The Shadow Hunter

He shot you, and you shot him. Two corpses. End of story.”
    They’d reached the seventh floor. Each flight consisted of eighteen stairs; she’d counted. Fifty-four stairs to go.
    “Not quite the end,” she said. “You haven’t explained why you brought me into the case.”
    “Can’t you guess? There were two reasons. The first was of a practical nature. I had to do something to set Hickle off. I’d tried goading him, pushing his buttons, but he kept hesitating. I needed a way to make him crazy—even more crazy than usual. I knew he was paranoid. If he found out the new woman in his life was a spy…”
    “He’d snap.”
    “So I sent you in…and set you up.”
    “Nice. But you said there were two reasons. Mind if I take a stab at the second one?”
    “Be my guest.”
    “Devin Corbal.”
    “Bingo.”
    “You told me a hundred times that it wasn’t my fault.”
    “I lied. That night four months ago, you fucked up. You
fucked up
, Abby.”
    She heard the surge of raw hostility in his voice, and for a moment she was reminded of Hickle inveighing against the people he hated, the people with “the look.” They were not so different, Paul Travis and Raymond Hickle. Both knew all about hatred and little else.
    “You had a job to do,” Travis was saying, “and you failed. In one moment of carelessness you jeopardized everything I’ve worked for, brought me to the edge of bankruptcy. I started in a Newark housing project, and I made it this far—and you nearly took it all away. And you expected me to
forgive
you? To say it’s okay, don’t worry your pretty head about it? You’re supposed to know all about people, Abby. Didn’t you know me?”
    “Not as well as I’d thought,” she said quietly.
    “There’s no forgiveness in matters of this kind,” Travis breathed. “That’s one lesson I learned on the street a long timeago. Nobody fucks with me. Nobody takes what I have. And if they fuck up, they pay.
They pay
.”
    Eighth floor. Abby’s shoulders were getting sore from the strain of holding her arms above her head. Well, it wouldn’t be a problem much longer. Two flights of stairs—thirty-six steps—and it was the end of the line.
    “Is that why you went after me in the hot tub?” Abby asked.
    Travis made a small affirmative sound. “I hadn’t planned it. It just happened. I was watching Hickle’s building to see if you’d established residency yet. I saw you enter the spa area. And—well, it just looked so damn easy. I would push you down, and in a minute you’d be dead.”
    “You weren’t worried about the consequences?”
    “What consequences? Most likely it would have been ruled an accidental drowning. If it wasn’t, I could pin the blame on Howard. He was out nearly every night. He would have no alibi except the word of his mistress, hardly a credible source.”
    “But I wouldn’t be around to push Hickle over the edge.”
    “There were other ways to motivate him. But I wasn’t thinking of that. I was thinking—”
    “You weren’t thinking, Paul. Not at all. You were caught up in rage, a child throwing a tantrum.”
    “I almost got you,” he muttered sullenly. “If you hadn’t grabbed that damn beer bottle…” He sighed. “I couldn’t afford to let you cut me. I couldn’t leave any blood at the scene. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve got you anyway. I’ve got you.” They reached the ninth-floor landing, and suddenly the gun pressed harder into her back. “Okay, this is your last stop.”
    “You’ve lost count. We want the tenth floor.”
    “My math is fine. You’ll die right here. I’m close enough to Hickle now. And I’d rather have the police find you one story below—like he got the drop on you while you were coming up. Now turn around slowly.”
    Abby obeyed, wishing they’d climbed one story higher. She’d wanted a little more time.
    “I’m impressed, Paul,” she said softly. “I didn’t think you’d have the nerve to face me.”
    The flashlight illuminated his features from below, casting the hollows of his eyes into harsh relief. He was smiling. “On the contrary, I’ve been looking forward to it. So do you want it in the head or in the heart? Considering our relationship, I think the heart would be more appropriate.”
    “You’re not going to shoot me,” Abby said softly.
    “No? What’s stopping me? Sentiment? Affection? I don’t traffic in those weaknesses. If you didn’t know that by now, you’ll have to learn it