Allison Brennan - Stalked

She looked at the screen. Tied at 1. “Okay, I’ll try. ” Lucy liked baseball, but mostly because her family were diehard Padres fans, particularly Patrick and Carina. They could talk baseball with the best of them. Patrick had played baseball in college and could have had a shot at the majors if he’d stuck with it. But then Justin was killed and Patrick ended up becoming a cop.

Tragedy changes everyone it touches.

Lucy waved to Carter and Eddie and went down the hall to the staircase that led to the basement. She waved her ID in front of the security panel and it clicked open.

No one was working this late, and the offices were quiet. She knocked on Tony’s door. He didn’t respond. She looked at her cell phone-no bars, so she couldn’t call him to see where he was. He’d said he was in his office, he could be on the phone.

She stepped in. As soon as the door opened, she saw Tony slumped in his chair, his face pasty, eyes closed, and mouth open.

“Oh, God.” She dropped the file on the table by the door and rushed to his side to check his pulse, shouting, “Medics! I need a medic, stat!” Then she realized that no one else was in the basement; it was nearly ten at night. She put Tony’s desk phone on speaker and pressed “0.”

“Security.”

“It’s Lucy Kincaid. I need a medic and gurney in Agent Presidio’s office stat. He’s unconscious.”

At first she thought he was dead, but she finally felt his pulse-slow and weak.

“Dispatched,” Security said. “Stay on the phone.”

In times of crisis, relying on training kept Lucy sane. “I’m checking for external injuries-I don’t see any.”

“Did you check his vitals?”

“He had a pulse when I came in, but now I can’t feel anything.”

“Do you know CPR?”

“Yes.”

She pulled Tony out of his chair. His bottle of Glenlivit Scotch teetered but didn’t fall over. She laid him as carefully as she could on the floor.

“Kincaid, you there?” Security said over the speaker.

“Administering CPR.”

“Is he breathing?”

She checked. “His pulse is thready. Skin pasty. He’s unresponsive. Starting second set of chest compressions.”

Tony, please, don’t die.

The staff doctor and a medic rushed in. “We’ll take over. Security, you there?”

“Yes.”

“Call the Quantico Medical Center and have them dispatch a helicopter to fly Agent Presidio direct to Prince William Hospital. He appears to be in cardiac arrest.”

Why hadn’t he called someone? A heart attack could be sudden, but he was in his chair; at some point he would have known it was serious enough to call for help, wouldn’t he? She’d spoken to him less than twenty minutes ago.

The medic hooked Tony up to an automatic compression machine and put an oxygen mask over his face. Lucy stood out of the way. The seriousness of Tony’s situation hit her now that she had nothing to do but watch. He could very well die.

The medic checked Tony’s pulse. “Nothing.” He and the doctor slipped Tony onto a board, which they then lifted up and secured to the gurney.

Security said over the phone, “Medical transport helio, ETA three minutes.”

“Let’s get him upstairs,” the medic said. “Kincaid, call the elevator.”

Lucy ran ahead and held the elevator open so the doctor and medic could wheel Tony inside. She held his clammy hand on the ride up.

Please, God, don’t take him.

They pushed Tony down the hall and out the front doors. Lucy heard the helicopter nearby and watched as the spotlights filled the parking lot, the pilot searching for a place to land. She stayed with Tony up until he was loaded inside. Thirty seconds after landing, the chopper took off with Tony.

“We did everything we could,” the medic said as they watched the chopper leave with Tony and the doctor.

“Why didn’t he call for help?” Lucy whispered.

“Maybe he didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late.”

“So he sat back until he lost consciousness?” It didn’t make sense to Lucy, but nothing made sense to her right now. “Can I go to the hospital?”

“You’ll have to talk to the chief,” the medic said. He watched the helicopter disappear from sight. “I’ll call and see if I can find out what’s going on.”

“Thank you.” But Lucy had watched and listened to the doctor and medic, and by the time they put Tony on the helicopter, they couldn’t find his pulse.

New York City

“You didn’t show.” Joe DeLucca filled Suzanne’s doorway, all six feet, two inches of solid Italian muscle.

“I told you I wouldn’t.”

He made a move to enter, but she blocked him, her hand on the doorjamb.

Don’t let him inside.

He raised an eyebrow, giving Suzanne his sexy half-smile that used to melt her, but she held firm. She was crabby and tired from too little sleep and too many questions. “I didn’t want to be dragged into this case, DeLucca.”

“I didn’t want to hear that your agent buddy leaked information to Banker at the Times without consulting with me first.”

“I called and told you.”

“Left a message.” He made another move to enter, and she didn’t budge.

“I wasn’t going to chase you all over town.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

Suzanne had waffled on Tony Presidio’s theory all evening, but in the end she admitted it was a smart play. “Let’s just hope the place our guy pawns the ring has security cameras.”

“I sent out another notice about the ring, just to keep it fresh. Told the brokers to handle it as they normally would, write down everything, call me immediately.”

“Good.” She nodded curtly. “Good-bye.”

“I also brought you a copy of the final autopsy report.” He held it out, a carrot that she couldn’t resist. She let go of the doorjamb to grab the file and Joe weaseled his way inside.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on in.”

She closed the door and tried to ignore Joe’s smug grin of victory. She crossed her small, fifth-floor loft apartment and stood by the window, putting distance between herself and Joe. Stand firm, she told herself. She could withstand his charm and sex appeal.

You have to. Remember what happened last year.

With new resolve to focus only on the case, she read the coroner’s findings.

Weber was stabbed with a narrow metal stiletto six inches long. The killer had at least some knowledge of anatomy, because the blade went in below the sternum, through the lung, and pierced her heart. Death was nearly instantaneous. No hesitation marks, no second stabbing. Marks on the victim’s right biceps indicated that the killer was facing her, grabbed her with his left hand, stabbed her with his right. He withdrew the weapon, let her fall to the ground after she was already dead. Confirmed everything the prelim had said, with some added details about the possible weapon. Tox reports showed Weber had a BAC of.03, well under the legal limit, and confirmed her sister’s report that she’d had wine before leaving for Citi Field.

“So we’re looking for a medic of sorts, someone with training-EMT, paramedic, pre-med maybe. Nothing we didn’t already know. You didn’t need to bring me this.”

Joe walked over to her kitchen table and spread out the crime scene photos.

“Make yourself at home,” she said sarcastically. She look at the photos.

“Thanks.” He opened her refrigerator and grabbed two beers, handing her one. “See anything?”

“Other than an annoying ex-boyfriend?”

Joe looked over his shoulder. “Where?”

She hit him in the arm and stared at the crime scene photos. She used the findings in the autopsy report to re-create the scene in her head. The victim was found between her car and the vehicle next to her-owned by the people who found her body.