Close Encounters (36 page)

He turned it on and began punching in a number with his thumb.

“I called your office, but I forgot you’re off duty for a while,” Erica continued. “A detective said she’d try to find you, too.”

“What happened to Carol? Where is she now?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me what she was going to do. Maybe she just went home.”

Lee knew that was exactly what she would do. Go to the one place she was sure of. Where she would feel safe.

But she would also be trapped there with no way out.

Lee quickly got off the phone with Erica and called Barbara.

Someone else answered the phone at the station.

“Where’s Detective Peña?”

“She took off about twenty minutes ago. Said she had a personal crisis to take care of. Can I help, Lieutenant?”

“No, thanks. Did she happen to say where she was going?”

“Not specifically. Just someplace on the Lower East Side.”

Lee hung up as he reached for his jacket. He checked for other items, clipped his automatic to his waist, slipped a backup gun in at the small of his back. On the way out the door he finally made one more call.

Carol knew someone was outside the door.

She sat perfectly still and just listened. There was no specific sound, nothing she could positively identify, just the sensation of someone standing there, breathing. He was stealthlike, stalking her with silent cunning. She knew that on the other side of the door he was listening too. Maybe he would decide she wasn’t home and go away.

But that would only take care of today. There was always tonight and tomorrow. Next week. Sooner or later he would get her.

She wasn’t going to let him, not if she could help it.

He probably had a gun. Carol knew she couldn’t outrun a gun. But she could make it difficult for him to use it. The utter absurdity of even going up against someone who wanted to kill her made her feel all the more determined to try.

She jumped involuntarily when she saw the doorknob turning. The door was double-locked. It was made of metal. But protection against forced entry was not absolute. She knew that.

She slowly stood up from the chair that she’d positioned directly in front of the door. Her heart began to pound, but she was ready. Suddenly there was a boom and the door shook with the violent impact of something being smashed against it. Everything near the door shook as well.

She stood to one side. She lifted a saucepan from the floor and held it carefully by the handle. Already the contents of the pan were making her eyes water and burn. Her nostrils flared and her nose stung. She nearly cried out at the unexpected
ping ping
she heard, which left the handle and lock plate on the door loose and rattling. He was using a silencer.

The pot tilted and some of the liquid dripped onto the floor at her feet. Carol turned her head away from the smell. There was one more
ping,
and Carol stared in horror as the lock on her door buckled and fell off.

The door burst open and someone rushed in. Carol didn’t wait. She closed her eyes and swung the pot. She heard the contents splash as they hit the walls and the man standing in the entrance. The intruder shouted and cursed as the liquid sprayed in his face and dripped over his head and shoulders.

Carol opened her eyes and saw a man furiously wiping at his face with one hand and waving a gun with the other. He hissed and cursed in pain and rage. Fumes radiated from him in a pungent, stinging cloud that made her start to cough. He was trying to open his eyes enough to find her. She lifted the pot, and brought it down on his arm as hard as she could. She immediately felt the muscles and nerves around the healed wound stretch painfully in her chest, but she didn’t let that stop her. She lifted the pot to hit him again.

This time she managed to deliver only a glancing blow. Still cursing, the man swung violently with his arm and knocked Carol backward against the wall. The pot flew out of her hand and clattered to the floor. Her attacker pointed his gun and got off two shots with surprising speed, but both went wild. Carol’s breath caught in her throat and she screamed, covering her head and dropping to the floor.

He lunged blindly toward her and fell over a chair. Another round was fired. Carol scrambled up painfully, holding her side where his arm had struck her. She tried to step over him to get out of the door and into the hall, but he was in the way. She screamed as he lunged for her again, twisting his legs with hers. She lost her balance and crashed to the floor. Her head grazed the edge of the open door and she was stunned by the sharp impact. She was grabbed roughly by the sweater and jerked forward as something swung toward her head.

