FIFTY-FIVE
Ifelt like I was on a forced march back in time, to quarters like I'd just seen in the more primitive structures that surrounded this imposing centerpiece of Governors Island.
Behind me was the dark, silent city, just beginning to come to life, with scattered lights and the sound of aircraft somewhere overhead. Looming in front of me, on top of the hill, was the enormous mass of an eighteenth-century fort, far more complex than Castle Williams. I had no idea what remained behind its walls, but I feared that Troy Rasheed knew every crevice in it.
We had crossed the cobblestone path and roadway. Now we were on grass, and my captor broke into a run. His left hand held Mercer's gun in place in his waistband, while his right kept a tight grip on my upper arm
Too fast," I said, pretending to stumble, but he wasn't having any of it.
"Run, damn it," he told me, squeezing me with his big hand.
He was moving as though we were on an obstacle course, zigzagging so that I thought-or was meant to think-that he had rigged the muddy field with explosive devices.
I looked at the giant stone counterscarp, the side of the fort that seemed impenetrable. We'd flown over it as we landed this morning, and I'd seen its great five-sided star shape from the air. Now we were approaching an actual drawbridge that led into a covered entry, a forbidding separation from the rest of the island.
Rasheed apparently heard a noise overhead, too. He looked up, never letting go of me, to see whether whatever machine was flying in the pea-soup sky above was coming in to land, but the droning sound faded away.
"Almost there, girl. I'm gonna show you some sights."
The switchblade was still in the rear pocket of my jeans, which were so tight that it hardly jiggled when I moved. Maybe this was the moment to try to slice at Rasheed's arm, before we crossed over into the fortress.
I was feeling dizzy. The view directly ahead of me shifted. We were sprinting toward the drawbridge but suddenly the ground to the left and right of the gate opened wide below me. A gaping hole appeared, twenty feet wide, stretching the length of the entire visible side of the fort.
"I can't," I screamed at Rasheed, hoping Mike would hear me, hoping my voice would carry from the island's peak.
I stopped in place, terrified by the sight. It was a moat, a dry moat, and if I made a misstep, I would fall off the bridge to its bottom.
Rasheed confronted me, holding my shoulders with both hands, shaking me fiercely. "You ain't gonna miss a minute of this, sugar. You come to your senses, okay?"
I was out of breath and frightened. I couldn't get any words out.
Then he removed Mercer's gun from his waistband and held it to the side of my head. "Welcome to my house, Detective Cooper."
He moved aside but picked up my arm again and kept the gun in his other hand.
We emerged from beneath the cover of the bridge, into a small village. Around a central courtyard were rows of brick buildings two stories in height. They were more elegant than the crude barracks that lined the waterfront, but just as deserted.
There was no way to see beyond the high walls of the fortress. I wouldn't know whether the river was calming enough for boats to be launched again, and I doubted that the tide would recede fast enough to let the ferry make the trip across.
But I could hear noises from above, and I was silently begging Commissioner Scully to get our chopper airborne.
"Now this here is where the officers lived," Rasheed said, dragging me toward a building on the east side of the grounds. "So I figured it was a fine place for me."
Not exactly what the Sex Offender Monitoring Unit had in mind when they asked him to register his address.
"No, no, no, girl. Not up there," he said, as I scanned the second story of the barracks, wondering if the windows of those rooms looked out above the massive stone walls. "I prefer the dark. I spent a lot of time in solitary, Detective. You know what that's like, don't you?"
I stopped short.
"It's not polite to ignore me. You've sent perps to solitary, haven't you? How do you think you're gonna like the black hole?"
Rasheed was behind me now, holding the back of my neck as he prodded me along. At the last room in the long row, he let go of me and turned the knob. The door opened.
I stood on the threshold, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. Waves of nausea rolled in my stomach.
There were no windows in the room, no ventilation source that I could see. There was a pile of rope next to my feet, and I was sure that he would have something handy to gag me with, if he didn't use a piece of my own clothing.
"Take me somewhere else," I said to Rasheed, trying to reposition myself, trying to turn around to face him. "I'll do whatever you want. I promise. Whatever you want."
We were inches apart now. He laughed at me. "Oh, I do know that you will, girl. I know that you will."
With the barrel of Mercer's gun, he pushed the frizzy hairs off my forehead.
"Just-just a different place than this," I said. "Upstairs, where there's more light."
"No need to get all shaky on my account. You take off that jacket and I'll make you feel better, Alex. Alex, that's right?"
I had lectured to school groups scores of times. I had urged children-and women, too-not to get into cars with their abductors. The statistics were shocking. The likelihood of victims being found alive after they submitted to entering a vehicle was minuscule. The best time to fight was before being finally caged. If I was to escape from Troy Rasheed, gun or no gun, I would have to do it before he backed me into this room.
He put his free hand on the sleeve of my jacket and pulled on it.
"I'll take it off myself," I said. That way, I could have better access to the knife.
"That's my girl. I'd like to put this gun down, but I can't do that until you're settled in, you hear?"
Now he was pulling at his lip again, kneading it between two fingers.
"I think I'm going to be sick," I said, grabbing my stomach and bending forward as I dropped my jacket to the ground. I wasn't faking it. I was overcome by nausea.
"Not on my time, babe. You just breathe in some of this nice sea air and swallow hard."
I leaned my head back and inhaled.
Rasheed make a sucking noise, then bowed forward, like he was reaching to kiss me.
"You're bleeding," I said to him. "Your lip is bleeding."
He didn't take his eyes off me. He lifted his left hand and rubbed it across his mouth. "Ain't nothing to be scared of, Detective. You might like the taste of blood."
Troy Rasheed put his fingers up again, exposing the inside of his lower lip.
"That's my new one, sugar," he said, showing me the tattoo, still so raw it was irritating the surface. "I did that for my girlfriend last week. My old girlfriend."
He laughed as he wiped his mouth again. I guess he had run out of room on his body to pay homage to each of his victims. Those were Amber Bristol's initials on his lip.
FIFTY-SIX
Step inside, Alex," Rasheed said.
I stood at the edge of the door, my back against the jamb. He pushed me and I swiveled halfway into the room.
He put the gun in his other hand, holding it to my stomach, and kneeled down to reach for the coiled rope.
I wasn't going to let myself be tied up. Not while I had an ounce of strength in me. With my left foot, I kicked at the pile of rope and heard it topple over, away from me
Damn it, bitch," he said, grabbing at my leg to stop himself from falling with it.
I reached into my rear pocket with my right hand and withdrew the knife. I pressed the switch and the blade snapped open while Troy Rasheed tried to regain his balance and get to his feet.