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He doesn’t even scream before he smacks against the cement below in a pool of blood and cracked skull, but the gasp from behind tells me Ivy is one breath away from freaking out.
Twisting to face her, I find shock plastered to her face behind trembling hands. “This is a crime scene now. Cops will be all over the place. You need to leave.”
The expression on her face, brows drawn tight, is a cross between confusion and disturbance. “What have you done?”
“What I had to do to buy you some time. If he hasn’t already gone back to his boss, whomever he’s affiliated with will eventually show up, too.” In three long strides I’m standing in front of her again, noticing the white pallor of her face. Gripping her shoulders, I want to shake the shit out of this woman, to make her understand the gravity of the situation. That the stories I’ve heard about this man would send her straight into the arms of a straight jacket. “I care about you. I won’t let someone else I care about end up in a coffin.”
Eyes vacant, she stares off at the wall behind me and shrugs. “Where do I go?”
“That’s for you to decide.”
“It doesn’t matter where I go. They’ll find me. Won’t they?”
“You wanted to go to France, Ivy. Go. Get as far away from here as you can.”
“You’re asking me to give up everything. To leave everything that means something to me.”
“I know it’s not easy, but yes.”
“I don’t even have enough saved for once I get there. I’ll be living on the streets!”
“You’ll figure it out. The clock is ticking here.” I drag her behind me, through the door and down the stairs to her apartment. Her hands shake and fumble as she stuffs the key into the lock and opens the door. Once inside, I stride ahead of her to the closet and yank down the suitcase stored on the shelf, toss it onto the bed. Peeling away clothes from their hangers, I fill the suitcase with as much as she can handle carrying, while Ivy pulls pictures tacked to her corkboard, of her grandmother and a few people I don’t recognize. From a drawer inside her desk, she pulls out a jar filled with cash and dumps it onto the bed.
Philippe lies on the floor, where Ivy lay him. I kneel down and pet his lifeless body.
Daddy? When I die, will you take care of Philippe?Isabella’s words echo inside my head, springing tears to my eyes, as I work the knot of the cord at his throat.Promise me you’ll take care of Philippe forever.
A scream outside the window breaks my thoughts, and I approach cautiously, back pressed flat against the wall, and peer down to where a man and woman stand over the stranger’s crushed head.
Eyes back on Ivy, I give a nod. “Hurry it up. You’re going to have to leave out the back door.”
She gathers up all the cash and stuffs it into her purse. The mound of clothes in her suitcase smashes down as she closes it and clicks the locks in place. Together, we exit her apartment, tiptoeing past Ms. Garcia’s door, so as not to rouse the woman’s curiosity, and slip out the back entrance of the apartment. Only seconds later, sirens can be heard off in the distance.
I shuffle Ivy into my vehicle and toss her suitcase on the backseat. As I drive the car out of the lot and round the corner, a flash of lights draws my attention to the rearview mirror, where the police have arrived on scene.
“The computer you took from Calvin’s. What did you do with it?”
“Smashed it with a sledgehammer and tossed it in the dumpster. Garbage day was earlier this morning.”
“Good. And the file?” I glance away from the road only long enough to catch her hands fidgeting in her lap. She’s nervous. She should be.
“Filed it away yesterday morning, before Mamie’s funeral. The hospital will never know it was missing. And where are you taking me?”
“The airport.”
“Damon, stop. Please, pull over. Just for a minute.”
With some reluctance, I turn the car into an empty lot of a Cantonese restaurant, and flick off the lights, so as not to draw any attention from the few cars that pass.
“Look, it’s late. I’m exhausted. I’m not flying off on a spontaneous trip, to a country I’ve never set foot in. And I don’t know many people, aside from my boss and co-worker. There’s no way in hell I’m asking either one of them to let me couch surf. I literally have no place to go. So you might as well turn around—”
“No. Absolutely not.” I reach to turn the key again, but she grabs my wrist.
“Please. No one knows we had anything to do with him. If the police question me, I’ll tell them I was upset about Mamie’s funeral. I sought out my priest for comfort. You’re a solid alibi. Who would believe a priest would have anything to do his murder, or suicide, or whatever they’re dreaming it might’ve been.”
“That’ll be on the news by tonight. The men who are after you will surely see it and know exactly who was behind the murder. Only, they won’t go to the police. They’ll come right for the source.”
“I don’t have a choice. Aside from a few nights at a hotel, there’s nowhere else I can go.”
