Stay calm. “And that was you at my brother’s house? You tried to bash in my skull?”
“I couldn’t have you turn around when that phone rang. It woulda screwed up everything. Like I told you from the start, Jonathan is trash. He was bringing trash into the company, too, squandering Nate’s legacy with all those foreigners. I just needed to get rid of him.”
“So you pose as Jonathan to ship the guns and kill my brother?”
“I figured he told you he was working for Jonathan. I thought the police would think Jonathan did it. I just didn’t count on the police fingering you. Lady, you got a lot of secrets.”
“Why pose as Jonathan to ship the guns?”
“Anybody finds out, Jonathan’s toast.”
“And why kill Michael and Gallagher?”
“Now that was Jonathan’s idea,” Hardy revealed between catching his breath. “Michael was gonna expose him and those foreigners he was in bed with.” Hardy snickered. “Remember, I just do what they tell me to do.”
I remembered Jonathan’s words from Nate’s party: I gave him one fucking job to do and he screwed that up!
“And apparently you got that all wrong, huh? You didn’t know Michael hated guns.”
“Keep walking.”
“Hardy, you’ve done all this for nothing. Max is never going to promote you. Shipping guns, killing people. None of it will ever be enough. They don’t respect you. Max, Jonathan, they’re just using you.”
“Shut up. Walk.”
“You don’t want to do this, Hardy. That organization, the Brethren? Trust me, you all won’t get away with whatever you’re planning.”
“I was prepared to make an exception for you. You had a rough childhood. But I can’t now. You understand, right, Legal Lady?”
Stay calm, Ellice. Stay calm.
“I actually like you even though you’re—” He caught himself. “Let’s just say I don’t paint with as broad a brush as Max. I would make an exception for you, but I can’t now. You could ruin everything and bring Nate’s legacy down. I can’t let that happen.”
Just a few feet more.
We approached the elevators. I stopped just shy of the small elevator vestibule. The dim spotlights from the ceiling reflected off the sweat pouring from Hardy’s forehead.
“Push the call button,” he commanded.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I said calmly.
“Push the call button!”
“No,” I said quietly.
He stared at me for a beat before he shook his head in frustration. The chase I’d given Hardy made him tired, weak, off his game. His breathing was still shallow. He took a couple steps inside the vestibule. He tripped on the stack of wood scaffolding boards that had surrounded the broken elevator. The gun fell to the floor. “Shit!”
Hardy spun in the direction of the gun and bent over to pick it up. I grabbed a pipe from the elevator scaffolding and brought it down across the back of his head with a dull thud. He stumbled again, this time in front of the open elevator shaft. I brought the pipe down again. But Hardy grabbed the other end of it. I held on to it as tight as I could. But Hardy was stronger. He gave the pipe a good swift tug.
But I let it go.
When I did, it was as if everything were in slow motion. I let go. Hardy lurched. The force of his tug, the bulk of his body sent him falling backward. His eyes widened in horror at the realization that there was no floor beneath him. No wall to break his fall. Nothing behind him except a long dark elevator shaft and the echo of his own screams.
And because of Nate’s strict rule, there were no security cameras on the twentieth floor.
No security footage or video to show me as I arrived in the executive suite a few minutes earlier and put on my gloves. No cameras to catch me as I pulled apart the wooden scaffolding surrounding the fourth elevator. Or when I stacked the boards in a pile near the entrance to the elevator bank. No one to see me when I used one of the wooden boards to wedge between the doors of the broken elevator, giving me enough leverage to pull the doors apart. There were no security cameras to catch me as I prepared Hardy’s grave—a long black hole twenty stories deep.
Detective Bradford’s words slipped into my head. Why is it that so many people around you have managed to wind up dead?
*
The static of the police radios and the bustle of the EMT echoed through Houghton’s cavernous lobby. The strobe effect of the red and blue lights from all the police cars reflected through the tall glass windows and made my eyes hurt. I sat in a leather chair in the lobby, staring up at Detective Bradford.