Gerry focused on his paper and read on. When he got bored with the front page, he took a break and read the funnies and then went back to the front section again. Sundays were his favorite because of all the comics and also because of the ads. He loved to look at the pictures of the kids in clothes and with toys and stuff. He ran his hand across his forehead, wishing he had something cool to drink.
Turning the page, he stopped on an article headlinedDEPARTMENT OF JUSTICE AGENT PRIME SUSPECT INTWO MURDERS . He folded the paper into a neat square and lay down on his belly to read it. It was about Sam Chase.
Veteran Contra Costa County Homicide Detective and Department of Justice Special Agent Samantha Chase watched the tables turn on her last night when police detectives appeared at her home just after 3:00A .M. with a search warrant. According to a source within the sheriff’s department, evidence in the murders of two women, both accused child abusers unsuccessfully prosecuted by Agent Chase, points to her involvement in the deaths.
Although not at liberty to discuss details of the case at this time, the source did say that the evidence against Chase includes fingerprints discovered at the scenes.
Agent Chase declined comment on the allegations against her.
Oh, no. He didn’t want them to think she did it. He shook his head. Gerry thought about the man who had attacked him. He’d been in Sam’s car. If that car hadn’t come by in the alley, Gerry was sure he would be dead. He pictured the man’s face. Gerry knew who he was. Maybe he could help Sam. He smiled at the thought. It would be great to help her. Then she would definitely try to help him.
He put the paper down and sat up, holding his hands together. What should he do? What if the man came after him? He wanted him put away, but he remembered that guy’s warning. “If you call the po-lice, I’ll probably answer the goddamn phone,” he’d said.
Gerry thought about that man. He couldn’t find Gerry here. It was too far away. Gerry would just call Sam at home and tell her what he knew without leaving his name. That would be safe. If that guy answered, Gerry would recognize his voice and hang up. He could do that.
Gerry looked at the picture of Agent Samantha Chase in the paper. “Don’t worry. I’m going to help you.” Smiling, he gathered the paper and headed for the house. He mattered now. He was helping with the case. Gerry Hecht would do anything to help his friend Sam Chase.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Sam cuddled into bed at barely nine o’clock. Nick had called twice, but she’d been out for the first call and in the shower for the second. She’d gotten the message that he had heard from his contact on the street, who had confirmed that Sandi Walters had bought her own heroin. According to Nick’s contact, there had been a guy on a bike following her. But it was nothing they could track. Another dead end.
She’d also missed Nick when he came to get Rob. She hadn’t talked to him since the chocolate bomb incident. The past few days had been so charged, she was hoping it would die down. She couldn’t sort her feelings about Nick from her feelings about the case. It was too much to think about. And with her own involvement in question now, she was letting Nick handle the case on his own. She needed to stay close to home, to be here for the boys.
Opening her book, she laid it against her bent knees and tried to focus on the words. She read the same paragraph twice and then closed her eyes, rubbing her fists against their achy redness. She shut the light off and curled down in the bed, too tired even to close the book.
Her eyes flashed open and she scanned the empty room, saw her book sprawled on the floor. Her heart pounded, her muscles were stiff from fighting invisible sandbags. She glanced at the clock. It was midnight.
Click. Scrape. Sounds came from the living room. Sam shot upright in the silence, listening. Her ears honed, she could almost hear the air as it escaped her lungs. Then, click, scrape, thud. Someone was in the house. Derek and Rob were spending the night at a friend’s. Had they come home unexpectedly? She didn’t think so. They would have come to say good night.
Without turning the light on, Sam opened the drawer in the bedside table and felt for her gun. Her hands shaking, her fingers tight, she lifted the Glock and pulled a magazine from a small wooden box, checking the bullets before clicking it into place.
Rising from the bed, she opened the door inch by inch until she could slip through. She peered into the darkness, waiting as the forms developed like photographs exposed to chemicals. She saw the two couches in the living room, the table and chairs in the attached eating area. There was no motion.
She eased herself onward into the hall, crouched, back to the wall, gun drawn. One, two, three. Move. She took three steps, counted and moved again.
She paused with the kitchen in view and waited for a sound. As she started to move again, a shadow crossed the kitchen, heavy feet thudding against the wood floor. Derek or Rob, she thought. But why would they leave the lights off? No, it was not her boys. A stranger was in the house.
Fear tightened her throat, but she continued to count, forcing herself to move forward. One, two, three. Move. One, two, three. Move.
At the entrance to the kitchen, she reached around and found the light switch with her left hand, aimed her gun with her right.
One, two, three. Move. She flipped the switch. “Freeze.”
A face turned. A glass dropped. She heard the crash as it hit, the crackle of the pieces scattering across the hard floor.
Sam dropped her gun to her side and felt her knees go weak. “Jesus Christ! Jesus Christ, I almost shot you! Why are you home?”
Derek shrugged. “I was bored.” He picked up a towel off the counter and began to mop up the mess as though nothing had happened.
