Two floors of silence passed and they both started a low hum of “It’s Raining Men” before they cracked up.
“That? That’s what you were laughing at?”
“This,” said Rook, “may be the proudest moment of my life.”
As they stepped back out into the blast furnace and gathered under the Guilford canopy, Rook said, “You’ll never guess who wrote that song.”
“I don’t know songwriters, man,” from Raley.
“You’d know this one.”
“Elton John?”
“Wrong.”
“Clue?”
A woman’s scream cut through the rush-?hour noise of the city, and Nikki Heat bounded onto the sidewalk, her head swiveling to search up and down the block.
“Over there,” called the doorman, pointing toward Columbus. “Mrs. Starr!”
Heat followed his gaze to the corner, where a large man gripped Kimberly Starr by the shoulders and jammed her against a store window. It thundered on impact but did not break.
Nikki was off in a sprint, with the other three close behind. She waved her shield and hollered at pedestrians to move as she wove through the after-?work crowd. Raley fisted his two-?way and called for backup.
“Police, freeze,” called Heat.
In the assailant’s split second of alarm, Kimberly went for a groin kick that missed wildly. The man was already on the move and she torqued herself down to the pavement. “Ochoa,” said Heat, pointing at Kimberly as she passed. Ochoa stopped to attend her while Raley and Rook followed Heat, dodging cars into the crosswalk on 77th. A tour bus making an illegal turn blocked their path. Heat ran around the bus’s rear end, through a puff of hot diesel exhaust, emerging on the cobblestone sidewalk that surrounded the museum complex.
There was no sign of him. She slowed to a jog and then a race-?walk across from the Evelyn at 78th. Raley was still on his walkie behind her, calling in their location and the man’s description: “…male cauc, thirty-?five, balding, six feet, white short-?sleeve shirt, blue jeans…”
At 81st and Columbus Heat stopped and turned a circle. A sheen of perspiration glistened on her chest and fed a darkened V-?pattern down the front of her top. The detective showed no sign of fatigue, only alertness, seeing near and far at the same time, knowing all she needed was a glimpse of any piece of him to put her back on the run.
“He wasn’t in that good a shape.” Rook sounded a little winded. “He couldn’t have gotten far.”
She turned to him, a little impressed he had kept up. And a little annoyed that he had. “What the hell are you doing here, Rook?”
“Extra set of eyes, Detective.”
“Raley, I’ll cover Central Park West and circle the museum. You take 81st to Amsterdam and loop back on 79th.”
“Got it.” He cut against the grain of the downtown flow on Columbus.
“What about me?”
“Have you noticed I might be too busy to babysit you right now? If you want to be helpful, take that extra set of eyes and see how Kimberly Starr is doing.”