Page 42 of View from Above

A bullet ripped through her left shoulder. She stumbled forward, catching herself before she slammed into the desk in front of her. She missed and hit the floor. Rolling onto her back, she shoved her heels into the floor to keep moving.

Not fast enough.

“Oh, sweetie. I was happy to throw you from the rooftop and get this over quickly, but then you tried to set me on fire. I’m going to enjoy drawing this out as long as possible. Even if your death does raise questions down the line.” Joy patted out smoldering embers climbing up her blazer. The scent of fire drove into Mallory’s lungs. Her half-sister gripped her shoulder and pulled a scream from Mallory’s throat. “You think you know pain now. You have no idea what I’m about to do to you next.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Payton beat Wells by mere seconds as he pushed through Kotite Litigation’s front revolving door, weapon aimed high. Alarms echoed off polished marble as strobes flashed from the ceiling. Something was wrong.

Joy Leonard would stage Mallory’s suicide just as she had with her father, her mother, and half-sister. While women rarely externalized their anger and frustrations into acts of violence compared to their male counterparts, Roland Kotite’s bastard child had no qualms about taking lives. They were running out of time.

“Uniforms are on their way. Three minutes out.” Wells called over the blaring fire alarms. She moved in rhythm with Payton’s advance across the lobby. “The fire department should be responding. No sign of security.”

“She’s here. I can feel it.” They bypassed the front desk. Catching sight of a pair of polished black shoes, Payton rounded the corner before the elevators to get a full view. Blood pooled beneath the man’s head. A lot of it. Recognition flared as he studied the security guard Mallory had talked to the last time they’d been here. Shit. The guy was going to bleed out unless he got help in the next couple of minutes. Payton holstered his weapon and crouched, pressing two fingers to the man’s throat. “I’ve got a pulse.”

“I’ll call it in.” She wedged her phone between her shoulder and ear as she tore the bottom half of her T-shirt. “Go. Find Mallory. I’ll meet up with you as soon as backup arrives. Go!”

“Stay in touch.” Payton didn’t argue as every cell in his body honed on locating his partner. The elevators would announce his arrival, and he had no intention of letting Joy Leonard stay a step ahead. He took the stairs two at a time. His legs burned from exertion, but there wasn’t anything that was going to stop him from getting to Mallory.

Not even his own damn pride.

He reached a door wedged open. The seventh floor. A hint of smoke permeated his senses, and he left the protection of the stairwell. His eyes struggled to adjust to the dim emergency lighting and the unstoppable force of emergency sprinklers. He was soaked in seconds. Industrial carpet squished under his boots as he moved down the first row of cubicles, clearing each one as he passed. His foot hit something solid, and shard of glass skidded across the floor. He crouched to read the label of what looked like a broken bottle. Gin? A smaller outline solidified as his vision adjusted. A lighter, the kind easily picked up at any convenience store. Not part of Joy Leonard’s MO. That, combined with the burn of smoke in his nostrils, said whatever’d set off the fire system hadn’t been part of the plan. The killer wouldn’t draw attention to herself. Someone else had. “Mallory.”

She’d been here. On this floor. That detail fed into the hope she was still alive. She had to be. Payton searched the area around the blackened carpet. No sign of her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still in the building. He swept through a long row of cubicles and across the floor. A door led to the second half, most likely separating departments. He froze.

Was that…? He skimmed his hand over the indentation determined to puncture through steel, and a bullet hit the floor. Collecting the round from the carpet, he turned the misshapen slug over in his free hand. And a stain brushed across his palm. Blood. Mallory didn’t own a gun, and he had a hard time believing an employee here had left one unsupervised in their desk. Payton dropped the bullet and tugged his phone from his pocket, dialing Wells. The line connected. “Joy Leonard is armed. I’ve got a bullet hole in a door with blood. Mallory’s been shot. Seventh floor. Take the stairs. I’m heading up.”

“The fire department is on scene. I’m on my way.” Wells ended the call.

He couldn’t wait for her. Every second Mallory’s wound was left unattended was another second she might bleed out. Payton pumped his legs hard as he headed back for the stairwell. Out of breath and out of options, he climbed straight for the roof. Weapon gripped between both hands, he kicked the access bar on the door and stepped out into the exposed space.

A hand wrapped around his wrist and twisted the gun from his grip. Faster than he thought possible, his weapon cut through the air and disappeared over the retainer wall. A strike to the back of his knee brought him to the ground a split second before a fist collided with his face.

Lightning struck behind his eyes, making them water. Payton struggled to get his bearings as the killer rounded in front of him, a revolver in hand.

“So glad you could join us, Detective.” Joy Leonard held her head high as though she expected him to bow before her. “I was starting to get bored.”

He hauled himself to his feet and swung a sharp right hook. Missed. The momentum threw him forward and gave Joy the opening she needed to slam the butt of her weapon into the back of his neck. He hit the deck on hands and knees. Blood slipped over his shoulder. “Where is she?”

“Say hello to our uninvited guest, Mallory.” Joy cocked her head to one side, and he followed her direction to an all-too-familiar frame discarded near the retainer wall. “No need to be rude.”

Mallory clutched what looked like a bullet wound in her shoulder, her head set back against the wall. Blood streaked down her face from a laceration across her cheek. Heavy brown eyes said she’d already lost too much blood. She was on the verge of going into shock. “Payton, go. Get out of here. Please.”

“I told you before, Doc. I’m not going anywhere.” A predatorial growl vibrated through his chest. He hauled himself to his feet and pointed at Joy. “For every hole you put in her, I’m going to double it for you.”

“Aren’t you romantic?” Joy said. “But I don’t think Mallory has that kind of time.”

Payton launched forward. He blocked the killer’s attempt to raise the gun and slammed his hand into her forearm. Twisting the weapon free, he set his finger over the trigger and took aim. “Joy Leonard, you are under arrest for the murder of Roland Kotite, Virginia Green, and Angie Green. And the attempted murder—”

“Save your breath, Detective. You won’t ever see me in cuffs.” Joy wrapped her hand around his wrist.

He pulled the trigger.

The gun jammed.

“Oops.” Joy hauled her free fist into his jaw and kicked straight into his gut. “Did I forget to mention the gun was empty? My bad.”

He doubled over and stumbled back. The gun hit the cement between them and the chamber fell open. Empty. His pulse thudded hard at the back of his head where the gun had cut through skin and deep into the fatty tissue. Payton clamped a hand over the wound, his palm covered in blood.

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