Dead Lift (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-three

After the beach, we stopped at a Sonic because Jeannie didn’t believe me when I told her there were still roller skating carhops. The issue settled, we sipped grape and orange slushies for the remainder of the trip, most of which we passed in contented silence, except for the occasional announcement of a brain freeze. By request, I’d left the windows down so it was too loud to talk anyway. And despite the highway wind rushing through the car—whipping my hair into tiny, unforgiving knots—it was still inhumanly hot, so I also left the air conditioner on. If a Hell existed for the ecologically calamitous, my name was on the list.

Exhausted from our day in the sun, I recognized the slight warmth and tightening of my skin, especially my face, and knew that soon I’d be pink. A cool shower and fresh clothes topped my list of Stuff I Want Right Now.

At the house, we split in different directions, slogging with only half our usual energy. Jeannie headed for the guest room and I turned for Vince’s. Cindy circled excitedly at my feet, stepping on my toes, and I knew she wanted to go out. So before cleaning up, I found a leash and clipped it to her collar. We headed out the front door for a jaunt around the block.

I checked my phone, an upgraded replacement the sales guy talked me into the night before.

There were no new messages, but I did have a few e-mails, only one of interest.

Her interest in talking to me again was compelling. I hated typing on my phone so Diana got a quick “OK.” It seemed that no matter which way I angled the phone, its display was now dim and washed out. Exasperated, I shoved it into my pocket and hoped the condition was only a product of bright sunlight.

Cindy and I finished our walk and Jeannie was out of the shower when we returned. With a towel twisted on her head and another bound around her curves, she declared that her shower had been marvelous and that it was time for a nap.

“You smell good,” I said. “Peaches?”

She smiled. “More to life than Irish Spring, Em.”

Soon her hairdryer whirred. I took my own shower, longer than usual, and pulled on clean khaki shorts and a fitted tee. It was barely past five so I had time to kill before leaving for the club. I hauled my laptop to Vince’s bar, propped myself on a stool, and connected to his wireless network. Days had passed since I’d answered my e-mails and, with nothing else to do, now seemed the perfect time. But ten minutes in, fatigue overtook me. I rested my head on my arms at the bar and next thing I knew it was 6:15.

A quick peek down the hallway revealed Jeannie’s motionless legs on top of the quilt. I let her sleep, jotted a note, and left for the club.

***

Daylight was fading when I arrived. Westheimer’s traffic fumes were as thick as the humidity and, even though I’d parked near the familiar front entrance, I was in a mild snit because I didn’t know which way was south. I tried the side of the building to my left but there were no doors. I backtracked to the opposite end, which shared a wide alley with a running store. As promised, the door there was unlocked. I stepped into what must have been an employee lounge and weaved around tables as the door closed behind me.

The gym was partly lit. Though the corridors remained lighted, exercise rooms and spa nooks were dark and abandoned, doors closed, only black showing on the other side of their glass panes. Walking though the quiet passages reminded of my old job at BioTek and the times I’d stayed after hours to work alone. It’d freaked me out then and was still uncomfortable, similar to how I’d felt during the storm when I was stuck in Claire’s massive house all alone.

At the top of the stairs, faint but recognizable jazz music played in Diana’s office. The track leading to her door was in shadows but a wide triangle of light spilled onto its rubberized surface.

I stepped into her office and knew right away I was in trouble.

Nobody was inside, but Georgina—Annette’s faded, stuffed giraffe—sat propped on the desk’s front edge. An open ring box had been left beside the toy. Confused, I edged forward for a closer look, then felt the sick adrenaline rush of a trapped idiot. My wedding rings were inside, glinting under the overhead lights.

I didn’t reach for them, just turned and ran, but Burke was waiting at the top of the stairs. The sight of him brought me up short.

“Your friend is hard to miss.” He was ten yards away, blocking any chance of escape. “I saw her parked on my street yesterday.”

“You mean William’s street.”

He glared at me. “Because of you, I can never go home again.” His empty hands should have been a relief. They weren’t.

He stepped toward me and I backed up.

