Free Worst Fears Realized by Stuart Woods Page A

he was wearing a parka with the hood up. I didn’t get all that good a look at him.”
    Stone turned back to the microphone. “The perpetrator is a white male, small of stature, wearing a parka with the hood up, and is armed and dangerous. One of the two officers in pursuit is wearing an elevator operator’s uniform, and the other is in plain clothes. You want to get major backup into the park between Seventy-second and Seventy-ninth Streets and get a patrol car to the building. Also, find Lieutenant Dino Bacchetti of the Nineteenth Precinct and tell him to get over here fast.”
    “Where will you be?”
    “I’ll secure the lobby of the building and wait there.”

    “Got it; over and out.”
    Stone put down the microphone. “Come with me,” he said. “You and I will wait in the lobby for the police to arrive.”
    “Yes, sir,” the doorman said.
    They went back into the building, and Stone went to the elevator. “I wonder why the killer didn’t take the elevator upstairs,” he said.
    The doorman looked into the car. “It’s locked,” he said, “and the police officer must have the key.”
    “Is there another key?” Stone asked.
    “In the top drawer of the desk,” the doorman said, pointing. He clearly had no wish to go over there.
    Stone retrieved the key and put it into his pocket. He could hear sirens approaching from a distance. He picked up the house phone, consulted a list of occupants, and called Sarah’s apartment. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer.

14
    S TONE HUNG UP, CHECKED THE NUMBER, then dialed again. Still no answer. He looked up to see uniforms piling out of two police cars outside and running toward the front door with weapons drawn. He realized that they probably wouldn’t know him and that to them, he was a civilian with a weapon. He put his pistol down on the desktop, moved away from the desk, dug out his ID, and held it out in front of him with one hand, while holding the other hand in the air. “I’m on the job!” he shouted, because he knew that would stop a nervous cop from shooting him. They stopped running.
    “What’s going on here?” a sergeant asked.
    “I’m a retired police officer,” Stone said. “That’s my weapon on the desk. There’s an officer and another man on the floor behind the desk, both shot, both dead. This man is the building’s doorman.”
    The sergeant lowered his weapon. “Your name’sBarrington, isn’t it? You were in the Nineteenth with Bacchetti?”
    “That’s right.”
    The sergeant looked behind the desk. “Jesus Christ!” he said. “Who shot these two men?”
    “The doorman here saw the perp run out of the building, across the street, and over the wall into the park. Detectives Anderson and Kelly pursued him. I called it in from Kelly’s car; I asked for backup in the park between Seventy-second and Seventy-ninth. I also asked the dispatcher to find Bacchetti and tell him to come here.”
    “So there’s nothing for us to do but wait for the medical examiner?”
    “That’s right, except I’d like for two men to come upstairs with me. I was having dinner on the sixteenth floor when this happened, and I asked a young lady to stay there, but she’s not answering the phone.”
    The sergeant turned to his men. “Garcia, you come with me; the rest of you stay here and secure this scene.”
    “Can I pick up my weapon?” Stone asked, pointing.
    “Sure,” the sergeant said.
    Stone turned to the doorman. “Is there a passkey for sixteen?”
    “In the key safe on the wall behind the desk,” the man said, pointing.
    Stone went behind the desk, stepped over the bodies, located the passkey, grabbed his pistol, and headed for the elevator, digging for the key. He unlocked it and pressed the button for sixteen.

    “My name’s McElhenny,” the sergeant said.
    “I remember you,” Stone replied. “You were a rookie when I left the force; you’ve moved up.”
    “What the hell is going on here, Mr. Barrington?”