The Last Guy

Kevin’s face scrunches. “A kid in a hoodie? Why?”

“I can’t explain it, but I have a feeling. What if the grabber lives in the parking garage? What if he’s in there right now, waiting for his next victim?”

“Why would he live in a stairwell?”

“I don’t know! Desperate people do crazy things. Maybe he’s homeless.”

Waiting in the courtyard, I try to think of the best plan of action. I don’t want to scare him off. I want to do what he does—wait until everyone is gone and bust him before he hurts another old lady.

“These are petty thefts, only enough to last a few days. He’s unarmed in the police reports . . .”

“Who’s to say he hasn’t armed himself? Maybe he’s working up to really hurting someone.”

“Don’t be a coward, Kevin.”

The parking garage is shadowy and smells like gasoline and urine. The LED sign at the entrance says the first and second levels are full, most likely thanks to the press conference. Mondays are typically slow shopping days.

“Is there another way up to the third level?” I whisper, walking toward the back of the garage. “We need to find a place to hide and wait.”

“Hide? I’ve got to get back to the station so I can prep this for ten.”

“Vicky can prep it for ten,” I snap, hoping I’m not giving Marv the third strike he needs to fire me.

My heels click on the concrete, and I’m walking fast. Kevin is huffing and puffing beside me. I look down at my watch. It’s six forty, and the news has wrapped. It’s also around the time our grabber loves to strike.

Holding the slam-bar, I ease the metal door open and glance up the concrete stairs. “Empty,” I whisper. “Be quiet.”

A knot is in my throat. I swallow it away. My chest is tight, but I carefully go up the block of stairs. My palms are sweaty. I’m literally shaking when Kevin’s phone goes off, and I swear to God I jump out of my skin.

“Shut that thing off!” I hiss.

“Hello?” Kevin is on the line with someone. “Yeah . . . Yeah, we’re still here. Sorry, I had my earpiece off for a bit. Uh, yeah, I don’t think she’s going to wait . . .”

“Who is it?” I cut my eyes at him. My breath is coming fast, and all I can think is we’re losing time.

“Marv. He’s been trying to reach us. He says Cade left a few minutes ago to come down here. Maybe we should wait?”

I don’t have time to wait. My big story could be over before it even starts. I walk faster and we’re halfway between the second and third level when I hear a scream.

Shit! I was right!

“Kevin! MOVE!” I shout, running up the remaining steps and bursting through the metal door.

Cade

I FINISH THE sports report and toss my earpiece on the anchor desk. Stone’s ignoring me. A tingle of worry zips up my spine as I picture her being a detective, lurking around darkened parking garages. My gut’s been churning since the moment she said she saw a suspicious character at the scene and now she’s gone off halfcocked?

All for a fucking news story.

My eyes land on Marv. I blame him for this shit. She wants to impress him for the weekend anchor position—that someone else is going to get.

“What’s going on?” Marv asks as I stalk from the set and gather my things. “Is she following someone at the press conference? Does she think it’s the mugger?” He’s practically rubbing his hands together in glee as I give him a death glare.

“She could be in danger,” I snap.

He taps his headpiece. “Rebecca? You there?” When he doesn’t get a response, he shrugs. “No reply, but she’s probably fine. I’ll keep trying.”

Fuck fine!

I want to be sure and the only way to do that is to get myself down there.

Once I get to my car, I drive like a man possessed, my tires squealing on the pavement as I run two red lights.

I park on the curb next to the garage, assessing the scene. The mayor is shaking hands with local businessmen and most of the reporters have gone except for one station. I search the crowd for Stone and when I don’t see her, I jog to the garage. I’ve just opened the steel door to climb the stairs when I hear a scream.

Taking the steps three at a time, I listen, trying to pinpoint where the yelling is coming from. The sounds get louder as I reach the third floor. I burst out of the metal door, my chest heaving from the sprint, but it’s nothing compared to the way I feel seeing Stone tangled up with a young man with stringy hair and dingy jeans.

He’s wearing a ripped gray hoodie, and an older lady with white hair is crying as she huddles in a corner next to a concrete beam. Kevin hovers behind Stone, playing defense to keep the guy blocked between two cars while balancing his small Avid camera on his shoulder, recording everything.

My first instinct is to yell her name and tell her to get away, but I don’t. First, there’s no time, and second, I don’t think she’d listen.

“Call the cops! Now!” I bark at the lady as I rush toward Stone who’s currently grabbing at a black bag the guy is clutching close to his chest. It must belong to the old lady.

“Give . . . it . . . back!” Stone yanks on the purse as she and the mugger do a back and forth. The straps break and the contents of the bag go flying.

I’ve reached them and once the young guy takes stock of me, he freezes. Yeah, that’s right. I’m here to kick your goddamn ass.

With a grunt, he shoves a fiery Stone to the ground and takes off running.

I briefly make sure she’s fine and dart after him. “Stay here,” I yell in her direction as I fly by.

The young man scuttles away, careening and bumping into vehicles as he heads to the EXIT sign over the stairwell. I gain on him, noticing a slight hitch in his gait.

Maybe it will slow him down. He can’t outrun me, I tell myself. Even with my knee injury, I’m still badass—but my Tom Ford slacks and loafers are slowing me down.

His hand slips on the metal bar and it’s just enough time for me to reach out and snatch the hood on the back of his shirt. I jerk him backwards. A strangled noised comes from his throat as the fabric holds him in place. His hand slips off the door as he simultaneously flips around and launches himself at me. We go to the ground, and he jabs his fist toward my stomach and groin, which is about all he can reach.

I avoid the punches and hurtle to my feet.

Panting, he doesn’t miss a beat, coming up with me and flinging himself in my direction.

He’s wiry and thin, but quicker than I’d anticipated.

A flurry of footsteps and raised voices penetrate my brain, and I presume it’s Stone, making me all the more determined to finish this off.

His face twists when I grab his right arm to hold him still. “It’s over,” I bite out. “Give it up.”

He grunts, a fine sheen of sweat on his face when his left fist comes out of nowhere and connects with my chest. Oomph. It’s a weak shot, but it takes my breath. I dodge the next one, itching to pound into him but restraining myself. If he had a weapon, I’d go for it, but he doesn’t appear to.

Stone shows up in my peripheral and that panicked feeling sets in again.

If anything had happened to her . . .

“Get out of here and call the damn cops!” I bark.

She stares at me, eyes wide as she clutches the purse to her chest. It’s okay, I want to tell her. I’m going to take care of this.