Lucy - 05 - Stalked

by Allison Brennan

  “I should talk to her.”

  “No,” Sean said.

  “There has to be a reason.”

  She’s a nut job. “Let’s get you safe. Then I’ll tell you everything.”

  Peter hesitated, and Sean grabbed his arm and pulled him along. It was like he was in a daze, unsure what was going on or who to trust.

  “Do you trust Charlie?”

  “He saved my life.”

  “Then trust me.”

  Sean didn’t know if both of the Todds were trailing them or if they had spotted him when he got out of the rental car. He couldn’t risk going back to 3rd Avenue, so he asked, “Where’s the closest subway station?”

  “Ninety-fifth. It’s only two blocks away.”

  “Let’s get moving.

  Sean monitored their surroundings, assessing anyone who looked out of place. It was getting darker, which would help them disappear in the streets if necessary. But right now at dusk he felt too exposed.

  He saw Alexis emerge from the shop and look both ways before she saw them. She picked up speed in the alley.

  Sean waited until he and Peter turned the corner from the alley to the street, then said, “Faster.”

  Sean had pre-purchased two MetroCards when he and Lucy were in New York on Saturday. He hadn’t thought they’d need them but didn’t like to go unprepared. He was glad he had them now.

  He rounded the corner and they rushed down the steps to the 95th Street subway station. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a church and considered detouring there but dismissed it—he didn’t know the layout, and considering it was near dark, the church might be locked. Sean didn’t see Alexis, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t there or that she might not assume they went to the subway.

  “Is there another entrance to the subway?”

  “Yes.”

  Either they could exit from the other side or Alexis could come down the other entrance and trap them. In fact, if both Alexis and Kip were trailing them, they could be boxed in. Damn, he shouldn’t have come down here!

  “Stay close.”

  Sean glanced at the subway map. They were at the end of the R Line.

  He said, “We’re taking the first train and getting off at the next stop.”

  “How did they find me?” Peter asked. “Did they follow you?” He didn’t seem hostile, but there was an accusatory tone.

  “They’ve been tracking you. Have been since March.”

  Peter shook his head, but his eyes told Sean he believed him. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” He moved Peter to behind a pillar. Sean could see one of the main staircases, and the other was partly in view.

  “I think I knew,” he said quietly.

  Sean sent Lucy and Noah a quick text message.

  At 95th St. Subway, Brook. Have PM. ATS pursuing.

  “A couple of times I thought someone was watching me,” Peter continued, “but I’d been hiding for so long I didn’t trust my instincts anymore. Do they know where I live?”

  “Assume they do. No one followed me.”

  “Charlie told you everything?”

  “I needed to know what you faced in Syracuse, why you changed your name.”

  “I don’t understand why these people are coming after me.”

  “You and me both.” Sean heard a train coming far down the tunnel. He didn’t see Alexis or Kip on the stairs. There were only two people waiting, together, for the train. It was a quiet Monday night.

  “Get ready,” he whispered. “Follow my orders.”

  The train was closer, ten seconds or less. Peter took a step toward the platform and Sean grabbed his arm. “Stay.”

  “FBI! Don’t move!”

  It was a female voice. Peter looked perplexed and turned to look toward the voice.

  “No,” Sean said, but it was too late.

  Alexis was running down the stairs, gun drawn.

  “FBI! Everyone down.”

  Shit.

  The train was pulling fast into the station. Alexis glanced at it, and Sean pictured the attack against Theissen at the subway station in Queens. Was she planning on using the train as a diversion or a weapon?

  Sean stayed behind the pillar, gun drawn.

  “You said the FBI was helping,” Peter said.

  “She’s not FBI,” Sean told him.

  Peter looked around the pillar. “Cami,” he whispered.

  “Peter,” Alexis said. “Come to me. I’m here to help you.”

  “Don’t,” Sean said. He squeezed Peter’s arm. “You can’t trust her.”

  Alexis shouted out, “Peter! We have to hurry or it’ll be too late. Please, trust me.”

