“Prov ... dence. ”
The voice drew his attention back to the woman dying on the floor. Her eyes were open. Urgency burned in their depths. “What?” he asked.
“Kate . . .” she rasped. “Prov . . . dence Tow . . . er.”
“Providence Tower?”
Belinda Ferguson blinked once. “Rooks. Bas . . . tard.”
Frank reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. “The ambulance is on the way.”
Another blink.
“Hang tight. I’m going to find Kate,” he said and sprinted toward the door.”
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2:57 A.M.
Kate woke to pain and the sensation of movement. She smelled leather and heated air and it dawned on her that she was in a moving car.
She opened her eyes to see Jameson Rooks behind the wheel. Her seat was partially reclined. The gag had been removed, but she could feel where it had bruised the corners of her mouth. She shifted, testing her strength. Pain shot up her arm, wrenching a groan from her.
Rooks looked away from his driving. “Your seat belt is fastened. Don’t do anything stupid or I’ll hurt you.”
“You’ve already hurt me.”
“Next time it will be worse.”
She looked out the window, realized they were traveling North on Preston Road, heading toward the suburb of Plano. The clock on the dash told her it was 2:58 A.M. The dead of night. “Where are you taking me?”
He turned off of Preston Road without answering. In the distance the steel skeleton of Providence Tower was illuminated against the lights of residential Plano. Surprise rippled through her when he turned onto the street leading to the construction site.
“Are you familiar with Providence Tower?” he asked conversationally.
Kate looked at him, didn’t answer.
“When construction is complete next year, the tower’s seventy-four stories will stand 945 feet. It will be the second tallest building in Texas. The sixteenth tallest building in the United States.”
Everyone in Dallas had heard of Providence Tower. The high-rise office tower was the pride of mostly residential Plano. “I hate to put a damper on your fun, but at the moment I don’t give a damn.”
He smiled as if she’d amused him. “Ferguson and Rooks was instrumental in getting this immense project off the ground.”
Kate said nothing. She could feel the fear and hopelessness pressing into her. She didn’t know what he was going to do to her or why they were at Providence Tower. The only thing she knew for certain was that he meant to harm her.
“I’m glad I could be part of such a history-making project.” He looked over at her. “Pretty impressive, don’t you think?”
“I think you need to take a long hard look at what you’re doing. I’m a prosecutor, Rooks. You don’t murder a prosecutor and get away with it. You know that.”
He stopped the car, turned off the engine, and turned to her. “I’m going to get out and unlock the gate. Don’t do anything stupid.” He stared hard at her for the span of several heartbeats, then opened the door and stepped into the night.
Her eyes darted to the ignition, but he’d taken the keys. “Damn it.” She hit the locks. But Kate knew that wouldn’t stop him. Through the window, she saw Rooks at the chain-link gate. The snow was coming down hard, coating the street and construction equipment. A ten-foot chain-link fence surrounded the construction site. Once they were inside, it would be difficult for her to escape.
She was about to reach for the door handle to make a run for it when the locks snapped. The driver’s door opened. The overhead light blinked on as Rooks slid in with a swirl of snow.
“You weren’t about to do something stupid, were you, Ms. Megason?”
Leaning against the seatback, Kate closed her eyes. She could feel the slick of sweat on her forehead. Her pulse beating like a drum. The pain was like a ricochet inside her bone, so intense she was dizzy and nauseous.
Rooks drove through the gate, then got out to close it. Kate thought about making a run for it, but with a broken arm and a concussion, she was in no condition to run.
Back in the car, Rooks put the Jag in gear and drove down a ramp and into the underground garage. There were no lights, and the place was very dark. Kate looked around, wondering if she could use the darkness to her advantage. She thought about the cop she’d left back at the convalescent home and wondered if he’d discovered she was gone. She thought about Frank and wondered if he knew she was missing. If he would come for her. If he would find her in time.
The thought sent tears to her eyes. Kate knew he would do everything in his power to find her. She prayed it was enough because she was certain Rooks was minutes away from killing her.
Rooks parked the Jag, got out of the car, and opened the passenger side door. “Get out.”
Cradling her arm, Kate slid from the seat. “Where are you taking me?”
He motioned toward the construction site elevator, a steel grate platform surrounded by a chain-link safety cage. “I want to show you something.”
Kate didn’t want to get on the elevator. She envisioned herself making a wild dash for freedom. Rooks must have seen her thoughts in her eyes, because he abruptly reached out and squeezed her injured arm.
Kate cried out, the pain so intense her vision dimmed. “You bastard,” she said, her voice breathless.
“I mean it,” he warned. “Don’t fuck with me.”
Her head was swimming when she stepped onto the platform. Rooks stepped in beside her. The door clanged shut. He pressed the button for the seventy-fourth floor. The platform jolted, then began to hum upward.
“You’re a fascinating young woman,” he said after a moment. “Not many people interest me the way you do.”
“Forgive me if I’m not flattered.”
One side of his mouth curved. “I’m merely stating a fact. You’ve been a captivating study.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know more about you than you could ever imagine. Including, shall we say, your history.”
