NYPD Red 6 - James Patterson Page 0,76
suspect.
Last night, all we knew about the woman using the MetroCard was that she was wearing scrubs. The obvious conclusion was that she was a hospital worker, but since all three robberies involved in-home caretakers, she also might have been on her way to or from a private nursing job.
This morning she was wearing the same lavender scrubs and was catching a train about a hundred feet from the entrance of one of New York’s major hospitals.
“She’s catching the train at Seventy-Seventh and Lex,” Kylie said. “What do you bet she works at Lenox Hill? She’s probably a nurse or a tech pulling a night shift.”
“I know their head of security,” I said. “Let me track him down. I bet he can search the employee database and ID her.”
“Screw the head of security,” Kylie said. “We don’t have to ID her. We know what she looks like, and I’ll bet you twenty bucks I know where she’s going.”
“The Sixty-First Street Woodside station in Queens,” I said.
“Right. Which means she has to take the six train to Grand Central, walk over to the Flushing line, and catch the seven train to Queens. Even if every train was waiting for her when she got to the platform, it would still take her at least twenty-five minutes to get there. More, if we’re lucky. Let’s go.”
She bolted out the door. I followed. Not because it was the way I would have handled it, but because my partner is a heat-seeking missile, and when she’s on a mission, I know enough to either back her 100 percent or get the hell out of her way. And I’ve never done anything but back her.
“How long do you think it’ll take us to get to Woodside?” I yelled, following her down the stairs.
“With you behind the wheel, Grandma? About an hour and a half. With me driving, we could stop for coffee, and we’d still be there in plenty of time to collar Blondie.”
CHAPTER 67
THANK YOU,” KYLIE said as I buckled up and braced myself for the ride.
“For what?”
“I know how you think. If it were up to you, you’d radio ahead for backup.”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
“Would you like to know what thought crossed my mind? Erin got credit for taking down Dodd, Brooklyn is throwing a steak dinner to celebrate closing the Veronica Gibbs homicide, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a bunch of Queens marines steal our collar.”
“You’re welcome,” Kylie said.
She made a hard right onto Second Avenue, which was just on the cusp of rush hour but still moving. There’s a traffic cop on most corners in the low Sixties. One by one, the cops spotted our flashing lights and waved us onto the Ed Koch Bridge.
“We’ve practically got eyes on her now,” Kylie said when we got to Queensboro Plaza on the other side of the East River.
It was an overstatement. We were directly under the elevated tracks where the number 7 train to Flushing ran. But there was no train in sight.
Kylie weaved in and out of the traffic along Queens Boulevard, then followed the tracks when they jogged to the left on Roosevelt Avenue.
We had just passed the Fifty-Second Street station when we saw the train about a quarter of a mile in the distance. Kylie hit the gas, ran a few reds, and skidded to a stop just as a train from Manhattan pulled into the Woodside station.
We jumped out of the car and ran up the stairs, our eyes darting left, right, and center as the early-morning commuters spilled onto the platform and headed for the exits.
Our suspect wasn’t there.
“NYPD runs faster than the MTA,” Kylie said, looking at her watch. “I guarantee she’ll be on the next one.”
Seven minutes later another train rumbled into the station. We stood in the middle of the platform and flashed our shields at the conductor.
“You can let them out of the forward cars, but don’t open the back half,” I said.
The doors slid open in the first five cars, and about thirty people got off.
“You see your man?” the conductor asked as we watched the passengers head toward the exit.
“Our man is a woman,” I said. “Turn the rest of them loose, and keep it parked till I give you the green light.”
The remaining doors opened, and I immediately spotted our lady in lavender getting off. I released the train, and Kylie and I followed her through the turnstiles.
“Ma’am,” Kylie said.
The woman turned around.
“NYPD,” Kylie said, holding