Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(43)

Stop it! Kill the fear and think cold. She saw Agent Hibbard’s face again, in the classroom at Quantico. He’d had them repeat his mantra to themselves in his deep Southern drawl. “You’re in trouble. You’re alone. You don’t have your weapon. What’s the first thing you do?” He had everyone in the classroom say it aloud. But saying it was easier than doing it. Pippa took deep breaths to slow her breathing, ignored her throbbing head, and quietly stamped her feet again. She could handle herself in a hand-to-hand fight, she knew it, but her hands were a mess. She could try to take Black Hoodie down if he came back for her. But he had a gun, and she didn’t. She felt another wave of dizziness. What symptom would hit her next? Would she black out again? She had to get out of this ancient rotting building, find Chief Wilde, and give him a treat to make his Monday night. She knew Wilde lived on Upper Marlin Road, only a short distance from downtown St. Lumis. She’d call Dillon from the chief’s house. He had to be worried. Was he already on his way?

She made her way carefully through the rows of shelves, got to the ramshackle door, closed now on its rusted hinges, and drew it inward quietly. She looked outside. The derelict old buildings stood like desolate monoliths framed by the darkening sky. She didn’t see or hear anyone.

She set out, keeping to the side streets, close to buildings. It was nearly full-on dark now. She heard voices from inside houses, heard a TV and a father yelling at a kid to get himself to bed. Already? When did it get completely dark in early November? Six o’clock?

She didn’t see anyone as she made her way through downtown, except for a couple of teenagers on a corner, trying, she imagined, to find something to do. It had to be late enough for the stores to have closed. As she neared the Chesapeake, the wind picked up. It felt like November now, and she was wearing only her jacket. But the cold kept her head clear and took her mind off the pain. The police station was on the way to the chief’s house, so Pippa headed there, hoping Wilde hadn’t left yet. There was a light on in the large front window of the station. She saw an older man, wearing a parka indoors. Was the heat in the station out? He looked to be working on a crossword puzzle. No one else seemed to be inside. She didn’t even consider going in. She turned away and walked to the corner of West Main and Faire Street, toward Wilde’s house. Then she heard a man’s low voice not twenty feet from her talking on a cell. Was it Black Hoodie’s voice? Was he looking for her? It didn’t matter.

Pippa ran.





27


Pippa hugged the shadows as she passed a half dozen houses and finally reached Upper Marlin Road. The houses were set a good distance apart from one another, thick stands of trees dividing them. She had a stitch in her side, but she kept running under the shadows of naked-branched trees. She was breathing hard when she saw a small white cottage. There was a light on in the front window and a nondescript compact car in the driveway. He had to be at home. She hoped he was alone, but if he wasn’t, well, she’d think of something. She held her side as she walked up the flagstone path to the small front porch.

She didn’t have her FBI creds or her Glock, couldn’t prove who she was. She knew he’d take her in, but how he’d react when she told him what had happened was another question. She looked around again, didn’t see any sign of Black Hoodie or anyone else.

Pippa took a deep breath and knocked. She heard a loud bark and scrabbling paws on hardwood racing to the door. Then Chief Wilde’s voice, “Calm yourself, Gunther.”

Pippa drew a deep breath. What to say? Hello, Chief. Happy Monday evening. Have I got a bit of a story for you. And, oh yes, I think they’re looking for me.

Wilde opened the door and did a double take. “You’re Pippa, right? Cinelli? What’s happened to you? There’s blood on your face. Well, blood a lot of places.”

She managed a smile. “I know I look like I’ve been mugged, but I’m basically okay. There is a problem, though. The man who did this—he’s wearing a black hoodie—is probably looking for me. Could I come in, and can we lock all the doors and windows? And maybe I can borrow your cell phone? Black Hoodie took mine.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, slammed the door. “What? My cell phone?”

“Yes, Black Hoodie took mine. He also took both my Glocks and my creds. I escaped and must have just missed him coming back to the building where he tied me up. Like I said, he’s probably out there, looking for me.”

He started to say something, then shook his head. “No, Gunther, stay down.” Pippa was hit with another wave of dizziness and grabbed the closest thing—his arm.

“Whoa, you need a doctor.”

“No, no, give me a second. I’ll be fine. I’m a bit concussed is all.” The dizziness passed, and Pippa straightened. She saw she’d gotten blood on his sleeve. “Please lock the front door, Chief. He must be out there, maybe close, watching the house. I’m sorry I got blood on you.”

“Don’t worry about the blood. Stay put.” He drew his Beretta and went outside, closing the door behind him. Pippa stood there, tense, afraid Black Hoodie would shoot him. Minutes rolled by. Finally, he was back. He locked the front door, slid the dead bolt home. “No one’s around that I could see. We’re all secure. Come with me to the kitchen, and I’ll see if I can fix you up while you tell me what happened to you.”