Kiss the Girls and Make Them Cry(96)

“You’re confident Carter won’t talk?”

“I’m scheduled to meet with him later tonight. To answer your question, I am one hundred percent confident Carter won’t breathe a word to anyone. After tonight, he won’t breathe at all,” Carlyle said in a deadly calm voice.





109





Michael Carter remained transfixed as he listened to the conversation between Junior and Gina Kane. He was certain he could not be held accountable for playing a role in the murders of Cathy Ryan and Paula Stephenson. When he had provided information about their whereabouts, there was zero evidence that he was dealing with a killer.

From the moment he began suspecting Sherman might be behind the murders, Junior had encouraged him in that belief. How could he have been so gullible? he asked himself. He had accepted without question Junior’s story about Sherman leaving the building at the same time as Myers the night the CFO disappeared. He had tried to link Sherman to the murders by reviewing his credit card transactions. It had not occurred to him to do the same analysis with Junior’s cards.

He felt himself barely breathing when Junior revealed his plan for him, “After tonight, he won’t breathe at all.”

Nervous beads of perspiration forming on his forehead, Carter got up and began to pace around the small living room. A few minutes earlier he had been considering the possibility of making a run for it, literally fleeing the country. He had a little over a million in his attorney trust account and almost as much in his personal account. He could wire money to a new account he would establish in the Cayman Islands. He could look on Google to find out which countries didn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States, then go online to find the next available direct flight to one of those countries out of JFK or Newark.

As his mind raced forward with the plan, a heavy dose of reality put a wet blanket on the idea. Wiring money took time, probably forty-eight hours, particularly when you have to open an account first. Were Beverly’s and Zack’s passports in the apartment or in the safe deposit box at the bank? If the latter, he wouldn’t be able to get them until nine in the morning. Would she agree to go? If she didn’t, would he leave his son behind?

When the police found Kane’s body, one of the first things they’d do is examine her cell phone. If they couldn’t find it, they’d go to her carrier and get a record of her calls. It would show the call Carter made to her earlier in the evening on a phone registered in his name. For that matter, it would show the call he was listening to right now! He would quickly become a Person of Interest and be placed on a watch list. Any attempt to use his passport would trigger questions and his arrest.

I can be the good guy here, Carter thought to himself. I can be the one who saved the reporter’s life. Maybe they’ll even portray me as a hero. The moment I heard her life was in danger, I didn’t think about the consequences for me; I called the police. Satisfied, and more than a little proud of himself, he dialed 911.



* * *



Four minutes later a dispatch went out to all units in Manhattan: “Be on the lookout for a black Lincoln Navigator, plate number…”





110





Feelings of despair filled Gina’s mind. Where were the police sirens that would have ensued if she had successfully dialed Charlie? They would have been able to trace her movements through her cell phone signal. Who knew what Carter would do if he were listening to this? Maybe he was in on the plan to trick her into getting in Junior’s car?

She mourned the life she would have had with Ted and their children who would never be born. She wondered how or if her father would survive the loss of another family member. At least Marian would be there to help.

Snap out of it! she ordered herself. If I’m meant to go down, I’ll go down swinging!

“So what’s in store for me, Mr. Carlyle, an accident or a suicide?”

He smiled. “Oh, Gina, nothing as creative as that.” He leaned over to the bag by his feet, pulled out a pistol, and pointed it at her. “When they find your body in the Park, the only question will be whether Dick Sherman was behind it or were you the victim of a senseless mugging?”

Junior looked toward the front seat and said, “Oscar, it’s about a half mile ahead on the right.”

Time is running out, Gina thought. What can I use as a weapon? There was a pen in the bag on the floor by her feet, but it would be so obvious if she reached for it. There was one other possibility.

Junior was alternating between looking at her and searching forward for a spot he had chosen. The gun was in his right hand, about three feet from where she was sitting. Gina slipped her left hand below her left thigh until she felt her phone. She leaned forward slightly as she slid the phone behind her back. Using her right hand, she eased it along the seat until she had a firm grip on it with her right hand.

There was the faint wail of a siren in the distance. Junior pointed the gun at her as he looked around trying to discern from what direction the sound was coming.

Gina recognized her chance. Throwing herself in his direction, with her left hand she grabbed the barrel of the pistol and pointed it away from her. With her right hand she lashed out at his face while gripping the cell phone. It struck home. She heard a yelp of pain as the hard edge of the phone shattered his nose. Blood spattered on both of them.