Read To Have and to Kill Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
“L
ombardi?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Come on up here. I want to talk to you.”
Jack got up from his desk, walked across the squad room and up the stairs to the office of the special agent in charge. Jack already knew the conversation would be about the ongoing data the Bureau was collecting on terrorist funding. Knowing where the terrorists were getting their money was critical in the efforts to fight them. But the network of criminal organizations, money launderers, and illegal drug traffickers who were aiding the terrorists was vast and complicated. While progress was being made in shutting down some of it, there was still a long way to go.
As his boss started to brief him on the new information, Jack forced himself to concentrate. Something else had been on his mind for the past few days. He didn’t like that he could have been wrong about the letter that Glenna Brooks had received. It bothered him even more that someone might have died because of his cavalier attitude.
Jack had been trying to remember the wording of the letter Piper had shown him. The only thing that struck a chord was the phrase from the old poem.
Casey at the bat.
P
iper took Peggy’s limp wrist and felt for a pulse. When she finally detected it, it was rapid and very weak. Her breath was shallow and her skin was cool and clammy.
Piper knew the signs of shock. She also knew that shock could be fatal.
Concentrating as intensely as she could, Piper remembered that it was important to elevate the shock victim’s legs, to make sure blood flowed to the organs and brain. She worried that by doing so she was going to make more blood flow to Peggy’s neck wound. But Piper was scared. If Peggy didn’t get blood to her brain, there could be neurological damage.
Piper stuffed her oversize bag under Peggy’s feet, but it didn’t seem to provide enough elevation. Piper took off her boots, folded them, and shoved them under the bag, gaining a few more inches.
“Peggy, Peggy,” Piper said gently as she leaned over the wounded woman. “It’s going to be all right. Help is on the way.”
Peggy’s eyes were wide open. Her pupils were dilated and she was staring into space.
N
ew Yorkers barely noticed an ambulance. While they might turn their heads at the sight of an emergency medical crew arriving at a scene of an accident, they didn’t stop and gawk. They kept going.
But sightseers did pause to watch the skaters on the ice rink below. Leaning against the railing made it easy to blend in with them and possible to at least partially see what was going on in the glass bubble that housed the Sea Grill elevator.
Two medical technicians were bent over, attending to someone who was out of viewing range but certain to be Peggy. The techs were spending a lot of time in there trying to save her life.
Please, let them fail.
If there had been more time to plan, the attack would have been better thought-out, more certain in its outcome. As it was, the idea had seemed to make sense. On television, in the movies, and in suspense novels, a stab in the jugular vein inevitably proved fatal.
What if the movies and books were wrong? And what if someone rushing along the sidewalk had witnessed the stabbing? Of course, that was a possibility, but it was doubtful. Peggy had been trapped, her body blocked from view. The letter opener was thrust in a nanosecond, Peggy’s eyes widening as the elevator doors slid shut.
There had been no other choice. The risk of Peggy telling anyone what she knew was too great. The chance had to be taken.
Eventually, the technicians rolled the stretcher out of the glass enclosure. The body was covered by a blanket, but not the pale face.
Peggy was still alive!
I
t was dark outside when Piper left the hospital. She was exhausted and shaken. Though her parents’ car was still in the parking garage, and it would cost a small fortune to leave it there, she didn’t want to drive home, didn’t want her parents to see her like this. She hailed a cab and told the driver to take her downtown.
As she sat in the backseat, she called her parents to fill them in on what had happened, before they heard about it on the news.
No answer.
Piper turned off her BlackBerry. There was really only one person she wanted to talk to right now.
The taxi let Piper off at the Twenty-third Street entrance to Peter Cooper Village. Built to accommodate returning World War II veterans and their young families, Peter Cooper Village was within easy walking distance to Gramercy Park, the Flatiron district, and Union Square. Over the years, the apartment complex, nestled in a landscaped park, had housed many FBI agents. The apartments were spacious and the rents were reasonable.
She walked slowly to the closest brick building. In the lobby, Piper pushed Jack’s number on the intercom.
Please, let him be home
.
“Who is it?” asked Jack’s voice mixed with a little static.
“It’s Piper.”
“I’ll buzz you in.”
When she got off the elevator, Jack’s apartment door was slightly ajar. Piper pushed it open.
“Jack?”
“Pipe?” The voice came from down the hall. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right there.”
Piper stood in the small dining area just inside the front door. She didn’t want to sit down, concerned that she might soil anything she touched. As she looked in the hall mirror and took in her disheveled appearance, she heard Jack’s footsteps coming toward her.
“Hey! This is a surprise,” said Jack as he entered. The smile on his face evaporated as soon as he saw she was covered in dried blood. “My God, Piper. What happened?”
“Oh, Jack,” she whispered. “It was so horrible.” For the first time since the ordeal began, Piper let herself cry as Jack held her in his arms and stroked her long blond hair.
P
iper took a hot shower and changed into a pair of Jack’s sweatpants and a long-sleeved Quantico T-shirt. Coming out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair, she walked to the living room and curled up on the sofa.
Jack came in carrying two plates. He handed one to Piper. Then he sat next to her.
“Mmm, scrambled eggs,” said Piper, suddenly remembering how hungry she was. “One of my faves.”
She took a mouthful and chewed, slowly and deliberately, the way she would eat if she had been ill but was now coming out of it. Her body craved food, but she was very, very tired. The events of the day and the long cry on Jack’s shoulder were taking their toll.
