Robin Cook - Blindsight

“I appreciate what you have told me,” Laurie said. “I have one more question. Have there been any break-ins here at your offices in the last year?”

Gertrude rolled her eyes. “I really don’t know if I’m at liberty to divulge this kind of information, but I guess it’s a matter of public record. You could always check with the police. Yes, we were broken into a couple of months ago. Luckily not too much was taken and there was no vandalism.”

Laurie rose from her chair. “Thank you very much. You’ve been generous with your time. I really appreciate it.”

“Would you like to take some of our literature?” Gertrude asked.

“I would,” Laurie said. Gertrude opened a cabinet and pulled out a number of brochures which she handed to Laurie. Laurie put them in her briefcase. Then Gertrude saw her to the door.

Emerging onto Fifty-fifth Street, Laurie walked over to Lexington Avenue to catch a cab downtown. She directed the taxi driver to take her to the medical examiner’s office.

With her suspicions strengthening and her confidence renewed, she wanted to talk with George Fontworth. There was something about that day’s overdose cases that she wanted to ask about. Even though it was after six o’clock, she thought that he might still be at work. He usually worked late.

But as Laurie approached the office, she began to worry about Bingham still being there. She knew that on a number of evenings he also stayed late. Consequently Laurie instructed the cab driver to turn from First Avenue onto Thirtieth Street. When they came abreast of the morgue loading dock, she had him turn in. It was good that she had. There was Bingham’s official city car, one of the perks of being the chief medical examiner.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Laurie called to the driver through the Plexiglas screen. She gave him her home address. With some cursing in a language Laurie had never heard, he pulled out of the morgue driveway and returned to First Avenue. Fifteen minutes later she was in front of her tenement building.

It was still raining, so Laurie bolted for the door. She was surprised to find that the lock to the inner door was broken. She’d have to call the super about it in case no one else had reported it yet.

Laurie headed straight for the elevator. She didn’t bother collecting her mail. Just then she had one thing in mind: calling Lou.

As the elevator doors began to slide shut, Laurie saw a hand come around its edge to try to stop the doors from closing. Laurie tried to hit the open button but hit the close instead. The hand pulled back, the doors closed, and the elevator ascended.

Laurie was just unlocking her locks when she heard Debra Engler’s door open behind her.

“There were two men at your door,” Debra said. “I’ve never seen them before. They rang your bell twice.”

Although Laurie didn’t like having Debra meddle in her affairs, she wondered who the two men were and what they could have wanted. It was difficult not to think of “two men” in anything but the context relating to the overdose cases, and the thought sent a chill down her spine. She wondered how they’d gotten as far as her door, since she hadn’t been there to buzz them in. Then she remembered the broken lock in the second door. She asked Debra what they looked like.

“Didn’t get a good look at their faces,” Debra said. “But they seemed no good to me. And as I said, they rang your bell twice.”

Laurie turned back to her door and unlocked the last lock. It occurred to her that if the two men had malicious intentions, they could have gone up the service stairs and broken in through her rear door in the kitchen.

Laurie pushed open her door. It creaked on its hinges, which had been coated with a hundred layers of paint. From her vantage point in the hall, her apartment appeared as she had left it. She didn’t hear anything abnormal or see anything suspicious. Cautiously she stepped over the threshold, ready to flee at the slightest unexpected sound.

Out of the corner of her eye, Laurie saw something coming at her. Letting out a small involuntary cry that was more of a gasp than a scream, Laurie let go of her briefcase and raised her arms to defend herself. At the moment the briefcase hit the floor, the cat was on her, but only for a second. In the next instant it had leaped to the foyer table, and with its ears held flat against its skull, it scampered into the living room.

For a second Laurie stood in her doorway, clutching her chest. Her heart was beating as fast as it did after several games of racquetball. Only after she’d caught her breath did she turn back to her door, close it, and secure the multitude of locks.

Picking up her briefcase, Laurie went into the living room. The manic cat rushed from his hiding place and leaped to the top of the bookcase and from there to the top of the valance over the windows. From that vantage point it glared down at Laurie with playful anger.

Laurie went directly to her phone. Her answering machine light was blinking, but she didn’t listen to her messages. Instead she dialed Lou’s work number. Unfortunately, he didn’t pick up. Laurie hung up and started to dial his home number. But before she could finish dialing, her doorbell rang. Startled, she hung up.

At first she was afraid to go to the door, even to look out the peephole. The doorbell sounded a second time. She knew she had to act. She would see who it was, she told herself. She didn’t have to open up.

Laurie tiptoed to the door and peered out into the hall. Two men she didn’t recognize were standing there, their faces distorted by the wide-angle lens into exaggerated corpulence.

“Who is it?” Laurie asked.

“Police,” a voice called.

A feeling of relief spread over her as she began to unlock her locks. Could Bingham have made good on his threat to have her picked up? But he hadn’t said he’d do it, he’d only said he might.

After undoing the chain lock, Laurie paused. She again put her eye to the peephole. “Do you have identification?” she asked. She knew enough not to let anyone in on their word alone as to who they were.

The two men quickly flashed police badges in front of the peephole. “We only want to talk with you for a moment,” the same voice explained.

Laurie backed away from the door. Although she’d initially been relieved to learn that her visitors were police, now she was beginning to wonder. What if they were here to arrest her? That would mean they’d have to take her to the police station to be booked. She’d be questioned, held, maybe arraigned. Who knew how long that would take? She had to talk to Lou about much more important matters. Besides, he’d undoubtedly be able to help her if she were to be arrested.

“Just a moment,” Laurie called to them. “I have to put on some clothes.”

Laurie headed straight for her kitchen and the back door.

Tony exchanged looks with Angelo. “Should we tell her not to bother dressing?” he asked.

“Shut up!” Angelo whispered.

The click of old hardware sounded behind them. Tony turned around to see Debra Engler’s door opening a crack. Tony lunged toward the door and clapped his hands loudly to give Debra a scare. The tactic worked. Debra’s door slammed shut. About a dozen locks were audibly being secured.

“For Chrissake!” Angelo whispered. “What’s the matter with you? This is no time for screwing around.”

“I don’t like that witch looking at us.”

“Get over here!” Angelo ordered. He looked away from Tony, shaking his head. That’s when he caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman’s silhouette dashing by the wire-embedded, smoked glass of a door to the fire stairs.

It took Angelo a second to appreciate what was happening. “Come on,” he said as soon as it hit him. “She’s going down the back stairs!”