Dylan drove through the holiday weekend rush hour towards Reggie’s condo.
Hard to believe the gun shots didn’t involve Trent. Even if the loser had a solid alibi, it didn’t mean he wasn’t involved in the shooting. Trent wouldn’t be the first person to hire a hit man.
Logic told him to walk away, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. He didn’t know Reggie well, but his instincts told him she was a good person.
If someone had helped his sister, she might still be alive. Reggie needed help, and he was determined to give it to her.
He pulled back into the apartment’s parking lot. Reggie had her rental car and was safely on her way to Alexis’s condo. Pretending to be talking on his cell phone, he assessed the situation. When he was sure no one laid in wait, he hopped out of the truck and jogged to her apartment.
Reggie’s things still sat by the chair. He couldn’t carry them out in a suitcase. It would be like taking out a billboard announcing Reggie had left her apartment.
He thought for a moment. He could put her things in garbage bags to camouflage them. Hopefully, it would be enough to throw anyone off who might be watching.
He saw Reggie’s vacuum. It was the only thing they hadn’t finished. Might as well do it before he left. As he vacuumed, a stray piece of a porcelain caught his eye, half hidden under the end table. As he bent down to pick it up, he glanced at the bottom side of the end table, and saw a small, round plastic case with a red flashing light.
Although surprised, it was not the first time he’d seen one. In fact, he’d installed them more than once. Someone had bugged Reggie’s apartment.
His mind played back their conversations. They’d heard every word uttered in the apartment, including where Reggie was.
He grabbed his cell phone, but then realized he didn’t have Alexis’s or Reggie’s number. He didn’t have the detective’s number, either. He picked up the garbage bags with Reggie’s things, and double-timed to his truck.
He jumped in and sped off.
****
Reggie pretended to relax as she stretched out on Alexis’s couch, but her mind refused to obey. She kept reliving the moments the shots rang out and Dylan had pushed her to the ground, protecting her with his own body. He’d risked his life to save hers. Tears filled her eyes. No one had ever done such a thing for her and she hadn’t even thanked him.
At least she felt some semblance of safety here with Alexis. It was the first time since being shot at she hadn’t felt the need to look over her shoulder every fifteen seconds. Being on the eighth floor helped.
Alexis sang an old rock and roll song as she cooked them an early dinner. Giving up the façade of relaxing, Reggie walked to the kitchen.
This kitchen was convenient, if nothing else. All Alexis had to do was turn from one direction to the other to reach the refrigerator, the cupboards or the stove. It was perfect unless the cook was claustrophobic.
“Can I help?”
“I thought you were resting,” her friend said.
“No such luck. I kept replaying Dylan pushing me to the ground after we heard the shots. Do you realize he saved my life?”
“I guess you’re right. I didn’t think about it. He’s quite the guy.” Alexis stopped chopping the tomatoes for the salad and stared at Reggie.
“He’s a farmer.”
“And what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I supp—”
Fire alarms from the hall drowned out the rest of her sentence. Reggie and Alexis stared at each other, neither moving.
“What is going on?” Alexis yelled loud enough to be heard over the clanging of the alarms. She dropped her knife and snatched the phone from its base. She hit the numbers for the condo office and waited.
“No answer. Might be the real thing. We better leave.” Alexis’s eyes darted around the room. “Where’s my purse?” Spying it, she rushed over, grabbed it and urged Reggie to hurry.
Reggie grabbed her own bag and jogged to the door. She hated the thought of being outside again. It made her feel vulnerable. She could still remember the sound of the shots. She stopped moving. How likely was it that someone would shoot at her, and Alexis’s apartment complex would have a fire on the same day? Not very. It seemed too farfetched.
Alexis’s hand moved towards the knob.
“Don’t open it, Alexis,” Reggie screamed.
****
Please God, keep her safe.
Dylan pulled into condo’s parking lot, a knot in his stomach. People streamed out of the building. Police, fire, and emergency vehicles crowded the parking lot. Sirens split the afternoon air.
He was too late.
****
Alexis turned towards Reggie, her face filled with confusion.
“Maybe, we shouldn’t go out. It could be a trick. After all, someone did shoot at me today.”
“But I smell smoke. Don’t you smell it?” Alexis’s eyes grew wide.
“Look through the peephole.” Reggie pointed at the door.
“The hall is filled with smoke and people are running down the hall. We need to get out, too. We can’t stay here.” Alexis pointed at the smoke seeping under the door.
Reggie took several steps away from the door. “I’m not going out there. Something feels wrong. You go. I’m staying here. I’ll open your patio door for fresh air. I’ll be fine.”
“This is crazy, Reggie. You can’t stay in here if the building’s on fire.”
****
Dylan stared at the green fire engines. Whoever bugged Reggie’s place had beaten him here. It was the only explanation.