“Your scheme was so important that you killed innocent people to keep it going?” I glanced at the reception area below and considered jumping.

“I left you and your kid alone. You should have done the same for me. Now I have to move and start all over. It’s your fault.” He took a confident stride forward.

I turned and ran to the far end of the track. Burke surprised me and charged.

Behind me, his footfalls were muffled thuds on the rubber. They grew closer, and I knew that if I didn’t get off the track fast, he’d catch me before I reached the stairs. I thought about what he’d done to the other two people who’d caught onto his scam and knew I’d have to do something. Now.

I stopped, swung my legs over the steel banister and…dropped.

I seemed to hang in the air and, for that single instant, I thought I’d escaped.

Then I slammed into the floor below. My landing on the unforgiving marble was violent and I was too hurt to move right away. When I finally did, my knee and hip throbbed.

He looked down and shook his head. “That had to hurt.”

I didn’t see a gun.

Scrambling up, I re-oriented and bolted for the alley, trying to ignore the pain.

“You’re fooling yourself, honey,” he yelled. “Papa’s got the good doctor’s keys.”

I tried to control my rising panic. If he’d dead-bolted the exit, running to the lounge would leave me cornered. But he might have been bluffing.

I doubted it.

Ahead, the hallway ended in a T—weight room to the left, locker room to the right. The weight room was another dead-end, so I veered right, remembering that the locker area connected to the indoor pool, which in turn opened to the lobby. I silently slipped into the locker room’s darkness and tried to steady my breathing. My purse was gone, probably lost when I’d crashed on the lobby floor, and that meant I had no phone.

No matter where I hid, Burke would find me eventually. He had all night and I couldn’t leave. My only chance for survival was to get help to come to me.

I squeezed back into the hallway and ran for the short corridor Kendra had shown me. A fire alarm box had been by the water fountains.

I dashed for it and broke the glass. Bell-style clanging erupted throughout the building and didn’t stop. I scooped a shard from the floor and barely registered the sting when it cut me. I stood and turned back for the lockers and Burke was
right there
watching me. He reached into his pocket.

I didn’t wait to find out why.

Barreling through the serpentine halls, my left knee and hip throbbed and it felt like my lungs were on fire. With the alarm, I couldn’t hear him behind me and I knew better than to look back. The corridor dumped me in the lobby, right next to the natatorium, and I heaved open a glass door and hurried toward the corner of the pool. Burke entered as I reached the first turn and paused as if calculating his next move. I rounded the second corner and didn’t stop until I was exactly opposite him. Four pool lanes separated us.

We stared at each other across the lane ropes, both breathing hard. Burke pushed hair from his forehead and said something that I couldn’t hear over the alarm.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew a metallic object. In the half-light, I couldn’t see what it was. He raised his hand and pointed it at me. A stiletto blade sprung out and I knew—just
knew
—he’d slit my throat if I let him get close enough.

I glanced at the far end of the pool, gauging the distance to the locker rooms. As if reading my mind, he produced a set of keys, spun them around a finger and laughed. He moved to the exit behind him, took his time to find the right key, and locked the door. Then he tested it to make sure.

Ignoring me, he moved to the far end of the pool toward the locker rooms. I shuffled painfully sideways to keep directly opposite him across the water.

Burke disappeared behind a partition that led to the changing areas, and then quickly reappeared. I was locked in, no doubt. The switchblade was gone, I assumed replaced in his pocket, and even from twenty-five yards away, his cold, tired stare bored into me. I mirrored his movement as he paced the perimeter of the pool, never looking away from him. He glanced at me only occasionally and seemed to be talking to himself. It went on like this, in a clockwise pattern, him walking and talking and me limping opposite him on my increasingly painful left leg, until we’d changed places and I was in front of the glass lobby door.

I pushed the handle and it was locked, as expected.

I looked around, desperate for something to break the glass. Working through the pain, I balanced on my left leg and kicked the door with my right foot. The glass cracked, but didn’t give, and when I turned around, Burke was headed toward me in a full sprint.

