Compromised (24 page)

I had donned a baseball cap to cover up my blonde tresses, and was keeping my face down so as to be as unobtrusive as possible. We were both watching Harry through the glass panels in the sliding end doors. My car was packed, and the guy standing behind me looked like a groper, a real fanny-pinching lowlife. I made a note to keep a spare eye on Mr. Wandering Hands.

Harry stood as the subway pulled into the 190th Street station. I kept my eyes on him as long as I could before moving toward the doors. I was shimmying between passengers when I felt someone cup my ass. I wheeled around, sneering at the grabber, but the dirtbag was intentionally looking the other way.
Creep!
The doors slid shut just as I got to them. Harry and Gus were off the train, but Harry stepped backward, reboarded the train at the last possible moment, and was mocking Gus, waving to him from inside the subway car while Gus stood on the platform, fuming over having been duped.

It all happened before I could get out of the subway car.
I stood my ground, then hurried back to my previous observation point just in time to see that Harry was still inside the train and facing the closed subway door as it pulled out of the station. He’d obviously made Gus for a cop. I was hoping he hadn’t spotted me as well.

I texted Gus,
I’m on the train. I still have eyes on Harry.
I knew, however, that my husband would be none too happy because we’d been separated, which was the very last thing he wanted.
Catch the next train. I’ll let you know where he gets off.

There were only two uptown stops left. Harry rode the subway to the end of the line. I texted Gus,
Off at Inwood, 207th Street. Will hang back. Won’t make a move without you.

He replied,
On my way!

I waited until the last moment before I moved toward the doors. I let most of the riders exit before me so that there’d be a crowd of disembarking passengers between us. I did, however, manage to stomp on the groper’s foot as I got off. I sneered at him and flipped him a very hostile bird. Wouldn’t you?

Harry was walking briskly, and I was in no hurry to be made, so I hung back as far as I could without losing him. He hustled down Isham Street and turned right where the road ended and a vast park began. This was no tiny playground. I was staring at Inwood Hill Park, acre upon acre of sprawling fields, forest, hiking trails, and caves, not exactly the easiest place to tail a subject. It covered the entire northwest quadrant of Manhattan Island and was bordered by the Hudson River and the Spuyten Duyvil Creek. I glanced at my phone to see if Gus had left any messages. He hadn’t, and the signal strength was nil.

I’d been to the park many years before—just a bunch of high school kids blowing off steam and looking for a little adventure. I remembered getting lost near the creek and making out with my then boyfriend from the seclusion of the old Indian caves. Harry, however, wasn’t headed in that direction, which was lucky, because I knew it’d be almost impossible to follow him in that rocky area in the dark. I checked my phone again—no word from Gus.
Now what?

Clouds were moving briskly across the sky. Harry was bathed in shadow, and I could just barely see him as he entered the park. He was almost invisible in his black hoodie.

Duh. Stupid.
I suddenly remembered the GPS tracker in my pocket and pulled it out.
Thank God. His phone is still on him.
I hung back a little farther to keep from being spotted, knowing that the GPS would allow me to stay with him no matter where he went.

I could see that he had a definite destination in mind because he took a direct path along major walkways that led to the small peninsula that jutted into the creek. From where we were, there was a clear view of the Henry Hudson Bridge, which rose some one hundred and forty-three feet above the creek—though my short-term memory was still somewhat restricted, it seemed that the section of my brain reserved for trivia and all manner of useless knowledge was still intact and functioning superbly.

What are you doing?
I wondered.

He walked to the furthest extension of the peninsula and was just scant yards from the creek. I saw him looking out over the water, apparently searching for something.

But for what?

It didn’t take long to find out what he was looking for. A pair of headlights illuminated the center of the bridge. I could see that a van was on the shoulder, facing north, and I strained to see exactly what was going on. I glanced at Harry, and from his expression, it appeared that he was equally concerned about the development.

