Helen reached the main dining room and was overwhelmed by the noise and confusion. Her nerves were shot from the five minutes in the lounge and she realized she needed a breath of fresh air before looking for the Imperioles or indulging in that vodka she was thinking about. She also wanted to check out front for Joe and give him a sign that the DVD was no longer in her possession.
Helen exited into the velvety softness of the night and shivered as though fending off a freezing blast of icy air swooping down from the arctic. “I’m thanking you in advance, God, for making sure this turns out okay, so please, don’t screw around, all right?” she whispered as she continued her search for Joe. Where is that man? She didn’t see the Mercedes across from the restaurant, their agreed-upon rendezvous point. Some big, bad protector. She realized there were no cars parked on the street, just the same teeming mass of people milling about since she arrived.
Helen scanned the crowd, trying to spot Joe’s familiar face. She didn’t notice the man next to her until he was just inches away, pressing close like one of those too-friendly salesmen who stood nose-to-nose with their customers, invading their space. “Hey,” she turned toward him in annoyance. She was about to tell him to back off when he grinned sloppily and grabbed her arm. She glanced down at his hand and saw the mark that looked like the scar from a burn, and a flare of recognition, then confusion, crossed her face. Pizza Man? What the hell was he doing here?
Still clutching her arm, the man moved slightly behind her, taking advantage of her moment of confusion to push even closer. A gun was thrust roughly into her back. “Surprised to see me?” he whispered quietly in her ear in a voice that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“Who the hell are you? What do you want?” Helen’s free hand reached to open her purse and retrieve her gun.
“Don’t do it.” He jabbed her harder with his gun. “There are a lot of people around and I really don’t care if any of them get hurt.” As if to emphasize his point, she and the man were jostled from behind, pushing them even closer together. “Drop your bag on the sidewalk and keep moving.”
“Oh, my God,” she whispered as he kicked her purse into the gutter. “Why are you doing this? Who are you?”
“I’m the man of your dreams, the one you’ve been looking for,” he said. “Here I am. I want you to take me to Laurel Imperiole.”
Helen was stunned. It all started clicking into place. Pizza Man—the drunk from the other night—was David Adams. My God. How did he find me? Then another thought made her head spin. He saw me at Laurel’s building. He knows where she lives.
Helen was sick—dizzy and nauseated. She tried to pull herself together and remain calm. “What do you want?”
“Why, I want you,” he sneered as he steadily led her away from the milling crowd. “We have lot to talk about … like your little friend. I haven’t been able to catch up with her today, so I followed you instead. You’ll help us hook up, won’t you?” He grinned in a sick parody of a little lost boy, cocking his head to one side. “You two screwed me over good. Now it’s my turn.”
Helen desperately searched for Joe as David Adams continued to propel her beyond the people and the noise of the scene in front of the restaurant. They made their way south on Crosby Street toward Broome, to a darker, more deserted part of the block. “We’re going to have fun.” He increased the pressure on her arm. “You and me, getting to know each other.”
Helen swept the street, frantically trying to spot someone, anyone who could stop this madman, but the few people they passed were wrapped up in their own business and either avoided, or didn’t notice, her pleading eyes. Adams took her farther into the darkness, away from any hope of rescue.
Helen thought about Laurel, who by now was probably with Mike, waiting for her in the restaurant. They might be beginning to wonder where she was. Would they realize something was wrong when she didn’t show? Would Laurel call for help? Adams didn’t seem to realize he’d missed out on the opportunity to grab Laurel as well. He’s focusing on me and planning to use me to get to her.
Her stomach lurched again, and Helen risked a glance at Adams. He was intent on steering her away from people, toward a building being rehabbed on the corner of Broome. She shuddered again. Was this how he trapped Anne Ellsworth? Oh, God, am I going to be next?