chapter 108
“Dan?”
Of anyone I’d ever pictured, Dan Velacruz was the last person I’d ever thought capable of murder. I’d known him for over a decade, his face appearing whenever anything newsworthy happened, his pieces guaranteed to paint us in a positive light.
Nothing, in that moment, in that empty stairwell, seemed positive. I stared at him and tried to figure out the pieces I was missing from this puzzle. He pulled his hand out of his cheap suit pocket, and I watched, time stuttering to a stop, as he opened the blade.
I stepped backward, and felt the edge of the stair, my descent stopped as I balanced at the top of the flight. “Please.” The word was tissue paper against fire, a whisper of smoke that he couldn’t have heard. He stepped toward me, and my hand tightened on the railing.
I could run. I could kick off these damn heels and sprint, barefoot, down the flight.
But kicking off Louboutin slingbacks wasn’t an easy task, and it would certainly eat up precious seconds, seconds where his fingers would close on me and that knife could gut me.
Just like Rachel’s side. Just like April’s neck.
An image of Tiffany flashed before me, her eyes blank, her mouth open, her caked and dried tongue sticking out slightly through the opening in her lips.
My tongue would not dry. I’d be found before then, unless he planned on sneaking me out of Yankee Damn Stadium after a World Series win.
The win reminded me of the curse, a curse that should be beaten, our fans safe.
I found my voice, the edge of my left heel hanging off the edge of the step.
“We won,” I said weakly. “Shouldn’t everything be fine? I mean…”
“You thought the killings would stop,” he stated, seeing my thought process, a look, almost pity, crossing his face.
“Yes.” He shouldn’t be here, in this stairwell. It was a private one, for staff only, used for emergencies when the staff elevators were too busy, the stale air in here proof of their non-use.
“I didn’t kill them because of the World Series, Ty. That…” he waved his hand into empty space, the knife in it flashing, “that was an assumption the papers made, an assumption the police adopted, all of it embraced by the fans. Only Yankee fans would make this all about baseball.”
“It wasn’t a stretch,” I pointed out, my stupid mouth unable to contain itself. “The Yankees’ necklace, the girl in the jersey right outside our gates—”
“Oh, Ty,” he interrupted, his voice quiet and sad, stepping forward.
Closer. Closer. The knife in arm’s reach.
If he punched out, right now, it could hit so many vulnerable places.
My stomach, cutting across the faint stretch marks that showed in harsh light.
My heart, so full and happy, just minutes earlier.
My lungs, empty caverns that had suddenly forgotten how to function.
I watched it, his hands stilling as he stopped, and I lifted my gaze slowly, carefully, to his face.
A face filled with so much pity that I almost forgot he was the enemy.
“You are so much smarter than this. Think.”
I tried to think. I tried to understand. I tried to see an escape to this madness. But my mind failed me on all three fronts. Instead, I began to panic, painful bits of the past pushing forward.
“The baby.” I looked out on the water, not turning when Tobey stepped closer, shuddering when his hand gently touched the top of mine. I pulled it away, and he didn’t come closer. “It’s gone.”
He didn’t respond. I needed a response from him.
I needed to know how he felt, if he was as shaken as I was.
I needed him to push through my resistance and pull me against his chest. I needed to sob and scream and break down, and I needed him to be the strong one, to pick up my pieces and put me back together.
But he didn’t. He only stood there, next to me, both of us staring out into the dark, and said nothing.
“Rachel Frepp,” Dan said. “What do you know about her?”
Nothing. She’d gone to a few games. She worked as a valet.
Was just like all of them, blonde and gorgeous.
I shook my head, my hysteria rising. “I won’t tell anyone,” I whispered.
“You can just go, right now. The police will never know. I promise.” In that moment, I meant it.
I would let him go, would risk another woman’s life just to remove myself from danger.
I stared him down and let him see the sincerity in my eyes.
I was so close to finally leaving Tobey, to leaving this life, to being happy.
I couldn’t die now, not when I was in reach of everything I’d ever wanted.
His expression soured, and I saw the minute his patience stopped.
“You misunderstand what I’m doing here, Ty. I’m here for you.”