She kicked furiously with her feet, grunting and breathing hard. He held her down with the strength of his own legs as she tried to twist free. With the last of her will Carol gritted her teeth and kicked again. Her foot caught him in the side of the head, and his grip on her leg momentarily loosened. Carol pulled away and tried to get up. She was utterly exhausted. She crawled a few feet and lay on her side, her head turned away so that at least she wouldn’t see when the shot came.

Out in the hall there were raised voices and a commotion on the stairway. Carol could hear Gladys screeching for someone to help. Someone was racing up the stairs, coming closer. A female appeared, gun held steadily in both outstretched hands as she leveled it in Carol’s direction. Her voice shouted with authority, “Don’t do it, Mario! It’s over!”

Then she switched to Spanish, and the man on the floor replied in Spanish.

Carol used the distraction to try and crawl away. Her attacker rolled over, grabbing her and dragging her back.

“You or the bitch,
mija,
” he said, blinking hard as he tried to clear his vision.

Carol’s attention was focused on the woman with the gun. Her movements suggested that she’d been carefully trained, and Carol wondered if she was a cop.

The man and the woman froze, their weapons pointed at each other. Suddenly, with incredible speed, he shifted his aim and shoved the gun under Carol’s chin.

“I’ll do her! Back the fuck
off.
”

“You’ll kill her for no reason. You’re not going anywhere, Mario. We got you.”

Carol didn’t wait to see who was going to win the argument. She took one more chance. This time when the man pointed his gun at the woman, Carol used the delay to jab her elbow as hard as she could into his throat. He grunted but didn’t loosen his grip on her. He swung his fist, clipping her across the mouth and drawing blood. She collapsed on the floor, stunned and shaken. The chemical liquid she had spilled was soaking into her clothing, burning her skin.

“I said, put it—”

There was another
ping
and a yelp of surprise from the woman, which was abruptly cut off. Another shot. Two. And then a crash.

Carol waited only a moment before she wriggled free from her entanglement with the man, who now lay moaning next to her. She pulled herself awkwardly to her knees and crawled away from the smell of blood and gunfire. Behind her, from the direction of the stairs, she heard more voices, a man screaming orders, heavy footsteps. Carol kept heading deeper into her apartment. Toward her bedroom. There was blood all over her arms and hands. She hurt somewhere. She made it to the long hallway before she closed her eyes and the world began to spin and grow dark.

Lee broke out in a sweat when he saw the crowd gathered in front of the building where Carol lived. Even as he pushed his way through, identifying himself as a police officer, he heard gunfire coming from an upper floor.

He pulled his gun, cocked it, and began to run quickly but cautiously up the stairs. When he reached Carol’s floor, he found a body sprawled in blood on the landing. It was Barbara Peña. There was a bullet wound in the side of her neck, another just above the bridge of her nose. Her gun lay beside her. A smeared trail of blood stained the hallway leading to the open apartment door. A foot and leg protruded through the opening.

Lee clamped down his emotions and tried to steady himself. He approached the door warily, his eyes scanning for any movement. At the entrance to the apartment he stepped over Mario, who lay wounded just inside the door. He didn’t see any sign of Carol. A strong, searing chemical smell stung his nostrils and made him cough. He covered his nose with his hand.

Mario was gasping for air. His face looked to be badly burned, and he had been shot at least once in the chest. Lee kicked the gun away from his hand. It spun across the floor and bounced against a wall. Mario didn’t move.

Behind Lee, the hallway was quickly filling with NYPD personnel. He kept advancing into the apartment.

“Carol?” he called out.

There was no answer. He glanced into the living room, saw it was empty, and started down the hallway.

“It’s Lee. Can you hear me?” he called out again.

Then he heard something. He moved toward the bathroom. There he found Carol crouched on the floor behind the door. She was drawn up into a trembling huddle, crying quietly. There was blood on her face and arms.

But she was alive.

“Carol,” Lee breathed out, his relief so great that he felt dizzy. He lowered his gun and put the safety on. She slowly raised her tear-and-blood-streaked face to him.

Her disheveled hair was flying every which way. Her eyes looked haunted. Behind him Lee could hear police officers, their dialogue clipped and efficient, punctuated by the intermittent crackle of radio transmissions.

