What Have You Done(61)
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
The two men stared at each other, neither saying a word. Sean finally turned and walked out into the hall. The rules of the game were changing by the minute. He had to roll with it and make his adjustments if things were going to work out in the end. He needed to bend without breaking. There was still time.
46
Liam walked among the throngs of people who meandered along the path of Kelly Drive, hidden within the crowds. He was still wearing the outfit he’d stolen from the hospital, but he’d gotten rid of the red hat. It was too noticeable. The jacket was tied around his waist. He approached the cluster of storage houses that made up Boathouse Row, on the edge of the Schuylkill River, and was relieved to see several members of a crew team working.
He approached the team with Kerri’s photo in hand from the pictures he’d taken from Kiki and his grandfather at the dock. While he had been hiding in one of the subway tunnels in North Philadelphia, he’d studied the picture, and something had struck him odd about it. Now he needed confirmation.
“Excuse me,” he called as he jogged from the safety of the crowd toward one of the kids who was lining oars next to his shell. “I was hoping you could help me.”
The kid was tall with long blond hair, athletic and already tan despite just coming off a cold winter. He stood as Liam approached. “What’s up?”
Liam held out the picture.
“Don’t know her. Never seen her. Sorry.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.” Again, he held the picture out. “Take a look and tell me if that’s a crew team rowing behind the girl? Over her left shoulder.”
The kid took the photo and held it close. “Yeah, that’s crew. Not sure of the team, but it’s definitely crew. You can see the coxswain with the megaphone right there.”
“Does anyone around here practice on the Delaware River? By the Ben Franklin Bridge?”
A chuckle. “Are you kidding me? You’d get run over by the ships, and the current’s way too strong. Around here you crew the Schuylkill, or you don’t crew.”
“You’re sure.”
“Positive.”
“I was told this picture was taken at the docks by Penn’s Landing.”
The kid took another look. “Nah, this picture was taken about a half mile up the road. Right there you can see the orange signs on the other side of the bank where the old Washington Walk Bridge was closed. I don’t know who told you it was the Delaware, but they don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”
“No problem.”
Liam left the kid and made his way back into the crowd. He was walking, but his mind was a million miles away. He knew he was being framed, but now that he was a fugitive and a suspect in two murders, it would be hard to convince anyone else. He had to get to Sean.
The cell phone in his pocket rang, and Liam looked at the caller ID. It was Sean.
“Hey, I’m glad you called. We need to talk. I found—”
“Shut up and listen. They’re tracking you through your phone’s GPS. They know you’re at Boathouse Row, and they’re coming. Shut it off and run.”
“But I—”
“Run!”
The line disconnected. Liam powered off his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket. He looked around and saw a few police officers walking with the crowd. They didn’t appear to be searching for anything, but he couldn’t be sure. Another officer on mounted patrol took his horse through Fairmount Park, where he and his brother had met only a few days ago. Sean had asked him that day if he’d killed Kerri, and he’d said no. Today he was surer of that answer than ever.
The first set of steps leading up to the museum was only about a hundred yards away. Liam turned around and began to walk back up the street. He went quickly, his head down, the people around him his only cover. The crowd was thick and slow-moving, filled with tourists stopping to take pictures or study maps as they made their way toward International Boulevard. He moved around them as best he could, weaving in and out, jumping into the street, then back onto the sidewalk. When he was at a small clearing, he glanced over his shoulder. One of the two officers was staring right at him. He quickly looked away and kept moving, but there was no doubt. He’d been spotted.
Liam jogged to the stairs and began to hop up, two at a time. He could see in the reflection of a mirrored sculpture on the first landing that both officers were in a calm pursuit, one of them talking into his radio. They were closing in.
When he reached the top of the stairs, a small group of college kids clapped and cheered as they pointed at him and sang the Rocky song. He spun around and saw more officers below, cutting into the crowd and spreading out, covering the perimeter of the museum. He surveyed his surroundings, trying to find an escape route. Inside the museum itself would be his only real chance.
The line of people in front of the entrance moved even slower than those walking on the streets outside. Liam pushed his way through and ran down the hall to the right, then took a large set of stairs to the second floor. He knew police procedures. One team would cover all the entrances and exits while a larger team would each take a floor to begin an extensive yet quiet search. More officers would be placed outside. They would cast a net over the entire property. His opportunity to escape was closing with each passing second.