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Laura glanced up at the sky as she got out of the car, noticing just how low the sun was. They had the benefit of it being late summer on their side, because darkness wasn’t happening until later in the day. But it was still coming. It was happening inexorably, and there was nothing they could do to stop it.
The only thing they could do was to stop Ed Bronston before he struck again.
The building they had pulled up in front of was an apartment block, shabby and faded. Paint was peeling on the window frames of the ground floor, and someone had tagged spray paint by the entrance. Their path to the door was littered with a punctured football, empty chip packages, and a broken down old children’s stroller with no wheels.
It wasn’t the nicest place to live. Bronston had gotten out of a psych ward, and before that prison, so there was a good chance that he was unemployed now. If this was even his home. Most parolees had to live with a family member, someone who would take them in and vouch for them. If time wasn’t so much of the essence, Laura would have stopped to talk to the parole officer first, find out what Bronston was doing now. What his situation was.
But the parole officer had not answered the call when Laura had tried in the car, and there was no time to wait. They had to go in now, even if that meant not having all of the information on hand. It made her itchy, made her hands twitch back toward her gun in fear, but what else could they do? If they waited, another death was certain.
But even that thought pulled her up short as they approached the intercom that controlled the front door. Death—she had been thinking all the while about the death of the next victim. But what about Nate?
His death was coming soon, too, and Laura hadn’t allowed him to get close enough to potentially trigger another vision. She had been too focused on the case. She hadn’t wanted to see his death coming. She just wanted to save as many lives as possible, and then worry about him afterward. She had assumed that his death was a long way off.
But maybe that wasn’t the case. She had seen the shadow over her father not long before the cancer first appeared. Death had been on the way for him even then. It had been many years coming, but it had started when she saw the shadow.
So, what if the events of this evening would set Nate’s death in motion? What if he was about to get shot, or receive some other kind of injury, that would limit his life? What if it would eventually become infected, or he would need some kind of transplant that failed, or a hundred other million possibilities that she could think of that could lead to his death further down the line?
He should not even have been there. It was too dangerous. But Laura could not say that to him now—could not expect him to go back to the precinct meekly just because she told him to.
So, instead, she took control.
Laura walked right up to the intercom, first testing the door to see if it was broken, and then hit all of the numbers she could see except for the one she actually wanted. She didn’t want to alert Ed that she was coming, and that included telling someone out loud why they were there. She waited, and sure enough someone was lazy; they unlocked the door without bothering to see who it was that was down there, no doubt assuming she was delivering something.
Without waiting to check that Nate was following her, because she really didn’t want him to, Laura turned and pushed the door open, running inside. She took the stairs two at a time, racing up as fast as she could, her gun drawn. She held it in front of her as she hit the third floor, only a little out of breath, and surged down the hall.
She counted off the doors as she passed. Apartment thirty-one, apartment thirty-two, apartment thirty-three. And there! Thirty-four, his address. This was where Ed Bronston lived. This was where they were going to find him.
Laura paused only for a moment by the door, leaning her head against it and listening. There was no back way out here. If Ed wanted to run from them, he was going to have to jump out of the window. She didn’t much rate his chances of survival if he tried that. Still, there was a chance that he could destroy evidence if he knew they were coming. She only had a short time to make this work.
She hammered on the door, shouting loudly, announcing that the FBI was present and Ed needed to open up. She waited for just a few moments, then hammered again, repeating the same routine. Nate had caught up to her, much to her chagrin; he slammed his forearm against the door as well, joining her voice with his before nodding to her and gesturing for her to step back.
“Nate, no,” she began, afraid that this was the thing that would get him into trouble—but before she could say or do anything else, he had stepped back and launched a powerful kick right at the door lock. On the second try, it splintered away, exploding backward in a shower of broken shards of wood, and Laura was ready.
She stepped right in front of Nate while he was still recovering his balance, before he had the chance to go i
n first.
“FBI! Come out with your hands above your head!” Laura shouted one last time, before moving rapidly into the cramped hallway. Shoes littered the space near the door, and she had to step over them, all the while keeping her eyes on three spots: a door up ahead, a door to the right, and a bend around the corridor to the left.
“Show yourself!” Nate bellowed from behind her, making Laura wince. He was too close. Why couldn’t he just wait? Why did he have to come in right behind her?
Because he always has your back, a traitorous voice in the back of her head reminded her. And it was true. She was always able to count on him.
She just wished that wasn’t the case right now.
She nervously drew level with the first door on her right, then in one swift motion reached out with one hand to push it open while the other pointed the gun right inside. It turned out to be a bathroom, stained and with a chipped and discolored toilet and basin, but utterly empty otherwise. A quick glance told her everything she needed to know, and Laura continued onward.
She swung around the corner, putting her back against the wall and pointing the gun straight ahead. The view opened up, and she could see that ahead was a combination living room and kitchen, all of the kitchen cupboards visible from here and all filthy. She hedged along hesitantly, knowing that Ed Bronston could be behind any door, could be waiting for her just around the corner where the room opened out. But there was nothing else she could do. She had to press on—had to be the first in line. She couldn’t let Nate take her position.
Laura steadied her gun with both hands, then rushed forward. She slammed her back against the wall again as she swept the kitchen and living room area, seeing that it was empty. As soon as she was sure that there were no other doors from this part of the apartment and that there was no one in sight, she reached for the door handle of the final room and wrenched it open. Inside was a bedroom, equipped with only a mattress directly on the floor, but again it was empty.
Laura felt her whole body sag with relief as she realized the truth. Ed Bronston was not there. He was not going to be shooting Nate today.
But it was followed by a renewed wave of fear, hot on its heels. He wasn’t here. Which meant that he could be out there right now, already stalking his next victim. And they had no idea who that might be.
“Christ,” Laura gasped, holstering her gun and glancing back at Nate. “It’s empty.”
He was already digging his phone out of his pocket. “I’m calling the sheriff for backup,” he said. “We need to leave someone here, to guard the place in case he comes back.”
