Hooked

said.
    Tawny closed her eyes and turned away, but the thud of wood on bone was unmistakable, not once but twice. A whooshing sound from Reggie’s lungs ended in silence. Turning slowly, she saw his massive hulk draped over his partner, blood and bone and brain matter spattered everywhere, including on her. Tears stung her eyes, and she thought she’d be sick. Bile threatened to erupt, and she swallowed it down by sheer force of will. But resolve alone couldn’t stop sobs from exploding in a steady, relentless burst, generating tremors to ripple through her body.
    Mario, breathing hard and sickly pale, leaned on the blood-stained weapon, then slowly collapsed to the floor. Focusing on her, he said breathlessly, “Sorry you had to witness that, but I had no choice.”
    She gained control, but her voice quavered. “We all have a choice.”
    He struggled to rise. “I must leave now. I have a terrible headache. Strange, I rarely get them, but I have a doozey tonight. I’m sorry it has to end this way, Tawny. I really am.”
    What did that mean?
    He picked up the used strip of tape, avoiding the sticky puddle metastasizing on the floor, and reached to place it across her mouth.
    “Wait! End what way? You’re going to leave me here to die? Like this?”
    “This building, along with the entire block, is scheduled for demolition tomorrow at six a.m. The six floors above will tumble down on top of you. If you’re lucky, it’ll be quick, maybe even painless.” He met her gaze. “Maybe not.”
    Panic gripped her. “Why not just shoot me? Why leave me like this?”
    “It’ll look like those two were holding you here when the building collapsed on the three of you.”
    “But…but the police will know those two died hours before the building came down. You won’t get away with it.”
    His eyes flickered at half-mast. “Yes, I know, but it won’t matter.”
    “Then why?” she asked.
    “Loose ends, Tawny. I never leave loose ends.”
    “I wouldn’t have given you up, you know.”
    He smiled. “Yes, you would have. Everyone does in the end.” He slapped the tape across her mouth. “Can’t have you crying out, sorry. Now, I have a car to get rid of, then I’m going home for some badly needed rest.” He turned and dragged one foot after the other, until he was out the door and out of sight. She heard his slow footfalls on the stairs until they faded into the silent night.
    * * * * *
    T he phone jarred Linc awake. He checked at his watch. Four a.m. Where was everyone? He vaguely remembered Dennis leaving, signaling the unspoken reality that they couldn’t do anything more tonight. Linc stayed at the station, unwilling to give up. He checked and rechecked every construction site in New Jersey , every building or property owned by Mario Russo, every false lead. Only to wind up at square one. His compulsion to find Tawny finally succumbed to the demands of his body, and he fell asleep at his desk.
    “Walsh,” he answered groggily.
    “Clauson here. Thought you’d want to know. Mario Russo crashed his car early this morning. EMS took him to Downstate.”
    “How bad?”
    “The accident wasn’t bad, but the report I have is that Russo’s comatose. Might have had a heart attack or something, but the cop who filed the report said he was spattered with blood. I’ve already called Harry. I’m on my way there now.”
    “I’ll meet you,” Linc said, already out the door.
    Hold on, you son of a bitch. Don’t you fucking die on me. Not yet.

Chapter Forty-Two
    Two Plus Two

    I t took Linc less than twenty minutes in the light traffic to drive to the hospital. He parked by Clauson’s car, and Harry rolled in right behind Linc. They hurried inside the emergency room, half-filled, even in the early morning hours.
    “Doctors think he might have had a heart attack or a stroke,” Clauson said, “but it could be the cancer. They’re doing tests now. Whatever, he’s in bad shape.”
    “Did he say anything?”
    “He was unconscious when they brought him in. Paramedic said the blood spatter wasn’t from the accident. Russo didn’t have a cut on him.”
    That meant someone else’s blood. Was it Tawny’s blood? Was he too late? “Any way to talk to him?”
    Clauson didn’t even bother to answer the question. “If I hadn’t lost him—”
    “Not your fault. I shouldn’t have let her go in last night. It didn’t feel right, and I let her go anyway.”
    Clauson put his hand on Linc’s shoulder.