The driver got out, opened the rear door, and dragged a man out of the van. I couldn’t see what the captor was holding in his hand, but it appeared he had either a knife or a gun pressed against his captive’s back. The pair stepped over the safety railing and came to a stop with just the bridge support structure between them and a long drop into the water. The captor was directly behind his prisoner. Although I tried to see the captor’s face, it was obscured by his prisoner’s shadow.

The clouds must’ve shifted, because the moonlight suddenly became intense, and I was able to get a good look at the prisoner’s face. It took a moment for his name to roll off my tongue. “Tiru?” The scenario suddenly made sense, and I could almost predict what was about to happen next.

How do I stop this?
There was no time to call for backup, so I pulled a small LED flashlight from my pocket and directed the beam at the men on the bridge, knowing I’d get not only the assailant’s attention but Harry’s as well. The very last thing I wanted to do was give up my position, but I couldn’t stand by and watch Tiru die. The span was too vast for the beam to illuminate the men on the bridge, but I was sure they’d see my flashlight beam in the dark as I hollered, “NYPD. Freeze!”

The captor did not do as ordered. The object he’d been holding was finally revealed. The steel of the blade glistened in the moonlight as he dragged it across Tiru’s throat. I could hear his menacing laughter echo across the creek as he pushed Tiru forward, forcing him to tumble off the bridge.

I gasped when Tiru’s body slammed into the water.

Harry let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Iie!” No!

The color red appears black in dim light. Tiru’s blood had stained the assailant’s knife, rendering it virtually invisible in his hand as he turned to Harry, the hearty rumble of his laughter mocking him. I could see that he was gloating, and then for an instant he glanced my way with an icy stare that was cold enough to freeze my heart.

Harry took off on foot.

What do I do? Call for backup or chase Harry?
Tiru’s murderer was already back in the van, and I could hear the wheels squeal as the van sped off. Tiru was undoubtedly dead, and there wasn’t a backup responder on earth who’d be able to bring him back to life. There was no urgency to get the salvage operation started.

I quickly glanced at my cell phone—still no signal. I tried 911 but couldn’t connect to a cell tower.

Harry seemed nimble as he hurried over uneven terrain in the direction of the Indian caves, and I was not the athlete I had been prior to the shooting. I had been out of the gym for months and was struggling to keep up. The fear of falling and reinjuring my brain weighed heavily on my mind and slowed me further. I kept my eyes glued to the ground and was cautious not to misstep, which slowed my pursuit. I could see him fading away as the moon once again retreated behind the clouds. I listened for the sound of his footsteps and pushed forward until I came upon rugged stone topography and the Indian caves.

I slowed down and then came to a stop because I could no longer see Harry. I hoped that a crackle of a twig would disclose his location, but all I heard was the low rumble of cars traversing the bridge. Harry was either gone or in hiding, and the area was now pitch-black. I lit my flashlight and scanned the caves before me. My surroundings were ominous and I was hardly my usual confident self, so I pulled my LDA for a dose of instant courage. There’s nothing quite like a pound of finely machined steel to boost your mettle, even though the chances of me firing my gun at Harry were near zero.

I heard movement and stepped forward to explore a gap between the caves, and in my flashlight beam, I caught a glimpse of a man running though it was too dark out for me to be sure it was Harry. I was thinking that it could’ve been a vagrant I’d inadvertently rousted until I noticed a cell phone lying on the ground. “Shit!” It was the burner I’d given to Harry. My unexpected appearance at the park had most certainly tipped him off to the fact that I was keeping tabs on him, and he’d figured out that the phone had GPS-tracking capability. I began to hurry after him.

Careful.
The terrain was rocky and terribly uneven. Common sense told me to slow down and proceed with caution even though I knew I’d probably lose my man by doing so.
Hell, who am I to listen to common sense?
I was hurrying forward at an unwise pace when my foot slipped on an angled stone and I lost my balance. I felt my heart skip a beat as I maneuvered to right myself and avoid going down face-first. I tumbled but managed to take most of the impact with my shoulder. The back of my head made just marginal contact with the rocky ground, just enough to send a sharp pain through my skull. I saw a flash of white light and then my vision disappeared. It returned after what seemed like a few seconds, but when my eyes cleared, I saw a terrifying face staring down at me and once again my heart filled with dread.

