Робин Кук - Mortal Fear

Within a quarter hour of his arrival, a large group of people emerged from the club and went their separate ways. About ten minutes later, a group of dancers appeared. They chatted together in front of the club, then split up. Carol was not among them. Just when Jason had begun to worry that he’d missed her, Carol came out with one of the body-builders. He wore a leather jacket over his T-shirt, but it was not zipped up. They turned right, heading up Washington Street toward Filene’s.

Jason started his car, unsure of what to do. Luckily there was plenty of traffic, both cars and pedestrian. To keep Carol in sight, he nudged out into the street, staying to the side. A policeman saw him and waved him on. Carol and her friend turned left on Boylston Street, walked into an open parking lot, and got into a large black Cadillac.

Well, at least he’ll be easy to keep in sight, Jason thought. But, never having followed anyone, he discovered it wasn’t as easy as he’d imagined, especially if he didn’t want to be observed. The Cadillac skirted the edge of the Common, went north on Charles Street, then made a left on Beacon, passing the Hampshire House. Several blocks later, the car pulled over to the left side of the street and double-parked. This was an area of town called Back Bay, composed of large, turn-of the-century brownstones, most of which had been converted into rental units or condos. Jason passed the Cadillac as Carol alighted. Slowing, he watched in the rearview mirror as she ran up the steps of a building with a large bay window. Jason turned left on Exeter, then left on Marlborough. After waiting about five minutes, he rounded the block. Arriving back on Beacon Street, he looked for the black Cadillac. It was gone.

Jason parked in front of a fire hydrant half a block from Carol’s building. At three A.M. Back Bay was peaceful — no pedestrians and only an occasional passing car. Turning into the walk leading to Carol’s building, Jason surveyed the six-story facade and saw no lights in any of the windows. Entering the building’s outer foyer, he scanned the names opposite the buzzers. There were fourteen. To his disappointment there was no Donner listed.

Stepping back outside, Jason debated what he should do. Remembering there was an alley running between Beacon and Marlborough, he walked around the block, counting the buildings until he located Carol’s. There was a light in the window on the fourth floor. He guessed that had to be Carol’s since it was unlikely anyone else would be up.

Intending to go back to the entrance and press the appropriate buzzer, Jason turned and headed back up the alley. He saw the lone figure immediately, but he kept walking, hoping the man would merely pass by. As the distance between them closed, Jason’s steps slowed, then stopped. To his dismay he realized it was the body-builder. His leather motorcycle jacket was unzipped, showing a white T-shirt stretched tight across powerful muscles. It was the same individual who had thrown him out of the Club Cabaret the night before.

The man kept coming at Jason, his fingers flexing in apparent anticipation. Jason guessed him to be in his mid-twenties, with a full face that suggested he took steroids. It obviously spelled trouble. And Jason’s hope that the man might not recognize him was banished as the goon growled, “What the fuck you doing, creep?”

That was all Jason needed. He spun on his heels and started for the other end of the alley. Unfortunately, his leather-soled loafers were no competition for the body-builder’s Nikes. “You goddamn pervert!” he shouted, pulling Jason to a stop.

Jason ducked a roundhouse left hook and grabbed the goon’s thigh, hoping to trip him. Unfortunately, it was like grabbing a piano leg. Instead, Jason was jerked upright. The unevenness of the match was already apparent to Jason, who decided he’d prefer some kind of dialogue. “Why don’t you find someone your own size!” he yelled in exasperation.

“Because I don’t like perverts,” the body-builder said, practically lifting Jason off his feet.

Twisting to one side, then the other, Jason wriggled out of his jacket and shot off down the alley, knocking over a garbage can as he fled.

“I’ll teach you not to come sniffing around Carol!” the goon shouted, kicking aside the garbage can as he started off after Jason. But Jason’s years of jogging paid off. Although the body-builder was quick despite his size, Jason could hear the man’s breathing becoming increasingly labored. Jason was almost at the end of the alley when he skidded on loose pebbles, momentarily losing his balance. He scrambled back to his feet just as a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

“Hold it! Police!” A voice shattered the stillness of the Boston night. Jason froze and so did the body-builder. The doors of an unmarked police car parked next to the mouth of the alley suddenly opened and three plainclothesmen leaped out. Once again Jason was ordered, “Up against the wall. Feet apart!” He obeyed, but the body-builder thought about it for a moment. Finally he growled to Jason, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.” He then complied.

“Shut up!” a policeman yelled. Jason and his pursuer were quickly searched, then turned around and told to put their hands behind their heads. One cop took out a flashlight and checked their identification.

“Bruno DeMarco?” questioned the man holding the light on the body-builder. Bruno nodded. The light switched to Jason.

“Dr. Jason Howard?”

“That’s correct.”

“What’s going on here?” the policeman asked.

“This little creep was trying to bother my girlfriend,” Bruno informed him in an outraged voice. “He followed her.”

The policeman looked back and forth between Jason and Bruno, then walked over to the car, opened the door, and took something from the back seat. When he returned, he handed Bruno his wallet and told him to go home and get some sleep. At first Bruno acted as though he hadn’t understood, but then he took his wallet.

“I’ll remember you, asshole!” he shouted at Jason as he disappeared toward Beacon Street.

“You,” the policeman said, pointing to Jason. “In the car!”

Jason was stunned. He couldn’t believe they let the bouncer go and not him. He was about to complain when the policeman grasped his arm and forced him into the back seat.

“You are becoming one big pain in the ass,” Detective Curran said. He was sitting stolidly, smoking. “I should have let that hunk work you over.”

Jason was at a loss for words.

“I hope you have some idea,” Curran continued, “of just how much you are screwing up this case. First we have Hayes’s apartment covered. You blew that. Then we’re watching Carol Donner and you blow that. We might as well bag the whole operation. We’re certainly not going to learn anything from her at this point. Where the hell is your car? I presume you came in a car?”

“Just around the corner,” Jason said meekly.

“I suggest you get in it and go home,” Curran said slowly. “Then I suggest you get back to doctoring and leave this investigation to us. You’re making our job impossible.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason began. “I didn’t think...”

“Just leave!” Curran said with a wave of dismissal.

Jason climbed out of the police car, feeling pretty dumb. Of course they’d be watching Carol. If she had been living with Hayes, she was probably involved with drugs too. In fact, with her line of work, it was almost a given. Getting into his own car, Jason thought about his jacket, said the hell with it, and drove home.

It was three-thirty when he trudged up the stairs to his apartment and dutifully called his service. He hadn’t taken his beeper with him when he left to follow Carol Donner, and he hoped there had been no calls. He was too tired to handle an emergency. There was nothing from the hospital, but Shirley had left a message asking him to call the moment he got in, no matter what time. The page operator told him it was urgent.