The Mentor (17 page)

His lawyer had backpedaled and stood with his back against the fence, watching the scene unfold and doing everything he could to get involved as little as possible. He certainly didn’t seem willing to help his client break the law.

The corners of Garnish’s mouth turned up. “I’ll kill the whole lot of you, one by one!” His tone was cold and resolute—the sound of a man who didn’t have anything left to lose. “And as for you,” he growled, pulling Miriam tighter and placing his mouth at her ear. “I’ll take care of you soon enough, my beautiful little Frenchie.”

Suddenly Garnish shoved Miriam into Shaw, sending him stumbling and blocking his view.

Eric grabbed her to keep her from falling, and by the time he looked up again, the criminal had already dashed out through the gate and was running across the street.

Just then, the first pair of officers caught up with them. Miriam pulled away from Eric and took a gun from the first officer who reached them. Weapon in hand, she took off after their fugitive.

“Not again!” Eric groaned, then reluctantly took off after her.

Christopher had already reached the far side of the street and had a decent head start. Suddenly he spun around and fired a shot in their direction. Miriam and Eric ducked, slowing down.

“Fils de chienne!”
swore Miriam as a passerby threw herself to the ground, terrorized, and other pedestrians went running in all directions. She set off after Christopher even faster than before.

Eric was struggling to keep up with her. Two chases in one day was at least one too many. Suddenly he realized they were near the St. James’s Park station. “If he gets down into the tube, we’ll lose him!”

In fact, that was exactly what Christopher had in mind. He ran headlong into the first entrance to the station, disappearing from view, followed a moment later by Miriam.

Eric made it to the entrance too, but when he was inside all he could see was an enormous crowd. He skidded to a stop and craned his neck, looking around for the other two. Finally he caught sight of Miriam, who was running up the stairs to the Circle line. “Police!” she cried, waving people out of the way.

Eric jumped over the turnstiles, but as soon as he made it to the top of the stairs, he could see that Garnish was already down at the bottom, heading into the corridors. He decided to keep Miriam in sight while he elbowed his way through the crowd, trying to get downstairs as quickly as possible. They all kept running. His breath was getting shorter and shorter. He wasn’t even sure where he was, but sooner or later they’d reach a platform and that bastard would have nowhere left to run.

There he was! Eric could see a train waiting beyond Garnish, its doors open. It was about to leave. He could hear the door alarms beeping.

Miriam was ahead of him and had almost reached the closing door, but she was a split second too late and it closed. “No!” she shouted, pounding on the window while the passengers stared out at her, their mouths open in surprise. Garnish was standing among them, smiling and waving good-bye to her with one hand.

Eric reached Miriam as the train was pulling away. She gave a deep growl of frustration, then spun around and kicked a trash can in anger, denting it.

Shaw fell to his knees, struggling to breathe. His mind was racing as he tried to figure out what to do next. They’d lost their suspect. There was no way to tell where he was headed. He could get anywhere from here.

Or could he? He needed to think . . .

“Garnish has been watching us for a while,” Eric muttered, his voice choked.

“What?” exclaimed Miriam, whirling around. Her face was bright red, and she couldn’t stand still—she was shaking her head, struggling with her usual tic.

“I saw him outside the pub the night of Jane’s party,” Shaw said.

Miriam stopped moving suddenly, all ears. He had her undivided attention.

“This afternoon, just a few hours before I noticed him outside my building, I saw him following me.” He stopped and took a long, deep breath. His heart was finally slowing down a little. “Only I didn’t know it was him.”

“Is he out to get us?” asked Miriam, incredulous. The weapon she was holding trembled with each muscle spasm. “Or just you?”

Eric shook his head. “I don’t know.” Of course he knew that sooner or later his bad reputation among criminals might come home to roost, but he still found it hard to believe that this whole situation had resulted from his questionable tactics. For now, though, it was the only explanation that made any sense.

Miriam froze, staring Eric straight in the eye. “He tried to attract your attention by copycatting murders committed twenty years ago.”

