Blindside (Michael Bennett #12)(61)

He’d wanted—no, needed—to see them dead. He’d never experienced this feeling. Not naked, premeditated murderous urges.

He and Ollie were slow to move. He saw Natalie and Bennett struggle out of the other car. He tried his door, but it was jammed shut. There was nothing he could do. Christoph screamed in frustration and slammed his shoulder against the door. Finally it started to give.

Ollie stirred next to him. Then he seemed to snap into alertness. His first words were “Are you insane? You could’ve killed us.”

Christoph’s eyes were fixed on Bennett. “Get moving. They’ll escape if we don’t get to them now.”

As soon as Christoph stepped out onto the sidewalk, his legs gave way for a moment. He had to steady himself on the car.

On the other side of the vehicle, Ollie managed to stand up, and he took a moment to check himself. He said, “My ribs are cracked. It hurts like a son of a bitch. Satisfied?”

Christoph had almost tuned him out completely. He marched toward the priest, now trying to move quickly away from the church with a young man.

Ollie caught up to Christoph and put a hand on his shoulder. He had to wheeze for a moment because he was having difficulty breathing. “I’m not about to threaten a priest,” he said. “We know they’re in the church. We’ll figure out where they went.” With some effort, Ollie managed to turn him toward the front door of the church.

Inside, without any pews to look under, they were quickly able to tell that no one was inside the nave.

Ollie, walking along slowly because of his injuries, said, “Back here and toward the offices.”

Christoph followed his partner down a long hallway. Ollie mumbled, “This place is built on a hill. I’ll bet there’s a way to get downstairs and out the back.”

Christoph grumbled and pulled out his knife. He didn’t want to be surprised by this cop again.





CHAPTER 85





THERE WAS ALMOST no light at the bottom of the hill behind the church. I was startled when I looked straight up and saw the night filled with stars. It wasn’t easy to see any constellations in New York. On the other hand, I would know where to get help in New York. Help I could trust.

We were outside but not safe. When we reached a narrow road, we broke into a jog. I kept looking over my shoulder at the church sitting up on the hill. I didn’t know what to expect: someone shooting at us from the top or someone chasing us along the road.

We had to walk back up two flights of concrete stairs built into the hillside to get to the main streets of the surrounding neighborhood. This was our best chance to disappear.

Natalie said, “I recognize the area. We’re in Sikupilli.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I just know where we are. There’s a lake and a park just over there. There should be some thick bushes. Somewhere we can hide.”

I liked the way she was thinking.

At the top of the stairs, I didn’t see a park. I didn’t see much of anything except a few houses. There was almost no traffic at this time of night.

I hurried Natalie along, desperately looking for the park or anyplace else we could hide. I was ready to hunker down for the night and see if we couldn’t find some help in the light of day.

Then Natalie pointed. “Over there. Pae Park. And look, Pae J?rv.” She was excited now.

I said, “What does j?rv mean?”

“It means lake. There’s a big lake in the park. See that bridge? If we cross it, there should be plenty of places to hide.”

I studied the bridge for a moment. It was about twenty-five feet off the water and built for pedestrian traffic.

We’d come this far. It was as good a plan as any.

It took longer than I’d thought to reach the bridge. Natalie didn’t look tired, but she was scared. I was, too.

We rested for a moment, looking across the bridge. Was there another way out of the park or across the lake? I didn’t want to get stranded with our only way out blocked by a killer.

Then I heard a gunshot, and a bullet pinged off the rail of the bridge. A second later, I heard the report from the pistol. This time I didn’t need to prod Natalie to move. She sprinted across the bridge with me following her. Another shot rang out behind us.

About halfway across the bridge, near a red support beam, we paused. I’ll admit I needed to catch my breath. But I also wanted to see if both of the killers were chasing us. We might have a chance to overpower one of them.

I looked back down the length of the bridge, and standing a few feet in was the Dutchman I had escaped from. Christoph. Even in the faint light from the neighboring streets, I could see him clearly enough. He stood there like some kind of specter with a pistol in his right hand, dangling by his side, and what I thought might be that Gerber knife in his left. He no longer looked like an underwear model, all neat and groomed. Now he looked like a crazy person. His shirt was covered in dried blood, hair whipped out in every direction, and I thought I could see bruises covering his face. He just stood there, staring at us. If he was trying to look creepy, it worked.

In an attempt to stall, I yelled to him, “Impressive. You found us.”

The tall Dutchman called out, “A child could see where the church’s basement should be. Many old buildings here in Tallinn have elaborate back exits.”