Линвуд Баркли - Find You First

“Oh,” said Chloe. “Okay, then.”

The glass shards were getting damp with sweat in her and Nicky’s hands. If either of the men had noticed they were keeping their right hands closed, they’d given no indication.

“Is there anything we have to bring?” Chloe asked.

Rhys grinned. “I’m guessing you didn’t have a chance to pack before you got here.”

“No shit,” Chloe said.

“Can I come back and get my stuff later?” Nicky asked the men.

“Sure,” said Broderick.

Chloe said, “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Rhys said.

“Sirens.”

Rhys shrugged. “You must not spend much time in New York.”

But the sirens were getting more intense. They were getting closer. The two men traded concerned glances. Someone rapped on the door. Rhys walked over and opened it an inch.

The man from the stairs could be heard saying, “Sit tight. Something’s going on.”

The door closed. Rhys turned and smiled.

“We’re going to wait for an all clear.”

“What’s going on?” Chloe asked.

Rhys said, “Shut up.”

Roberta had the brownstone door open before the first firefighter had mounted the steps. The street, totally choked off with FDNY emergency vehicles, was ablaze with pulsing red lights from two pumpers and a ladder truck. For good measure, there were two cars from the NYPD.

“What’s going on?” she asked, descending the front steps and meeting a helmeted fireman decked out in full regalia.

“We have a report of a fire at this address,” he said.

“That’s ridiculous,” she said. “There’s no fire here. Not so much as a slice of burnt toast.”

The fireman tipped his head back, scanned the brownstone from top to bottom. “Someone called it in, said there were flames visible from the street.”

“Do you see any flames?” Roberta asked.

“We need to come in and check,” he said.

“That’s not necessary,” Roberta insisted.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping around her and heading for the door.

“Honestly!” Roberta said, chasing after him. “Everything’s fine!”

She’d left the front door ajar, so all he had to do was give it a push. She caught up to him in the lobby.

The fireman was greeted by Jeremy Pritkin descending the stairs. He smiled broadly and extended a hand.

“Well!” he said. “Isn’t this a surprise!”

The fireman stopped, did a double take. It was clear he recognized Pritkin. There wasn’t a person in New York who wouldn’t have.

“We had a call,” he said.

“I’ve no doubt,” Jeremy said. “Seems we’re the target of some harassment. Been getting calls all day. Had twenty pizzas delivered to the house an hour ago that we did not order. Had a bomb threat on my cell, which I know you probably think should worry me, but I get these sorts of things all the time. I’m guessing it has something to do with what I said on Anderson Cooper the other night. Got a few of the crazies fired up. And now, you’re here. I am so sorry you had to be dragged into whatever nuisance campaign is being directed against me. I’ve already got a call into the chief of police to see if he can assign someone to get to the bottom of it.”

The fireman nodded. “That’s a shame, Mr. Pritkin. Okay then. Well, ordinarily we’d do a walk-through, but it sounds like everything’s okay here. You have a good evening.”

As he turned, Pritkin walked with him, putting a friendly hand on his shoulder. “It’s an outrage, you guys wasting your time here when there could be a real fire going on somewhere else. It’s unconscionable.”

“Happens all the time,” he said. As he stepped outside, he gave Pritkin and Roberta a wave. “Take care now.”

“Thank you!” they said in unison.

And as they went back into the brownstone, Pritkin whispered to Roberta, “Something’s wrong.”

Upstairs, Rhys had one arm wrapped tightly around Chloe, his other hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Broderick had a similar hold on Nicky.

Their arms were pinioned in their grips. The pieces of glass were still in their hands, but there was nothing they could do with them. Chloe tried to tamp down the panic she was feeling. If these men took this to the next step, if they gagged them and tied their hands, not only would the glass shards prove useless, the rest of their plan would go out the window.

“Just be very, very quiet now,” Rhys whispered into Chloe’s ear. “Soon as we get the all clear, we can carry on with our business.”

If Chloe had had any doubt before, lawyers did not manhandle you and put their hands over your mouth.

Killers did.

There was another knock at the door. From the other side, a voice that was clearly Roberta’s said, “We’re good. You ready?”

“A minute!” Rhys shouted. He relaxed his grip on Chloe, took his hand from her mouth. “Sorry,” he said. “We don’t need anything interfering with you getting out of here. No sense having to answer a lot of unnecessary questions.”

Act like you believe them, Chloe told herself. Play along .

“Okay,” she said. “But that wasn’t nice.”

“Yeah,” Nicky chimed in once Broderick released her.

Chloe looked at her fellow prisoner and something caught her eye.

Blood.

There was blood dripping from Nicky’s right hand.

New York, NY

Charise figured the quickest route to the Pritkin address was to head south on Park, then take a left onto Seventieth, a one-way street running east. The brownstone was in the block between Park and Lexington. She was betting by the time they got there, the street would be clogged with fire trucks and other emergency vehicles, assuming the bogus call to 911 from Gold’s phone worked as they’d hoped it would.

“Whatever they’re up to, they’re not going to be able to do it with the FDNY and the NYPD on their doorstep,” Miles said hopefully.

Charise said, “And when we get there?”

Miles said, “We tell whoever’s there — the police, the fire department — we have reason to believe someone’s being held against their will inside. They’ll have to listen to us.” He looked at Gold. “What do you think?”

Gold, the picture of defeat, said, “I don’t know anymore.”

“Okay, only a few more blocks,” Charise said encouragingly. “Passing Seventy-Second. We got a green light ahead.”

Miles looked out his window, mesmerized by the dizzying display of lights. He’d always loved New York, had never failed to enjoy the excitement of driving into the city. Never, until now. All he felt now was anxiety.

We’re coming, Chloe. We’re almost there.

“One block to go,” Charise said. “I’m not... seeing any fire trucks or anything.”

They had reached Seventieth Street. Charise steered the limo hard left, waiting for a break in traffic.

“It didn’t work,” Gold said, peering down the street. “There’s no fire trucks.”

Miles said, “Shit. What now?”

Charise said, “What if we—”

And that was when the Volvo SUV rammed full speed into the driver’s side of the limo.

New York, NY

Caroline Cookson was delusional enough when she drove away from her house that she still believed she could make this right.

Sure, the odds were against her. Her husband had caught her in an affair. And he’d found out about how she had used their daughter, Samantha, in a fantastical scheme to get her brother-in-law’s money. And no question, these decisions were hard to defend.

But it wasn’t as though she’d broken any actual laws, was it? Affairs weren’t illegal. Okay, maybe conspiring to get money from Travis Roben was on the wrong side of the law, but the plan had not been carried out. Broderick had pretty much vanished — she’d tried to reach him but her ALLCAPS texts had gone undelivered and she had no idea where he really lived — so he wasn’t going to tell the police what she’d done. And Samantha certainly wasn’t going to testify.