Jamie

“Come on, Gus, let’s make it quick,” I say to the dog. “Molly’s warm and toasty, and she’s waiting for me.”

We head down the stairs to the foyer, and I hear a lot of activity coming from apartment 1B. A young man is breathing heavily as he walks out the building’s front entrance. It sounds like he’s carrying a heavy load.

As I reach the door, I find it propped wide open with something heavy. Irritated, I kick what feels like a brick out of the way and let the door swing shut.

“Hey, man, leave it open,” the guy says. “I’ve still got a lot of shit to carry out.”

“Don’t leave the door propped open,” I tell him.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, trudging down the steps toward the street.

He’s probably got a rented moving truck parked at the curb.

I walk Gus a hundred feet or so from the building to one of his favorite trees and wait for him to finish his business. It’s cold outside, and Molly’s waiting for me in her warm bed, hopefully naked. And right now, that’s where I want to be. “Hurry up, pal,” I mutter as Gus sniffs loudly.

Once Gus is done, we head back toward the building.

“Gus, find the stairs,” I tell him, and he leads me up the front stoop. When we reach the front of the building, I feel a strong draft of warm air coming through the open door. Dammit. I told him not to prop the door open.

I bend down and grab the brick, intending to toss it in the trash can. My downstairs neighbor comes stomping out of his apartment, carrying another load. It sounds like he’s carrying a noisy box of pots and pans.

“I told you not to prop open – ” I stop mid-sentence when I hear a scream from the second floor – a shrill female cry. Molly! I shove Gus’s harness into the guy’s hand and tell him, “Take care of my dog and call 911! Now!” And then I run up the stairs toward Molly’s apartment.

Her door is unlocked and I crack it open, listening. I can hear the muted sounds of a struggle coming from the bedroom.

I slip into the apartment, shutting the door behind me, and open the electrical panel in the corner of the living room, throwing the main breaker to shut off electricity to the apartment. I can operate just fine in the dark; Todd Ferguson can’t.

As soon as the power is cut off, I hear Molly scream, “Jamie!”

Todd hisses, “Shut up!”

Molly cries out in fear. Then Todd tells her, “If you make another sound, I will carve you up.”

He’s got a knife. If he has a knife, chances are he probably doesn’t have a gun. Good.

“He has a knife!” Molly screams in a hoarse voice.

“God dammit!” Todd growls.

Then my blood runs cold when I hear Molly cry out in pain. If he cut her, I’ll kill him!

I move quickly across the living room and down the hallway toward her bedroom. Her apartment is identical to mine, so I can easily navigate the floor plan. When I enter her bedroom, I hear them scuffling on the bed.

I grab hold of Todd’s jacket and lift him off the bed, tossing him to the floor. Then I follow him down, pinning his hand – the one wielding the knife – to the floor.

“Molly, get out!” I yell.

Todd struggles to get to his feet, but I pin him to the floor with a knee to his chest.

“You fucker!” he growls, heaving for breath. He tries to buck me off, but I outweigh him. “I’ll kill you!”

“Molly, go!” I yell. Whatever happens here, I don’t want her to hear it.

My mind registers the sound of Molly running from the room in her bare feet. Once she’s gone, I’m at liberty to take action. I reach for Todd’s knife hand, grasping his wrist and twisting it, wrenching it back until the bones snap. Todd screams, the sound high pitched and desperate.

“Not so tough now, are you?” I say, panting from the exertion of holding him down. I figure I have fewer than five minutes before the cops arrive.

I reach for the knife with the intention of relieving Todd of his weapon, but he grabs for it with his other hand. He swings his arm toward me with the intention of stabbing me in the back. It’s a classic mistake in close-contact fighting – don’t let your own weapon be used against you. He’s not taking into consideration that if he follows through on his intended arc and misses my back, he’ll bury the knife in his own chest.

Yep, classic mistake.

As he takes his swing, throwing all of his strength behind it, I roll away at the last second. His hand continues on its path with enough momentum to bury the knife deep in Todd’s chest.

He grunts when the knife pierces his ribs and tunnels into his heart. His desperate gasps for air sound wet as his lungs fill with blood. I think he’ll suffocate before his heart stops beating.

