Panic (2 page)

Chapter 2

Christina Logan and her two girlfriends sat at the bar, giggling and wailing along to the music. Suave, the newest mid-town New York hotspot, had only been open a few weeks, and it was still impossible to get in unless you had the right connections. Christina knew this, and had taken advantage of her social status to bag a few VIP tickets for herself and her friends. She looked around the nightclub and beamed a brilliant white smile as she caught the eye of a tall, muscular guy across the room. He raised his bottle of beer in salute and started walking over, smiling back at her as he weaved in and out of the crowd.

The VIP room at Suave was not like your average club. People didn’t come here to dance, they came to be seen and they came to drink. Usually by the bottle. The music was played loud and the lights were kept low; nobody wanted conversation and everybody wanted to look their best. Christina felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to the girlfriend to her right – Candice, the one with the sharp nails.

“That guy is totally into you!” Candice shouted over the thrumming music, nodding at the muscular guy as he drew closer.

“He’s cute!” Dakota chimed in from the left. “But what about your boyfriend?”

“Hank?” replied Christina. “He’s not really my boyfriend. Just some guy I’m seeing. Besides, he’s been acting a little weird recently. He said he didn’t want me going out tonight. He still thinks I’m back at the dorm.”

“Good move,” said Candice. “He never has to know. You just concentrate on having fun!”

Christina grinned and began to feel the effects of the vodka from their fifty-dollar cocktails. She felt her skin warm as the alcohol spread through her body, making her smile even more as the tall, handsome guy approached and leaned against the bar, looking at Christina as he spoke.

“Hey, you ladies having a good night? The name’s Finn. What’s yours?”

“Christina,” she beamed and looked down, fiddling with the cocktail stick in her now olive-free Martini. She saw Dakota bobbing up and down on the stool, trying to look over Finn’s back to hear what she was saying.

“You in college? You look like a student. Isn’t it a little late to be out on a school night?” Finn’s voice was smooth, even though he was practically shouting over the beat of the dance track that was playing, and his eyes twinkled as he spoke.

“We’re all Columbia Law. Nobody works much on a Friday, so we can sleep in. You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Christina said coyly, biting her bottom lip.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

“So, what do you do for a living?” said Christina, wanting to know just how many drinks she could expect him to pay for.

“Oh, you know; this and that. Mostly private equity investments, that kinda thing.”

“Sounds interesting, I’d love to hear more, but we’re running out of drinks. Why don’t you pull up a chair?”

Finn laughed and shook his head. He put down his drink, stood up, and took a few steps back so that he could address all three girls.

“Ladies, it’s been an absolute pleasure, but I’m afraid I have to be leaving soon. I’ve got other places to be tonight.”

Christina pulled a face in disappointment, a trick that always worked on her father. This guy wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m sorry, I really do! But how about this: I’ve got a friend who works the doors at Halo downtown. My driver’s outside; you guys are welcome to take a ride down to the club and I’ll meet you there later. I’ll call ahead and have the champagne waiting.”

Christina looked to her girlfriends, all of whom seemed impressed, and nodded enthusiastically at Finn. “Sure, sounds like a plan. Lead the way!”

Finn took Christina by the hand and led the three girls toward the exit. Christina stumbled as they went down the stairs, her impossibly high heels not helping her balance, and Finn caught her before she could fall. She looked up into his gorgeous brown eyes and grinned.

“My hero!”

Christina grabbed onto his thick arm with both hands and let him carry most of her weight out of the club and onto the streets. She was looking forward to getting him home later.

The four party-goers spilled out onto the sidewalk, and Christina immediately felt the brisk midnight air around her bare legs; this was not the weather for short skirts, but looking good came with a price and cold legs were part of the bargain. Christina found her footing despite the clawing numbness brought on by the vodka, and unhanded Finn so that she could walk unaided. Dakota and Candice walked ahead, looking around for signs of a town car.

“It’s just up here,” Finn called out, pointing to the end of the street where the streetlights had gone out. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Dakota and Candice disappeared from view, and Finn ushered Christina to where the car was waiting, just out of sight of the main road. Except there was no car. Candice and Dakota turned around, clearly confused.
There is no car
. Christina wheeled around to face Finn, the adrenaline now pumping away the alcohol that had been making her fuzzy and slow. Finn was stood still just a couple of feet away, and he spoke slowly.

“I did what you wanted. I couldn’t get her alone.”

Christina didn’t realize until it was too late. Finn’s eyes were focused somewhere above and behind her; he was speaking to someone they hadn’t seen. Before she had time to react, Christina heard a metallic
thunk
and Finn’s head jerked back, a small, red mark appearing in the center of his forehead. Thick, dark fluid began to drip slowly down his face as Finn’s lifeless body first crumpled onto its knees and then fell backward onto the road. Christina felt her stomach lurch and she spun around, kicking off her high heels, ready to put five years of kick-boxing training to use. Candice and Dakota were a little slower, still wondering what was happening as a dark figure approached from behind. The enormous man wore what looked like body armor, with thick boots, gloves, and a ski mask. He held the gun limply by his side. The two girls turned slowly as he drew within a few feet and spoke.

“I’m in the mood for some exercise.”