Eric felt short of breath again. She had noticed the connection too. Of course she had. And she hadn’t had the courage to bring it up again either. Eric nodded. He’d thought it might be a personal message too. “This man is psychotic.” It was the only response he could muster.

“But . . . what about the Pennington murder?” asked Miriam. Then her face lit up with understanding.

Eric had come to the same conclusion. “You heard it too. He said that he’d kill us all.” He took in Miriam’s dumbfounded look for a few moments, but she didn’t say a thing.

“Daniel Pennington was collateral damage,” Shaw said, finally breaking the silence. As soon as he said that, he could feel fear rising up inside his chest. “He was looking for someone else—someone who lived at the address until just a little while ago and who is still listed as a resident there.”

“Adele,” moaned Miriam. “
Your
Adele!”

“Jesus, he’s headed for her!” Eric spun around and looked up at the train timetables. “The next train leaves in seven minutes. Too long!”

“We’ll take my car!” exclaimed Miriam, running back toward the exit.

She put on the safety glasses and ear protection, then loaded the weapon.

She’d done this hundreds of times and moved automatically, but never before had it been so fundamentally important to follow procedure down to the letter. She was holding the only ironclad proof that connected Garnish with the murders. His prints were the only ones on the gun. If the bullets gathered in the four murder cases could be connected to this gun, it would be enough to put the man behind bars.

“One shot,” announced Jane, pointing the pistol into the box. A moment later she pulled the trigger.

The sound of the shot echoed around the ballistics lab, while the bullet penetrated into the gel and came to a stop a little more than halfway through the block.

The criminologist extracted the bullet and set it beneath the microscope. Then she repeated the procedure, this time with the silencer equipped, since it might affect the marks the barrel made on the bullet.

He was clinging to the handle above the car window with one hand while holding his cell phone to his ear with the other.

Next to him Miriam was driving full throttle, sirens blaring, accelerating whenever she had a chance, and slamming on the brakes or swerving to one side whenever they came upon some obstacle. “Get out of the way, you
idiot
!” she shouted at another driver, whose only fault was to have stopped at a stoplight.

On the other end, the phone continued to ring. Suddenly someone picked up . . . but it was just the answering machine. “Fuck!” shouted Eric. “Adele! Don’t go to my apartment; go back to the office. I repeat: don’t go to my apartment! As soon as you get this, call me. Immediately!” He hung up and dialed another number as quickly as he could. On the fifth ring, his own answering machine message came on. She wasn’t there or wasn’t able to answer. His mind filled with terror, he managed to make a third call.

The cell phone ringtone was that of a drumroll. Martin, sitting in front of his computer, reached out and touched the screen, answering with the speakerphone.

“Let’s see that image again,” said Jane, who was standing behind him.

“Stern here,” said Martin, distractedly.

“Trace Adele’s cell phone with the GPS, immediately!” shouted Eric. They could hear sirens blaring in the background, as well as the engine of Miriam’s car roaring.

“Eric?” said Detective Hall.

“Immediately!”

“Yessir.” Martin started typing away on his keyboard.

“We checked Garnish’s gun against the bullets we gathered in the other cases,” continued Jane. “It’s a match. He’s not getting away this time.”

“We have to catch him first,” said Shaw, his voice nearly drowned out by a honking horn.

“Where the heck are you?” asked Jane. He’d run out of the building, but she had no idea where he’d gone.

“We think Garnish is going after Adele.”

“What!” Jane was incredulous. What the hell was happening? Why would Garnish go after Adele?

Stern stopped moving, drawing Hall’s attention to the image on his screen. “Um, boss . . . here it looks like Adele’s cell phone is . . . in y-your apartment.” Martin was stammering as if he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.

However, the location on the screen made Jane smile. “What’s Adele doing at your house, boss?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” said Eric curtly. Then he hung up.

“To me it looks like you two have gotten together,” said Jane to no one in particular, amused at her discovery.

His heart in his throat, Eric ran up the stairs two at a time until he reached his floor. When he came around the corner and could see the door to his apartment, he skidded to a stop. It was open slightly.

