1st to Die - James Patterson [105]
“Jacobi,” I shouted, but he had already signed off and was on his way to the Heights. I turned to Chris. “Warren’s left Joanna’s.”
Suddenly, Karen, our civilian clerical, shouted for me. “Lindsay, call for you on one.”
“We’re headed out,” I hollered back to her. I had strapped on my gun, grabbed the keys to my car. “Who is it?”
“Says you’d want to talk to him about the Jenks case,” Karen said. “Says his name is Phillip Campbell.”
Chapter 120
I FROZE, FIXED ON RALEIGH, and lunged back toward my desk.
I signaled Karen to put it through. At the same time, I hissed under my breath to Raleigh, “Start a trace.”
I waited in a trance; seconds could mean the difference. The breath was tightening in my chest. Then I picked up.
“You know who this is,” Nicholas Jenks’s arrogant voice declared.
“I know who it is. Where are you?”
“Not a chance, Inspector. I only called to let you know, whatever happens, I didn’t kill any of them. I’m not a murderer.”
“I know that,” I told him.
He seemed surprised. “You know… ?”
I couldn’t let Jenks know who it was. Not with him on the loose. “I promise, we can prove it wasn’t you. Tell me where you are.”
“Hey, guess what? I don’t believe you,” Jenks declared. “Besides, it’s too late. I told you I’d take this into my own hands. I’m going to solve these murders for you.”
Jenks could hang up any moment and we’d lose him. This was my only chance. “Jenks, I’ll meet you. Anywhere you want.”
“Why would I want to meet you? I’ve seen enough of you to last a lifetime.”
“Because I know who did it,” I told him.
What he said next jolted me.
“So do I.”
And then he hung up.
Chapter 121
SIXTH… MARKET… TAYLOR…the streets shot by, the top hat on the roof of Chris Raleigh’s car flashing wildly.
Ellis.
Hyde.
We shot up Larkin, climbing through the lights, then rocked over the bumps as we careened over Nob Hill. In a matter of minutes, we arrived in Russian Hill.
Joanna lived on the top floor of a town house on the corner of Filbert and Hyde. We were no longer waiting to flush her out.
Jenks was loose; he had probably homed in on her. Now it was a matter of preventing more killing.
We slowed, cut the lights as we wove through the quiet, hilly streets. The house had been unguarded for maybe fifteen minutes. I didn’t know if Joanna was up there. Or where the hell Jenks was.
Chris pulled to the curb. We checked our guns and decided how to proceed.
Then I saw a sight that tore the breath from my lungs.
Chris saw it, too. “Christ, he’s here.”
From a narrow alley two houses away, a man in a beard and baggy sport coat emerged. He looked both ways as he hit the street, then he made his way down the block.
It was Jenks.
Raleigh pulled out his gun and reached for the door. I looked closer in disbelief, grabbed onto him. “Wait. Look again, Chris.”
We both gaped in amazement. He had the same look: the short reddish-gray hair, the same unmistakable beard.
But it wasn’t Jenks.
The figure was thinner, fairer; the hair was slicked back, hiding a longer length, not cut short. I could see that much.
It was a woman.
“That’s Joanna,” I said.
“Where’s Jenks?” Chris grunted. “This just keeps getting creepier.”
We watched the figure slink down the block as a frenzy of possibilities ran through my mind. This was creepy.
“I’ll follow her,” said Chris. “You go upstairs. Make sure it’s her, Lindsay. I’ll radio for support. Go on, Lindsay. Go.”
The next moment, I was out of the car, crossing the street toward Joanna’s apartment. Chris eased the Taurus down the block.
I pushed random buttons until a woman’s angry voice replied. I identified myself, and a gray-haired woman emerged from the apartment next to the front door. She announced that she was the landlady.
I badged her, got her to locate a key pronto. Then I told her to get back in her apartment.
I had my gun out, took off the safety. A film of hot sweat was building up on my face and neck.
I reached Joanna’s apartment on the third floor.