him, she knew it was a bad idea. A man who was ruthless enough to arrange a murder was way too dangerous to be confronted on his home territory. Besides, he would only deny it, and there would be no satisfaction in that. She would lay it out in front of the proper authorities. She wanted justice for Chloe. She couldn’t let her anger rule her actions.
Shelby glanced at the dashboard. It was still only eight thirty. She suddenly realized that she was starving as she pulled into her space beneath the building. She had been up for hours already, and had hardly slept the night before. The other tenants of her high rise were obviously getting a slow start on this gray, chilly April Sunday. Why not sleep in, Shelby thought? She wished she had someone to sleep in with. She was not one to bemoan her lack of a lover, but since Chloe’s death she had realized how lonely her life had become. Chloe was not only her daughter, but her closest confidante. You need to get out and see people, she told herself. You need to get back to work.
She decided that once she had placed everything she knew in the hands of the FBI, she should consider getting back to work at Markson’s. She found herself thinking about Elliott Markson, wondering why he too was free to come to work early on a Sunday morning. He was proving to be more complex than the overbearing boss she had heard about through the grapevine. True, he was not a genial paterfamilias like his uncle. But there was something honorable and genuine about him. She had thought this morning, when she hung up on Harris, that there was no one she could explain all this to. But during that brief interlude, when Elliott Markson stood in the office door, she had the sudden sense that she could explain herself to him.
Shelby’s stomach growled, and she hoped she had something edible in the cupboards or the refrigerator in her apartment. She’d been away so much that she hadn’t had time to stock the place. She and Jen had made tentative plans for a Sunday lunch, but she was too hungry to wait for lunch. She’d find something to throw together, she thought. She got out of her car and locked the door. Just as she was about to turn in the direction of the elevators, she felt something press her in the back.
‘Do not scream,’ said Harris Janssen.
Shelby jumped, and dropped her keys on the concrete floor. ‘What are you . . . ?’
‘It is a gun,’ he said. ‘Don’t make me use it. Just come with me.’
Shelby shook her head. She had to feign ignorance. ‘What in the world are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Don’t,’ Harris whispered. ‘Don’t pretend.’ As he spoke he was nudging her toward the entrance to the garage. Shelby looked all around her, longing to see another resident who might come to her aid. But the garage was as quiet as a cemetery.
‘Harris, there must be some misunderstanding,’ she said.
‘No. No misunderstanding,’ he said. ‘I admit you did catch me off guard this morning. The mention of those cruise tickets really threw me. I was so anxious to get off the phone I wasn’t thinking straight. And then, when I collected myself, I decided to check the number. All toll-free numbers can be traced, you know. I traced yours back to Markson’s. Now come with me,’ he said, ‘and don’t say another word.’
Shelby’s heart sank; to think she had been so easily found out. Her cleverness was not cleverness at all. She thought about screaming, but the garage remained deserted. The building had no attendant at the booth, just an automated arm. Holding the gun against her, Harris pulled Shelby around the lowered arm and over to his car which was parked in a visitor’s space.
She expected him to open the passenger door, but she had misjudged his intent. He pushed a button on his keys and the trunk lid popped up.
Shelby reared back and cried out. ‘Oh no,’ she said, struggling to get away from him. He pushed her down roughly and she cracked her head on the lid. Shelby reached up automatically to press on the throbbing spot where she had struck her head. Something warm and sticky seeped over her hands. She felt him grab the waistband of her sweatpants and tug.
Dazed, she had the sickening, confusing thought that he was going