John Lutz - Mister X

Lisa started to shiver, maybe going into shock. Pearl laid the other half of the old bedspread over her to warm her up. The shivering got worse.

"It's okay," Pearl said. "He's gone."

"Of course he's gone. I gave him what he wanted, the address of the apartment where he could find Chrissie." Lisa pointed feebly toward the door. "He left to find Chrissie. I told you he wanted her. I told you."

"You told us," Pearl said, feeling for her cell phone in her purse. She punched out 911 to get an ambulance in a hurry for Lisa.

"Now tell me the address you gave Keller," she said, when EMS had an ambulance on the way.

Lisa lay with her eyes closed, as if reading from the insides of the lids, and told her.

Pearl called Quinn, filled him in on the situation, and relayed the West Side address. Then she called Vitali and clued him in, along with Mishkin. They were Midtown in their unmarked car. She asked Vitali to have a radio car sent to where she was with Lisa as soon as possible, and another to the address where Chrissie was supposed to be staying.

"They're on the way," Vitali said. "The uniforms will make sure Lisa gets back in the hospital. Maybe she'll stay there a while this time."

"She will," Pearl said. "She's got broken bones this time. Cigarette burns in bad places." Over the phone she heard the unmarked's siren kick in, parting the traffic in front of Vitali and Mishkin.

"What are you figuring on doing, Pearl?"

"Soon as the uniforms get here, I'm leaving for where you and Mishkin are going-Chrissie's apartment. We need to get there before Keller."

"You wouldn't realize it over the phone, but right now Harold has our car doing ninety on Broadway. We only slow down when we have to get up on the sidewalk."

"He'll kill her," Lisa said in a pain-weary voice behind Pearl. "That bastard, her father's gonna kill her."

Pearl said, "A couple of cops doing ninety think otherwise."

Pearl had to park the unmarked a block away from the apartment address Lisa had given her. The street was cordoned off by twisted strands of yellow crime-scene tape, along with a striped blue and white sawhorse. Two big uniformed officers were standing nearby with their fists on their hips.

The cops stood very still, made so much larger by what they represented, and watched Pearl approach. Cops were like that at times like this; sometimes she forgot they were on her side-for the most part, anyway-and that she was one of them. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was defying their shall-not-pass posture and attitude.

They represent the law, but not always justice.

Quinn's kind of bullshit.

She flashed her ID, and one of the uniforms, a young dark-haired guy who looked like movie star material, raised the tape so Pearl could bend at the waist and edge beneath it. She knew him from her years in the department but couldn't remember his name. Dexter or Derrick…something like that. He smiled and winked at her. These guys never gave up.

The block was clear of traffic, and the knots of onlookers that had gathered were all behind her on the other side of the tape and sawhorse. As Pearl walked along the deserted sidewalk toward the apartment building that supposedly contained Chrissie Keller, and possibly Chrissie's father, faces gazed at her from the other side of windows. Some of the faces looked bored, some concerned, others amused.

Every hundred feet or so a uniformed cop stood or paced, making sure the citizens stayed inside, away from any potential line of fire. Most of those caught inside the cordon who'd requested in the beginning to get out were gone, leaving those who for some reason couldn't leave, along with the usual gawkers who were thrilled that their day had been juiced up by a hunt for a killer. Something was going to happen here. Somebody might die.

Up ahead were flashing lights and an assemblage of emergency vehicles parked at various angles, as if they were toys scattered along the curb by a young child. Pearl saw another, smaller collection of vehicles beyond the first, so that the two gatherings of cops and cars flanked the building where they had finally found Chrissie Keller. Figures moved among the nearest array of vehicles. One of them was Quinn.

When he saw Pearl approaching, he moved away from the cluster of people he'd been talking with and assumed a waiting attitude.

"Looks like everybody beat me here," she said, slightly out of breath.

"And everybody was too late," Quinn said. "Edward Keller's up on the fifth floor with Chrissie."

"Shit!" Pearl said, and actually kicked at the sidewalk.

Quinn understood her disappointment.

Pearl glanced around at the army of cops. "Keller's holding her hostage?"

"That's how it was supposed to be," Quinn said. "But it didn't work out that way. Chrissie was waiting and ready for trouble. She's up there holding a shotgun on Keller."

Pearl saw a white windowless van parked closest to the building. She knew a hostage expert was inside, possibly talking to Chrissie.

"She demanding something?" Pearl asked. "Or is she working up to killing him?"

Killing her father. Pearl tried to imagine how that must feel. It was something her mind didn't want to touch.

"She's not saying," Quinn said. "She's agreed to talk, though, if we send someone upstairs to her."

"Who's the someone?"

"She didn't specify who or how many. Hostage control says two or three of us can go, along with the person most likely to be able to talk Chrissie out of pulling the trigger."

It didn't take Pearl long to figure out who that might be. "Her mother?"

"Yeah. At least Erin thinks so."

As if the pronunciation of her name were magic, an unmarked car pulled up to where a uniform raised a resolutely waving arm to halt it, and Erin got out on the passenger side. Sal Vitali climbed out from behind the steering wheel, Mishkin from the back of the car. Sal took a cautious look up at the face of the brick apartment building, calculating angles and gripping Erin's arm with a firm gentleness as he escorted her toward Pearl and Quinn.

He and Mishkin must have made a detour after they'd talked with Pearl, to pick up Erin and rush her to the scene.

Erin looked pale and frightened. "Sal's explained the situation to me."

So they're on a first-name basis, Pearl thought.

Quinn quickly and precisely told them the plan. Pearl realized he must have given it a lot of thought while waiting for Erin to arrive.

As he was talking, a uniformed cop was fitting a Kevlar vest on Erin, making sure it was adjusted for a tight fit. The Velcro straps made harsh ripping sounds in the warm afternoon.

"Pearl, Feds, and I will take Erin upstairs on the elevator," Quinn said. "We'll take our time. Sal and Harold will climb the fire escape in back and let themselves into the apartment while we're diverting Chrissie's attention. We'll be in the living room, and both of you try to move to that end of the apartment, where you might be able to get a bead on Chrissie. Nobody fires a shot unless it's absolutely necessary."

Erin adjusted the bulky vest so it fit more comfortably. A breeze ruffled her red hair, and she didn't look so scared now. Her square jaw was still set like a rock, but her eyes were different. She looked determined. Quinn was staring at her. She gave him the slightest of nods, as if assuring him that she was up to this. Quinn figured she probably was up to it.

"Everybody be careful," Quinn said. "We screw this up and the SWAT team'll take their turn."

And somebody will die.

"Bullet city," Vitali said.

"Seldom are you so poetic, Sal," Mishkin said.

"It's the moment, Harold."

Vitali and Mishkin moved away, toward the passageway that led to the rear of the building and the fire escape. Staying close to the front of the building so anyone firing from a window would have an impossible angle, Quinn led the way as he, then Erin, Pearl, and Fedderman made their way toward the entrance. Pearl saw that Erin was gripping Quinn's belt at the small of his back, as if he were leading the blind.