It took a moment or two before I realized that I was alone on the ground and that the face I thought I saw was not actually there but instead a memory from the minutes after I’d been shot.
The fall had unlocked a concealed memory, and I could hear the sounds of alarmed citizens rushing over to assist Yana and me as we lay bleeding on the street, their voices filled with panic. I could hear a woman making a 911 call as vividly as if she were standing beside me at the present moment, and I could sense onlookers gathering and gawking, helpless to assist as blood puddled on the sidewalk.

“Do something,” a woman screamed.

“Do what?” a man replied. “I’m afraid to touch them.”

Off in the distance, the wail of a siren started off low and grew louder in volume.

The onlookers kept their distance—all save one. I recalled the clap of soles alongside me and managed to open my eyes for a moment, just long enough to make out the daunting image of a stocky man towering over me. He stood watching me for a while, just studying me, but making no effort to assist. I could feel my eyes closing and his image fading away. The snippet of memory had run its course and my mind once again went blank, but I wanted to establish a connection. For an instant I thought that the man who had braved the crowd and the man who had killed Tiru were one and the same, but was I correct or was my mind was just playing tricks on me?

“Oh shit. Stephanie, are you all right?” I heard panic in Gus’s voice as he approached.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“What are you doing on the ground?”

“I stumbled,” I admitted sheepishly.

“You didn’t—”

“Have another seizure? No. Thank God.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Positive. Unless you count clumsiness as a mental break.”

Gus helped me to my feet. “It’s absolutely desolate out here. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did.” I pulled my phone and pointed to the signal-strength indicator. “See? No bars.”

“Are you sure that you’re all right?”

“God, but you’re persistent. Yes. I’m fine, but you arrived about ten minutes late to a shit storm.”

“What happened?”

“I followed Harry to the water’s edge at the base of the bridge.”

“And?”

“A van pulled up, and Harry’s friend Tiru was marched to the edge of the bridge at knifepoint. I realized what was going to happen, so I lit my flashlight and called out for the assailant to freeze, but . . .”

Gus shook his head unhappily. “Are you saying that we have to dredge the creek?”

I nodded. “The assailant slit Tiru’s throat and pushed him off the bridge. What I’m not sure about . . . well, I’m not sure if it was my fault.”

“Why would you even think that?”

“I’m thinking that the assailant summoned Harry to the park so he could see that Tiru was being held prisoner. I’m not sure if he was planning to kill Tiru or if he was merely holding him for leverage.” My head dropped. “He may have killed him because I interfered with his plan.”

“And Harry?”

“I lost him when I went ass over teakettle. But . . . well, I think a memory came back.”

He smiled. “Really? That’s great. What did you remember?”

“Yeah. I think the guy who killed Tiru was at the crime scene minutes after the shooting.”

“But you were unconscious.”

“I thought I was too, but . . . I bumped my head when I fell just now, and a memory put me back at the scene of the shooting. I was on the sidewalk and I remembered hearing voices, a call to 911, and . . . this guy was standing over me, just watching and waiting. Everyone else was too frightened to come near me, but this guy was practically on top of me, just checking me out.”

“No shit. Think you can give a description to the sketch artist?”

“I don’t have to,” I said as I reached into my pocket and pulled out the sketch of the perp who’d killed the chef in front of the temple. “Someone already did.”

Jack Burns yawned as he trudged out of his apartment the next morning, toolbox in hand, on his way to fix his neighbor’s dripping faucet before she left for work.

His relationship with Sofia was far from good, but she had returned home and was giving their badly strained marriage a second chance. Jack was beginning to find a little emotional quiet, and it reflected in his attitude toward her when they retuned from the police station together. She had made coffee and handed him a cup as he went out the door. She gave him a kiss on the cheek, and there was an optimistic lilt in her voice as she wished him a good day.