She removed the magazine from the gun and made sure the chamber was empty. Then, setting the gun on the counter and holding on to the magazine, she wrapped her arms around Derek. “You scared the devil out of me here in the dark.”
“Sorry, Aunt Sam. I was trying to be quiet.”
She nodded, stroking his back. “I’m just so glad you didn’t get hurt.”
Derek wrapped his arms around her, and she felt him lean on her. It was so infrequent that the boys did that.
“Are you okay?”
She felt him nod his head against her shoulder. She gripped him tighter.
He pulled himself away, and she crossed the kitchen to get some wet paper towels.
“Being a teenager is hard, eh?”
He looked up at her and nodded.
“I wouldn’t go back, either. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He looked at her for a minute as though deciding, and then shook his head. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
She nodded, wishing she’d been able to break through whatever was holding him back. “You let me know if you need to talk.”
“Okay. Good night.”
Sam had finished cleaning up the glass and started back to bed when the phone rang. It had to be Nick. “Hello.”
“Is this Sam Chase?”
She drew in a raspy breath. But it wasn’t the same voice. “Yes. Who is this?”
“This is Gerry Hecht.”
Gerry Hecht? From the cemetery? Was he behind all this? But the voice sounded wrong. How had he gotten her home number? It was only listed under the boys’ names.
“Do you remember me?”
She didn’t answer him. “Why are you calling me?”
“Uh, I, I—I wanted to tell you about a bad man . . .”
“Call the police,” she snapped and started to hang up.
“Wait!” he cried in a shrill voice.
She brought the phone back to her ear and waited.
“Are you there?” he asked.
“For about another ten seconds.”
“There’s a man who’s trying to hurt you. I saw him.”
She paused and considered hanging up. “Where did you see him?”
“At your office. He was inside your car.”
Sam felt the mu
scles in her stomach tighten. “Start talking, Gerry.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
He walked through the lobby and waved at the posted security guard. By now, his routine was perfectly established in everyone’s mind. He was never late for work. He had a perfect attendance record. His record was clean. And he was the best special agent. Sam Chase had the tits, but he was the senior. And he was going to make everyone see how fragile Sam Chase was.
She had tried to smash his career. She’d insulted him in front of their boss, insisted on the best cases, but he wasn’t going to take it. No one made a fool of Gary Williams.
The elevators on the fourth floor opened slowly, displaying the dim hall lit only by the occasional exit sign and the blue hue of computer screens left on over the weekend. Morons. Passing the main desk, abandoned at this hour, he quickly surveyed the area. He flipped on the two lights in the main hall and moved slowly through the halls just as he always did. Only he knew that his purpose was not what it seemed.
Since she’d started, Sam Chase had been clawing her way to his level. He’d been there twenty years, and no woman was going to get between him and the next level. He deserved the best cases, not her. And he deserved the director job when it came open. But she’d always been willing to do whatever they asked, such a kiss-up. Now, slowly but surely, he was getting to her. He could see it in the way she glanced sideways when she walked through the hall, the fear in her eyes when the lights had been out. The unflappable Samantha Chase was flapping. He covered his mouth and made a coughing sound that was actually a laugh. You never knew who was in the office.
And people would agree that Sam was starting to lose it. He heard them whispering about her, about how she was falling apart. They read about her in the paper, wondered what was going on in her personal life. They couldn’t imagine he was setting her up. It would never cross their simple minds.
As he moved, he cast a furtive glance over his shoulder to confirm that he was alone. Then, ducking around the side of a cubicle, he withdrew the plastic gloves from his coat pocket. He pulled them on quickly, enjoying the snap as they settled against the hair on the back of his hands.
As he had expected, no one was in the office at this hour. Government employees were not known for their long hours. He was an exception. He took pride in his job. And what had he gotten for it? No respect. But not for long.
Samantha Chase was not popular. People wanted to see her suffer, they wanted her to fail. And he was making it happen. Already he’d heard through the grapevine that she was out of the office for mental health reasons. That wasn’t the official word, but he’d heard it more than once. He was making her crazy. Sooner or later he would push her right over the edge. He turned the corner at her office and paused.
He wondered how many people knew the truth about her. It had taken him these few months of watching her to realize. Samantha had brushed him off. That had been his first clue. Now he realized it was because she didn’t like men—she liked women. Even her name reeked of false masculinity. Sam. He should have known. Women didn’t belong in law enforcement as it was. Now they had dykes. It was too much.
He was the one who belonged in this job, not her. He returned his attention to his work. Her office was dark, but as he had suspected, locked. He pulled out the key and slid it into the lock. The security desk had a huge ring of keys for the building. Every single door was on it. He’d gotten hold of Samantha’s early on and had it copied. He’d made the small gouges in the lock to scare her, but all along he had been getting in with a key. The thought made him smile.
He let himself in and, after a quick look around, closed the door behind him. He stood in the dark with his back pressed to the door and inhaled deeply. She wore no perfume, but the room was filled with her essence.
