I hurried to the door and peered out. All clear. A pause, a deep breath, another check, then I sprinted down the hall. Keeping an eye out for the junkie and anyone else, I retraced my steps down to the first floor and out the back exit.
I never should have left that window. I never should have left that window.
Even as I beat myself over the head with the chant, I knew if I hadn’t left my post, I could have been seen. There had been no way to know it was only a junkie until it had been too late. What I should have done was arranged an emergency alert plan, told them that if I had to leave my window I’d stick a piece of paper on the pane, so when Jack looked up he’d know he was unprotected.
From the door, I headed into the back alley. As I ran, I stripped out of my gear and haphazardly wiped the camouflage makeup from my face, then stashed my rucksack and rifle behind a trash bin and kept going.
As I stood at the junction of the sidewalk and alley, a float rolled past. The men’s swim team, clad in Speedos and goose bumps, enduring the cold as they basked in the hoots and catcalls of the students and alumni lining the street. My face had to still be streaked with paint, but I attracted no more than a casual glance. If there were near-naked young men on a float, then a face-painted alumna on the sidelines didn’t look out of place.
I strained to see over the crowd and, for once in my life, wished for high heels or platform shoes, anything that would help me spot that pink hat bobbing along in the mob. When Jack had vetoed the use of cell phones, I should have insisted we have something for emergency communication.
“I hate backup plans,” Evelyn had said. “If you have one, it makes it acceptable to screw up the original.”
Maybe that was true, but under these circumstances, a fallback plan wasn’t an escape hatch, it was a safety net.
The parade was in full swing, and I doubted it would last much longer. Was I too late? Not unless a man could drop dead on the sidewalk and no one noticed. Maybe the Feds were right and there would be no hit at the parade. Or maybe Wilkes hadn’t seen Jack. Or maybe he had, and decided to strike elsewhere. At least Jack was armed and knew what was happening. I just had to keep-
There! Across the street. A bearded profile over a leather jacket moving behind a cluster of drunken alumni. Now how was I going to get across the road? In the middle of the parade? Run like hell…that was the only way, as much as I hated doing anything that might call attention to myself. I elbowed my way to the front of the crowd, with murmurs about “someone holding my place” and plenty of apologies.
Maybe the streaks of face paint made it easier, but I managed to get through the blockade. Perched on the curb, I rolled on the balls of my feet, counting the seconds until the float was just far enough past-
I darted out between the photography club float and the woodwind band. I dashed for the curb. As I neared it, I caught the stare of a man about twenty feet away. An older man, late fifties, just over six feet tall, big-boned. In that second I knew I’d accomplished what Jack had failed to do: attract the attention of a killer.
My heart slammed against my rib cage. Wilkes. Right there.
I had to make him chase me.
As the thought formed, my heart rate swung into rapid acceleration. Lure him away. Make sure he was the one. Let him think he was in control, the great hunter stalking his innocent prey. And then…
I grinned.
I jumped onto the curb and started making my way to the rear of the crowd. Would he follow? As Evelyn had pointed out, Wilkes had done my demographic. But if it was an easy kill? If I made it an easy kill? A seeming guarantee of success?
I had to make this easy. Too easy to resist.
As much as I longed to scan the crowd for his face, to see his reaction, I didn’t dare. I walked fast, eyes straight ahead, chin high, striding toward some imaginary rendezvous point.
When I neared the point where he’d been standing, the urge to look into the crowd was so strong I had to force myself to glance the other way. As I did, I caught my reflection in the window of a storefront. Behind me was the crowd. After a moment’s searching, I saw that face again. Watching me. Curious. Considering…
I suppressed a shiver of excitement, shoved my hand into my pocket and slid it around my gun. Then I wheeled left and headed into the alley.
FORTY-FOUR
When we’d first arrived that afternoon, Jack and Evelyn had done a full reconnaissance sweep, checking every street, alley and nook. With my extra setup work, I’d only had time to map out two escape routes from my building perch. That should have been enough. I just needed to know how to evacuate my perch in an emergency. They were supposed to be the ones luring Wilkes into an alley.
Those routes I’d investigated were across the road, and my chances of getting Wilkes there were slim to none. So I had to do something I hated-blindly walk into the first suitable-looking alley I crossed.
When I stepped into that alley, I looked toward the first intersection and thought of nothing but getting there…as fast as possible. For that thirty-second trip, Wilkes could come around the corner and shoot me from behind, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
I could argue that a gun hit made no sense. It was too risky this close to the sidewalk. Shooting someone in the back was a coward’s ploy, and unlikely to impress the Feds. Plus, considering he’d invited the police, he wouldn’t take the chance of walking around carrying a gun.
Dirt crunched as my pursuer rounded the corner behind me. I kept my pace fast but steady. Speed up and he’d know I heard him. Just a few more steps…
I hit the first corner and took a split second to look each way, searching for the nearest doorway or second corner, getting Wilkes far enough from the crowded street. The alley intersected with another about fifteen feet to my right, so I turned that way. I crossed the first half of the distance in a few long strides. From the occasional whisper of his shoes on the dirt, I knew my pursuer was still behind me. Yet he seemed to be moving slowly-slower than I expected. Being cautious? Or wasn’t it Wilkes?
I was convinced it was him, but I could leave no chance I would, in my eagerness, shoot an innocent man.
The man I’d seen could have been a random pervert or mugger, more than willing to follow a woman into an alley. It might not be the man I’d spotted, but Jack or Evelyn or a cop seeing me turn into the alley and following. Or it could be some drunken student who’d slipped from the parade for a piss break. And if it was the latter, then I sincerely apologized for what I was about to do, and hoped his full bladder could withstand it.
When I reached that next junction, I’d round the corner, then get up against the wall and wait, gun drawn. Wilkes would turn-
I hit the corner…and found no corner to turn. What I’d thought was the junction of another alley was a doorway-with a recess so shallow I couldn’t even duck in and hide. As I slowed, my gaze swung forward again, looking for a second option. Ahead, less than a dozen feet away, a real alley intersection, one I could see from this angle wasn’t another dead end. But Wilkes was too close. He’d never let me get that far. My only option was to break into a run and escape.
Run and he’d know he’d been made. And, like any good hitman, he would back off.
Run and I’d lose him.
I stared at that intersection and knew I should do it. Escape and try again later. But everything in me rebelled at the very thought.
Run like a coward? Like a helpless thirteen-year-old girl? Run and let him kill someone else, sacrifice another life for mine? Never again.