I ran away from him as hard as I could, around the short end of the pool. Already short of breath and with my hip and knee smarting with every step, I wasn’t sure how long I could keep the pace. The pool deck was slick, and I lost speed in the turns. By degrees I knew Burke was gaining. He was charged, jacked on adrenaline, and got closer on the second lap.

Finally, I turned a corner and he wasn’t in my periphery.

It was the upstairs track all over again; I’d have to jump or be slashed.

I leaped wide and landed on the nearest lane rope, immediately maneuvering backward in the splash because I knew Burke would come right behind me. He pushed off the deck with the power of a cheetah and landed on top of me. I swiped at him with the glass shard and caught his cheek below the eye. A thin red line discolored the water streaming down his face. I tried again and caught his shoulder, but the glass also sliced my palm. Reflexively, I let go and the shard splashed in the water between us.

I pushed myself backward across the width of the pool, kicking to keep him at bay whenever I could. But Burke was stronger and taller; the water only came to his chest. It was over my shoulders and I could only move in what felt like slow motion. I angled for the shallow end and ducked under the second rope. Even underwater, I heard the fire alarm’s tireless clang.

I splashed furtively, trying anything to slow him down. I thought I’d gained some distance, but then he surged forward and clenched my hurt right hand.

I pushed off the bottom and caught him with a left hook. He didn’t even flinch. He responded with a back fist I never saw coming and, in the time it took me to reorient, grabbed my hair and forced my face to the water. He was too strong, so I grabbed a big bite of air and knew I’d have to use it wisely.

Underwater, I focused on his jeans. He’d shown me twice now that he carried the knife on his right. My left hand was still free. If only I could close the gap.

Burke pressed harder on my head, his finger span wide enough to cup the entire back of my skull. I grew hungry for air and flashed to Annette. She’d lost her dad to the water and I’d be damned if she’d lose me too. I swam further down, nearly beyond Burke’s reach, and used my feet to push off the bottom toward his hip. My fingers snaked into his front pocket and I groped for the switchblade while he tried to step away. He let go of my head and reached for my hand, but it was too late. I had it.

I wrenched it from his pocket and thumbed the switch. The water resistance prevented a solid drive into his hip, but I dug and twisted its point until the water between us turned pink, then red.

Out of air, I drew an involuntarily breath and choked. At the surface I coughed and gagged and nearly threw up.

Burke still had my right wrist so I twisted away, holding the knife as far from him as I could. I dipped under the third rope and came up with a fast swipe at his arm before turning away again. The blade connected, but he didn’t let go.

We were in the last lane now, an arm’s length from the ladder. If I got an arm through its handrail I’d have leverage. I thrashed again with no effect. Splashing at him would put the knife within his reach, so all I could do was kick. But drag made each attempt slow and ineffective.

I kept my eyes on Burke and tried to shove him off with a foot while I felt behind me for the ladder. Finally the knife scraped against something hard and I took a quick look at the wall. Looping my arm through the metal handrail, I was careful to keep the blade high. Then I shoved my back into the foot rungs, pulled my knees to my chest, and with all my strength, swung my feet above the water’s surface where they met Burke’s face. His neck snapped back and my wrist was finally free.

I turned to the ladder and started to pull myself out, but he lunged toward me. He wrenched down on my collar and slammed my chin into the cement pool deck. My mouth filled with the metallic tang of blood, and I when I tried to move my jaw, my tongue ran over something hard and loose—a broken tooth.

Behind me, Burke angled to push me under again, but it was clear that what he most wanted was the knife. I had no chance against his greater size and leverage, so I made the decision. I’d have to give in.

I let him pry my arm from where it anchored me to the relative security of the handrail. Using all his furious strength, Burke spun me to face him and groped for my left hand to protect himself from the switchblade I’d been holding there.

His focus was so intense that he didn’t notice when I moved my other hand underwater and scooped the knife from where I’d placed it on the ladder’s top rung. Clutching the switchblade like the last chance I knew it was, I drove it deep into his shoulder. The crimson rush that followed assured me I’d finally slowed the monster down.