Page 112 of Kill For Me Kill For You
‘Sir, my name is Billy Cameron. I’m going up to stop the woman who attacked you. Can you please call the people on the tenth floor, tell them not to open their doors for any reason? Okay?’
He nodded, and Billy said to Amanda, ‘Can you help him with that?’
She nodded.
Amanda’s 911 was answered, and she asked for paramedics and police. The doorman gave the address as George Towers.
Billy hauled open the elevator gate, stepped inside, closed it and hit the button for the tenth floor. Slowly, the elevator began to rise and with it came almighty clattering as the mechanism whined into life. There were no doors on the elevator. She could still see him through the scissor gate. The lift ascended, and as his face was gradually obscured, then his torso, his hands and his legs, and the light from the car disappeared altogether, Amanda was suddenly very afraid that this was the last time she would see Billy alive.
She heard the guard talking. He’d regained enough breath to call the residents, told them not to open their doors – there was a situation.
She stepped outside, checked the street for any passing cops.
Amanda hadn’t prayed in a long time, but she muttered an oath to God on that doorstep asking him for protection for her friend.
Another sound drew her attention.
A silver Lexus pulled up across the street and the engine, which had been revving high, shut off. A man got out of it quickly. He was in his sixties, bald, but with a fulsome gray beard and delicate rimless glasses perched precariously on his nose. In his left hand he carried what looked like a leather medical bag. He looked around the street.
‘Are you Dr. Marin?’ called Amanda.
He waved at her, crossing the street just as another car pulled up. This was an old Ford with a dent in the chrome bumper. The windows were tinted, and she guessed this was the cops. Then she realized where she’d last seen that car.
Parked outside her building.
Farrow and Hernandez got out. Hernandez first, and then Farrow more stiffly.
Amanda’s stomach lurched. She wanted to throw up. She was so damn close now. She had Ruth upstairs, and she hadn’t even had a chance to talk to her.
And it was too late.
Too damn late.
Farrow and Hernandez greeted Dr. Marin, as if they were expecting him, and suddenly Amanda felt unsure about what exactly was going on.
‘Amanda? What are you doing here?’ asked Farrow.
‘You two know each other?’ asked Dr. Marin.
‘Yeah, ahm, we do,’ said Amanda. ‘I’m with Billy Cameron. We both knew Ruth – through our trauma therapy group. He just went up in the elevator. She’s attacked the doorman. I think he’s okay, but he’s still winded.’
‘Oh my God, what floor are they on?’ asked Marin.
‘Tenth,’ said Amanda.
Marin, Farrow and Hernandez jogged inside. Amanda nodded, suddenly unable to say anything else and moved with them. Farrow checked on the doorman, who was clutching his throat, his breathing still heavy. Hernandez banged open the staircase door and started pounding up the stairs.
Farrow called out at Hernandez, ‘Don’t engage her until I get there. Wait for me. I’ll take the elevator with Dr. Marin.’ He punched the button to summon the elevator. ‘I’ve been looking for you, Amanda,’ said Farrow. ‘Are you okay? I went to your apartment. I’ve been calling for days.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. I’m okay, considering. We’ve got a lot to talk about. I have something to—’
‘Look, ideally we would do this another time, but now I have you let me say this fast. The reason I wanted to talk to you is to give you an update on Wallace Crone.’
Amanda had taken a deep breath. Ready to unload. Ready to tell him she had hurt someone. She had gone to a house to kill this man, but backed out. Then he’d attacked her and she’d acted in self-defense. She’d been manipulated into it by the woman upstairs, but she held her breath when Farrow mentioned Crone’s name.
She said nothing. Her mind was suddenly wiped.
‘We picked him up a couple of days ago on an anonymous tip. He’s a registered sex offender so he’s not allowed within a hundred feet of a school. We got a call saying he was talking to kids outside an elementary school and had persuaded one of them into his car. We checked with the school and they had no reports of missing kids or a kid getting into a strange vehicle. Even so, we held him for the day and questioned him relentlessly – got the lab to swab his vehicle. Turns out there were no fingerprints and no other DNA present in the passenger seat that he couldn’t account for. I just got the word back from the lab the other night. Thought I should at least give you a call and let you know.’