Lee came to attention and leaned out the door. He displayed his ID and badge to an approaching officer.

“Lieutenant Grafton. I just arrived.”

The officer looked over Lee’s shoulder and saw Carol sitting on the floor. “We got an officer down in the hall,” he said. “She’s dead.”

“I know. She’s Detective Barbara Peña. She’s with the undercover unit. Take care of her, will you?”

“Right. Who’s this woman?”

“It’s her apartment. I don’t have the details yet. I’ll cover here,” Lee told the officer, who nodded, accepting Lee’s authority.

“You know anything about the guy in the foyer?”

“I—don’t have any details,” Lee hedged.

“Man—looks like she put up one hell of a fight,” he muttered to Lee, turning away. “She’s lucky.”

Lee squatted down in front of Carol and touched her face. “Carol—”

“I—I’m okay,” she said in an exhausted whisper.

“I know you are.” Lee tried to smile. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” he asked.

Carol’s chin quivered. “I—I didn’t want you to think I was … looking for an excuse to see you.”

He went down on one knee and gathered her against him, stroking her back. He kissed her damp, flushed skin. “Of course not,” he whispered. He held her tight, determined not to let her go again.

L
EE WAS AFRAID TO GO
to sleep.

He was afraid to let Carol out of his sight. And in truth, he didn’t really feel tired, just resigned and peaceful, and incredibly grateful that the day’s tragedy had left her unharmed.

He sighed, and Carol’s weight rose and fell with him as she slept with her head on his chest, her hand on his stomach. He cradled her against his side, her long, slender body warm and reassuring.

There had been no question of her remaining in her apartment, which was now sealed off as a crime scene. And he had no intention of letting her sleep anywhere alone. He didn’t care whether she stayed in a hotel room or with him here in his apartment, just so long as they were together. He stroked her smooth back, gliding his hand up her spine to her nape. His fingertips massaged her scalp through her soft hair. He turned his head just enough to press his lips gently to her forehead, careful of a small cut where her head had struck a door. She had another cut on her mouth, where Mario had struck her.

She had refused to go to the hospital for treatment. Lee had understood completely and hadn’t pushed it. Instead, after she was released from immediate questioning, he took responsibility for her. He gave no thought to his superiors’ insistence that he stay away from her. His reputation, his job, his future—none of that entered into his decision to stay with her.

Lee hadn’t tried to talk to her. That wasn’t what either of them needed. He had undressed her, bathed her cuts and bruises, bandaged them. He made her hot cocoa, and held the cup as she drank it. Then he took her to bed and simply held her. After a while Carol began to shake, and Lee realized that she was crying. He just let her cry, not trying to make what she’d gone through all right with words. He let his physical presence reassure her that she was not alone, and finally, worn out, she fell asleep.

Now he mentally relived the frightening moments when he’d arrived at Carol’s apartment, not knowing if she was alive or dead. And he felt the overwhelming relief—again—of discovering that she had survived. He wasn’t sure if he believed in divine intervention, but he had to think that she at least walked in grace, since she’d been tested so many times. Carol pressed closer, and Lee closed his eyes and tried to look into the future. He couldn’t see anything clearly and readily accepted that for the present it wasn’t going to be easy.

Very likely his career was over. That didn’t bother him nearly so much now as it once would have. In fact, his life might be just beginning. He didn’t have the first clue what was going to happen next.

Lee relaxed for another half hour until Carol settled into a deep sleep. Then he eased himself out of bed and moved into the living room, leaving the bedroom door ajar so he would hear her if she called out for him. He sat down on the sofa and began making phone calls.

The first was to Erica. He didn’t bother with the details of what had happened after she’d left Carol, but simply told her that Carol was safe and that the police had captured the man who had attacked her in the subway.

“Who was he? Why did he want to hurt her?”

“It’s a long story, Ricca. I’ll fill you in some other time, okay?”

“Okay. Where’s Ms. Taggart now?”

Lee hesitated only a moment. “She’s with me.”