  “Remember what Charlie found,” Sean said. He didn’t know what Alexis’s game was, but she’d most likely killed Tony Presidio and put Hans in a coma. “She lied to you. She killed an FBI agent.”

  The train stopped at the platform. Several people got off. Alexis moved toward Sean and Peter. She didn’t seem concerned about her own safety. Sean couldn’t risk hitting an innocent bystander by firing in the station. He glanced toward the train. The warning to clear the doors alerted them that the train was about to depart.

  Sean said, “Now!” He grabbed Peter and propelled him toward the open door.

  “Peter!” Alexis shouted.

  Sean heard gunfire and a searing bolt of pain shot up his calf. He rolled into the car; Peter stumbled and hit his head on the pole.

  “Stay down!” Sean shouted.

  Sean pushed back the pain and trained his gun toward the closing door. He saw Alexis’s stunned expression. Then she raised the gun to fire again, aiming at Sean, not Peter. Two teenagers ran behind Alexis toward the exit, preventing Sean from having a clear shot.

  Sean rolled away from the door as Alexis fired again. The bullet hit the side of the train as the doors closed.

  No one else was in the car. Peter lay on the floor, unmoving.

  “Are you hurt?” Sean asked.

  Peter didn’t say anything.

  “Peter! Are you injured? Dammit, were you hit?” Sean crawled toward him.

  “I’m okay,” he said, voice cracking. Shock.

  “Are you sure?” Sean looked for visible signs of injury. Peter had a bump on his forehead from hitting the pole. Other than that, he was fine.

  Sean waited until they were in the tunnel before he examined his own wound.

  “You’re bleeding,” Peter said.

  Sean took out his pocketknife and cut off his jeans at the knee. The bullet had gone through the muscle in his calf, straight through. Not serious, but he needed to stop the bleeding.

  He cut the jean scrap into strips and tied one as a tourniquet right below his knee. Then he took off his T-shirt and tied it tight around the open wound.

  This wasn’t the first time he’d been shot, nor would it be the worst, but damn, it hurt like hell. He pulled out his cell phone. No signal. He typed in a message to send as soon as he had one bar.

  PM and I are on R train, will exit at Whitehall. Please meet there with first-aid kit.

  “Peter, listen to me. Alexis Sanchez is not an FBI agent. She was at the FBI Academy for the past four weeks in training. Why, I have no idea. It may have been to collect information, or to target someone. She may have killed a federal agent, tried to kill another. Her sister was Camille Todd, who was kidnapped and murdered around the same time as your sister. I don’t have all the answers, but if she has the chance, she will kill you.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Noah had been on the phone for the last ten minutes while driving to the Whitehall subway station in lower Manhattan, talking with NYPD and the FBI to determine what went on at the 95th Street subway stop. Police were already on the scene and Alexis Sanchez was gone. Suzanne and Detective DeLucca were getting a copy of the security tapes and Lucy hoped they provided some answers. She had a lot of questions.

  Sean didn’t say who’d been shot, but Lucy knew it was Sean. If it was Peter, Sean would h
ave told her to call an ambulance.

  As soon as they arrived, Noah flashed his badge at the cashier and he and Lucy were let through the kiosk. They ran down the stairs while Lucy dialed Sean. “We’re here,” she said.

  “I have Peter under the sign on the west side of the station.”

  “West side,” Lucy said to Noah.

  “I see him.”

  Sean was sitting bare-chested on a bench, his bloody leg out in front of him. He had a hand on Peter, who looked like he wanted to bolt.

  “It’s not serious,” Sean said by way of greeting. “Just grazed.”

  By the amount of blood, it wasn’t just a graze.

  “Lucy, escort Mr. McMahon to the car; I’ll assist Rogan.”

  “I can walk,” Sean said, standing. He hobbled toward the elevator.

  “Manning,” Peter said. “I legally changed my name to Gray Manning. But I guess you can call me Peter.”

  “We have a lot to discuss,” Noah said. “But I don’t like this exposure.”

  “I have a safe hotel,” Sean said.

  “We’re going to the Bureau,” Noah countered. He glanced at Peter, assessing, then looked at Lucy.