“Ready to talk?” asked Jack.
Piper closed her eyes for a moment, images of blood and Peggy on the elevator floor coming to mind.
“It was terrible, Jack. But I don’t want to go over it again, at least not now. I just want to focus on Peggy. She has to come through this.”
“All right,” said Jack. “But tell me exactly what her condition is.”
Piper swallowed a bite of toast before answering. “They were able to perform surgery to repair the stab wound, but Peggy went into cardiac arrest on the operating table. They restored her heart rhythm, but they don’t know how much damage was done. The doctors are also worried about neurological problems because of the lack of oxygen to her brain. So they gave her drugs to put her into a coma, to give her heart and her brain a chance to rest.”
Jack raised an eyebrow. “I’m not gonna lie, Pipe. It doesn’t sound good.”
“I know,” said Piper. “But at least she’s still alive.”
P
iper opened her eyes. At first, she was unsure of where she was. The room was dark, but scattered lights from the buildings outside radiated through the picture window.
She was in Jack’s apartment. She had fallen asleep on the couch. Jack had covered her with a blanket. Piper sat up and reached for the lamp. Switching it on, she looked at her watch. Two
A.M
.
She should go home. She had to be at the studio in six hours, no matter what had happened to Peggy. She couldn’t go in wearing Jack’s sweatpants. Or could she?
The main thing bothering her was that she hadn’t reached her parents to let them know where she was. They would be worried. Piper was tempted to call them now but afraid to wake them up. She’d text them, but she knew from experience they didn’t bother with texting. This was the problem with a grown woman living with her parents. If she were still in her apartment, they wouldn’t know whether she had come home or not.
With determination, she threw off the blanket.
“Hey, watch out!”
Piper jumped. Then she saw that Jack had been sleeping on the floor beside the sofa. His hair was tousled and his eyes were squinting to adjust to the light.
“Oh, you scared me,” said Piper, holding her hand to her chest.
“Sorry,” said Jack. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to catch a cab to the garage, get the car, and drive home.”
“You’ve got to be kidding, Piper. Now?”
“My parents, Jack.”
“That’s ridiculous, you know that? Your parents aren’t going to care.”
“You don’t know my parents,” said Piper.
“That came out wrong. I meant they aren’t going to care that you stayed in the city, especially when they hear what you went through with Peggy. They’ll understand and be glad that you are all right. Just call them in the morning and explain.”
Piper considered his words. Jack was absolutely right.
She lay back down on the sofa. “Wake me at seven,” she said.
Wednesday, December 15 . . . Nine days until the wedding
C
amera crews and reporters were waiting on the sidewalk in front of the
Little Rain
studio. For the second time in as many days, Piper made her way past the assembled media. One reporter asked for her reaction to the attack on yet another member of the soap opera staff. But none of the others bothered trying to question her. They were really waiting for Glenna Brooks.
The mood in the studio was subdued. People, for the most part, quietly went about their work. When they did talk about what had happened to Peggy, it was in muted tones and whispers. The only question on people’s lips was:
Who in the world would want to kill her?
Word had spread that Piper helped Peggy. Many people came up and thanked her. Quent Raynor was one of them.
“Piper, you don’t know how grateful I am that you were there for Peggy,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “She means so much to all of us and when I think that she could have died . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Really, I only did what anyone would do,” said Piper. “I just hope she’ll be all right.”
“Well, if she is,” said Quent, “it’s because of you.”
Piper felt uncomfortable. “There were the EMTs and the doctors and nurses.”
“Did Peggy say anything to you?” asked Quent anxiously. “Could she tell you who attacked her?”
“No,” said Piper. “She didn’t say a word.”
P
iper went to her dressing room and stripped out of Jack’s clothes and her boots, noticing that Jack had missed a spot of blood when he wiped them clean. As she went to grab the terry-cloth robe she had left hanging on the back of the door, Piper caught a glimpse of the dark purple bruise on her upper arm, courtesy of Phillip Brooks.
Going to the closet, Piper saw that her dress for the dream sequence wasn’t inside, and remembered that Peggy had insisted on taking it back to the wardrobe department to be steamed. That seemed so long ago now.
She realized that she must have been one of the last people Peggy talked to before she was attacked. That short conversation in front of St. Patrick’s after the funeral hadn’t seemed important at the time. Now Piper wondered if the person Peggy said she was going off to talk to was the person who stabbed her.
What did Peggy mean when she said “Wish me luck”? She must have felt she was facing something challenging, something that had the potential of going badly.
And Piper wondered about the real reason Quent hadn’t come to the reception at the Sea Grill. Was it true that he was just too busy dealing with the press?
N
ot only did she need her makeup and hair done, she needed some serious camouflage for the nasty bruise on her arm. After an hour with the makeup artist and hairdresser, Piper felt she was worthy of trying on the dream-sequence dress again.
She went to the wardrobe room. Peggy’s helper was there, looking drawn and frazzled. The room was in chaos, compared to the neat space it usually was. Peggy was exceedingly tidy and maintained a methodically organized department. In just the short time without her, the place was in disarray.
While Piper waited her turn for assistance, she walked over to Peggy’s corner. On the small desk where Peggy kept her personal things, Piper saw the auction program Peggy had been studying on Monday.
Piper picked up the program and flipped through the pages. In addition to the listing of the auction items, there were photos of Travis, Glenna, the patrons who had donated, and the teachers who worked on the project.
Did Peggy see something in the program that sparked her memory?