Page 22 of View from Above

“You got that big house.” A pair of black heels centered her vision. Right before one of them connected with her ribs. Air crushed from Mallory’s lungs as the killer hauled her foot back for another strike. “College tuition, a trust fund.” Another kick. “You had his attention whether you wanted it or not. Something I’ve never been able to garner. You had everything. And you walked away like it was nothing. So I’m here to take what’s mine.”

Agony ripped through her midsection, but all Mallory could do was ride the wave. Her lungs protested against much needed oxygen, while her ribcage felt as though it was going to strangle her at any moment. Her fingernails clawed into the cement. “Angie… Why?”

“Ah, yes. Angie.” Her abductor moved out of her vision. The scrape of the office chair drowned out the high-pressured race of her pulse at the back of her head. “She was nosey. Seems after she discovered the affair between Virginia and Roland, she started digging deeper. She realized all those designer clothes and jewelry Virginia had hung onto were the product of hush money. Roland’s hush money. It didn’t take long for her to try to claim some of that as her own. And, well, I couldn’t have that. So I posed as her legal counsel and took care of the problem,” she said. “As for Virginia, that was a little more rewarding. Roland complained for years about having to pay her off. Every time he’d tried to stop, she’d threaten to go to the press. Then she started asking for more to make up for losing it all to a scammer. I was the only one who had the courage to do something about it. She’d been expecting me, if you can believe it. Wasn’t too happy when I told her I was the one who’d drained her accounts six months ago. Either way, worked out for me in the end.”

Angie had blackmailed her father? Nausea churned in Mallory’s gut, but whether it was from the pain in her ribs or the effects of the drug, she didn’t know. Getting off this roof. Survival. That was all that mattered. Mallory pressed her wrists into the cement, pushing her face away from the ground. Blood pooled in her mouth. “I don’t have his money.”

“I know, but you did inherit his firm.” The heels circled behind her a split second before pressure wrapped around her ankles. Her face jerked against the pavement as the killer dragged her closer to the retainer wall. “Then there’s the matter of his stocks, the title to the house, the family trust fund, the vacation houses in Spain and Hawaii. You get the picture. You’d be surprised how much financial information you can collect from someone’s office when you have their trust.”

“I won’t see any of that. He left it all to…” Panic fused with the muscles down Mallory’s spine. The world blurred in a string of color as her abductor circled around and hauled her upright from behind. The wall tracing the perimeter of the rooftop cut into her already damaged ribs, and a scream escaped her control.

A trickle of laughter raised the hairs on the back of her neck. “Right. About your mother. I’m sorry to say she’s not going to make it out of this alive either. Maybe there’s some kind of discount you can take advantage of at the mortuary. You know, like a three for one kind of deal. Because when I’m done, there isn’t going to be enough money to bury any of you.”

Vertigo set in. White noise from the street ten stories down battled with the echo of her inhales. Her vision swam, and she nearly tipped to one side. Blood trickled from her bottom lip. “That’s what this is about. The money?”

Her feet swept out from under her at the encouragement of her killer until she was lying flat along the retainer wall. She pressed her face into the stone and closed her eyes against the dizzying array of movement below. No. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t how she was going to die. This wasn’t supposed to be the end.

“It didn’t start out that way. That’s just a bonus.” The killer smoothed Mallory’s hair back away from her face. “No. This is about what my life should’ve looked like. This is about who I could’ve been, if I’d just been given the chance. If Roland had made the effort to see me for who I really was, things might not have turned out so horribly for him in the end.”

There was a beat of silence. Mallory silently screamed for her body to obey her commands, but it was no use. Her mind clawed for the smallest bit of comfort as the end drew near. Payton’s laugh at one of her cheesy jokes, the warmth of apple-walnut French toast and coffee, the softness of his mouth pressed against hers. If she was going to die, she was going to remember the good things before she hit the ground, and no one—not even her father’s killer—could take that away from her.