She looked at him, hating him, hoping that even if he killed her tonight, he would one day be made to pay for his sins.
“Your father protected your secrets well. But I’ve always been adept at obtaining information when I needed it.”
“So you were the one stalking me,” she said. “How brilliant.”
He tsked. “Come now. While I found you interesting on a personal level, I consider such endeavors beneath me.”
“I guess murder is more your style.”
“When it’s profitable.”
“I think you’re a sick fuck, Rooks.”
His eyes lit with dark amusement. “I found your weak spot. I capitalized on it by hiring someone to frighten you.” He smiled. “You don’t frighten easily, though, do you, Ms. Megason?”
Kate said nothing.
He shrugged. “That particular endeavor was nothing more than a diversion, really.”
“A diversion from what?”
“The case, of course. You were digging like the good little prosecutor you are. I wanted you to stop.” He shrugged. “You pursued the matter, and now here we are. That’s what happens to pit bulls when they don’t know when to stop fighting. They get put down. Destroyed so they can’t hurt anyone.”
The elevator rattled and hummed upward. The wind grew stronger as they rode higher. Snow flew crazily. The building was only partially complete with ceilings and floors with intermittent support beams throughout, but few walls had been completed.
“You were raped and left for dead when you were seventeen years old,” Rooks said.
Kate knew better than to let the words get to her, but the rise of temper, of hatred, was swift and powerful.
“Three weeks later you took a handful of your mother’s sleeping pills.”
“I know what I did,” she snapped.
“Driven by guilt over your sister, no doubt. And, of course, t
he rape itself. That’s a terrible thing for a seventeen-year-old girl to endure. I’ve always wondered, did your parents blame you?”
Kate said nothing, but she could feel the old guilt rising inside her. The unfairness of the blame she had shouldered. She hated it that he could do this to her. Reduce her to a powerless and hurting seventeen-year-old girl.
He contemplated her, and she had the oddest sense that in some sick, twisted way he felt something for her. Not sympathy so much as respect.
“In any case,” he said, “you’ve handled all of this exceedingly well. Look at you. You have a broken arm. A head wound. You’re standing there, knowing I’m going to kill you. And yet you haven’t cried. You haven’t begged.” There was just enough light for her to see the chilling glint in his eyes. “Why not?”
“Because I want to kill you.”
More than anything he could have said or done, the smile he gave her frightened her. Frightened her so badly that she began to shake all over. Her teeth began to chatter.
“There is one trait I admire over all others, Kate, and that is courage. You have that in ample supply. You’re cool. Strong. I like that in a woman. Under different circumstances . . .” He let the words trail and shrugged. “Who knows?”
She looked away, but she could feel his eyes on her and the feeling was as vile as if he’d touched her bare flesh with his fingertips.
The elevator ground to a halt. The door grated as it opened. Rooks turned a key in a panel next to the door, withdrew it, and dropped it into his pocket. “The elevator is now locked. There is no way down or up without this key.” He motioned forward. “Please.”
A black and terrible sense of helplessness assailed her when she stepped out of the elevator. The floor was vast, dissected by sections of scaffolding, stepladders, and various construction equipment. There were few interior or exterior walls, and beyond the perimeter of the floor, Kate could see the lights of residential Plano.
“The vista is beautiful from up here, isn’t it?”
Kate looked at him. He was standing with his back to her, staring out at the vast darkness beyond. His hands were on his hips. She wondered if she was strong enough to shove him off the edge. . . .
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked.
He turned and approached her, his expression grim. “I think you know.”
He was right. Kate knew. She’d known the instant they’d pulled into the lot. Fear thrashed inside her. She did not want to die. She sure as hell didn’t want to die at the hands of a bastard like Jameson Rooks.
“Let me go,” she said.
“Ah, Kate . . . You know I can’t do that.”
“You have the resources to go anywhere in the world. There are countries that do not have extradition treaties with the United States.”
He frowned at her, a teacher disappointed by a slow-witted child. “I have no desire to spend the rest of my life in some muddy hellhole.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid this is the only way.”
Her heart was pounding so hard she was dizzy. She could taste the metallic tang of fear at the back of her throat.
“You’re going to jump to your death tonight.” He said the words with all the passion of a man talking about the weather. “You have a history of suicidal behavior. You’ve been distraught over the Bruton Ellis case. You’ve been under a lot of pressure. And with your past . . .” He shrugged. “Even the strongest of people have been known to snap.”
“No one will believe I committed suicide,” she said.
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. You see, I’ve been planning this for quite some time. Right down to the suicide note you sent your parents.”
“I didn’t,” she choked.
“Just a simple apology for the pain your suicide will cause them. I think that will suffice.”
“My parents won’t believe it. Mike Shelley won’t believe it. Neither will Frank Matrone.”
But Kate could tell Rooks wasn’t concerned. “I brought a couple of Xanax for you.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved two pills. “Please. Take them. It will make this easier for both of us.”
“Fuck you.”
He smiled. “Strong to the bitter end. I respect that. But it’s not going to help you.” He dropped the pills back in his pocket. “If you change your mind, I have them right here.”