I sit back on the floor, breathing heavily myself, as I listen to his labored gasps.

“You should have left her alone, asshat,” I say, feeling no remorse. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

He tries to speak, but his words are garbled by the blood filling his throat. He grabs at the knife in desperation, trying to pull it out, but it’s lodged in there firmly.

I can hear the sirens now, wailing in the distance, as the police descend on our location. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and voice dial Shane.

“Hey, brother, what’s up?” he says, sounding a bit groggy.

“Did I wake you?”

“Yeah, but no problem. You wouldn’t call this late unless it was important. What do you need?”

“A little help would be nice. I just killed Molly’s ex-husband. Well, technically, he killed himself. Basically, he fell on his own knife. Classic beginner mistake.”

There’s an ominous silence over the phone line as Todd’s gurgling breaths slow. I give him two minutes, tops.

Shane’s voice is impressively steady and calm. “Did you just say – ”

“Yeah. I did. Can you send Troy over to our building? And a coroner. We’re going to need a body bag.”

Shane exhales heavily. “I’m on my way. Hold tight.”

Ferguson didn’t even make it two minutes. When the gurgling breaths stop, I reach over to feel his carotid artery. Nothing. No pulse. No breaths. Nothing. He’s gone.

A moment later, I hear Molly’s footsteps coming down the hallway. She’s moving cautiously.

“It’s okay, honey,” I say. “The coast is clear.”

She hovers in the doorway. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

She laughs shakily. “I am now. Are you sure you’re all right?”

I climb to my feet and blow out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I’m sure.” I meet her in the open doorway. “We should probably turn the power back on. The cops will need the lights on to do their jobs.”

It’s pitch black in the apartment, so I lead Molly by the hand back into the living room. I sit her down on the sofa, then head for the breaker box to flip the breaker back on. Immediately, the refrigerator starts humming again, and the furnace starts back up. Molly switches on the lamp on the end table beside the sofa.

I take a seat on the coffee table directly across from her so I run my hands over her body. “Are you hurt?”

She lifts her fingertips to her face and hisses a pained breath. “He cut my face, but I don’t think it’s bad. There’s not much blood.” She takes a deep breath. “What about Todd?”

“He’s no longer a problem.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He stabbed himself in the chest.”

Police officers sweep into the apartment, yelling at us to freeze.

“It’s okay,” I tell them. “It’s over. The intruder’s body is in the bedroom.” I point down the hallway. “The only door on the left.”

I’ve got hold of Molly’s hands, and they’re trembling. I move to sit beside her on the sofa and pull her into my arms.

“I’ve called for an ambulance,” one of the officers says. “She’s going to need medical treatment.”

“How bad is it?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“Well, I’m not an EMT, but it doesn’t look too bad to me. She may need stitches. Her throat is badly bruised too. The squad’s on its way.”

Molly’s apartment turns into Grand Central Station not long after that. Two Chicago detectives arrive, along with a forensics team, and finally the coroner.

Then Shane walks in, in the middle of a heated phone conversation with Troy Spencer.

Apparently he brought Jake with him as well.

“Jamie, what the hell?” Jake says as he walks into the apartment. Jake sits on the other side of Molly. “Let me see your face. Jesus, you’re lucky. One inch higher, and he might’ve taken out your eye. That’s going to need stitches. But don’t worry, it’ll just add character to your face – make you a little more bad ass than you already are.”

She laughs nervously. “I’m not a bad ass. Jamie’s the bad ass.”

“Hey, bro, how the hell did Ferguson get in?” Jake says.

“The tenants downstairs are moving out, and they kept propping the door open. I closed it when I left to walk Gus, but the kid must have propped it open again once I was gone. Ferguson must have slipped inside when I was walking Gus.”

“We’re going to have to do something about the security in this place,” Jake says. “Having other tenants is a problem without proper door security. It seems silly to add a doorman twenty-four-seven. It would make more sense to move you guys to a secured building.”

While Jake’s talking, Molly leans into me. I can feel her body shaking, and I’m afraid she’s in shock. I put my arm around her and draw her close, kissing her temple. “Just rest.”