Why did I say that? Why did I have to say it?
She heard the rasp of the intercom from the other side of the door, in the living room.
Heard Jill answer it and invite someone up.
Jill went to the mirror near the door and made sure her blouse was tucked tightly in her jeans, then fluffed her hair. It was an effort making herself look good for Tony Lake now that she knew what he might be capable of doing to her. What he might have done to those other women.
But even now, sometimes, he could be so charming it was-
There was a scuffing sound in the hall. She pressed her lips tightly together and rolled them to make sure her gloss was on evenly, then turned away from the mirror.
Two knocks on the door, firm and loud.
She gathered herself, then went to the door and opened it. Smiled big and broad.
'Tony!'
Quinn was three blocks from Jill's apartment, seething in the back of the cab. A block ahead, something was going on involving a tall van and some flashing yellow lights. Maybe a tow truck trying to handle more than it could manage. Whatever it was, it had traffic stalled to intermittent gains of ten or fifteen feet before brake lights flared again and the cab would come to a complete halt.
The driver's gunfighter eyes met Quinn's in the cocked rearview mirror. He swiveled in his seat to face Quinn and mouthed that he was sorry, there was nothing he could do to make better time.
Quinn squirmed and nodded. He understood, and he didn't see that things were going to change anytime soon.
He reached in his wallet and counted out what was on the meter, along with a generous tip, then tapped a knuckle on the clear divider and shoved the wad of bills on the steel swivel tray.
Then he was out of the cab and striding along the sidewalk in the direction of Jill's apartment. If the leg he'd been shot in months ago still ailed him, he didn't feel it. He resisted the urge to break into a run, knowing it would only exhaust him and might ultimately slow him down.
As he walked, brushing people aside, ignoring their hostile glares and remarks, he fished his cell phone from his pocket and pecked out Pearl's number.
What the hell was going on in Jill's apartment?
74
As Pearl moved toward the bedroom door, she heard her cell phone faintly playing Dragnet in her purse on the bed but ignored it. She knew it couldn't be heard from the living room.
She inched the door open. She could see across the living room to the small foyer and the hall door.
Tony, all right.
Jill was facing him, with her head raised as if expecting a kiss, playing her role.
As Tony pecked her cheek, he drew a small semiautomatic handgun from behind his back. It had a sound suppressor attached, dull gray and about six inches long with baffles. He began bending his elbow awkwardly so he could point the gun at Jill.
He's going to shoot her low in the side, to wound, and then…
Pearl didn't hesitate. She had her Glock out within seconds and snapped off a shot she knew would be wide of Tony but would certainly miss Jill. It wouldn't take him down, but it might startle him into forgetting for a few seconds about Jill.
Tony reacted fast. He shoved Jill away and swung the gun toward the sound of Pearl's shot, instantly saw her advancing down the hall toward him.
Pearl had a clear shot at him now. As she steadied her gun she saw a dulled muzzle flash and heard the silenced pistol spit at her. Tony's shot missed. So did her return shot. She knew he had a twenty-two. It was his weapon of choice, and even silenced it had sounded like a small-caliber gun. Pearl figured it would probably take several shots to stop her. Her powerful 9mm Glock could put Tony down with one shot.
If it hit home.
Pearl kept advancing down the hall, the Glock bucking and crashing in her hand. Tony wasn't retreating. Grade A for guts. Kill the bastard! She expected any moment to feel the sting of a bullet.
One of Tony's wild shots glanced off a framed print hanging in the hall just as Pearl came alongside it. Less than a foot from her face, the frame swung and dropped to the floor as the glass exploded into thin fragments. Pearl felt the right side of her face catch fire. She suddenly couldn't see from her right eye, realized it was closed, tried to open it but couldn't because of the pain.
Shit!
It only made her enraged. No time or room now for fear.
Through her watery left eye she took shaky aim and squeezed off another shot, knowing it would hit nothing but wall.
She saw a blurred figure dart to the side, turn, and disappear out the door to the hall.
Pearl staggered all the way into the living room and became aware that she wasn't headed toward the door. She was dizzy and had lost her bearings. She aimed her left eye at a huddled figure pressed back in a corner.
Jill.
Pearl started toward her and was suddenly nauseated. She looked down at her right arm and saw blood splatters on it.
There was something else wrong. Pain was taking her over, making it difficult to breathe. Am I going into shock?
No, damn it!
She took two steps backward and fell slumping into the sofa.
The figure huddled in the corner wasn't there anymore. Then she saw it. Jill was crawling across the room toward her.
'Jewel?'
Jill's voice sounded as if it had come from the next room. Only it hadn't. Jill, standing up now, was only a few feet in front of Pearl.
'Jewel? Jewel? My God! You okay?'
'My cell,' Pearl said. 'Go get my cell phone. In my purse in the bedroom.'
'Jewel?'
'My cell, goddamnit!'
On foot, Quinn dashed against the traffic signal through speeding, blaring traffic. He didn't slow down once he set foot on the opposite curb.
He'd reached Jill's block and was almost to her building, running flat out now, heart pumping so fast and hard it hurt.
Maybe he'd make it.
Maybe he'd get there in time.
A horn blared close to him, startling him. A cab veered to the curb about twenty feet in front of him. A voice:
'Quinn! Quinn!'
Quinn stopped and saw Fedderman shouting out the lowered side window in the back of the cab.
'Quinn!'
The cab's rear door swung open wide, looking as if it might spring off its hinges. Fedderman was leaning out waving at him.
'Get in, Quinn! Get in!'
Quinn knew they could make better time than he was making on foot as long as traffic didn't bog down again. He ran toward the cab, stumbling and almost falling as he stepped off the curb. His ankle felt sprained, but not enough to slow him down.
Getting too old for this…