  Lucy knew what Noah wanted. What kind of state of mind was Peter in?

  “Peter,” she said softly, “we need to talk about what’s been happening. You may have information that’s vital to finding Kip Todd and Alexis Sanchez. Are you up for it? We wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t crucial.”

  “Okay,” he said, still in a daze.

  She nodded at Noah, and Noah said, “Just for a debrief. Then you can secure him, Rogan.” He looked at Sean’s leg. “I can get a protective detail.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Hardly,” Lucy muttered.

  “I heard that.”

  Noah drove and Lucy sat in the back with Sean. She turned on the lights and took off the shirt he had wrapped around his leg. “This isn’t a graze,” she said.

  “Do we need a hospital?” Noah asked.

  “Yes,” Lucy said at the same time Sean said, “No.”

  Sean said, “I’m not going to the hospital. The bleeding has stopped. It was a twenty-two. The hole isn’t much bigger than a bee sting, and that’s what it feels like.”

  “You need stitches.”

  “Maybe one stitch. You can handle that, princess.”

  She glared at him. He smiled.

  “Bureau,” Sean said. Lucy decided to let it go. There’d been a lot of blood, but Sean was right—the damage was minimal.

  She cleaned and taped the entry and exit wounds, then bandaged the leg. “You should still get checked out.”

  “Time enough when we catch the Todds,” Sean said.

  “Were you followed?” Noah asked.

  “No. Sanchez was following Peter. Where were you coming from?” Sean asked Peter.

  “I had a staff meeting this afternoon; stopped at a place I often eat dinner. I didn’t want to go home after talking to Charlie.”

  “They could have followed him from school,” Sean said.

  “How did they know where I teach? How’d they know my name?”

  “I don’t think they did, not at first,” Lucy said. “I haven’t seen the evidence from Kip Todd’s apartment, but going on what Suzanne said, he spotted you in the city back in March. He knew you were here.”

  “It’s a big city,” Noah said. “Peter was a needle.”

  “Not really. Alexis, when she was Cami, knew Peter was studying early childhood education. It was reasonable to think that Peter had become a teacher. If they troll the Internet for staff, they might get a hit, but seeing Peter in the city narrowed them to this region.”

  Sean said, “Never underestimate someone determined to find you. It’s extremely difficult to go completely off the grid, even with a name change and new Social Security number.”

  Noah added, “They may have hired someone to do it.”

  “She could have had anything on me,” Peter said. “We were together for over year.”

  Sean said, “Peter, you said you thought you were being watched. When did it start?”

  “It’s been on and off. I always felt safe at home, but after I read about Rosemary Weber’s murder I had a feeling my life was going to be turned upside down. Anytime there’s another article in the paper, I wait for reporters to track me down. After I changed my name and moved to Brooklyn, I thought it would end.”

  “How did Sanchez get to New York so fast?” Sean asked.

  Noah said, “She left Quantico at three in the afternoon and told the gate she was going to a drugstore. She never returned. Her car was found at Dulles long-term parking, and she boarded a four thirty-two flight to JFK, no luggage.”

  “Do you know what tipped her off?” Sean asked.

  Lucy had worried she’d said or done something, but she couldn’t think what. “No. She was gone before I pulled her personnel records and discovered the connection with New Jersey.”

  “If I had to bet,” Sean said, “it came from that lowlife street thief who pawned the ring.”

  “How so?”

  “NYPD released him; what if he went back to Todd and told him about the interview? Maybe Todd got antsy and called his sister.”

  “We’re pulling her cell phone records and all Todd’s records, but so far we’ve found nothing,” Noah said.

  “They could have burner phones,” Sean said.

  Noah turned into the federal building parking lot and showed his ID. “We’re running down leads. The brother hasn’t returned to his apartment or his office at the library. NYPD has staked out both places, and we have a patrol covering Weber’s sister.”

  “They’ve had this plan in the works for years,” Lucy said. “He has another place.”

  “How can you know that?” Peter asked.