He flipped the light switch and moved quickly around the office. Starting with the files on her desk, he searched through everything, hunting for the perfect next move. As always, he was cautious to move one thing at a time, replacing it meticulously before moving on. He ran his glove over the small black print of her handwriting. He’d been through the files over and over and had already worked with the interesting items. The rest of it seemed dull. Still, he couldn’t stop now.
He moved deftly, like an expert. And really he was. He’d been doing this long enough to know Samantha’s habits. Once, he’d even seen her date book with the carefully recorded notes here in the office. He’d thought it too bulky to take at the time, but in hindsight, he wished he’d kept it. He could imagine the things he would have learned. He’d looked for it in her car, but he hadn’t found it. He spotted an important file on her desk and took a few of the pages from the back to plant somewhere. He tucked them into his jacket and moved on.
He reached down to pull open her drawer and heard a click behind him. He spun around and caught the door opening.
Samantha’s assistant, Aaron, pushed the door open and rolled himself inside. “What are you doing, Gary?”
He remained straight-faced, though he knew this was a bad situation. No one should’ve been here now. He felt angry that he’d been interrupted. “I’m looking for a file Sam took from my office.”
“What file?”
“Hofstadt,” he said.
The gimp’s eyes narrowed, and he wheeled further into the room. Without another word, Aaron scanned his gloved hands and then started to slowly move backward.
He could sense the kid didn’t buy it. He tried to remain calm, but his blood began to boil.
“What the hell are you up to?”
He slipped the gloves off and tucked them into a pocket, smiling. “I told you, I’m just getting a file.”
“You’re the one,” Aaron said. “The car, her files, you’ve been breaking in here.”
Williams shook his head and started to walk past Aaron. “That’s ridiculous. I just came for one file, but I guess I’ll get it later.”
“Don’t even think about it. You’re not going anywhere until I call Sam.”
Williams didn’t stop, but he started to panic and tried to find a good place to dispose of the gloves and papers as he moved down the hall.
Aaron came chasing after him. “Stop,” Aaron shouted, and Williams could feel him closing in from behind.
Williams turned and ran for the stairs. It was his word against Aaron’s. He’d just dump the stuff and get out of there.
Aaron followed him.
There was a security call button in the stairwell that Williams didn’t want Aaron to get hold of, but he couldn’t think of where else to go.
Aaron was right behind him when he pulled open the stairwell door.
Williams tried to shut it behind him, but Aaron was too close.
He followed Williams into the landing and smacked the alarm button. Williams heard the siren sound just as he started down the stairs.
Aaron caught his arm. “Let go of me!” Williams yelled, but Aaron had a strong grip.
He struggled to free himself. Desperate, he reached for Aaron’s throat with his other hand.
The chair held firm, but Williams fought to pull it off balance so Aaron would let go. He didn’t.
The alarms screamed and Williams knew he was out of time. He had to get away.
Dropping to his knees, he reached for Aaron’s brake and flipped it down.
The wheelchair moved.
Williams grabbed the banister and pulled himself away. Suddenly he was knocked sideways as Aaron and his chair went tumbling down the cement stairs.
Just then, the door smashed open, and Sam Chase and two security guards burst in.
Chapter Thirty-nine
“Get him!” Sam shouted, pointing the security guards to Williams. She saw Aaron at the base of the stairs and ran toward him. “Call an ambulance.”
“He was attacking me!” Williams screamed, fighting one of the guards. The other had gone for help.
“Don’t let him go until the police get here.” She knelt beside Aaron, her breath r
agged. His forehead was bleeding, and his left arm was trapped under his chair. “Cuff him to the banister and get down here. I need help.”
She heard Williams yelling at the security guard.
“Shut up! If he’s hurt, Williams, I’m going to have your ass in jail.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Williams hissed. He looked back at the guard. “I’ll have your job.”
The guard hesitated.
“He’s not going to have anyone’s job,” Sam responded. “Now get down here and help me.”
The guard scrambled down the stairs, wearing a panicked expression.
“Help me get him out of this chair,” Sam directed, trying to remember everything she knew about emergency medicine. She prayed it was just a concussion. “Keep his neck and spine straight,” she ordered, not knowing what the injuries were. What the hell was Aaron doing at the office at this time of night?
Williams was clattering the handcuffs and complaining, but Sam ignored him.
She laid her arm along Aaron’s neck and upper back as they lifted him off the chair and onto the floor. His left arm was definitely broken. She opened his eyes and looked at them. There was no pupil activity. “Come on, Aaron!” Where were the damn paramedics?
“Let him die. He’s just a damn cripple.”
Sam ran up the short flight to Williams, who was looking down at her.
“Turn your back,” she ordered the guard.
She raised her left knee and drove it hard into Williams’ groin.
He doubled over and started to gag. “You bitch! That’s police brutality.”
Sam gritted her teeth and glared at him. “You say another word, and I’ll give you my fist. It’s a hell of a lot stronger.”
Williams shut up and Sam returned to Aaron. She touched his neck and felt the thready pulse. “Hang in there, buddy. You’re going to be okay.”
Within two minutes, the door opened and the second security guard came in, followed by two E.M.T.s with a stretcher.
(2002) Chasing Darkness Page 27