Toxin (43 page)

Kim had a hold of the mop and he instinctively raised it.

Carlos laughed. To him the idea of a mop against a kill-floor knife was ludicrous.

With no other alternative, Kim dashed into one of the open toilet stalls and bolted the door. Carlos lunged forward and kicked the door fiercely. The stall shuddered under the impact, but the door held. Kim frantically backed up and straddled the toilet. Beneath the stall door, he could see Carlo's feet as he prepared to kick the door again.

 

T
racy panicked. She fumbled with the ignition key before getting the car started. Throwing the vehicle into gear, she stomped on the accelerator. The car shot forward with enough speed to press her into the seat. The antenna she'd balanced on top skidded off the back of the car and bounced along the pavement on its wire tether.

Tracy fought with the steering wheel to bring the speeding car around a tight turn. Misjudging the closeness of a neighboring vehicle, she ricocheted off its side,
throwing her own car up onto two wheels for a split second. The car thudded to earth and with squealing tires rocketed along the front of Higgins and Hancock.

Tracy had no plan initially. Her only thought was to try to get to the men's room where Kim was cornered, apparently by the same man who'd been in Kim's house the night before. She knew she had little time. She could see the man's horrid face in her mind's eye as he'd tried to force his way into her shower stall with his knife.

For a moment Tracy contemplated crashing her car into the front entrance of the building, but she decided it wouldn't necessarily do the trick. She had to get into the men's room itself. That was when she remembered the gun and swore at Kim for not having kept it with him.

Slamming on the brakes, Tracy brought her car to a shuddering halt just opposite the window to the record room. She reached down onto the floor and snatched up the gun. Clutching it in her hand, she jumped from the car and ran over to the record-room window.

Remembering how Kim had gained entry, she put down the gun and picked up one of the rocks edging the pavement. Using both hands, she threw it against the plywood. It took two smacks, but she succeeded in knocking the plywood free of its temporary nails. Then she yanked it off.

Tracy snatched up the gun and tossed it through the window. Then she followed it headfirst. Once inside the dark room, she had to grope around for the gun on her hands and knees. As she searched she could hear intermittent thumps behind the wall to the right as if a metal partition was being kicked repeatedly. The noise increased her frenzy.

Her fingers finally brushed up against the weapon where it had come to rest at the base of a table leg. She
seized it and then moved as fast as the darkness would allow to the vaguely illuminated door to the hall.

Tracy unlocked the door. From having listened to the conversation between Kim and Elmer she knew the men's room had to be close to the record room. She decided to follow the sound of the thumping. She made a right. After running only a few steps, she saw the men's room sign.

Without a second's hesitation, Tracy crashed through the door using her shoulder. She had the gun clasped in both hands and pointed it into the depths of the room.

She'd had no idea what to expect. What she saw was Carlos less than ten feet away with one leg raised in preparation for kicking a toilet stall door in. The door was already bent.

As soon as he spotted her, Carlos made a flying leap for Tracy. Like the night before, he had a large knife clasped in his hand.

Tracy had no time to think. Closing her eyes against the hurling figure she pulled the trigger in quick succession. Two shots rang out before Carlos careened into her, slamming her against the door and knocking the gun from her hand. She felt a stabbing pain in her chest as she crumbled beneath the man's weight.

Tracy desperately tried to breathe and to wriggle free as the man's weight settled on top of her. But he had her easily pinned.

To Tracy's surprise the killer moved off her. She looked up, expecting to see him standing over her with his knife raised for a deadly stab. Instead she was looking at Kim's distraught face.

“Oh, God!” Kim cried. “Tracy!” He'd pulled the killer off her and had thrown him aside as if the man were no more than a sack of potatoes. Frantic over the amount of
blood spreading across Tracy's chest, he dropped to his knees and ripped open her blouse. As a thoracic surgeon, he'd treated stab wounds to the chest, and he knew what to expect. But what he found was a blood-soaked bra; Tracy's skin was intact. There was no sucking chest wound with air rushing in as he'd feared.

Kim leaned closer to Tracy's face. She was still struggling to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her.

“Are you all right?” Kim demanded.

Tracy nodded but still couldn't speak.

Kim turned his attention to the killer. The man was writhing and groaning and had managed to turn himself over on his stomach. Kim rolled him back over and recoiled.

At such close range, both of Tracy's wild shots had found their mark. One had gone through Carlos's right eye to exit out the back of his skull. The other had hit him in the right chest, which explained the blood all over Tracy.

The man was foaming at the mouth and jerking uncoordinatedly. It was clear to Kim he was about to die.

“Is he hurt?” Tracy managed. Wincing against the pain in her chest, she pushed herself to a sitting position.

“He's as good as dead,” Kim said. He stood up and began searching for the gun.

“Oh, no!” Tracy moaned. “I can't believe it. I can't believe I killed someone.”

“Where's the gun?” Kim demanded.

“Oh, God!” Tracy managed. She couldn't take her eyes off Carlos who was agonally choking.

“The gun!” Kim snapped. He got down on his hands and knees. He found Carlos's knife but not the gun. Moving over to the stalls, he bent down again. At last he saw it behind the first toilet. Reaching in, he pulled it out.

Stepping over to the sink, he grabbed a paper towel and wiped the weapon clean.

“What are you doing?” Tracy asked through anguished tears.

“Getting rid of your fingerprints,” Kim said. “I want only my prints on this thing.”

“Why?” Tracy demanded.

