Die Twice Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’d say it had been a laundry room. No doubt useful for the people who’d lived in the building when it was still occupied. And certainly convenient for me, now.
    I was still rooting around in the debris on the floor, looking fora length of abandoned pipe to use as a backup weapon, when I heard footsteps in the hallway above me. I moved quickly, sliding into place behind the open door and checking the view through the gap beneath the hinges. The footsteps moved to the stairs. They started to come down. There was only one set. The person was in a hurry. They reached the ground. Then I saw a figure reflected in the glass entrance door. It was Dr. Rollins. He scampered across the corridor and reached out, his hand shaking almost uncontrollably as he scrabbled for the latch. It wouldn’t turn. He wrestled with it, focusing entirely on the lock and paying no attention at all to his surroundings. A ten-year-old could have strolled up and tapped him on the back without him noticing. So it was no challenge at all to clamp my left hand over his mouth, grab his collar with my right, and march him back into the laundry, out of sight.
    I closed the door behind me with my foot and led Rollins into the center of the room, under the light, where it was bright and spacious. His quivering was getting worse by the second, and I didn’t want him completely losing control. Not yet, anyway.
    “Can you hear me?” I said. “Can you understand what I’m saying?”
    I felt the muscles in his neck stiffen a little, but he didn’t answer.
    “Dr. Rollins, can you hear me?” I said. “I don’t want you to worry. I’m here to help you. Now, if I let go, will you make a noise?”
    His head twitched slightly. “This is important, Doctor,” I said. “I need to be sure. Personal safety is on the line here, for both of us. So, if I let go, will you scream?”
    This time he went to the opposite extreme, jerking his head wildly from side to side.
    I removed my left hand from his mouth, and when twenty seconds passed without him squealing, I let go of his collar.
    “Excellent,” I said. “Thank you. Now, turn around. Let’s talk.”
    Rollins didn’t move.
    “What’s wrong with your feet?” I said.
    He didn’t answer.
    “Are they stuck to the floor?” I said.
    He stayed silent.
    “Did you tread in wet cement?” I said. “Shall I call the fire department?”
    Still nothing.
    “Let’s simplify this,” I said. “Turn around. Answer my questions. Or I walk out of here and let the Chicago police come in and collect you.”
    Rollins groaned softly and started to sway, but he still didn’t turn.
    “The guy upstairs—he’s no choirboy,” I said. “You’ve been aiding and abetting a wanted felon. You’ve been caught red-handed. The police want to throw you in jail. And you know what will happen to a guy like you in jail, don’t you, Doctor?”
    Rollins was silent again.
    “You know what they’ll do to you?” I said. “Let’s just agree, it won’t be you giving the injections.”
    “You’re disgusting,” he said.
    “Maybe,” I said. “But do you want that, Doctor? Night after night?”
    “No,” he said, eventually. “Of course not—but—please. I had no choice.”
    “You have now,” I said. “Go to jail, or talk to me. Choose wisely. I’m the only one who can help you.”
    “How? How can you help?”
    “Turn around and we’ll talk.”
    “Who are you? What can you do?”
    “Turn around. Now.”
    He stayed still.
    “There are police officers outside,” I said. “Twelve. If you’re lucky, they might just shoot you. You could die in this room. In about thirty seconds. Unless you show me your face.”
    Rollins shuffled around in a tight circle, taking tiny, slow steps like an arthritic old man. He was staring at the floor. I said nothing. His eyes crept up as far as my knees. I waited. They reached my waist. My chest. He faltered. Got a grip on himself. Wiped his eyes. And finally, awkwardly, managed to