The voice was deep and raspy, but strangely quiet and calm. The man dropped his gun to the floor. What happened next was a blur; the man brought his fist hard against Candice’s nose, forcing her to stumble back as her nasal bridge collapsed with a wet crunch. A palm edge connected with Dakota’s throat, apparently crushing her wind pipe as she immediately fell to her knees, gasping and choking for air. Christina’s feet were rooted in place.
Move, dammit, move!
She tried to will her uncooperative legs to propel her away from the horror in front of her, but she couldn’t get them to function.

Two huge hands grasped Dakota’s head, an arm as thick as a tree trunk across her throat. Christina knew what was going to happen next. With a savage jerk, the man broke Dakota’s neck before she could take another ragged breath. He dropped the lifeless body and moved toward Candice, who held one hand to her bloody face, blindly flailing the other in an attempt to work out where she was. The attacker grabbed her loose arm and pulled her in toward him, bringing his knee to her stomach and knocking the wind out of her. He put both hands around her neck and squeezed. Christina could see Candice’s eyes bulge in surprise and horror and heard the cartilage and muscle in her neck popping and tearing as the man’s grip collapsed her larynx. She quickly fell still.

Christina felt her legs begin to move.
Just a little more,
she willed them, desperate to get away. The man walked toward her; he was only a couple of feet away.
That’s it!
Christina regained control of her legs and brought her right foot up fast, using the left to pivot, and aimed her instep at the weak point behind the knee joint. The man blocked her attack effortlessly, and countered by spinning on his back leg and driving the bottom of his heel into her shin. Christina gasped in pain and toppled to her knees. The last thing she felt was a blow to the back of her head, and then there was nothing.

Chapter 3

Police Sergeant Mary Jordan was tired. Damned tired. The call had come in about an hour before, a triple homicide outside a mid-town club. Not her favorite way to start a Friday, especially not at one thirty in the morning and on only two hours’ sleep. The gas station coffee in her hand just wasn’t cutting it, and she hoped she didn’t look as bad as she felt. Mary was attractive enough not to need makeup, but she had thrown on a cursory dash of lipstick and tied back her unruly dark hair just in case she didn’t get a chance later, which was becoming more and more likely as she contemplated the scene in front of her.

On the ground lay the remains of two young women, both of whom had probably been pretty attractive before some sicko decided to mess with their faces. One girl’s nose had been caved in and her eyes were bulging from their sockets, and the other girl’s head was at a funny angle, a grotesque expression on her horrified face. Mary noticed they were both wearing clothes she couldn’t afford if she saved up for a year. A few feet further back lay the body of a young male, Mary guessed late twenties, with a single gunshot wound to the head.

“Looks like we’ve got two killers, Sarge,” one of the duty officers addressed her. He was young and puffed up, trying to prove himself. Mary eyed his badge number.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, this guy’s been shot and the others weren’t. Two killers.”

“Or just the one guy who likes to strangle women.”

Mary had seen it before. Some crazies liked to see the life drain out of their victims, liked to dispatch them using their own two hands. They got some kind of sick sexual kick out of it. As for the stiff with the bullet wound, Mary guessed he just wasn’t the killer’s type.

“Just the one set of boot prints,” she continued, “no car, no bullet casings. There was just one guy, and he was a pro.”

“Buy why would anyone want to kill someone coming out of a club?”

“You find any ID on these guys?”

The officer nodded, “Wallets and purses weren’t taken, so it was easy enough to check. Finn Johnson, Candice Berkeley, and Dakota Hall. Finn’s a nobody, works at a nightclub round the corner. Probably knew the doorman, otherwise no way he’d get in. The girls are your usual type, living off Daddy’s money and enjoying their college years. Checked immediate family, they’re all clean. Not a parking ticket among them. So why would someone want to kill them?”

“They wouldn’t. Whoever killed these people was after something else.”

“How do you know?”

“Like you said, these guys are nobodies,” said Mary, glancing down at the bodies. “You don’t see pros like this taking out nobodies on the street. He was after either something they had, or someone they were with. It doesn’t look like anything was stolen, so I’d bet on the latter.”

“What do you want me to do, Sarge?”

“Tape this place up. When forensics get here, get them searching for any hair or fibers that don’t match our other vics and have them call me straight away. Let’s find out what’s missing from this picture.”

The rookie dashed off and left Mary staring at the scene in front of her. This was all she needed, more unexplained deaths. The captain was already riding her ass over a string of high-profile cases the FBI was investigating. Apparently they expected the police to do their damn jobs for them. Unfortunately for Mary, that meant she had to deliver a suspect with at least enough evidence to guarantee a court hearing. If she didn’t find one soon, the captain, the commissioner, and even the Mayor would be baying for blood, and she knew where they’d be looking.

Mary swore under her breath and patted down her jacket pockets, looking for her cigarettes. Then she remembered she had quit last week and swore again. It was hard enough to give up smoking without having to deal with this mess. Coffee just wasn’t cutting it. Mary bit her tongue in frustration and stalked back to her car, a mid-nineties sedan that was more inconspicuous than a squad car but lacked a decent heater. She turned the car around in the narrow alley and set off in the direction of the precinct, a full night of paperwork ahead of her.