He slid a sleek baton from beneath his London Fog. “I did not want to use such a primitive instrument.” A flick of the wrist and the baton extended to three feet in length. “But for obvious reasons a gun was out of the question. A knife would raise questions. Physical trauma, on the other hand.” He shrugged. “Let’s just say a nine-hundred-foot fall will leave little for the medical examiner to work with.”
“Stay away from me,” Kate said.
He ran his hand along the deadly looking length of steel. “The expandable baton is a law enforcement tool, when non-lethal force is called for. It’s illegal in some states.” His eyes landed upon hers. “One way or another, you will jump from this building tonight.”
Kate stepped back, looked wildly around for something, anything to use as a weapon. The scaffolding was to her right. A stepladder straight ahead. A plastic five-gallon bucket. A toolbox, its padlock glinting in the dim light.
“This space where we’re standing will eventually be the penthouse,” Rooks stated. “The rent will be outrageous. A filthy rich law firm will claim it, I’m sure. Or perhaps a restaurant.” He circled her. “No one will think of the young woman who jumped to her death months before. A month from now, no one will remember you.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Of course you will.”
Kate could feel her eyes darting left and right. She felt like a trapped animal, with a predator closing in to devour her. She was trying to formulate a plan. Knock him out. Take the elevator key. Get the hell out of there. She wasn’t expecting him to lunge at her.
Air whooshed when he swung the bat. Kate reeled backward. All she could think about was protecting her broken arm. She knew if he hit her there, she could black out. All he would have to do then was carry her to the edge and throw her off. . . .
The tip of the baton grazed her injured arm. The pain was like a supernova bursting in her brain.
An animal sound tore from her throat as she stumbled back. “No!” she screamed. “Get away from me!”
His lips peeled back, revealing perfect white teeth. Kate saw intent in his eyes. Cruelty. Self-preservation in its most primitive form.
He swung the baton again. She lunged sideways, but she wasn’t fast enough. Steel slammed into her shoulder. Heat streaked down her arm. She snatched up the five-gallon bucket and threw it with all her might. He deflected the bucket and it bounced aside. Using her good arm, she grasped the six-foot stepladder and toppled it.
Cursing, he stepped toward her. “You can’t get away, Kate. Give it up. Let’s get this over with.”
She knew she was out of time. Out of options. Out of luck. Kate did the only thing she could and ran.
TWENTY-NINE
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 3:15 A.M.
Kate ran blindly through the darkness. She could hear her boots cracking against the concrete floor. Too loud. Giving away her location. She could hear her breaths tearing from her throat in ragged gasps. Her heart thundered in her ears. A storm of pain ripping through her arm.
She darted around a concrete support beam. A gust of wind hit her in the face, blew her back a step. Ten feet away she could see where the floor ended. Snow swirled crazily against the backdrop of light. The yellow safety netting flapped wildly.
Pressing her back to the concrete, she tried to catch her breath. If she could keep her head, she might be able to survive this. Surely the cop back at the convalescent home had realized by now that she wasn’t there. Surely he would contact Mike Shelley. Mike would contact Frank.
“Frank,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes against the tears. The thought of all that would be lost i
f she perished here tonight sent a sob to her throat. Using her good arm, Kate put her hand over her mouth, closed her eyes tightly, and fought hard for the control she needed to survive this.
“Kate!”
Every muscle in her body went taut at the sound of Rooks’s voice. Taking a deep breath, she peered around the corner of the support beam. He was thirty feet away, turning in a slow circle, his head cocked as if listening.
When he turned in her direction, she sank against the support beam and looked for a place to run. A place to hide. But Kate had run out of options. There was no place left to run. Just a nine-hundred-foot drop and certain death.
“Frank,” she whispered. “I need you. Come for me. . . .”
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 3:16 A.M.
Frank felt every second that ticked by as if it were the last beat of his heart. He sped north on Preston Road, pushing the Chevy to ninety miles an hour. He blew a traffic light at Park. In the distance Providence Tower loomed like a shadowy skeleton.
He whipped the cell phone from his belt. His hand shook as he hit the speed dial for Mike Shelley. The DA answered on the first ring.
“Jameson Rooks has Kate,” Frank said. “He’s taken her to Providence Tower. I think he’s going to kill her.”
“Where are you?”
“En route. I need the architect or the construction site manager on the horn. Now.”
“Give me two minutes,” Shelley said. “I’ll notify Plano PD. You stay the hell out of the line of fire.”
Frank disconnected, his mind torturing him with thoughts of all the terrible things that could be happening to Kate. He consoled himself with the fact that she was a fighter. A survivor. But he knew that not even Kate Megason was a match for a gun or knife or the savagery of a killer.
He swung the Chevy onto the street that would take him to Providence Tower. The construction site was massive with several outbuildings and a ramp to what looked like an underground parking garage. Too dark to see if there was a Jaguar parked in the lot. Knowing the gate would be padlocked, Frank hit the gas. The Chevy crashed through the chain link like a tank cutting through high weeds. Sparks shot high into the air as the truck dragged a length of fence into the parking garage. The truck skidded to a halt ten feet from Jameson’s Jaguar.