  “Alexis befriended you six years ago. They could have killed you then, if they wanted you dead. They had something else planned, but wanted to keep you in sight.”

  “Let’s brief everyone together,” Noah said. He parked and they got out. Sean had to surrender his gun at the security desk.

  They went up to the Violent Crimes squad and Suzanne greeted them at the elevator. “So you’re the famous Noah Armstrong,” she said, shaking his hand. “Good to finally meet you.”

  “Suzanne, likewise,” Noah said. “This is Peter McMahon. He had his name legally changed to Gray Manning and has been a teacher in East Brooklyn for the past three years.”

  “Dangerous schools,” Suzanne said.

  “I teach third grade,” he said quietly.

  “Shelley.” Suzanne motioned to an analyst. “Would you please escort Mr. Manning to an interview room? Get him whatever he would like; keep him company. You’re not under arrest, Peter. But we need to talk.”

  He glanced at Sean as if for permission.

  “Go ahead, Peter. I’m not leaving without you.”

  Shelley walked off with Peter. Lucy, Noah, and Sean followed Suzanne to an interview room. She introduced Noah to Detective DeLucca, who was reviewing digital security tapes.

  Noah asked, “Is that the footage from the subway?”

  “Yep,” Joe said. “We also checked out all survelliance cameras in the area and I’ve pieced it together.”

  He pressed a button. “McMahon—”

  “Manning,” Sean said.

  “Manning, McMahon, whatever he’s going by—”

  “Let’s call him Peter,” Suzanne said. “For simplicity.”

  “Peter,” Joe said, “was on the subway and got off at Fourth and Eighty-sixth at seven oh five pm.”

  “We were meeting at eight on Third and Ninety-third,” Sean said. “Why wouldn’t he take the subway down to Ninety-fifth? It’s the closest.”

  “Because I caught him on a traffic cam going into a mom-and-pop restaurant at Third and Eighty-seventh. He stayed for thirty-nine minutes and left. No cameras until the subway.”

  Sean said, “I spotted him just before eight. I plan
ned on waiting until he slipped into the bar we were meeting at, but I spotted Sanchez trailing him.”

  “Sanchez,” Joe said. “I caught her, too, coming out of the subway behind Peter. He didn’t see her. I don’t know why she didn’t confront him at the restaurant. She passed it and must have been waiting until he left.”

  “Maybe she hadn’t found out where he lived yet, but they knew where he taught.” Suzanne pressed a few keys. “Two weeks ago, this popped up on the school’s Web site.”

  Lucy leaned over. It was a photo of Peter with his class. Suzanne said, “This was last year’s third-grade class. They were recognized at the beginning of this year for achieving the greatest increase in test scores from beginning of school to end of school. The mayor presented the award.”

  The caption read: “Gray Manning says all children are capable of learning if given the right support and motivation.”

  “The article ran in the Times,” Suzanne said. “We know Todd had been trying to find Peter, and with this article he now knew Peter’s new name and where he worked.”

  “And that prompted him to put his plan in motion,” Lucy said.

  “And exactly what was his plan?” Joe said. “It looks like he’s taking out everyone he’s crossed paths with.”

  Lucy shook her head. “He’s methodical. Extremely organized. And he’s been planning this for a long time.”

  “I’m going to have to agree with that,” Suzanne said. “Joe, consider what Cleveland said.”

  Joe nodded. “Professor Cleveland, Todd’s faculty advisor, said that Todd wasn’t Weber’s first choice. Her first two choices backed out at the last minute, no explanation. We’re trying to track them down now. By the time she went back to the applicant pool, several had found assignments. The post went to Todd.”

  “Did Cleveland know about his sister?” Noah asked.

  “No. He said Todd was a competent but not outstanding student and never talked about his family.”

  Lucy said, “I need to see the scrapbooks you found.”

  Joe handed her two evidence bags, each with a scrapbook. She opened them up. The first was essentially a tribute to Camille Todd and media time line of her kidnapping, the investigation, and her subsequent murder. The second, ten times thicker and far less tidy, was a montage of clippings about everyone who had been on the Rachel McMahon investigation.