on himself afterwards. That was a price she had been willing to pay.
A space opened up when a truck pulled out on 33rdStreet. She thought about pulling in, then moved on, hoping to find a closer spot. There was a space just thirty feet from the entrance to George Towers. She turned in, killed the engine and sat behind the wheel. The rush was intense. She pulled in a few breaths, let them out, running down her system, before getting out of the car and retrieving the gift basket from the back.
She put on a cap, sunglasses, opened the glass doors of George Towers and stepped into the ornate lobby. There, behind the desk, the concierge looked up from his screen and said, ‘May I help you?’
This was a different concierge from the man she’d seen here previously. This one was at least a hundred pounds heavier – none of it muscle. His uniform was stretched tight across his chest, which made his name badge stand proud. The badge said ‘Raymond’. He wore a thin moustache and beard, not pencil thin, but not far off. It gave Raymond a comic appearance.
‘Sure, I have a special delivery for the Grangers,’ said Ruth.
‘I’ll take that,’ said Raymond.
‘It’s gotta be signed for by the recipient, I’m afraid. I’ve gotta hand it over in person.’
Raymond stood, looked Ruth over. Top to bottom.
‘That’s against our policy. I’ll have to call Mr. Granger,’ he said.
‘No need. I sure don’t mind taking it to him,’ she said.
Raymond picked up the phone, started scanning a list of phone numbers on his desk.
‘Mind if I put these down for a second? They’re kind of heavy,’ said Ruth, placing the basket on the desk.
Bent over to check the numbers, Raymond then looked at the phone, started to dial. He didn’t see Ruth come round the desk and approach him from behind. She raised the butt of the gun, high, her arm stretched toward the ceiling, and she brought it down hard on the top of Raymond’s head. A hollow, metallic thud. Raymond slumped over the desk, grunting.
