I followed his index finger and spotted Holly on the escalator two floors above us. She was easy to spot, which made me aware of how conspicuous Herb and I were. Benedict didn't exactly blend in.
'I'll need you to stay on the third floor, Herb. See if you can spot Fuller coming up. Lay low.'
Benedict nodded. I spoke into the mike, requesting further backup to converge on all exits at my command.
Benedict got off the escalator. I pressed onward and upward. On the fifth floor, I searched for Holly and found her examining Oriental rugs. A quick survey of the area failed to reveal Fuller, but the several dozen shoppers milling about made me very uneasy. Too many people, only one me.
I didn't like this. Not a bit.
I could feel my heartbeat kick up a notch. My palms got damp and my mouth got dry. A crowded department store was not a place for a shoot-out.
I blended into the crowd, pretending to examine loveseats. A saleswoman came up, asked if I needed assistance. I told her no, keeping distance from Holly as she left rugs for window dressings.
Best-case scenario, I sneak up on Fuller, he surrenders without incident.
Worst-case -- well, take your pick. He's a homicidal maniac and a trained marksman. He knows everything I'll do before I do it. Knows he's surrounded, exits blocked. Knows he has a much better chance to make a stand when there are this many bystanders hanging around.
'Any sign of the target?'
I received a round of negatives in my earpiece.
'The locale is too crowded. We'll tail him as he leaves, over.'
That calmed me a bit. We could just hang back, take him down when he's back on the street, where there were fewer . . .
'I've got him.' Benedict, from the third floor. 'Taking the escalator. Dressed in green gym shorts and a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off. He's also barefoot, over.'
'Hold your positions. We will not engage until he's off site. Repeat, hold your positions. Over.'
I changed directions, facing the escalator. A minute passed, and I realized I'd been holding my breath. I let it out, slow.
Fuller rose up out of the floor, seeming much bigger than he looked around the office. His manner was edgy, irritated, and his eyes darted this way and that. I squatted behind a display of bath towels, watched him through a gap in the terry-cloth layers.
He passed within twenty feet of me, beelining to window dressings.
'The target's on the fifth floor. I have him in my sights, over.'
Holly had her back to him, absorbed in examining a valence. Fuller spotted her, quickened his pace. He reached his hands out before him, huge hands, at neck level.
I stood up, adrenaline surging. It was too far away to take a shot. I broke into a jog, hand going for my gun, and then skidded on my heels when Fuller put his hands over Holly's eyes and played guess who.
She giggled, turned around, and kissed him on tiptoes. Fuller held out his hand, and Holly handed him the Nike bag she'd been carrying. They exchanged a few sentences, another kiss, and then he led her away from window dressings, back to the escalator.
I spun around, absorbed in the price tag on a bronze floor lamp.
'Target and his wife are heading for the escalators. Going up. Everyone stand their ground, over.'
I gave them half a minute's lead, then followed the pair up a floor. Women's Evening Wear.
'They're on the sixth floor, looking at cocktail dresses. He's picking one up off the rack, handing it to her. She's shaking her head. He's laughing. Now they're walking over to the dressing rooms. They just went in.'
I examined my options. Keep my distance and wait for them to come out, or move in closer to make sure he isn't adding to his body count.
They seemed fine. No animosity. Smiling and kissing.
I decided to hang back. It was just a husband and wife, out shopping. Even as crazy as Fuller seemed, he probably wasn't going to kill his wife in the middle of a busy department store.
Right?
Chapter 20
He's ready to kill the bitch. The excitement of it makes him giddy, light-headed. As soon as she opens that door, shows off that pretty little Dolce & Gabbana dress, he's going to wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until his thumbs meet his index fingers.
He knocks on her dressing room door. 'You okay in there, honey?'
'Just a second. This isn't the right kind of bra, I have to take it off. You really like this dress?'
'I have to see you in it.'
'I didn't know you cared about fashion, Barry.'
Fuller grins, thinking about the corpse in the back of his SUV.
'There's a lot of things you don't know about me, dear.'
Fuller wipes some sweat from his forehead, hands shaking. The store's swamped with customers, and there's no one chaperoning the dressing room. He'll be able to kill his wife in less than thirty seconds, and then slip out
