living room, then went into the kitchen and tried to stop the leaking faucet. The gasket was busted or something. I had called the landlord a couple times, but his maintenance guy had been deported and I couldn't get any repairs. Then I kind of spaced on the sink for a while. Steffy had put out a cigarette in one of my coffee cups and left it in the drainer. What a slob.
Something rumbled behind the walls. It sounded like the elevator. I went back to the living room and picked up the phone by the sofa, but the line was dead, cut by the wall jack. Then everything played back through my head like a grainy snuff flick and I got scared worse than I'd ever been in jail. I had to get out of here. Get my stuff from the motel. Get out of the city.
I had to dump the body. I had to go back there, untie Steffy from the bedposts, wrap her in a blanket, then drag her down five flights of stairs, stuff her in the trunk and dump her in the Bay or something. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't go back into the bedroom. But even if I could, she was too heavy for me to move. There was no way I could ever lift her. I had to call Deacon. He could send his guys. Get rid of her. Clean up the mess.
Then somebody banged on the door.
#
The knocks on the door hit me like hammers.
I jerked around, hunched over and gripped by this massive fear. A shadow moved in the crack under the front door. Something clicked – it sounded like the chamber on a semi-automatic.
Whoever it was pounded on the door again.
"Police," a voice yelled. "Open up."
I lost it. I don't know. I ran over to the window, opened the blinds and looked outside. No cop cars. Maybe they were parked in the alley. Then I ran back over to the couch and leaned against it, staring at the door. Footsteps shuffled in the hall. Two or three people.
Bang.
"Police," the voice yelled again, like I hadn't heard him the first time. "C'mon, we know you're in there."
There was no way out. I ran down the hall into the bedroom, yanked open the closet door – I don't know why – then I scrambled over to the window, pulled it up, and looked outside. A streetlight glowed behind the trees about twenty feet away. I looked down into the alley – a five-story drop to a circle of light on the pavement by the trash cans. A gutter pipe ran down the wall next to the window. I reached out and grabbed it with one hand. No way.
Something crashed against the door in the living room. They were trying to break it down. The dead bolt must've held, though, because there was a moment of silence, then they bashed the door again and I heard the lamp by the sofa fall on the floor. The light went out in the hall leading to the bedroom and I knew I only had a couple minutes to do whatever I was going to do. I didn't even think about giving myself up, not with Steffy lying there on the bed.
I stuck my right foot out the window, then hunched over and squirmed around, hanging onto the frame until I got my other foot out and was sitting in the window, half in and half out of the room. I had to squeeze my head and shoulders through, then I got stuck for a minute and had to rip my shirt to get free, almost losing my balance. Bugs clouded the streetlight in the trees on the other side of the alley. I tried not to look down.
More bangs from inside. They were still working on the door. I saw a window light come on below me, then another one off to the left. Then I heard a big crash in the living room and I reached out for the gutter pipe, my heart thrashing in my throat.
Bolted clamps fastened the pipe to the stucco wall. They didn't look very sturdy. Leaning over, hanging on to the window frame with one hand, I managed to get hold of the pipe and tested it as gently as I could. One of the clamp bolts was loose. I saw it move and some dust and paint flakes spilled down the side of the building. I looked down at the alley and the circle of streetlight shrank to the size of a dot.
Then they broke the door down inside. No
Something rumbled behind the walls. It sounded like the elevator. I went back to the living room and picked up the phone by the sofa, but the line was dead, cut by the wall jack. Then everything played back through my head like a grainy snuff flick and I got scared worse than I'd ever been in jail. I had to get out of here. Get my stuff from the motel. Get out of the city.
I had to dump the body. I had to go back there, untie Steffy from the bedposts, wrap her in a blanket, then drag her down five flights of stairs, stuff her in the trunk and dump her in the Bay or something. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't go back into the bedroom. But even if I could, she was too heavy for me to move. There was no way I could ever lift her. I had to call Deacon. He could send his guys. Get rid of her. Clean up the mess.
Then somebody banged on the door.
#
The knocks on the door hit me like hammers.
I jerked around, hunched over and gripped by this massive fear. A shadow moved in the crack under the front door. Something clicked – it sounded like the chamber on a semi-automatic.
Whoever it was pounded on the door again.
"Police," a voice yelled. "Open up."
I lost it. I don't know. I ran over to the window, opened the blinds and looked outside. No cop cars. Maybe they were parked in the alley. Then I ran back over to the couch and leaned against it, staring at the door. Footsteps shuffled in the hall. Two or three people.
Bang.
"Police," the voice yelled again, like I hadn't heard him the first time. "C'mon, we know you're in there."
There was no way out. I ran down the hall into the bedroom, yanked open the closet door – I don't know why – then I scrambled over to the window, pulled it up, and looked outside. A streetlight glowed behind the trees about twenty feet away. I looked down into the alley – a five-story drop to a circle of light on the pavement by the trash cans. A gutter pipe ran down the wall next to the window. I reached out and grabbed it with one hand. No way.
Something crashed against the door in the living room. They were trying to break it down. The dead bolt must've held, though, because there was a moment of silence, then they bashed the door again and I heard the lamp by the sofa fall on the floor. The light went out in the hall leading to the bedroom and I knew I only had a couple minutes to do whatever I was going to do. I didn't even think about giving myself up, not with Steffy lying there on the bed.
I stuck my right foot out the window, then hunched over and squirmed around, hanging onto the frame until I got my other foot out and was sitting in the window, half in and half out of the room. I had to squeeze my head and shoulders through, then I got stuck for a minute and had to rip my shirt to get free, almost losing my balance. Bugs clouded the streetlight in the trees on the other side of the alley. I tried not to look down.
More bangs from inside. They were still working on the door. I saw a window light come on below me, then another one off to the left. Then I heard a big crash in the living room and I reached out for the gutter pipe, my heart thrashing in my throat.
Bolted clamps fastened the pipe to the stucco wall. They didn't look very sturdy. Leaning over, hanging on to the window frame with one hand, I managed to get hold of the pipe and tested it as gently as I could. One of the clamp bolts was loose. I saw it move and some dust and paint flakes spilled down the side of the building. I looked down at the alley and the circle of streetlight shrank to the size of a dot.
Then they broke the door down inside. No
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