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Authors: Jeffery Deaver
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souvenir store.’
It was only forty or so feet away.
‘Did you see them leave?’
‘No, I think they’re still in there. But I wasn’t paying attention. They might’ve left.’
‘Thank you. I think you’ve saved some lives.’
Dixon started across the street, then paused. The couple slipped from the store. They were wearing hats and she had a different bag, Dixon believed. But it was clearly them. They gazed up and down the street, spotted Dixon and froze for a moment. Then they vanished in the opposite direction. He noted the woman seemed to be limping.
Dixon started after them.
‘Be careful,’ the vendor said, his voice deflating, as if he wanted to append the word ‘Father,’ but was recalling that Dixon wasn’t one. ‘If they’ve done a crime they might not understand you want to help them. They might be desperate, dangerous.’
‘I’ve made my peace with God,’ Dixon called breathlessly as he broke into a trot, tapping his chest to make sure the small Bible was seated firmly in his pocket.
CHAPTER
25
11:10 a.m., Sunday
25 minutes earlier
‘The gun just went off,’ Gabriela whispered, her voice the tone of hysteria. ‘I didn’t mean to do it.’
Daniel remained silent. He steered her quickly down the sidewalk away from the scene of the shooting.
She asked desperately, ‘He didn’t die, did he? What did you see, Daniel? What did you see ?’
Still, no response.
Sirens filled the air around them as they headed east from Madison Avenue. There were lights too, piercing white and blue flashers. And reflections of white and blue flashers in windows. Lights seemed to be everywhere. Daniel and Gabriela kept their heads down. They didn’t dare look up.
Then he directed her quickly to the side, a ninety-degree turn. She nearly stumbled but he held her firmly.
‘What?’ she gasped.
A car skidded to a stop, an unmarked police car. Two detectives in suits leapt out and headed into a crowded specialty food store, displaying their badges.
‘Do they think we’re in there?’ she asked.
‘Just keep walking.’
Manic, Gabriela asked, ‘He didn’t die, did he? He was so young! Please, tell me!’ Her grip must have hurt. He frowned. She relented.
‘I don’t know, Mac. I’m sorry, but I don’t know. It’s possible.’
Walking as fast as they dared without drawing attention, they moved east, leaving the unmarked car behind. She glanced back. The officers didn’t appear. She and Daniel hurried south, then east again.
To anyone else’s eye, they resembled a typical couple. Not particularly jovial, not particularly conversational. Harried. A relationship limned by stress, money woes, child woes, sexual woes. Life in Manhattan, professionals. Yet every glance their way seemed tinted with suspicion.
But no one pointed, no one called out, no one seemed about to rip cell phones from holsters and speed-dial 911.
No one fled from the homicidal auburn-haired woman and her actor look-alike companion.
‘I didn’t think, Daniel. There was the gun. It was just there. I grabbed it! It went off. I’ve never even touched one before. I was just … Oh, Jesus. What’ve I done?’
A look behind revealed a half-dozen pedestrians, but no police. Still, Gabriela focused on a man in a suit – a rumpled gray one, of thin cloth, which seemed inadequate in the chill. He was walking in their direction. She noticed him because of his yellow shirt. His stride seemed purposeful though he wasn’t paying particular attention to them.
Gabriela nudged Daniel. ‘That guy? Yellow shirt? Look carefully.’
‘Got it.’
‘I’ve seen him before, I think. On Madison.’
‘He followed us from the shooting?’
‘I don’t know—’ Gabriela winced, gasped, then stopped abruptly, her hand on her side.
‘It’s bad?’ he asked, gesturing down toward her ribs.
A nod.
‘Can you walk?’
‘Yes.’ Though she frowned when they began again.
They kept their heads down, not
It was only forty or so feet away.
‘Did you see them leave?’
‘No, I think they’re still in there. But I wasn’t paying attention. They might’ve left.’
‘Thank you. I think you’ve saved some lives.’
Dixon started across the street, then paused. The couple slipped from the store. They were wearing hats and she had a different bag, Dixon believed. But it was clearly them. They gazed up and down the street, spotted Dixon and froze for a moment. Then they vanished in the opposite direction. He noted the woman seemed to be limping.
Dixon started after them.
‘Be careful,’ the vendor said, his voice deflating, as if he wanted to append the word ‘Father,’ but was recalling that Dixon wasn’t one. ‘If they’ve done a crime they might not understand you want to help them. They might be desperate, dangerous.’
‘I’ve made my peace with God,’ Dixon called breathlessly as he broke into a trot, tapping his chest to make sure the small Bible was seated firmly in his pocket.
CHAPTER
25
11:10 a.m., Sunday
25 minutes earlier
‘The gun just went off,’ Gabriela whispered, her voice the tone of hysteria. ‘I didn’t mean to do it.’
Daniel remained silent. He steered her quickly down the sidewalk away from the scene of the shooting.
She asked desperately, ‘He didn’t die, did he? What did you see, Daniel? What did you see ?’
Still, no response.
Sirens filled the air around them as they headed east from Madison Avenue. There were lights too, piercing white and blue flashers. And reflections of white and blue flashers in windows. Lights seemed to be everywhere. Daniel and Gabriela kept their heads down. They didn’t dare look up.
Then he directed her quickly to the side, a ninety-degree turn. She nearly stumbled but he held her firmly.
‘What?’ she gasped.
A car skidded to a stop, an unmarked police car. Two detectives in suits leapt out and headed into a crowded specialty food store, displaying their badges.
‘Do they think we’re in there?’ she asked.
‘Just keep walking.’
Manic, Gabriela asked, ‘He didn’t die, did he? He was so young! Please, tell me!’ Her grip must have hurt. He frowned. She relented.
‘I don’t know, Mac. I’m sorry, but I don’t know. It’s possible.’
Walking as fast as they dared without drawing attention, they moved east, leaving the unmarked car behind. She glanced back. The officers didn’t appear. She and Daniel hurried south, then east again.
To anyone else’s eye, they resembled a typical couple. Not particularly jovial, not particularly conversational. Harried. A relationship limned by stress, money woes, child woes, sexual woes. Life in Manhattan, professionals. Yet every glance their way seemed tinted with suspicion.
But no one pointed, no one called out, no one seemed about to rip cell phones from holsters and speed-dial 911.
No one fled from the homicidal auburn-haired woman and her actor look-alike companion.
‘I didn’t think, Daniel. There was the gun. It was just there. I grabbed it! It went off. I’ve never even touched one before. I was just … Oh, Jesus. What’ve I done?’
A look behind revealed a half-dozen pedestrians, but no police. Still, Gabriela focused on a man in a suit – a rumpled gray one, of thin cloth, which seemed inadequate in the chill. He was walking in their direction. She noticed him because of his yellow shirt. His stride seemed purposeful though he wasn’t paying particular attention to them.
Gabriela nudged Daniel. ‘That guy? Yellow shirt? Look carefully.’
‘Got it.’
‘I’ve seen him before, I think. On Madison.’
‘He followed us from the shooting?’
‘I don’t know—’ Gabriela winced, gasped, then stopped abruptly, her hand on her side.
‘It’s bad?’ he asked, gesturing down toward her ribs.
A nod.
‘Can you walk?’
‘Yes.’ Though she frowned when they began again.
They kept their heads down, not
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