It was a quick trip to the rooftop. It was cold up here, but he didn’t think he’d have to wait long. If Crosby’s crack security team was worth what they paid them, they would track him down fairly quickly. It’s not like he tried to hard not to be seen. How often does someone see an unconscious woman being carried out of a car and into an empty apartment building. Surely someone would have seen him. From his favorite spot on the roof, he could see that Crosby had finally called the police. There were several cars and a flurry of activity at Payton’s studio. A smile crossed Pat’s face. This was more than fun. He created all this chaos. It was quite a rush. He pulled the rifle up to his jaw, closed one eye and peered through the sight. He practiced zeroing in on the police officers that were coming in and out of the studio just like he had practiced at the rifle range. He took a breath and held it to steady his hands. His finger caressed the trigger, but didn’t pull it. No, the trigger was for someone else.
He had gotten quite proficient at the rifle range. At first it was a stress reliever. He went to the range once or twice a month for the last 6 months. It was therapeutic to leave his day out on the range. After a typically stressful day at the office, making his target pay shot after shot made it easier to go home. Even though, home now was no more than coming in and going straight to the basement, his haven where the things that were his belonged. He sat in his old easy chair with his favorite bottle of scotch, while above the wife and family went about their everyday lives like nothing was wrong. No one ever came down to the basement. The basement was his. They knew better. That lesson was taught long ago, though the wife needed a refresher now and then. She made him break his tv. That really pissed him off. Now all he had was the radio and it wasn’t exactly the same. But the bottle made it better. And the rifle range. Over the last two weeks, his trips range became much more frequent. He’d spent almost every evening there. At the range, there was nothing but him, his rifle and the target.
There he was. Pat spotted the target coming out of the studio. The security guard followed quickly grabbing Crosby by the arm. Pat’s finger twitched.
Payton forced herself to stay her tears. She had to get out of here. She had to warn Sidney. She could not lie her and wait for him to die. She struggled against her bonds, but they wouldn’t give. She pulled harder at the ropes around her wrists, first her left hand then her right hand over and over. Her tears had dried on her cheeks, but now the frustration threatened to bring them on again. She screamed, ripping her wrists away from the metal simultaneously. The bar on the right popped, but held. Payton looked up at it. The weld where the bar was connected to the frame seemed broken on one side. Payton pushed the loops of rope upward so that they were as close to the break as she could manage to get them. She took a deep breath and jerked her arm as hard as she could. Nothing. Though, she thought she heard a small pop. Maybe it was just her imagination, but it was all she had to cling to right now. She took another breath and jerked again. The pop was definitely audible now. Her wrist was really hurting. Struggling against the rope had left red burns around it. She took another breath for one more effort. She jerked her arm forward again hard. The bar popped away from the frame. Payton’s joy was palpable. She cried out in triumph and began to cry and laugh at the same time. She wiggled the rope upward, struggling to get it free from the bar. Finally, her arm was free. She rolled over to grab the knot that secured her other wrist. All her struggling against it had made it very tight. She pumped her fist a few times trying to get the blood pumping to her fingers. Her tenacity paid off after a few minutes as the knot began to come free. Her hands were free! Elation began to take over and she rubbed her wrist and quickly began to work on the bonds around her ankles. She jumped up off the bed and stumbled slightly. She had to find a phone. She had to warn Sidney. She searched the table for her cell. She went to the window and searched the crate. He must have taken it, she thought and looked out the grimy window. She gasped slightly. It was her street. She could see the studio from here. She could see the policemen.
“Oh God,” she said aloud, seeing Sidney come out of the studio door. She dashed for the door, grabbing the coat that Brisson had left on a hook by the door. She was thankful for it, though modesty was not the first thing on her mind.
“Let go, Tony,” yelled Sidney, pulling away from his security guard.
“Sidney, don’t go running off like this. We need a plan, a strategy. You have to know that he is waiting for you.”
“I don’t care. That bastard has Payton right down the street,” he cried, moving down the sidewalk in front of the studio. The police had just informed him that they had a witness who had seen a man carrying a woman matching Payton’s description into the apartment building just down the street. She’d been right here the whole time!
“Come on, man, at least give us a minute to check things out. Let me send Paul down there discreetly. We need to find out what we are dealing with.”
“I’m not going to sit here while he has her down there doing God knows what to her. You can come with me or not, but I am going!”
“Sidney!”
The scream was not loud, but they all heard it. Tony and Sidney both looked down the street. The policemen stopped what they were doing. Sidney broke into a run seeing Payton running toward him not even a block away. He closed the distance between them quickly, but she was still yelling.
“No, go back inside. He’s got a gun.”
A shot rang out, splitting the air with an explosion of sound.
No comments:
Post a Comment