It's A Crime (34 page)

Michelle half walked
, half ran toward Luke’s, knowing she would have to deal with Grace’s craziness because she was late. Her boss had crossed the boundary between boss and worker bee, and needed to be put in his place. She knew Grace was stressing, but Michelle would coax her into talking about Cole and what was bothering her. Then Grace would forget all about her being late and they’d grab a bite to eat and go home.

Michelle turned the corner
. Luke’s was another two streets down.

A
hand roughly slapped hard over her lips, preventing a sound from escaping, and dug into her mouth. A large strong arm encircled her midsection, dragging her backward. At first, she thought there were two men. Michelle lost control of her fear, peeing herself; the heated liquid ran down her legs.

If this was someone’s idea of funny…Jeff…

Michelle was getting really pissed off.

Then s
he was dragged into the park. One of her shoes fell off as he pulled her over the short concrete wall, scraping the skin on the underside of her legs. She thought ironically—you really don’t feel pain when you are in shock, and this was
not
a joke. She started clawing and kicking at him. She couldn’t see him.

U
nable to scream and pull his hand free from her mouth, her lungs burned as she fought for air. Reaching behind her, she clawed his face. He pulled her arm and spun her around, and reaching back he punched her full force in her face. She crumbled in a heap to the cold damp ground.

Jonathan knelt down beside Michelle’s unconscious body.
He removed the razor from his pocket. He opened it and held it up then pressed it to Michelle’s throat. He was agitated and quickly swiped the gleaming blade across her neck. Satisfied, he saw her bleeding. Too bad there wouldn’t be time to watch her die. He heard someone behind him and stood up, kicking Michelle in the ribs.

“That’s for scratching my face
, you fucking cunt.”

He grabbed the piece of cloth he carried in his pocket
and wiped the blade clean then shoved both back in his pocket.

Jonathan
jogged deeper into the park, deciding to take the long way, passing the Museum and coming up on the other side of Luke’s. He had heard Michelle on her phone telling someone she was in a hurry and late meeting Grace at Luke’s.

He got excite
d. His face flushed, his heart rate increased. It was finally his time. He rubbed at his jacket pocket, making sure the blade was still there. Frustrated at having to waste his time on Michelle, he wished he could have told her he’d always hated her.
Nasty cunt
. He had to focus on the blonde waiting inside the bar.

Chapter 36

I was getting seriously irritated with Michelle.
Damn it, Shelle, where the fuck are you?
I called her cell about twenty times; each time it went straight to voicemail.
And you always complain to me about not answering
.

I decided to leave.
I’ll tell Sarah I’m going home, to tell Michelle I’m really pissed off. She’ll get the message. I’ll give her hell later.

“Sarah
,” I called out.

Sarah
turned her head and lifted her finger, acknowledging she heard me. When she finally reached me, I stood.

“
Hey, can you put that on my tab, add ten for yourself, and when Michelle gets here,
if she gets here
, tell her I went home and I was really pissed off.”

“Sure
...and thanks.” She turned to leave but spun back around.

“Just tell me one thing
...”

I looked
at her.

“Was he as delicious as he looked?”

The tear in my heart widened. “No, Sarah, he was all show...no action.”

She half smiled at me.
“I thought there was that chance. Well, night. See ya soon.”

I
slipped my coat on and wrapped my scarf around my neck. Picking up my pocketbook, I headed for the door. I stopped and turned around, deciding to go to Starbucks to get myself a hot chocolate. It was cold and damp and I craved one. Besides, cocoa was my comfort drink and God knows I needed a little comfort.
It also goes good with bourbon.
I walked out the side door. Starbucks is at the top of 72nd street. I walked through the “smoking area” to the gate on the other side of the courtyard and turned onto 72nd street, walking quickly.

Suddenly
something pulled me hard by my scarf, yanking me back. I stumbled and was falling when a pair of strong arms kept me from hitting the sidewalk. I felt, but never saw the punch that hit me in the temple. I was dizzy, I swayed. What…
Who the fuck…?
Before I could regain my balance, that same fist found my jaw, hitting me again. I must have passed out.

Cole
ran from Luke’s over to the white van parked across the street. He banged violently on the side door. The door quickly slid open, revealing two men in the front seats, one man in the back working with the equipment. They all turned to look at him.

“Still have that visual?”
Cole demanded.

“We’ve been watching that door ever since she went in there.
No one showed up to meet her. No one came out.”

“You have a man on the side door too?”
Cole asked.

“Side door?”

