What was his next move? I watched and waited, sweat dripping off the tip end of my nose now. My mouth was bone dry. I could barely think through the whip of fear and anxiety coursing through me.
Just wait, Ellice. Calm down and wait.
The room was stifling, my sweater soaked and sticky. My shin started to hurt from banging it on Hardy’s clutter. I closed my eyes. I fought past my fear and pain and focused on my small kernel of an idea. When I looked again, Hardy sat scratching his gray buzz cut.
I quietly eased from behind the door. “Hey, Hardy. You looking for me?” I whispered.
He jumped. I’d startled him. “Hey, Ellice, I need to talk to you.”
“About what? The Brethren?” I watched his fragile smile slowly melt into shock. “Or maybe you’d like to talk to me about why you killed my brother.”
Hardy stood from his chair. “Ellice . . .” He started to move around the desk.
I shot from his office and down the dimly lit hallway. I wasn’t much of a runner, but I knew I could outrun Hardy.
“Ellice, wait!” His heavy footsteps trailed in my wake, the girth of his body slowing him. “Ellice! Stop! Let’s talk for a minute.”
That’s right, Hardy. Let’s go.
Panic rushed through me like a bullet train. My heartbeat booming in my ears.
I raced inside the maze of cubicles.
“Ellice, c’mon. Let’s talk about this, huh? It’s not the way it looks. Where are you?”
I found an empty cubicle and crawled underneath its desk. Every sound on this empty floor was a roar. The footfalls of his rubber-soled boots, squeaking under his weight. The rustle of his jacket flapping against his pants. All of it crushing me with terror. I held my breath. His steps slowly crept past me.
“Ellice? Come on out. Let’s . . . just . . . talk. Ellice?”
His boots stopped. He was just a few feet away from me. His breathing was labored. Heaving. Sighing. The chase was beginning to take its toll. I crawled from underneath the cubicle desk on all fours, waiting for my next opportunity. A minute later, I slipped out from the cubicle. “Hardy!”
He realized I was behind him this time. He turned around and started another chase. I made a straight line for the staircase.
“Ellice!”
I raced past more cubicles, heading to the farthest end of the floor, the pounding inside my head in rhythmic lockstep with the thudding beast in my chest. I was drenched in sweat and fear.
Just keep up, Hardy.
I made it to the staircase door. Hardy still on my tail, I hustled through the door. It slammed behind me with a loud hard clang. A few seconds later, I heard him enter the staircase. I rushed up the stairs to the twentieth floor. I barely felt my feet beneath me.
“Ellice. Ellice!” His voice echoed off the staircase walls.
Hardy’s heavy footsteps still trailed me, the girth of his body slowing him once again.
I dashed inside the twentieth floor. The floor was dark. Only the dim spotlights overhead every few feet. Now it was my turn. I slowed down a bit waiting for Hardy to catch up. He panted, heavy like a race-worn horse.
“Ellice, this was all Jonathan’s fault. He messed up everything.”
Just be patient, Ellice.
I glanced over my shoulder. He was still behind me and moving much slower now. The air from his lungs was nearly gone, his body fighting to breathe through the sweat and exhaustion.
Just a few feet more, Hardy.
“Let’s just talk. I spoke to Rudy about the shipments. You weren’t supposed to find out about that.” I slowed, giving Hardy time to catch up. But I still kept a brisk pace. And then Hardy finally caught up to me. He pulled a gun from his waistband. He pressed it into my back. “Legal Lady, please don’t force me to use this. Let’s just take a walk out to your car. We can go for a little ride and talk.”
Like hell we will.
Hardy could hold ten guns to my back, and he couldn’t make me cower. I was still fighting for Sam the same way I had done all my life. And like Willie Jay and Butch Coogler and anyone else who hurt Sam, Hardy would lose.
“Move!”
I started walking toward the elevator bank. Slowly. Taking the longer route past the Fish Bowl conference room.
Hardy’s breathing was hot on my neck. “I think you have some things that belong to me,” he said.
“You lured my brother over to Houghton the day before you killed Michael to get him on security footage. But why did you have to kill him?”
“I’m sorry about that, Legal Lady. All you had to do was sit tight. I gave you the bank logs, everything we needed to get rid of Jonathan. I would have fixed everything. Sorry, I had to get rid of your brother to make everything work out.”