Miriam came running up behind him, but he waved back at her to be silent.

He took out his cell phone and dialed Adele’s number again. A few moments later he heard a phone ring inside his apartment. It was close. This was the worst possible situation they could have found themselves in. If she was in there, she was unable to respond. The open door made him fear the worst.

No. No. He couldn’t lose her now, not after they’d finally found one another. A wave of pain cut through his thoughts. He tried to push it away. He refused to believe it. He had to believe he’d gotten here in time.

Eric snapped the cell phone shut and stuck it in his pocket. He took out his gun, and so did Miriam.

They walked cautiously toward the door. Eric stretched out one hand and pushed the door delicately to open it the rest of the way. The hinge squeaked faintly, interrupting a silence that was otherwise complete save for their stifled breathing. He stopped, swearing to himself.

Miriam moved to the other side of the door and leaned over to look in through the crack.

“See anything?” whispered Shaw.

She shook her head, then took a small flashlight out of her pocket and turned it on, pointing it out from the barrel of her gun. Then she gave the door a sharp shove, throwing it wide open. Trying to make as little noise as possible, they entered the apartment one after the other, crossing through the entryway and heading toward the living room.

Eric’s eyes were drawn to something. He’d almost stepped on it: Adele’s smartphone, abandoned on the floor not far from the door. He looked around. The little table by the front door had been moved slightly, as if it had been bumped.

He kept walking inside. Part of him wanted to stop right there, terrorized at the thought of what he might find in one of the rooms.

The living room, bathed in light from the street lamps outside, looked in order. Detective Leroux leaned her head through another doorway to check the kitchen, leaving Eric with the bedroom.

He swallowed and clenched the grip of his pistol even more tightly. Seen from the entrance, the room looked dark. He took out his flashlight and pointed it ahead, holding it close to the barrel of his gun just like Miriam. He went in. He could see the bed, still mussed up. Something dark on the floor drew his attention, and he pointed the flashlight at it. Adele’s big bag.

He stood there for a moment, struggling to catch his breath. Then he flicked the switch and turned on the light. The room was empty.

“I checked Brian’s room and the other bathroom too,” said Miriam, coming up behind him. “There’s nobody here. Did you look in there?” she asked, pointing to the bathroom connected to the master bedroom.

Eric didn’t answer. He was still staring at the bed. There was no sign of Adele, but all her things were still here, including her phone. There was only one explanation. “He took her.” The mere thought that Garnish may have taken her sent chills down his spine. They could be anywhere by now. How on earth would he find them?

No, wait a minute.

“Nothing,” said Miriam, who had checked the last bathroom in the meantime.

There was something missing.

Eric returned his gun to its holster and went back toward the front door. He knelt down and picked up the smartphone. From there he started carefully checking the floor. “Turn on the light,” he said to Miriam.

The room became bright.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Did you notice if my car was parked out front?”

“I didn’t see . . . ,” said Miriam. She wasn’t tense the way she had been before, but her anxiety was now revealing itself under the light, her body continuously trembling.

Eric stood up and put his hand on her forearm, blocking her involuntary movements. He couldn’t take care of her, not right now. He had to think of Adele.

Miriam met his quiet gaze and nodded as if she’d read his thoughts.

Eric left her there and went back into the living room, but this time he headed straight for the balcony.

Miriam came to his side by the railing. “He came here on the tube,” she muttered. “That bastard came here on the tube.”

“He stole my car!” Eric took his cell phone out of his pocket and pressed redial. When he heard the click of someone picking up on the other end, he started talking right away, not even waiting for an answer. “Stern, locate the GPS signal on my car. Now. Quickly!”

“We should be close,” said Miriam, slowing down her car. “This is the neighborhood.”

Following Stern’s directions, the two had driven out to an industrial zone on the outskirts of the city. It was now after ten in the evening, and at this hour the wide, identical streets in this corner of the city were all deserted, save for suburban fauna busily rummaging around in the garbage cans.