Denise was fifty yards away. Life was a fifty-yard play.
‘Hey, Jew, we’re gonna show you how to behave right.’
Denise stepped off the curb and ran across the street. The two guys jeered.
‘You want us to hunt you down? We can do that too.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Apartment, Lower Manhattan
March 8, 8.39 p.m.
Harper sat in his car outside Denise’s apartment and continued trying to call anyone who might know anything about her. He called the building manager at her apartment, her neighbors, her colleagues and her therapists, but no one knew where she might be. Denise had kept herself to herself over the last few months.
Eddie appeared at the window and handed Harper a piece of paper. ‘That’s his cell.’
Harper nodded and called Daniel, Denise’s ex-boyfriend. He introduced himself.
‘Not you again — what the hell do you want?’ said Daniel.
‘Denise might be in danger, Daniel. So let’s forget our hang-ups. Try to help us here.’
‘What kind of danger?’
‘Just answer my questions.’
‘I’ll try. What do you need to know?’
‘Denise started running after the abduction.’
‘Yeah. Obsessively.’
‘We’ve been in her apartment. Her running shoes are missing, but her cell phone was still there. We guess she’s out there running somewhere. We’ve got an APB on her. You any idea where she might be?’
‘Brooklyn, I guess,’ said Daniel.
‘Brooklyn’s a big place,’ said Harper.
‘Listen, she has a GPS wristwatch. She downloads her routes and times on to her PC. If you can get on to her computer, it’ll have all her routes mapped.’
‘That’s great, Daniel. Thank you.’
‘Let me know when you find her.’
‘Will do,’ said Harper. He called across to Gerry Ratten and sent him up to Denise’s apartment. Harper and Eddie followed closely behind. ‘Call Dispatch, get some squad cars ready in Brooklyn.’
Gerry stopped and turned. ‘Harper, you drive across to Brooklyn — I can talk you through the routes by phone. No point in us all sitting in her apartment.’
Harper stopped. ‘Yeah, let’s do that. It might save us a few minutes.’ He watched Gerry lumber into the building. ‘Let’s hope he finds something.’
‘If it’s on her PC, Gerry will find it,’ said Eddie.
Chapter Thirty
Brownsville, Brooklyn
March 8, 8.52 p.m.
Denise felt her heart pounding even faster now. It was hitting dangerous levels. She saw them head out towards her. She turned, started to run back towards Manhattan. A long way away now. Her head was hazy and confused, her vision began to tunnel.
‘Fuck you, bitch.’
The two neo-Nazis went back to the car, slipped in quickly and the driver pressed the gas hard. The car lurched off the curb, screeched as it reversed and turned.
Denise was sprinting. How long could she keep it up? After an hour’s run, not long. With her heart racing in fear, even less so. She felt her legs pounding. She could only hear the sound of her feet; all her senses had hollowed out a focus about a foot in front of her face. The sedan raced by, a hand slapped her ass, then laughter pealed ahead. The car ripped across her path, the suspension hitting the curb with a heavy clunk. Metal on concrete. Two guys jumped out. The slam of the car door. Quicker now. Closer. The last ten yards. Endgame.
Tommy Ocks smiled. His thick biceps were covered in tattoos. The sickening feeling of fear was drowning her. The debilitating fear.
‘She’s all hot and sweaty,’ called out the guy.
‘Just shoot her on the street, man. Don’t want my car messed up.’
Denise shouted but she had no voice.
‘You gonna repent, Jew? You gonna accept that you’re the inferior race?’
Denise looked to left and right. She was paralyzed and confused. There was a wire fence to her left. A small opening at the bottom where local kids slipped under to play in the abandoned lot.
‘Or I can make you repent,’ said the second guy, taking a step towards her. Denise took her chance and darted towards the fence. The two big guys lurched after her. She made it through the hole in the fence, but it was much too small for the broad-shouldered neo-Nazis chasing her. She stood. Across the vacant lot, she could see Riverdale. There were cars and people on Riverdale. She started to run.
Chapter Thirty-One
Crown Heights, Brooklyn
March 8, 8.56 p.m.
Harper and Eddie were driving fast through Brownsville.
‘Where are you?’ asked Gerry.
‘We’re coming back the same way,’ said Harper. ‘Is there no other route?’
‘This is pretty obsessive stuff, Harper. She runs the exact same route, has done for three months. She times it and tries to beat it. She’s brought her time down by twenty minutes. She’s got some strength.’
‘But she’s not here,’ said Harper.
‘Keep circling,’ Gerry told him. ‘I’ll keep looking.’
Harper turned to Eddie. ‘She’s gone off the path.’
‘Or someone made her.’
Harper felt the flurry of anxiety again. ‘I called Hate Crime. They can’t find these guys anywhere.’
Eddie turned the car and they started back up through the streets of Brownsville.
Harper’s cell went again. He picked up. It was Gerry Ratten. ‘What is it?’
‘I had a thought. If her GPS watch is sending out signals and getting pinpoint location…’
‘Can you trace it?’
‘I’m waiting. I called the company. They want a warrant. They can’t release location information.’
‘They’re sticking to that?’
‘Seems so.’
Harper hit the window. ‘Come on.’
‘So,’ said Gerry, ‘I tried a little trick or two I know.’
‘And?’
‘The watch sends signals back to base. You can get your runs logged in real-time to share with others and race with others. I’ve signed her up for this service. It’s just loading up.’
Harper held his breath. Gerry kept them waiting. ‘It’s worked,’ said Gerry. ‘I got it live. Not quite live. But three minutes ago she was two blocks west from where you are. Then left.’
‘Let’s go, Eddie. Two blocks.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Brownsville, Brooklyn
March 8, 9.05 p.m.
Behind her, she heard them curse and start climbing the fence, but Denise was fast. She was halfway across the lot by the time they jumped down. Her eyes were scanning the fence ahead. She spotted another gap, a vertical cut, and headed off to her right. She was going full speed but they were gaining on her quickly.
Five yards to the fence she felt a hand slap her back. She hurtled forward and rolled, with laughter following her. Footsteps skidding on the gravel. The gap was close enough now and she scrambled through. A hand caught her ankle. She turned over and stared at his face. His name was Paddy Ellery. He was sweating, his eyes were brimming with excitement.
‘I’m just going to hold the Jew bitch here. You jump over and help her back through.’
Denise watched Tommy Ocks move down to a post and start to climb. Paddy held her ankle hard and watched, his chest pounding. ‘God, you’re pretty for a Jew,’ he said.
Denise felt the fear subside for a moment, to be replaced by a sudden clarity. She had to do something. ‘I’m not a victim,’ she said. ‘I’m a predator.’ Her eyes peeled around. As Tommy Ocks reached the top of the fence, Denise saw a beer bottle lying on the ground. She pulled and leaned towards it, twisting her upper body, and grabbed it. She sat up and smashed the bottle on the ground. Then she jerked towards Paddy Ellery and drove the jagged edge of the smashed bottle into his arm. Ellery looked up; he didn’t seem to feel much, then he saw the deep cut and the bottle gleaming with his blood.
Ellery screamed as he let go, his arm oozing blood. It gave Denise the time she needed. She pushed herself up as Tommy Ocks jumped down from the fence and looked for instructions. He took too long and Denise edged back, her hand holding up the bloody broken bottle.