'No, thanks,' Eli said. He was still mad. 'I'm going out. Don't worry about me. I'll call you later.'
'Eli, please--'
'Bye,' he said. Then he hung up. A minute later, Eli was out the door and double locking it. He could hear the phone ringing again on the other side.
With the manila envelope tucked under his arm, Eli turned and walked away.
The Number 11 bus pulled up toward his stop. Already Eli was sweating through his white shirt. It had gotten muggy out. And on top of that, he perspired when he got nervous. He felt so close to solving this thirty-four-year-old double murder.
He glanced up at the rain clouds darkening the sky. He hadn't thought to bring an umbrella.
Obviously, he hadn't been thinking at all; otherwise he would have noticed the man across the street earlier. Eli caught a glimpse of him climbing into a white Taurus. The dark-skinned man wore sunglasses and a red shirt, but there was no mistaking who he was. Eli wondered how long he'd been there, watching him.
The bus suddenly pulled up, blocking his view.
Eli stepped aboard, paid his fare, and quickly took a seat on the left side so he could look out the window at the man. As the bus lurched forward, he saw the white Taurus pulling out of its parking spot. 'Shit,' he muttered under his breath. He turned forward and saw two punk, teenage girls staring at him from across the aisle.
'You look like a Jehovah's Witness,' one of them said. Her friend giggled.
Eli didn't say anything, but he felt this awful pang in his stomach. He turned away and gazed out the window again. He couldn't see the white car. But he knew it was following him.
'I'm sorry, Mr. Demick left for the day,' the receptionist told him. It wasn't the pretty brunette from yesterday. This one had very short platinum-blond hair and dark red lipstick. She nodded at the manila envelope in Eli's hand. 'Is that for him?'
'Um, yes,' Eli said. 'I--ah, I need him to sign for it. Could you tell me where he went? It's urgent he get this.'
She held out her hand. 'If you leave it with me, I'll see his assistant gets it.'
Eli shook his head. 'No, I'm sorry. I really need to hand it to him in person and get his signature.'
With a tiny frown, the receptionist reached for her phone. 'One minute, please,' she said. She punched a few numbers, and then her voice dropped to a whisper as she talked to someone on the line. Eli couldn't hear her. He wondered if she was calling security on him.
He was amazed he'd made it this far. Getting off the bus earlier, he'd kept a lookout for that creepy man, but he hadn't seen him or the white Taurus. It had just started to rain as he'd hurried into the lobby of Mr. Demick's building. While waiting for the elevator, Eli had thought he'd spotted the man again by the revolving doors. But it had been another guy in a red shirt.
The blonde hung up the phone and smiled at him. 'Are you from Coupland and Douglas?' she asked.
Eli didn't know if that was good or bad, but he took a chance and nodded.
She pulled up something on her computer, then scribbled on a notepad. 'Mr. Demick went home for the day. This is his address.' She handed him a piece of paper. 'Are you on a bike or did you walk over?'
'Um, I walked.'
'Well, he's in West Seattle. You'll need a cab. I'll call one for you.' She reached for the phone again. 'And I'll call Mr. Demick and tell him you're on your way.' She nodded at the envelope again. 'You know, you're late. We were expecting that at nine o'clock.'
'Yes,' Eli said. 'I know. They got held up in the--the copy room. Thank you for your help.'
'It'll be a yellow cab out front,' she said.
Eli nodded politely, then turned and quickly headed for the double glass doors. Just as he stepped out to the foyer, one of the elevators let out a ding and the third door down opened. The swarthy man in the red shirt seemed out of place amid the businesspeople riding the elevator with him. He still had his sunglasses on.
Swiveling around, Eli ran down the hallway and ducked into the first door with an Exit sign over it.
'Wait!' he heard the man shout behind him.
He staggered into an ugly stairwell with white walls and grey steps. Racing down the first flight of stairs, Eli tried the door to the twenty-sixth floor, but it was locked. 'Shit!' he hissed.
Above him, he heard the door open.
He scurried down the next flight of stairs and tried the door on twenty-five, but it was locked as well. He ran as fast as he could down to the next floor. The footsteps above him echoed in the stark stairwell. The man seemed to be gaining on him. 'Eli?' the man called. 'Eli, stop!'
But he kept running. How did that guy know his name? What was going on? Eli tried the door on the twenty- third floor. He even banged on it repeatedly.
'Goddamn it, Eli!' the man yelled. 'Stop! I'm a friend of your father's!'
The voice was right above him now.
Eli didn't believe him. How often did child killers use that 'I'm a friend of your dad's' line?
He turned and raced down another flight, where he saw a fire extinguisher bracketed to the wall. Eli grabbed it. The man's footsteps got louder and closer. 'Eli, wait up!' he called. Eli saw his hand moving down the railing just half a flight up. His shadow began to sweep over the landing.
Just then, Eli threw the fire extinguisher at his feet. The tinny, clanking sound reverberated through the stairwell. So did the man's sharp cry as he tripped over the extinguisher and fell. 'Goddamn it!' he bellowed.
Eli didn't wait to see how far the creepy guy had fallen or how badly he was hurt. He'd already turned around and bolted down the next group of steps. Eli tried the door on the twentieth floor, and to his utter relief, it was open.
'Eli, wait!' the man called. 'I know your dad...'
Eli shut the stairwell door, and it cut off the sound of the stranger's voice.
He took the elevator from the twentieth floor down to the lobby, where he saw the yellow cab waiting in front of the building. Eli was still catching his breath as he headed out the revolving door. He had the manila envelope tucked under his arm, but stopped in the rain for a moment to check his pockets for the piece of paper with Mr. Demick's address on it. 'Oh, no,' he murmured. 'Oh, no, please, God...'
Just when he'd thought he was getting the hell out of there, he would have to go back. Dejectedly, he wandered over to the cab and opened the front passenger door. 'I'm doing a delivery for a law firm,' he said to the driver--a middle-aged, thin black man with gray hair. 'Are you waiting for me?'
The taxi driver nodded.
'I'm sorry, but I have to go back and--'
The driver was still nodding. 'Going to West Seattle, right? 1939 Henley Court?'
Eli broke into a grateful smile. 'Yes, sir. You bet. Thank you.'
He quickly climbed in back. As the cab pulled into traffic, Eli felt such overwhelming relief. It lasted about thirty seconds. That was how long it took for him to realize where he must have dropped that piece of paper with Demick's address on it.
In the stairwell, of course.
'Well, Sydney, it's about time you called me. I only gave you my cell phone number--like last week!'
The pretty, twenty-two-year-old brunette salesgirl behind the counter at Beautiful Blooms had been chewed out on several occasions for chatting on her cell phone while at work. But Jill was the only one in the flower shop at the moment. There weren't any customers, and Glenn, the gruff fifty-something owner was out making a delivery.
Jill had developed an instant crush on Sydney Jordan when he'd first walked into Beautiful Blooms about two weeks ago. She thought it was cool how he spelled his name that different way. For someone so cute and funny, he had kind of a sad job. He'd explained to her that he helped people with the estates of their recently deceased relatives. He worked all over the country: Portland, New York, Chicago. He was always sending his new customers flowers with sympathy cards. It was a pretty sweet gesture. Jill had waited on him a few times now, and always flirted up a storm. She couldn't believe he'd finally called her on her cell, and he was asking if she'd like to go out with him.
'You mean, like a date?' she teased.
'You bet, like a date,' he said. 'I want to take you out to breakfast tomorrow around 9:30.'
'Oh, I'd love to, but I have to work,' she said, crestfallen. 'Can't we make it another time?'
