detective nodded at the door behind him. “I been in this business too long, and I like this guy. I really like him.” Bennie knew the term was detective-speak for he’s a killer, but didn’t remark on the irony. “He’s the type of scumbag we’re looking for. Not some broad who’s got a grudge against her sister, or some fat-cat lawyer or his client. The two murders, back to back, it is too clear a pattern, especially in Center City, which never gets this kind of action.” Detective Needleman nodded, more convinced as he went on. Bennie knew the syndrome. She did the same thing. “My hunches come out of thirty years’ experience on the job. I wouldn’t have told the brother unless I was sure. Johnson is the guy who killed both men.”
“Why do you dismiss the others so easily?”
“I don’t dismiss them, and I didn’t. But right now I got the doer in Chiamel, and when the tests come back, we’ll see what they tell us on St. Amien. If it doesn’t pan out, it doesn’t pan out.” Needleman touched her shoulder, in a comforting way. “I know you care about your client, and I know you’ve been under a lot of strain. Why don’t you just do your thing, and let us do ours, with Johnson.”
“So you’re not gonna buy it, are you,” Bennie said. It was a statement of fact, not a question.
“Sorry.”
“Me, too.”
Needleman inclined his head. “You gonna lay off now?”
“Me?” Bennie didn’t have to think twice. “Never.”
Bennie hit the parking lot outside and threaded her way through the umpteenth gauntlet of reporters. They had the scent of a big story about to break and it had sent them circling and barking. They shouted questions in her ears. Shoved cameras in her face. Flew boom mikes on metal poles at her. She shot forward, pressing ahead, through the crazed reporters and out to the street. And to David. But he wasn’t there.
Bennie hustled through the press. A cameraman jostled her, making her drop her briefcase. She bent to pick it up and was almost knocked over from the other side. Suddenly, it was a mob scene. Reporters surged toward her, screaming questions. Blocking her in. She couldn’t go forward, she couldn’t go back. She couldn’t see the street over the cameras. She was trapped. Vulnerable. Unprotected. Was Alice in this crowd? Where was David?
“Get out of my way!” Bennie yelled, swinging her briefcase. The reporters kept shouting. The motor drives kept clicking, the videocameras filming. She had to get free, free of all of it. She had to save herself. She had to
She broke into a jog out of the parking lot, then accelerated to a run even in her pumps, ignoring the shock each time her foot hit the pavement. She didn’t know where David was and she didn’t care anymore. Her cell phone began ringing but she didn’t answer it. She kept running, panting hard, her heart pumping like the athlete’s heart it was, and she paid no mind to the stares of the people on the street or to the perspiration soaking her blouse and suit or to the pain in her lungs and ache in her knees. She took the pounding like the punishment she deserved, for getting Robert killed, and for causing so much pain to Julien and Georges. And part of her took the punishment for Alice, too.
For the crime of being the chosen one.
29
Bennie had thrown herself on her couch, head back against the hard wooden frame, legs splayed, trying to catch her breath. Listening to her heart thunder in her chest. Feeling the hardness of every muscle in her legs, pumped taut and engorged with blood, still racing. She had fumbled her way through the backdoor, dropped her briefcase on the floor, thrown her purse on the couch. She had run all the way home, from the east end of town to the west, well over an hour, and was only now coming back to herself.
Bear sat at her feet, swishing his tail against the floor, in sheer delight that he’d been freed from the basement, even if his mistress had lost her marbles. Bennie had no idea why she had run home. She had no idea what time it was. It was still light outside, but it was waning. Her cell phone rang and rang. She caught her breath, groped for her purse, shoved her sweaty hand inside it, and rummaged around. The cell felt smooth and familiar in her palm. She opened the phone.
“Bennie, are you there? Are you okay?” It was David, sounding as hysterical as a SEAL gets. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m okay. I’m fine.” Bennie brushed wet curls from her forehead. Her suit and shirt felt glued to her body. “I’m really fine.”
“What happened? Why did you run like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You weren’t being chased.”
“I know. I had to get away.”
“Bennie, you have to answer when I call. I’ve been dialing and leaving messages since you got in. I was a minute from calling 911.”
“Sorry.” She tried to think, but her brain was too tired. The phone hadn’t rung, or she hadn’t heard it. “Did I blow it? Did Alice see you?”
“No. No. I let you run on, I knew where you were going. You are so
Bennie smiled. “Thanks, I think.”
“I don’t think I was seen.”
“Did you see her?”
“No.”
“Have you seen her at all?”
“No, but she’s there. Bet on it. This is when it matters, at night. If she makes any move on you, it’ll be after dark.”
“I don’t know, David.” Bennie raked her hair back again, wiping her cheeks. “I don’t know if this makes sense.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“How long can we do this? Maybe she’s not even there. Maybe this whole thing is crazy. I should just give up. I have so much to do.”
“Bennie, listen to me.” David seemed to bear down. “You listening?”
“No, I have calls to make. I should call the office. See if DiNunzio called in.”
“Forget about work now.”
“I should call Julien, the St. Amiens. I said I’d call if I had anything new to report.”
“Forget it for now. It can wait until the morning.”
“We got the case back again.”
“That’s nice, dear. Now, no more shop talk. Can you turn it off?”
“I should call Carrier and Murphy, and tell them to follow up on Linette. I should call Sam and tell him I’m back in business on the class action.”
“Linette can wait. Sam can wait. Everything can wait. For now, just rest. Don’t think. Breathe.”
“I am.”
“No phone calls. No work. No nothing. You need to get calm.”
“I know.”
“Nothing works if you fall apart, does it?”
“No.”
“’Ain’t nobody happy when Mama ain’t happy.’”
“Huh?”
“You never heard that?”
“No.”