“But he didn’t, and here we are.” The killer set her hands against Mallory’s low back and legs. “Funny enough, I’d always imagined what it would be like. You, me, Roland. A family. Your mom would be out of the picture by then, of course. Couldn’t have her asking questions. We’d take long drives down the coast, take vacations together, talk, and laugh. But these past couple of years have shown me who I really am, who my friends are, what I’m capable of. Truth is, I’m better on my own.”

She pushed Mallory over the edge.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Payton ripped open the stairwell door leading to the fourth floor, weapon aimed low. “Seattle PD, I need everyone to take a seat. Building security is going to take each one of your names and your reason for being here.” Gasps, wide eyes, and confused questions assaulted him from the dozen or so people slowly moving to follow instructions. He nodded to Martinez coming up behind him. “Lock it down. I don’t want anyone coming in or leaving this building. Got it?” Not waiting for an answer, he double-gripped his weapon as he moved toward Mallory’s office in the northwest corner.

The fogged glass door swung inward at the slightest provocation, exposing the empty office. There were any number of reasons she’d decided not to stay put, but something wasn’t right. Why take her office chair? Payton cut back into the open office floorplan. “Has anyone seen the woman who uses this office? The therapist. Mallory Kotite.” No answer. Heads shook in response. “Anyone?”

Desperation ripped through him. Damn it. He holstered his weapon. He was running out of time. If Angie Green’s killer was here, there was only one place this ended. He just hoped he made it in time. “Martinez, where is the roof access for this building?”

“Service elevator,” the guard said. “Down that hall behind you to the left.”

Payton bolted for the elevator and shoved inside. Miserable seconds distorted into minutes as the car took him up six stories. “I’m coming, Mallory. Just hold on.”

The doors parted, and he stepped into a small, covered area protecting the service elevator before opening up into an ocean of cement and sky. Nervous energy prickled at the back of his neck as he surveyed the landscape. No sign of movement or Mallory, but he targeted an office chair tipped on its side approximately thirty feet from his position. Shit. The killer had rolled her straight out of Mallory’s office and onto the roof. Based off the woman’s frame from the surveillance footage, she wouldn’t have been able to carry her victims herself. She’d needed the chair to move his partner. But how had she gotten to the service elevator without being noticed? Mallory would’ve fought back—

The injection marks. Dr. Moss had narrowed the toxin to a sedative. The killer had to incapacitate her victims before tossing them off their rooftops to make a clean escape. No chance of DNA under fingernails or a struggle that left evidence behind. CSU hadn’t been able to find anything forensically tying another person to the scene of Virginia Green’s death because the victim had no choice but to go along with the plan. Efficient. But not foolproof. Toxicology reports would eventually reveal the drug, throwing out suicide as the cause of death. “Which is why you’re moving so fast.”

Damn it. He should’ve seen it before now. Payton heel-toed it to his right, back to the guardrail separating him from a bloody death ten stories down. His gut said that if the killer had brought Mallory to the roof, she wouldn’t have had time or an exit to escape. Whoever’d taken his partner was still here. And Mallory… He shoved the worst-case scenario to the back of his mind. No. She was still alive. He just had to buy her time until Wells arrived. “I know you’re out here.”

No answer.

He followed the outline of the roof’s perimeter. He wasn’t too late. She was here. She had to be.

“Payton!” That voice. Her voice. It was close, but another scan of the roof failed to produce the woman who’d forced her way under his skin and refused to vacate.

Ice ran through his veins, and he lowered his weapon a fraction of an inch. Confusion and panic combined into a volatile cocktail. “Mallory?”

“Help me! I can’t hold on!” Clear desperation rocketed his heart into his throat.

“Mallory!” He holstered his weapon, running the length of one side of the building. Until he found her. Mallory struggled to hang on for dear life. “Hang on! I’ll find something to pull you up.”

“No! Don’t leave me. Please. I can’t hang on. The sedative…” Sobs wracked through her chest and tears streaked down her face. The world refused to stop below her, but he caught sight of a small crowd assembling along the sidewalk. “She’s still here. She’s still—”

Pain exploded at the back of his head and rammed him against the retainer wall. Lightning stuck behind his eyes, and he fell back against the pavement.

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