Snowfall by Sharon Sala Page A

cell phone out of my coat, okay?”
    She nodded, and then, realizing she was holding his wrist, reluctantly turned him loose.
    Yeah baby, I know just how you feel, Mac thought as he took the phone out of an inner pocket.
    “Who are you calling?” Caitlin asked.
    “The cops. Now close your eyes and try to get some sleep. Want me to turn out the light? I can go into the hall to make my call.”
    “No, it’s okay.”
    He nodded, then dialed Aaron’s number, well aware that he was going to incite a small panic in the process, but he wanted the name of the person to contact regarding Caitlin’s case. Aaron answered on the second ring, his voice thick with sleep.
    “Hello?”
    “It’s me. Sorry to wake you.”
    “Oh, that’s all right,” Aaron mumbled, reaching for the lamp as he sat up in bed. The light came on at the same time he looked at the clock, and he groaned. “It’s freakin’ four o’clock in the morning. Couldn’t this have waited until daylight?”
    “Someone came into Caitlin’s room, lied about who he was and why he was here, and disappeared before I could get into the hall to talk to him.”
    “Oh shit.”
    “Exactly.”
    “Have you called the police?”
    “Not yet. I wanted the name of the person to contact before I made the call.”
    “I could have told you that,” Caitlin muttered behind him.
    Mac turned, eyeing her with trepidation. That slightly belligerent tone in her voice told him she was regaining her strength. Ignoring the frown on her face, he tried not to glare. It would seem that the honeymoon was over.
    “Don’t worry,” Aaron said. “I’ll call them. You just stay with Caitlin. Don’t let her out of your sight.”
    “I never turn my back on people who might like to slit my throat.”
    Caitlin snorted softly.
    “My God,” Aaron said. “She looks as if she’s been beaten all to hell and you’re already fighting?”
    “Aaron. Please. Just shut up and call the cops.”
    “Consider it done.”
    Mac hung up the phone, then strode over to the chair in which he’d been sleeping and dropped into it with a heavy sigh.
    Caitlin gave him one last look and then closed her eyes, as if she couldn’t bear to look at his face.
    Mac sighed again. There was nothing left to do but wait for daylight or the cops, whichever came first.
     
    It was almost daylight before Buddy got home. After finding out that his execution of Miss Bennett was going to have to wait, he’d taken out a little insurance, so to speak. It had been a simple thing, really, going across the rooftops to the Bennett Building. She occupied the penthouse, which meant he didn’t have far to go. A quick lock picking job, a thorough investigation of the setup, and after that it was a matter of finding the correct ventilation shaft.
    He liked old buildings, but they were hell to get into. Their walls were often crumbling, and there was little or no access from floor to floor except for stairs and creaking elevators in dark, dangerous shafts. Even with their so-called security systems, it was the new ones, with all their modern conveniences, that made breaking and entering a breeze. He found the main ventilation shaft and, with a grunt and a jump, pulled himself up and then in, crawling carefully through the slick metal tunnels until he found where he needed to go.
    Gaining access to her apartment was too easy. He was through the vent above her desk and into the room within seconds. Once his feet touched the floor, he stopped, listening to the quiet until he was satisfied he was the only one there. A quick scan of the area assured him there were no security cameras in view. After that, the place was all his.
    There was a light on down a hall, giving him enough illumination by which to see the understated opulence. An original Degas hung on the wall by the door, and there was am antique Chinese vase on a pedestal next to a bookshelf. Nothing more than little splashes of color, intimate touches from a female point of