The Cutting Edge (Lincoln Rhyme #14)(92)

She tore the check out; the noise seemed particularly odd and troubling, something surgical. She thought of Vimal’s wound and his refusal to go to the ER.

Another sigh.

She walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, heading for the back door, when she heard a familiar click.

The front door opening.

Oh, no! Her mother must’ve returned early. But why the front door? The woman would have parked in the alley beside the garage.

Adeela walked to the doorway and peeked around the corner to the living room. She froze and gave a quiet gasp.

A man in a black coat and ski mask, holding one of those box-cutting knives in his right hand, was looking around. He spotted Taalia and moved quietly up behind her.

No, no, no!

Adeela stepped back, looked around the kitchen and ran to the island. A moment later, holding a ten-inch carving knife, she strode into the front hall. Her gaze toward him was pure steel.

The man blinked, glanced at the knife, and smiled. “Ah, little bird. Look at what you have there. You are the big one, Adeela.”

This would be the killer.

“And cute little Taalia, little birds.”

How the hell did he know their names?

“What do you want?” Her voice was firm. In fact, she didn’t feel an ounce of fear. She had told herself that this man was an infection, a weak blood vessel, a shattered bone. This was a clinical problem to be addressed.

He stepped closer. She lifted the knife to waist level. The sharpened side of the blade was up. She’d learned this in some spy movie.

He blinked and paused.

A gun appeared in his other hand, fished from his pocket.

Her resolve faltered for a fraction of a second. But then returned. Somehow, Adeela smiled. “A gunshot. The neighbors are home. They’d hear. You’d get arrested.”

He nodded at her sister, still lost in the oblivion of pixels and digital sound. He asked in an oddly accented voice, “What she listens to? Music kids listening to now. Lots and lots of crap, aren’t you thinking? I like strings, I like smooth horns, you know what it is.”

“You want money? You want the TV?”

He glanced. “Sixty-inch Sony? Ah, yes, yes. You help me carry to car? Thank you, birdie. No, no. You know what I want. And you tell me.”

He pointed the gun at the back of Taalia’s head.

“No,” Adeela growled and stepped closer. Still holding the knife. “Don’t point that at her. Turn it away.”

“Ah, but you sure I not fire gun. Scaredy of the noise. So why you worry?”

“Now.”

He hesitated, not sure what to make of her, and pointed the gun at the floor.

“If I tell you what you want to know, you’ll leave?”

“When parents are coming home?”

“Soon,” she said.

“And father, he is cop or soldier with big gun he carry all the time. Right? And knows karate like Bruce Lee.”

“No. But the more people, the more fucked you are.”

“Ha! No, no, am thinking nobody home for long time. You have nice knife, I have knife. Maybe we roll around and see who is the stabbed one first.” A sick grin.

Still Taalia had no idea of the drama behind her. Her small, perfect head nodded in time to a song.

He lifted the gun to Adeela now. “Not having time for shit like this.” The smirk vanished. “Vimal. Where he is?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes.”

He replaced the gun in his pocket and, with his thumb, pushed the blade farther out. He stepped closer to Taalia.

Adeela moved closer yet, chest heaving from the deep breaths, heart pounding, blood pressure through the ceiling, she thought with manic clarity, adrenaline levels soaring.

The man’s blue eyes were cold as marbles. He’d kill a child as easily as talk to her.

But then the frown. He cocked his head.

The sirens were just audible.

At last!

He looked past Adeela, into the kitchen—on the wall, where the central station alarm panel door was open, revealing the panic button for the police that Adeela had pressed when she’d picked up the knife.

The man’s shoulders rose and his eyes filled with madness. He lunged toward Taalia, maybe thinking he’d kidnap her and, somehow, trade her for Vimal.

This was not going to happen. Adeela jumped toward him, slashing with the knife. No design, no strategy, just swinging the blade toward his face, so fast the metal was invisible.

He was far larger than she, surely far stronger—and undoubtedly had experience with his knife. But he hadn’t expected her assault and he stumbled back. Adeela put herself between Taalia and him.

He stood still for a moment, and she fully expected that he’d pull the gun out and kill them both. Not for any particular reason—he had the mask on; she couldn’t identify him. But he would murder simply because he was insane.

Now the sirens were louder.

He grimaced. “You fucking bird. I am remembering you. I come back and visit.” He fled out the front door. Adeela followed and ran onto the porch. She saw him leap into a red Toyota and speed away. She didn’t get the license.

Adeela ran to her sister and pulled her to her feet. The headset fell off the girl, who gave a shriek of surprise and fear.

“What?”

“Come with me.”