Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [220]
“Hey, wait a minute.” Turner yelled at the man loud enough for even Delaney and Milhaven to look. “I want to talk to you.”
The man bolted and so did Turner. Delaney started to ask Maggie something, but she didn’t wait to hear. She raced across the parking lot, gun drawn, its nose to the ground. The crowd scattered out of her way with gasps and one scream.
All Maggie could think was this time Albert Stucky would not escape.
CHAPTER 22
Maggie’s heart slammed against her chest. Turner had disappeared around a corner and into another alley. She followed without slowing down and without hesitation. Halfway down, she made herself stop. The alley was unusually narrow, barely wide enough to accommodate a small vehicle. The tall brick buildings blocked out any streetlights. The moon was only a sliver, leaving dim bulbs to light the way, some cracked but most bare, hanging above rickety back doors.
She squinted, examining the shadows and trying to listen over the pounding in her ears. By now she was breathing much too hard from such a short run. Her skin felt clammy. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to be on alert. Her muscles tensed. Where the hell had they gone? She had been minutes, no, seconds, behind them.
Something rattled behind her. She spun around, her Smith & Wesson kept close to her body, but aimed and ready to blow to pieces the empty Burger King cup. She watched the breeze lift and push it down the alley as she tried to steady her nerves. Calm. She needed to stay calm, keep focused.
She turned, keeping her grip firm on the revolver. Again she strained to hear over the thunder in her ears. The cool night air sent a shiver down her back. She needed to breathe, to control the gasps. They were gasps caused by fear, not exhaustion. Damn it! She wouldn’t let him do this to her. She needed to slow down. She needed to concentrate.
She took careful steps as she proceeded. The cobblestone street was old, with uneven and chipped bricks, some oddly spaced. It would be easy to twist an ankle, to stumble or trip, to become vulnerable. Still, she didn’t look down. She kept her eyes moving, watching though it was difficult to see beyond fifty to a hundred feet. Was it getting darker, or was it simply her imagination? Her eyes darted over everything, checking stacks of boxes, black doorways, rusty fire escapes, anyplace Albert Stucky could hide behind or sneak into. He wouldn’t trick her this time.
Where the hell was Turner? She wanted to call out, but couldn’t risk it. Was it possible they had run another way? No, she was certain they had disappeared around this corner and into this alley.
Ahead she could see an open space where two cars were parked. A Dumpster blocked her view of the entire area. Behind her in the distance footsteps ran past, missing this narrow alley. From the open space she heard muffled voices. She pushed her body against the grimy brick wall and inched her way along. Her chest ached. Her knees felt mushy. Her palms were sweaty, but she gripped the gun’s handle, keeping her finger on the trigger and the gun’s nose down.
She came to the edge of the building and had nowhere else to go. She crouched and snuck behind the Dumpster. Where the hell were Delaney and Milhaven? By now they should have backtracked. Her eyes strained to see beyond the darkness to the end of the alley. Nothing. Now the voices ahead of her were more clear.
“Hold on a minute.” She recognized Turner’s voice. “What the hell do you have there?”
She waited, but there was no answer to his question. If Stucky had a knife, she’d never hear the damage until it was too late. She peeked out just enough to see the back of the leather jacket. Good. He was facing the opposite direction. He wouldn’t see her. But how close was he to Turner?
She heard footsteps behind her, making their way noisily toward her over the cobblestone. From her hiding spot, she couldn’t see them, couldn’t wave them off, couldn’t warn them. Damn it! In seconds Stucky would hear them, too, if he hadn’t already.