Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

Drained by the effort, Sara reheated some leftover pasta and, standing at the kitchen counter, ate it from the container. Then, hoping to focus on something less stressful, she emptied the hamper into her purple laundry bag and headed for the laundry room in the basement of the building. Dragging her bag down the stairs, she walked out the front entrance of the brownstone, pulled out her keys, and opened the black metal gate that led to the basement door. Closing the gate behind her, she entered the laundry room and slowly separated her clothes into colors and whites.

The laundry room itself was typical for New York: quiet, musty, and difficult to access. Set off from the room was a small area for residential storage and another area that contained a poorly lit labyrinth of pipes and circuit breakers. Since the day they moved in, Sara had found the room creepy – the concrete walls made it feel like a tomb. When she was finished loading the washers, she took out her key, opened the gate, and returned to her apartment.

A half hour later, she returned to the basement. Once again, she opened the metal gate to reach the laundry room. Still regretting what she’d said to Jared, she moved her clothes from the washers to the dryers. I should call him, she thought. Tonight’s not a night to be alone. In the midst of the transfer, she heard a clanging noise from the back of the basement. Those loud pipes that keep us up all winter, she thought. But when she heard the noise get closer, she peered over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. Startled, she dropped the pile of clothes in her hands. Just a mouse, she realized, watching it scurry behind one of the washers. Although she was somewhat relieved, something still felt wrong. When she was done loading the dryers, she stepped outside to the black gate and realized that she had left her keys in the laundry room. She turned around and headed back. But when she checked the tops of the washers and dryers, the keys weren’t there.

Sara pulled open the door of one of the dryers and rifled through her wet clothes. Nothing. Leaning into the second dryer, she pulled out one piece at a time, carefully searching for her missing keys. Suddenly, she heard another noise behind her. She turned around expecting to see the mouse. But then, suddenly, the lights went out.

Sara was enveloped by darkness. Her first thought was that someone else was in the room. Don’t move, she told herself. That’s how he’ll find you. Holding her breath, she listened carefully. But all she heard was the monotonous churning of the spinning dryer. Over and over, the sound filled the air – it was maddening. Maybe it’s just a blown fuse, she thought. There’s no reason to panic. Then she felt a hand cover her mouth. Someone was behind her. He gripped her jaw tightly. “Hiya, Sara,” he whispered in her ear. She knew that voice anywhere. It was Sunken Cheeks.

She thrust her elbow into his stomach. It was just enough to make him let go. Sara darted in the direction of the door. Elliott was right behind her. She still couldn’t see, but running her hands along the cold wall she found the door and tore it open. When she reached the black metal gate, she grabbed the bars and screamed, “Police! Hel -!”

Before she could even finish the word, she again felt his hand over her mouth. Elliott punched her fingers until she let go of the gate and dragged her back into the laundry room. The door closed and darkness returned. She thrashed in every direction, trying to pull herself free. Holding both of Sara’s wrists in one hand, he threw her up against the wall. She was still struggling against his grip. Elliott backhanded her across the face. She stopped fighting. He leaned in and clutched her throat. She could smell the stale remnants of alcohol on his breath. “Keep him out of this house. Do you understand me? I don’t want him fishing through your stuff.”

Sara nodded vigorously.

Still holding her by the wrists, he threw her to the ground. In the pitch dark, she had no idea where he was – behind her, in front of her – he could have been anywhere. She lay completely still on the floor. Again, she listened carefully. And again, all she heard was the churning of the spinning dryer. Stay still, she told herself. He’s at just as much of a disadvantage. Then, above the sound of the dryer, Elliott’s deep voice cut through the room.

“Nothing’s sacred,” he warned. “Not even you.”

Before Sara could react, she caught a crack of light by the door. Then she heard the black metal gate swing open and slam shut. He was outside. She ran out the laundry room door and saw Elliott on the other side of the gate.

“ Police! Someone! Help! ” she screamed.

“Not in this city,” Elliott said. He took Sara’s keys and put them on the farthest step from the basement. “Someone’ll be along soon.” As he walked up the block, he added, “See you in court.”

Monday morning, Sara arrived at work hoping for a relaxing day. The combination of Lenny’s funeral and seeing Jared there had left her completely exhausted. So as she headed up the hallway, the last thing she expected to see was two workmen packing up boxes in her office. “What do you guys think you’re doing?” she asked.

“Moving files,” one of the workers said.

“I can see that. Who gave you permission to come in here?”

“Conrad Moore. He said we had to get all the Kozlow files, since they were removing the ADA.”

As Sara’s mouth dropped open, Guff entered the room. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fired,” Sara said, rushing out the door.

“Excuse me?” Guff asked. Chasing after Sara, he followed her to Conrad’s office.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Sara asked as she barged inside.

“Calm down a second,” Conrad said. “I can explain.”

“How can you possibly explain? You found out I got fired and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me!”

“What’re you talking about? You’re not fired.”

“I’m not?” Sara asked.

“No,” Conrad said. “You’re just off the case.”

“What?”

“That’s what Monaghan told me. He says he can’t have a novice handling a first-class homicide. It’s too complex and there’s too much on the line. You’re supposed to turn over all your files to me.”

As Conrad’s words slowly registered, Sara turned to Guff.

“It’ll be okay,” Guff said. “We’ll figure out a way to-”

“No,” Sara blurted. “I have to stay on this case. This is my case.”

“I’m sorry,” Conrad said. “I know you’re upset, but I have to do what he says.”

“This has nothing to do with me being upset,” Sara said, her voice deadly serious. “I have to stay on this case.”

Conrad glanced over at Guff, then looked back at Sara. “What aren’t you two telling me? There’s obviously something important you’re leaving out.”

“There’s nothing,” Sara insisted. “I just need to be on the case.”

When Conrad stared at Guff, Guff said, “Stop looking at me – I didn’t do anything.”

“Sara, something is obviously going on.”

Her glance dropped to the floor, but she didn’t say a word.

“If you tell me, I can help you with it. Otherwise, you’re on your own and off the case.”

Still, Sara was silent.

“Fine, have it your way,” Conrad said, walking to the door. “I can get the rest of the files myself.”

As Conrad was about to leave, Sara looked over at Guff, who nodded back at her. Sara spoke up. “If I tell you, you have to give me your word that you’ll do things my way.”

Conrad closed the door and turned around. “Go on.”

“First, give me your word. Promise me that you’ll do things my way.”