The Fifth Avenue Series Boxed Set (121 page)

“A friend of your father’s.”

“Which friend?”

“It’s Mark,” he said.
 
“We met a year or so ago at your sister’s birthday party.
 
I was wondering if I could speak to your mother?”

“She’s out.”

“Oh,” he said.
 
“Do you know how long she’ll be?”

“She’s with the creep,” Katie said.
 
“We were told ten.
 
I’m betting midnight.”

“That’s several hours away,” he said, disappointed.
 
“And my wife and I are about to leave the city.
 
Here’s what’s up.
 
Your father is on a case and he wanted me to get you something quickly.
 
He said it was important.
 
If we stop by on our way to the airport, would you mind ringing my wife up so she can give it to you?”

She hesitated.
 
“I’m not allowed to do that.”

“Can you call your mother and ask?”

“My mother only wants to be reached if it’s an emergency.”

Spocatti was unfazed.
 
“I see,” he said.
 
“Well, this isn’t one.”

“Then I can’t help you.”

He locked eyes with Spellman.
 
“Look,” he said.
 
“I’m supposed to keep quiet about this, but time is running out and we need to catch our flight.
 
Can you keep a secret?”

“I guess.”

“Our dog had puppies a few weeks ago and your dad bought one for you and your sister.
 
He wanted to bring it by tonight, but he got hung up and so he asked us to do it instead.
 
He knows we’re leaving town for a few weeks and he didn’t want you to wait.”

“Dad bought us a puppy?”
 
The thrill in her voice was unmistakable.

“He did.”

“What kind?”

“I can’t give away everything,” he said with a laugh.
 
“Do you mind if we drop by?
 
You can see what it is then.
 
I’ll be in the car, but Michelle, my wife, will run the dog up to you.”

The moment Katie agreed, Carmen snapped the cell phone shut.
 
Spocatti ignored the tension on Spellman’s face and looked at Carmen.
 
“You know the address.
 
Go there and wait.
 
I’ll call you if he doesn’t cooperate.”

“I’ll cooperate.”

They turned to Spellman.

“What do you want from me?”

“It’s simple,” Spocatti said.
 
“We need Maggie Cain.
 
We know she hired you.
 
We know there’s an investigation.
 
Tell us where she is.”

“I wish I knew.”

“Bad answer.”

“It’s the only answer I’ve got.
 
I don’t know where she is.”

“Then call her and tell her to meet you here.
 
Tell her what happened to Peter and that you need her here immediately.
 
Tell her it’s critical.”

“Do you want to reach for my cell or do you want me to do it?”

Carmen walked over to him as he stood.
 
She dipped her hand into his pants pocket and pulled out the phone, but not before copping a feel.
 
She looked at Spocatti.
 
“I know where to shoot him first.
 
You can’t miss it.”
 

“Just hand him the phone, Carmen.”

She did.
 

“Is she at home or is she out?”

“I don’t know.”

“Call her at home first,” Spocatti said.
 
“Put the phone on speaker.
 
If she answers, do what I told you to do.”

They watched him dial.
 
Outside, on the street, there was the faint sound of an ambulance.

The phone rang.
 
Standing there, in the darkness, they listened to it while the ambulance’s lights started to illuminate the street.
 
It was a ways off, but its siren was growing louder.
 
Spocatti nodded at Carmen, who went to the windows across the room and looked out.
 
She craned her head into an awkward position and said, “I can’t see it.”

Maggie’s phone picked up.
 
It was the answering machine.
 
Her voice was barely audible above the ambulance’s alarm.
 
“This is Maggie.
 
Please leave a message.”

Spocatti reached over and snapped the phone shut.
 
“Dial her cell.”

He looked over at Carmen and saw the ambulance’s sweeping red lights start to whip across her face.
 
“What’s going on, Carmen?”

“I can see the lights, but I can’t see the ambulance.”

“Tell me when you can.”

“It’s the city, Vincent.
 
Relax.
 
People die.”

“You don’t say?”

The ambulance’s wail grew to a roar.

“I can see it now,” she said.

Spellman held out the phone as it started to ring.

“It’s not stopping here.
 