“Because whatever comes of this mess, I'm taking responsibility,” Kim said. He gripped the weapon, then tossed it aside. “Come on! We're getting out of here!”

“No!” Tracy said. She went after the gun. “I'm in this as much as you.”

Kim grabbed her and pulled her upright. “Don't be foolish! I'm the accused felon here. Let's go!”

“But it was in self-defense,” Tracy complained tearfully. “It's terrible, but it's justifiable.”

“We can't trust what kind of spin the legal profession might put on this,” Kim said. “You're trespassing and I'm here under false pretenses. Come on! I don't want to argue now!”

“Shouldn't we stay here until the police come?” Tracy asked.

“No way,” Kim said. “I'm not going to sit in jail while this all gets sorted out. Come on now, let's go before anybody gets here.”

Tracy doubted the wisdom of fleeing the scene but she could also tell that Kim's mind was made up. She let herself be led from the men's room. Kim looked up and down the hall, surprised that the shots had not brought any of his cleaning crew colleagues.

“How did you get in here?” Kim whispered.

“Through the record-room window,” Tracy said. “The same window you broke.”

“Good,” Kim said. He took Tracy's hand. Together
they dashed to the record-room door. Just as they were entering, they heard approaching voices.

Kim motioned for Tracy to be silent as he quietly closed and locked the door. In the darkness they first went to the library table, where Kim snatched up the incriminating papers. Then they made their way to the window. Through the wall, they heard commotion in the men's room followed by running footsteps down the hall.

Kim climbed out first. Then he helped Tracy. Together they dashed for Tracy's car.

“Let me drive,” Kim said. He jumped behind the wheel while Tracy got into the backseat. He started the car and drove quickly out of the parking lot.

For a while they drove in silence.

“Who could have guessed it would have turned out like this,” Tracy said at last. “What do you think we should do?”

“Maybe you had the right idea back there,” Kim said. “Maybe we should have called the police ourselves and faced the consequences. I suppose it's not too late to turn ourselves in, although I think we should call Justin Devereau first.”

“I've changed my mind,” Tracy said. “I think your first instinct was correct. You'd certainly go to jail and probably me too, and it would probably be a year before there even was a trial. And then who knows what would happen? After the O.J. Simpson case I have zero confidence in the American court system. We don't have a million dollars to throw away on Johnny Cochrane or Barry Scheck.”

“What are you implying?” Kim asked. He cast a quick glance at Tracy in the rearview mirror. She never failed to surprise him.

“What we talked about last night,” Tracy said. “Let's
go far away and deal with this mess from abroad. Someplace where the food is uncontaminated so we could continue our fight against that issue as well.”

“Are you serious?” Kim asked.

“Yes, I'm serious,” Tracy said.

Kim shook his head. They'd mentioned the idea and even had their passports, but he'd truly not taken it seriously. In his mind it had been more of a desperate scheme of last resort, something to consider in a worst-case scenario. Of course, thanks to the killing, he had to admit things couldn't have turned out much worse than they had.

“Of course we should call Justin,” Tracy added. “He'll have some good suggestions. He always does. Maybe he'll know where we should go. There are probably some legal issues relating to extradition and all that.”

“You know what I like best about the idea of us going to a foreign country?” Kim said after a few minutes of silence. He looked up to make eye contact with Tracy in the rearview mirror.

“What's that?” Tracy asked.

“That you're suggesting we do it together,” Kim said.

“Well, of course,” Tracy said.

“You know,” Kim said. “Maybe we shouldn't have gotten divorced.”

“I have to admit the idea has crossed my mind,” Tracy said.

“Maybe something good will come from all this tragedy,” Kim said.

“If we did get remarried, I know we couldn't have another Becky, but it would be nice to have another child.”

“You'd really want to?” Kim asked.

“I'd like to try.”

Silence again reigned for a time as the former lovers struggled with their emotions.

“How long do you think we will have before the authorities catch up with us?” Tracy asked.

“It's hard to say,” Kim said. “If you're asking to know how long we have before we have to make up our minds about what we're going to do, I'd say we don't have much time. I think we have to decide in twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

“At least that allows us time for Becky's services tomorrow,” Tracy said, choking up all over again.

Kim felt tears arise in his own eyes with the mention of Becky's imminent funeral. Despite his best efforts to avoid facing it, Kim could no longer deny the horrible fact that his beloved daughter was gone.

“Oh, God!” Tracy whimpered. “When I close my eyes I can see the face of the man I shot. It's something I'll never be able to forget. It'll haunt me the rest of my life.”

Kim wiped the tears off his cheek and took an uneven breath to pull himself together. “You have to concentrate on what you said back in the men's room. It was justified. If you hadn't pulled the trigger and shot him, he would surely have killed you. And then he would have killed me. You saved my life.”

Tracy closed her eyes.

It was after eleven o'clock when they pulled into Tracy's driveway and parked behind Kim's car. They were both completely drained: physically, mentally, and emotionally.

“I hope you're planning on staying here tonight,” Tracy said.

“I was hoping I was still invited,” Kim said.

They got out of the car. Arm-in-arm they walked up the path toward the house.

“Do you think we should call Justin tonight?” Tracy asked.

“Let's wait until morning,” Kim said. “As wired as I am, I don't know whether I'll be able to sleep, but I need to try. At this point I really can't think much beyond taking a long, hot shower.”

“I know what you mean,” Tracy said.

They climbed onto the porch. Tracy got out her key and opened the door. She stepped inside and made way for Kim. She closed the door and locked it. Only then did her hand grope for the light switch.