night.
She knew the automobile would hit him again. Poor Craig was obviously already dead. But the automobile had to hit him three times because that was how it happened in
Its engine grinding, the car lurched toward Craig’s corpse one more time. Hannah automatically turned her head away. Then she heard another crash. When she looked down at the lot again, the car was heading for the street. Its smashed, crumpled front hood was covered with Craig’s blood.
She and Scott were no longer alone on the balcony. Several residents from her building had come out of their apartments, drawn by all the noise. Within a couple of minutes, about a dozen people had gone down to the parking lot. They slowed down to a stop as they approached Craig’s corpse. They seemed reluctant to get too close to him.
Hannah was numb. She wanted to do something, but she couldn’t even move. It was too late to help him. Craig was dead. She just stood there, her hands gripping the railing.
Scott tried to talk, but he couldn’t seem to get any words out. His face was the color of chalk. He kept shaking his head.
“Mom?”
She turned and saw Guy, in his Spider-Man pajamas, coming toward the door. He rubbed his eyes. “What’s all that noise?” he asked.
Hannah rushed toward him before he could reach the door. She scooped him up in her arms. His body felt warm. “It’s only a car alarm, honey,” she said, a tremor in her voice. “Nothing for you to see. C’mon, let’s get you back to bed. Say good night to Scott.”
“G’night, Scott,” he said, his arms and legs wrapped around Hannah.
Scott just nodded and gave Guy a pale smile.
Tears in her eyes, Hannah carried Guy down the hall.
“Mom, are you crying?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine, honey,” she lied.
He needed to go to the bathroom, then asked for a glass of water. By the time Hannah got him settled back in bed, she heard the police and ambulance sirens. Through Guy’s bedroom windows, she could see a red whirling light from the emergency vehicles outside, three stories below.
To her amazement, Guy started to drift off within a couple minutes, despite all the noise. Her legs a little unsteady, Hannah wandered out of his bedroom and up the hallway. She wiped her eyes and tried to focus on Scott.
He stood in the doorway, nervously smoking a cigarette. “So—aren’t we going to talk to the police?” he said.
“I can’t get involved,” Hannah said. She felt so ashamed and scared. All she wanted to do was run away— from this murderer, from the police, from everything.
“Your trouble with the cops,” Scott said. “It’s really serious, isn’t it?”
Hannah sighed. “You said you weren’t going to ask.”
“That was before,” Scott replied. He rubbed his forehead. “Jesus, I can’t believe it. He was just standing here talking to us a few minutes ago. Listen, Hannah. I’m not asking about your problem with the cops to be nosey. I’m concerned for you, Han. They’re sure to go through Craig’s pockets, and search his car. He might have your address on him.”
Hannah numbly gazed down at all the people, police, and flashing emergency vehicles in the parking lot below.
Scott took a drag from his cigarette. “Hannah, you’re involved—whether you want to be or not.”
Nine
The parking lot was still a mob scene.
They’d managed to silence the car alarms, but there were still engines idling and people talking over one another. Static-garbled announcements came on patrol car radios, and one loud, very angry cop was yelling at everyone to step back.
About fifty people had gathered at the parking lot entrance. Hannah made her way through the crowd while paramedics loaded Craig’s shrouded body into the back of an ambulance.
Only ten minutes ago, Craig had been talking with her. And now he was a corpse. Hannah still couldn’t quite comprehend it. Who had been driving that old-model white car?
Maybe the police knew. It was a long shot, but Hannah tried to listen to their conversations with one another. So far, she wasn’t having much luck finding out anything.
She thought about what Scott had said earlier. Craig must have had her name and address written down somewhere—in his wallet, his pocket, or in his car. Had the police found it yet?
She’d left Scott in the apartment. Someone had to stay there in case Guy woke up again. If that happened, Scott was supposed to flick the living room light on and off a few times.
Hannah kept looking back up at her building. She heard some people talking, and apparently, the police were looking for a white Impala that had been reported stolen late last night.
Then Hannah overheard one officer tell another that the car had been found two miles away. “Somebody torched it,” he said. “Lots of luck getting reliable prints or DNA samples there. Smart SOB. Y’know, I think—”
“THERE’S NOTHING MORE TO SEE!” yelled the cop in charge of crowd control, drowning out his coworkers. “COME ON, PEOPLE, GO HOME….”
Hannah stepped back, and bumped into someone. “Excuse me,” she muttered. Then she looked up at the man and gasped.
“Hi,” Ben said.
Hannah numbly stared at him. “What are you doing here?”
He glanced at the other people around them, then winced a bit. “You won’t like this, but I’ve been looking out after you. Did you know this Craig guy?”
“What do you mean, you’ve been ‘looking out after’ me?” Hannah asked.
“It’s hard to explain. I just wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to you.”
The siren began wailing as the ambulance pulled out of the lot. Ben stopped to look at the vehicle speeding down the street. Then he turned to her again. “Did you know him very well?”
“Not very,” Hannah replied, her guard up. She glanced over at the puddle of blood on the parking lot pavement.
“Do you know what he was here investigating?” Ben asked.
“What are you talking about?” Hannah murmured.
“Ronald Craig, the guy who just got killed. Do you know why he was here?”
Hannah frowned. “His name is—
Ben shook his head. “I was one of the first people here, Hannah. I saw the police take out his wallet and identification. I heard them. His name was Ronald Craig, and he was a private investigator from Milwaukee.”
“He’s from Wisconsin?” Hannah whispered.
Ben nodded.
She wanted to grab Guy, pack their bags, and catch the first bus or train out of Seattle. No doubt, Kenneth and his family knew where she was now. Their private detective, Craig—or rather
“I noticed you and him talking outside your apartment,” Ben said.
