Part 23 (2/2)
”4-D?” Belle paused, thinking. ”Oh, right, he's a subletter. I don't know him, but I sold that apartment a few years ago to a couple from London, and they moved back home. There's only a few subletters in the building, and the board likes it that way. Don't have the same controls, with a subletter.”
”Do subletters have to get board approval?”
”No.”
Jill thought it explained how William had gotten past the board.
”I know who you mean.” Belle leaned over, in a cloud of flowery perfume. ”He's quite the ladies man. My best friend still lives in 4-A, and we see what goes on with him. He keeps busy, if you know what I mean.”
Jill did, unfortunately. ”He hasn't changed since college, huh?”
”They never do, girlfriend. Like the kids say, he's a playa.”
”I guess he never got married.”
”I've see him with the same girl a few times, but I doubt she knows about the others.”
Jill doubted it, too. ”What does she look like, this one?”
”Thin, blonde, and young. What else?”
”What does he do for a living, do you know? He used to be in the pharmaceuticals business.”
”Don't know, but it's something that makes a lot of money. He drives a big Mercedes. Silver. I know because he took my parking s.p.a.ce once.”
”Doesn't the building have parking?”
”Yes, but it costs extra. He was out front, unloading.”
”Where's the garage, and how does the parking work? Are there numbered s.p.a.ces?”
”Yes, all marked by the apartment number.” Belle gestured behind her, to the north. ”The garage is at the back of the building. Sometimes it's easier to drop off your bags, then go park. Now, shall I show you the kitchen?”
”Yes, thanks.” Jill learned nothing more and spent the next half-hour being led around an apartment she didn't want, trying to piece together a puzzle she hadn't seen coming. She bid Belle good-bye, left the apartment building, and stood on the sidewalk, revising her plan. It wouldn't make sense to come back at five to see the night-s.h.i.+ft doorman. He wouldn't recognize Abby because she undoubtedly hadn't been here.
The garage is at the back of the building.
Jill walked to the end of the street, heading for the garage, curious if William's car was there. Runners trotted past her toward the river. She took a right onto the West Side Highway, and traffic had picked up, whoos.h.i.+ng loudly in both directions, uptown and down. She turned right onto the next street, a skinny sidestreet of cobblestones, and kept walking.
Midway up, Jill found a gate over a driveway, which had to be the garage to the building. There was a door next to the entrance, and she made a beeline for it. She tried the k.n.o.b, but it was locked. She glanced behind her, to make sure no one saw her, when suddenly, she spotted a black SUV, parked at the curb behind a row of others, on the West Side Highway.
Jill froze. The SUV hadn't been there before, or she hadn't seen it. It looked like the same model as the padiddle that had been following her. The headlights were off because it was daytime. She couldn't see the license plate. Sunlight glinted off its chrome grille, and a man sat behind the wheel, a still figure in shadow.
Jill told herself to stay calm. It would've been impossible to follow her here, so it probably wasn't the same car, but there was only one way to find out. She turned on her heel and walked toward the car. Suddenly the black SUV's engine roared to life, the SUV reversed, cut the wheels, and started to wedge itself out of the parking s.p.a.ce.
Jill broke into a run, almost tripping on the cobblestones. It couldn't be a coincidence. The SUV had to be leaving because she was coming. She reached the line of parked cars just as the SUV pulled onto the West Side Highway, heading uptown. It had a Pennsylvania license plate that read TJU-something.
”Wait!” Jill yelled, on the run. ”Stop! Help!”
And before she realized what she was doing, she was running down the West Side Highway after the SUV.
Chapter Thirty-six.
”Stop that car!” Jill screamed, frantic. Heads turned. Runners stopped running. A cyclist braked, putting down his cleated shoe.
Jill ran as fast as she could. Her legs churned. Her arms pumped. Her flats slapped the sidewalk.
The SUV veered to the middle lane but couldn't go forward. The cars ahead of it were stopped at a red light. Crosstown traffic flowed onto the highway, in force. There were traffic lights at almost every block, and it was the only thing that gave Jill a fighting chance of catching him.
She ran harder, almost colliding with an older man walking a poodle. She kept her eyes glued to the SUV driver. He was looking this way and that, his head swiveling left and right. He was blocked in and knew it.
A moving van pulled out of the cross street and stopped, blocking traffic. The light turned green, and the SUV and the other cars started honking.
Jill raced ahead, gaining ground. Only half a block separated her from the SUV, then less. The moving van would go any second, pulling onto the far side of the highway, heading downtown.
Jill tore down the sidewalk, glanced behind her, and ran into the street like a madwoman. ”Don't hit me!” she screamed, putting her hand up.
The red Saturn behind her braked, then started honking. Van and limo drivers looked over, angry. ”Honk!” blared a tractor-trailer, startling her.
Jill struggled to keep up her pace. Her breaths were ragged. Her thighs burned. She closed in on the SUV. Eight cars, then seven, then six. She was almost there. The Saturn hung back, honking.
The moving van inched forward. The SUV honked and honked, still blocked.
Jill tried to run into the middle lane, but a battered pickup wouldn't let her in, roaring past her as if she'd been in a car.
”Stop that car!” Jill shouted. The SUV still couldn't go. Her lungs were about to explode. Sweat poured into her eyes. Her purse swung wildly at her side. She clamped it down with a hand.
She burst ahead, closer to the SUV. There were three cars left between them, then two, then one.
Suddenly the moving van cleared the lane. The SUV accelerated and switched into the fast lane.
Jill couldn't keep up. The SUV found open road and was getting away. Her heart thundered. Her legs wobbled. She stumbled, almost falling.
The Saturn driver leaned from his window. ”Get outta the street!” he hollered, waving at her.
Jill threw her purse at the SUV in frustration, hitting the back just as the driver took off, cut the wheel, and jumped the median, making a daring U-turn and zooming down the other side of the highway, going downtown.
”Move, lady!” the Saturn driver yelled.
Jill hurried to the curb, then doubled over, trying to catch her breath. A police siren blared behind her, but it sounded too far away to get here in time. She straightened up and watched a minivan run over her purse and BlackBerry.
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