Читать книгу Andrew Gross 3-Book Thriller Collection 2: 15 Seconds, Killing Hour, The Blue Zone - Andrew Gross, Andrew Gross - Страница 35

“Kate.” Tom O’Hearn reached over to her. “Go home.”

He put his arm around her on the ICU bench. “You look exhausted. Nothing’s going to happen tonight. I know you want to be here. But go home and get some sleep.”

Kate nodded. She knew he was right. She hadn’t slept six hours in the past two days. Her blood sugar was low. She hadn’t been to work. She basically hadn’t been anywhere except the hospital in the days since Tina had been shot.

“I promise.” He took her over to the elevator and gave her a hug. “We’ll call you with any news.”

“I know.”

Tina had been transferred to the head trauma ward at Bellevue Hospital on Twenty-seventh Street, the best in the city. Kate went down to the lobby and stepped out onto First Avenue. It was dark, going on 6:00 P.M. She’d been there all day. Not seeing any cabs, she walked over to Second and got on the downtown bus.

Okay … Kate found a seat in the back and, just for a moment, closed her eyes. Tom was right, she was exhausted. She needed to sleep. She had left the apartment that morning without giving herself her insulin shot. Greg was back at work doing sixteen-hour shifts. It was unsettling. This would be the first time since Tina’s shooting that she’d be back in the apartment alone.

Kate dozed a little. The bus ride went by in a flash. She woke up just in time to hop off at Ninth Street, a couple of blocks from where she lived. She’d almost slept through it.

As she stepped off the bus and started to walk along darkened Second Avenue, Kate had a sense that something was wrong.

Maybe it was the man stepping away from a building across from the bus stop, tossing a cigarette onto the sidewalk and following a short way behind. His footsteps against the pavement, keeping pace with hers. She told herself not to look back.

Kate, you’re just being paranoid. This is New York. The East Village. It’s crowded. This happens all the time.

She caught a glimpse of him in a storefront window. Still behind her. Hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. He had a cap drawn over his eyes.

But she wasn’t being paranoid! Not this time. Not like back in the apartment. Kate’s heart started pounding. A shiver of fear ran down her spine.

Pick up your pace, she told herself. You only live a few blocks away.

Kate crossed the avenue heading down to Seventh. Her heart was slamming off her ribs now.

She turned onto her street. She felt the presence of the person following her a few yards behind. Up ahead there was a market she sometimes shopped in. Kate headed for it, forcing herself not to look around. She virtually ran inside.

For a second she felt safe. Kate grabbed a basket and ducked down one of the aisles, praying he wouldn’t come inside. She threw a few things in she pretended she needed—milk, yogurt, whole wheat bread. But all the while she was just waiting, focused on the window. There were people here. Her heart started to calm.

She took out her purse and went to the counter. She smiled a little nervously at Ingrid, the checkout girl, pushing back a harrowing thought: What if she’s the last person to see me alive?

Kate stepped back outside. For a moment she felt relief. Thank God. No sign.

Then she froze.

He was still there! Leaning against a parked car on the other side of the street, talking into a phone. Their eyes slowly drifted together. She wasn’t imagining this.

Okay, Kate, what the hell do you do now?

Now she started to run. An indistinguishable pace at first, then faster, her eyes fixed on her building, the green canopy, just a few yards ahead.

The man picked up his pace behind her. A jolt of electricity ran down her spine. Kate’s heart throbbed wildly.

Please, God, only a few yards more.

The last feet Kate took at a full-out run. Her fingers fumbled for her key in her bag. She jammed it into the outer door. The lock turned. Kate flung open the door, expecting the man to run up on her now. She looked back along the street. The man in the cap had crossed the street a few doors down.

Kate hurled herself inside, the outside doors clicking as the lock mercifully engaged. It’s over now. Thank God! Kate pressed her back against the lobby wall. Her back was drenched in sweat. Her chest imploded with relief.

This has to end, she knew. You’ve got to go to someone, Kate.

But go to whom?

Her family? Your family’s gone, Kate. Face it, they’re gone for good.

Greg? As much as she loved him, what could they do, just pick up and leave? In his last year of school?

The police? What do you tell them, Kate? That you’ve been lying to them, holding things back. That your best friend’s in a coma with a bullet in her brain, a bullet that was meant for you?

It’s too late, too late for any of that now.…

Kate stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for seven.

It was one of those old industrial types, clattering as it passed every floor.

All she wanted to do was get inside her apartment and bolt the fucking door.

The elevator rattled to a stop on seven. Kate clutched her key and threw open the heavy outer door.

Two men stood facing her.

Oh, God, no!

Her heart rose up in her chest. Kate backed away and tried to scream. But to what end? No one would hear her.

She knew what they were there to do.

Then one of the men stepped forward. “Ms. Raab?” His hands reached to steady her shoulders.

“Kate.”

She looked up. Tears welled in her eyes. She recognized him. She broke down in sobs, staring at his salt-and-pepper hair.

It was Phil Cavetti. The WITSEC agent.