It’s going too fast.
 
It’s going to turn onto Fifth.”

And in that moment, just as the ambulance raced past the windows with its sirens screaming, Carmen Gragera crumbled in front of them and dropped to the ground.

*
  
*
  
*

For Marty, the next few moments came in waves.

From the doorway next to the windows, Maggie Cain rolled into the room, kicked the woman’s gun across the floor, lifted her own gun and started firing at the man named Vincent, but not before he dropkicked Marty and sent him flying over a chair.
 
Marty went down with it, his cell slipped beneath him and he landed on top of it.
 

He was on his back.
 

He looked up to the sounds of muted gunfire and watched strobes of light reverberate off the walls.
 
Maggie Cain was coming across the room, her gun poised in front of her, the determination on her face captured each time she fired.
 

With surprise on her side, she was shooting repeatedly at the man, but missing.
 
He was taking his own shots at her, but missing.
 
The room was too large and too dark to allow for accuracy, but with the chance for death so ripe, the space nevertheless was bright with fight.

Marty reached beneath him for the phone, tried to dial 911, couldn’t.
 
He broke it when he fell.

There was another shot and this time the man reared back, the gun in his right hand now covering a wound on his left arm.
 

Maggie closed in.
 
She fired again and this time a portion of the wall behind him exploded into bits of plaster.
 
As a wavering white veil drifted up to consume him, the man stood at the center of it, his head turning to the door to his right.

Behind them came a groan.

The woman named Carmen was attempting to stand in front of the windows, but her balance was off.
 
In the city light, Marty could see blood on her head, confusion in her eyes.
 
She was clutching her side.
 
Instinct lifted her up.
 

As she struggled to her feet, the man rushed out of the room, his hand over his arm, Maggie Cain racing after him, still shooting even as he ran down the hallway, took to the stairs and fled from the building.
 

Marty was about to run over to Carmen and tackle her for questioning when Maggie Cain rushed back into the room.
 

“Leave her,” she said.
 
“This place is about to be filled with cops and I can’t be associated with any of it.
 
I need you to move, Marty—now!”

*
  
*
  
*

Deep in shadow and halfway down the street, where he was concealed behind the back of a Mercedes SUV, Spocatti watched the front door of Peter Schwartz’s building open slowly before Spellman rushed out the building with Maggie Cain close behind him.
 
He could see their guns in their hands.
 
He knew they would shoot if provoked.

They came down the steps crouched low.
 
When they hit the street, they intentionally slammed their backs against one of the cars parked curbside.
 
The alarm went off, Spocatti looked up to see people coming to their windows or closing their curtains, and when he looked back, Spellman and Cain already were in flight and near the end of the block.

He watched them flag a cab, saw them snag one on their second try and then they were gone, fast into the night.

Spocatti wasted no time.

He ran across the street, entered Schwartz’s building, took the staircase to the second floor.
 
He called out Carmen’s name and came face-to-face with her when he entered the room he’d left her in.
 
When he saw her, she was standing with her back to the window, her gun raised and pointed at his face.

“Why did you leave me?”

He came toward her, knowing that time was running out and that they needed to leave.
 
“I had no choice.
 
She shot me.
 
She ran after me shooting.
 
I had to run or I would have been killed.
 
You would have done the same thing.”

She looked at his arm, saw what must have been a flesh wound given the absence of significant blood, but nevertheless kept her gun as steady as she could on him.

“What did she do to you?” he asked.

“She threw a bronze bookend at me.
 
It hit me in the kidney and I went down.”

He kept moving in her direction.
 
“Why is there blood on your forehead?”

“I fell, Vincent.
 
Guess what hit the floor first?”

“Put down the gun,” he said.

“I’d rather blow your fucking head off.”

“Just put down the gun.”

“I should take you out now for leaving me here.”

“I didn’t leave you.
 
I came back for you.
 
I can’t do this alone.”

“Bullshit.”

Maybe
, he thought.
 
But what he heard in her voice now wasn’t so much anger as it was ego, and that was enough for him.
 
He kept moving toward her just as, in the distance, the faint wail of police sirens started to sound.