He jumped out of the car and rushed towards the building. He scanned the crowd. No Reggie. No Alexis.
A woman stood nearby clutching a baby in her arms.
“What’s going on?” he asked, touching her shoulder.
“Fire.” The woman said as she wiped tears away. “Smoke was everywhere.”
“You don’t happen to know Alexis Krinkle?”
She shook her head.
“Thanks.” Dylan called back as he headed towards the door. His gaze darted from person to person, searching the faces. His mind shuffled through the options the would-be killer had. He could wait outside and shoot Reggie when she came out, or knock on Alexis’s door as a concerned neighbor and then attack.
Think. Think. Which would he do if he wanted to kill someone?
God give me wisdom.
Too many risks to wait until Reggie came outside. With all the people milling about in the semi-darkness, he could shoot the wrong person, could be seen, possibly even stopped by some do-gooder. And police and fireman were everywhere.
But if he stood outside Alexis’s door and waited for them to come out, he could take care of the problem easy enough. Then just walk away through the crowd with no one being the wiser.
Dylan rushed towards the main entrance, clogged with a sea of humanity. He pushed his way forward. A fireman and a policeman stood by the door directing and calming the frightened residents.
As Dylan approached the door, the policeman stepped forward. “You can’t go inside, sir.”
“I have to. I think…” Dylan knew the officer would be skeptical-very skeptical. He took a deep breath. Please God, help me out here. “I know it sounds crazy, but I think someone is trying to kill two friends who are inside the building.”
“What are you talking about?” The cop’s eyes grew wide with surprise and then suspicion.
“You can check with the police. Someone already shot at her once today. I think this is a ruse to get to her. I’ve got to get in there.”
“What’s the news on the fire?” The policeman studied Dylan for a moment and then turned back to the fireman.
“Prank. Just a bunch of smoke bombs.”
He knew it. The perfect cover to get in and out of the building. The shooter had no doubt been waiting for Reggie at Alexis’s door. As soon as the women opened the door to leave, Reggie would be an easy target. He refused to let his mind go any further. He had to get up to them. Either, or both women could be hurt.
“What floor?” Dylan asked.
“Several floors, the tenth, the ninth, and the eighth.” The fireman told him.
“My friend lives on the eighth.” Dylan told the officer. “Apartment 8217.”
Understanding dawned in the officer’s eyes. “You stay. I’ll go. What was the number again?”
Dylan repeated it and added, “I’m coming with you.”
The policeman didn’t stop him. “The elevators are stopped. Have to take the stairs.” The policeman called, as he ran towards the stairwell’s door.
People still trudged down. Dylan quickly passed the officer and kept running. At the eighth floor, he stopped to catch his breath. He needed to be calm. He opened the door and walked through.
A wall of smoke and the clanging of alarms greeted him. Letting his military training take over, Dylan looked both ways. Smoke burned his eyes, nose, and throat, and clouded his vision, but he scanned apartment numbers until he figured out which way Alexis’s condo should be.
The clanging of the fire alarms silenced his movement as he crept through the smoke filled hallway. Breathing in the smoke, he resisted the urge to cough. He lifted the tail of his shirt and held it over his nose for a few seconds.
The chemical fog should be dissipating soon, if it really was a smoke bomb. As he got closer, he heard a voice yelling.
“Hey, open up. There’s a fire in the building. I know you’re in there. I saw you go in. We gotta get out. Hurry up.”
Please God, don’t let Alexis open the door. Smoke-induced tears blurred his vision. He forced down a cough and crept along the wall.
Almost there. Just a few more steps. His eyes focused on the silhouette of the gun pointed at the door.
Dylan leaped through the air just as the man turned towards him. He looked down the dark tunnel of a gun barrel as a huge explosion reverberated in the hallway. He could feel the heated breath of the bullet as it whizzed a path through the air, just missing his cheek.
Both men hit the floor with Dylan on top.
“Stay in the apartment.” He yelled, loud enough to be heard over the clanging of the fire alarm.
“Dylan, is that you?” Alexis called.
They wrestled for the gun that slid away. Grunting and swearing, the gunman outweighed Dylan by fifty pounds. If Dylan didn’t get to the gun first, he was a dead man. Reggie’s face flashed before him, renewing his strength.
A .357 magnum. A cold, gleaming-steel puppet waiting for the marionette to give the killing order. Both men reached out with fingers spread, towards the weapon. The gunman broke free and grasped at the gun, but Dylan was quicker. He grabbed the man’s arm and bent it backwards.
“Police.” A voice down the hall yelled.
Movement from behind and then, someone hit his head—hard. There were two men? He barely had time to digest that when the pain hit.
Losing his balance, Dylan fell to the floor as both men bolted down the hallway, disappearing like ghosts into the smoke.