“You fucking asshole!” Cole took off running to Luke’s. Panic took over, adrenaline kicking in. He ran inside the bar like a maniac, not caring about anything or anyone except for Grace. Needing to find her, he rushed through the door and promptly stopped inside. Quickly he scoured the bar and seating areas. He spotted Sarah toward the end of the bar and ran toward her. She smiled, her eyes lighting up.

“Where did Grace go?” he barked. When she didn’t answer he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. “Where the fuck did Grace go? I have no time for shit now, Sarah. Where?”

“She left, said she was stood up
,” Sarah stuttered.

“When?
How?” Terror struck him in the heart.

Sarah pointed to the side door
. “’Bout twenty minutes ago. Guess she was going to 6
th
Avenue.”

“FUCK!”
He ran through the side door, through the courtyard and gate then onto the street.

Goddamn it
, Grace, where did you go?

He looked up and down the street
; it was dark but he spotted something on the sidewalk. Cole ran toward it, bent down and picked it up. A pocketbook. He dug in, dropping the contents onto the sidewalk, trying to find an ID. He pulled out a wallet.

Grace Preston
the driver’s license clearly stated. His heart grew cold.

Fuck
...God Almighty...Grace.

He must have grabbed her here.

You son of a bitch…fucking bastard. Where did you go? Where did you take her?

Cole
spun around, trying to guess which way Jonathan would have gone. Central Park was visible at the end of the street.

He’d need privacy
, would want to take his time. It was too dark here. He wants her to be afraid, see him, know what he was going to do. He wants her all to himself.

He turned running
toward the Park, his four-man security team directly behind him. Cole ran as fast as he could, his blood chilled; Jonathan had at least a twenty-minute lead.

“He’s taken her into the
park. He’d want privacy for what he wants to do. Where would he go...where would he have enough light?”

Hendricks pointed to the left.
“There is a bridge down there. It’s dark inside but there is a light right outside.”

“You
.” Cole pointed to Hendricks. “Go to the bridge. He’s likes slitting throats, probably has a knife or razor and he won’t hesitate to use it on her, so you make Goddamn sure he doesn’t. Spread out. I’m going in that direction.” Cole pointed. “I need something—someone give me a fucking knife.”

Hendricks tossed his hunting knife in Cole’s direction then
turned and started running toward the bridge. The knife landed near his feet and Cole reached down then tucked the blade through his belt in the back under his jacket.

“Span out.
We need to find her, NOW.” Cole’s heart was beating to burst through his chest. Getting to Grace too late was not an option. The others spread out. His legs were burning, but he wouldn’t slow down. He ran, turning his head. Looking for a place that would give this psycho a place to do his thing. He saw nothing but trees. Cole looked up and spotted a bench in front of low bushes. Behind the bushes was a small building. Cole ran toward it.

He
reached the bench and slowed. He quietly walked until he got close. He heard a man’s voice speaking low and continued walking toward it, careful not to step on anything that may give him away. A dull light seeped through the bottom of the door, illuminating the cracked cement threshold. The building was some kind of maintenance shed. Cole walked up to the door and quietly tried the knob. Locked.

Looking
around, not knowing if he had enough time to get his team back here, he took several steps back and without a second thought ran full force and body slammed the door. The door cracked loudly and splintered open. Two pairs of eyes immediately turned as he rolled in, struggling to get back on his feet. He quickly assessed the situation. The room was dimly lit, dank, smelling strongly of mold. A broken wheelbarrow sat in the corner against the wall. A man waving a straight razor stood over the form of a woman who was tied up. His woman.

Seeing Grace slumped against the wall, covered in blood,
sucked the air from his lungs. But she was conscious. Taking a deep breath, he spoke in a low menacing tone as he stood slowly, raising both hands in the air.

“Jonathan, right?”
Cole looked directly into Jonathan’s eyes, quickly looking at Grace. Perched weakly against the wall, she was in shock, staring at him, silently pleading. Her eyes, full of fear, darted from side to side. Her mouth was wrapped in what looked to be her scarf. He held his hands up, showing Jonathan he was not armed, and stood where he was, not moving.

Jonathan looked at him in amazement.
“Who the fuck…where did you come from?” He turned to look at Grace; anger contorted his face.

“Jonathan.
I’m over here,” Cole whispered, trying to keep his anger in check.

“
Who the fuck are you?” Jonathan slurred, his eyes wide, unfathomable.

“
I’m your unfinished work.” Cole never negotiated with a psycho before, but dealt with his share of egomaniacs.

“You…?
You’re that fucking asshole who hit me. Stay back, watch, I have something you’ll want to see. You can watch little lover girl here get sliced nice and neat.” He waved the razor near Grace’s face.

“
Jonathan. Joseph?”

“How…don’t you call me that.
It’s Jonathan.” He sounded hurt, child-like.