Daylight (Atlee Pine, #3)(43)

Pine groaned at her gullibility. But she had been so fixated on finding out information, and, to her credit, Axilrod had played her role to perfection. She was clearly experienced in the art of deception.

And now I’m probably being framed for Weathers’s murder.

She had to get out of here. She slammed her shoulder against the door. It didn’t budge.

Then she froze as the sounds of footsteps reached her.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” said a voice. “Here, kitty cat.”

Pine backed away into the darkest corner she could find.

“Come out come out wherever you are,” said the man tauntingly, which made Pine’s blood burn.

The confident footsteps grew closer and suddenly a beam of light shot out and across the warehouse space.

“It will be faster if you don’t run,” said the voice. “If you run, I’ll make it slow. If you stand still, it’ll be over in a second. One little cut and it’s over. I promise, kitty, kitty.”

The man came around the corner. Pine squinted to see him better. He was tall, lean, broad shouldered. Maybe around her age. And the knife he held was serrated and glistened in the light. It had a curved blade and looked like something a ninja warrior might use to finish off a foe.

“I know you can hear me, kitty cat.”

“Why did you kill Weathers?” Pine said as she slipped away and took up position in another corner.

“Don’t be slow on the uptake. You told her you were pregnant with her boyfriend’s baby. She got pissed. You met up here. Got in a fight. You killed her, kitty, kitty, but not before she cut you with the knife I’m holding right now. It just took longer for you to bleed out. Then it’s case closed.”

“No one is going to believe that.”

“That’s not my department. I’m a specialist. I’m sure you know in what.”

“Bullshit.” As soon as she spoke, Pine moved again. Her movements weren’t haphazard. They were methodical. And she was now glad they had taken her shoes. She could move silently.

And the man was now moving toward where the sound of her voice had come from.

“You’re running away. I told you not to do that.”

“Help me, someone help me,” cried out Pine, drawing his attention to the spot, but she had already moved.

“There is no one to help you.”

He crept forward. No more talking. He was focused and wary, and maybe a little nervous that things were not going exactly to plan.

The powerful kick to his back sent the man headlong into the opposite wall. He slowly rose but Pine had already charged forward and struck him with a thunderous right hook, followed by a whip kick to his neck. He toppled to the side, cursing and moaning.

She barked, “Come here, kitty, kitty. So I can finish this.”

He staggered up, grabbed a box, and threw it at her. She dodged out of the way, but that gave him time to grab the knife that he’d dropped.

“Now we’ll see how good you are, bitch—”

A second later the knife was flying out of his hand as Pine crushed it with another whip kick and then locked the man down in an arm bar. She pitched forward, taking his limb to an angle that it had never been designed to go, and they landed on the floor. She jerked back with all her strength on his arm.

He screamed as multiple bones and tendons in his arm snapped all at once. He kicked at her, slamming a knee into her arm, which sent pain rocketing up and down her right side. Then he did it a second time, which made her let go. The two scrambled to their feet. As Pine was preparing to attack again, her foot slipped and she went down, hard.

He took the opportunity to run away, holding his ruined arm and sobbing in pain.

In a few seconds he had disappeared. Somewhere in the distance, Pine heard another door open and then slam shut.

“And I hate fucking cats,” she screamed in his direction.

Pine slowly rose and shook out her arm where a stinger she’d gotten from the right hook she’d struck him with had gone all the way up her shoulder. She turned to the door again, backed up a bit, then ran forward, pivoted, and kicked her right leg out, smashing her toughened heel against the wood. The door buckled under the thunderous blow but did not open.

She set her feet, studied the door, and then fired off a front knee kick right below the lock. The shaft broke free from the doorjamb, and the weakened portal swung loose on its hinges.

She peered out to see an ill-lighted set of stairs leading down. She listened for a few seconds, for footsteps, breathing, words, anything that would give away the presence of someone other than her being here.

She went down the steps tentatively, reached a landing, turned, and kept going down. At the bottom of the stairs, she paused in front of the door. There was a window next to it, but it had been blacked out. She could hear noises outside, cars, what might have been a conversation, the screech of a cat, more cars.

She reached out and turned the doorknob. To her surprise the door was unlocked.

She drew a long breath, and swung the door open. She looked out onto a darkened street, where it was raining steadily. She saw no passersby, which made sense on such an inclement night, and she had no idea how late it was.

A car passed by and was gone before she could step outside. She went down a short flight of steps and reached the ground.

An instant later she was hit by a strong spotlight.