The Guilty - Jason Pinter [97]
shimmering towers of NewYork fading into night. The streets
began to fill as people straggled home from work. Finally,
after over a year I felt I was becoming a part of this city. It
hadn't been easy, thanks to assholes like Frank Rourke. Since
the dog crap prank, my desk had been left alone. I had gone
along with it, laughed it up, threw it in the trash and left it at
that. If you let guys like Frank know they'd drawn blood,
they'd grow addicted to the taste. I could bleed on my own
time.
I approached the apartment building and fished in my
pocket for the key. I wondered if we should move to a safer
neighborhood, live in a building with a doorman. Now that
Amanda was living with me I wasn't completely comfortable
with her walking home alone, especially since most days she
came home later than I did. I had to take care of the woman
I loved. Put her needs before mine. I was determined to prove
Jack wrong. I could balance work and relationships. I didn't
have to give in just because he did. Jack was a legend, but an
old school legend. I was strong. I could make it work.
As I turned the key in the lock, a voice broke the night and
froze my blood. I recognized that voice, only now it was
louder, angrier.
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I heard it again, turned around. Saw several pedestrians
staring up, up at the rooftops, their mouths open in masks of
horror. A man dialed his cell phone frantically. A woman
grabbed her son and ran.
Then I heard it again.
"Henry Parker!"
High above us, perched atop a four-story brownstone, illuminated by the moonlight, was William Henry Roberts.
One hand was empty. The other held a knife. The knife was
held to Mya Loverne's throat.
"Mya!" I shouted. Her eyes were frightened beyond
rational thought. Some sort of towel or cloth was in her
mouth. I ran forward, then stopped.
"Parker!" Roberts cried again.
"Leave her alone!" I shouted, unsure of what else to do. I
wasn't close enough to get to them. No cops were in sight.
Fucking Carruthers had pulled off my security detail, and now...
I called you, Henry.
Mya.
"This," Roberts said, his voice a mixture of pathos and
breathless glee, like a man taking perverse excitement in reprimanding a dog. "This is what happens. I control information, not you, Parker. I give you history to write about. So
consider this a present, Henry. From me to you."
And with that, before I could react, before my weak legs
could respond or my mouth could cry out, William pushed
Mya off the roof.
I shouted "No!" as her body plummeted out of view. The
horde of onlookers gasped. Mya disappeared into the alley
behind the building. I ran toward it, then heard the most
horrible sound of my life. A terrible thump as something hit
the ground.
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Then I looked up, and Roberts was gone.
I ran as fast as I could, the world around me disappearing in
a blur. I sprinted into the alley, then covered my mouth in shock.
Mya was lying on the ground. Her eyes were open, staring
at the sky. I could see a small pool of blood below her.
I ran over and grabbed her hand.
"No," I whispered, frantically checking her wrists, her
neck, anything. I thought I felt a pulse. Weak, but there. I
could hear 911 calls being made somewhere behind me.
"Mya, please, oh please God say something. Don't you dare
die. Don't you dare. Please. "
Then she blinked. Once, twice. Her mouth quivered. A
noise came from her mouth, a small bubble of blood bursting
over her lips.
"Somebody get an ambulance!" I shouted, wiping away
the blood. "Please!"
"They're on the way," another voice yelled.
"Don't you go," I said to Mya. "Don't you go. You're
going to be fine." My eyes darted, hoping to catch a glimpse
of Roberts, but the murdering bastard was nowhere to be
found. I took Mya's hand. It was growing cold.
I called you, Henry.
"I know you did, and I'm here. Please, baby, please stay
with me."
"Henry? Oh my God..."
I recognized that voice. I stood up, my footing unsure.
Amanda was standing in the alley. Her face was white.
"Oh God, Henry, what