As soon as he spotted her, Carlos made a flying leap for Tracy. Like the night before, he had a large knife clasped in his hand.
Tracy had no time to think. Closing her eyes against the hurling figure she pulled the trigger in quick succession. Two shots rang out before Carlos careened into her, slamming her against the door and knocking the gun from her hand. She felt a stabbing pain in her chest as she crumbled beneath the man’s weight.
Tracy desperately tried to breathe and to wriggle free as the man’s weight settled on top of her. But he had her easily pinned.
To Tracy’s surprise the killer moved off her. She looked up, expecting to see him standing over her with his knife raised for a deadly stab. Instead she was looking at Kim’s distraught face.
“Oh, God!” Kim cried. “Tracy!” He’d pulled the killer off her and had thrown him aside as if the man were no more than a sack of potatoes. Frantic over the amount of blood spreading across Tracy’s chest, he dropped to his knees and ripped open her blouse. As a thoracic surgeon, he’d treated stab wounds to the chest, and he knew what to expect. But what he found was a blood-soaked bra; Tracy’s skin was intact. There was no sucking chest wound with air rushing in as he’d feared.
Kim leaned closer to Tracy’s face. She was still struggling to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her.
“Are you all right?” Kim demanded.
Tracy nodded but still couldn’t speak.
Kim turned his attention to the killer. The man was writhing and groaning and had managed to turn himself over on his stomach. Kim rolled him back over and recoiled.
At such close range, both of Tracy’s wild shots had found their mark. One had gone through Carlos’ right eye to exit out the back of his skull. The other had hit him in the right chest, which explained the blood all over Tracy.
The man was foaming at the mouth and jerking uncoordinatedly. It was clear to Kim he was about to die.
“Is he hurt?” Tracy managed. Wincing against the pain in her chest, she pushed herself to a sitting position.
“He’s as good as dead,” Kim said. He stood up and began searching for the gun.
“Oh, no!” Tracy moaned. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I killed someone.”
“Where’s the gun?” Kim demanded.
“Oh, God!” Tracy managed. She couldn’t take her eyes off Carlos who was agonally choking.
“The gun!” Kim snapped. He got down on his hands and knees. He found Carlos’s knife but not the gun. Moving over to the stalls, he bent down again. At last he saw it behind the first toilet. Reaching in, he pulled it out.
Stepping over to the sink, he grabbed a paper towel and wiped the weapon clean.
“What are you doing?” Tracy asked through anguished tears.
“Getting rid of your fingerprints,” Kim said. “I want only my prints on this thing.”
“Why?” Tracy demanded.
“Because whatever comes of this mess, I’m taking responsibility,” Kim said. He gripped the weapon, then tossed it aside. “Come on! We’re getting out of here!”
“No!” Tracy said. She went after the gun. “I’m in this as much as you.”
Kim grabbed her and pulled her upright. “Don’t be foolish! I’m the accused felon here. Let’s go!”
“But it was in self-defense,” Tracy complained tearfully. “It’s terrible, but it’s justifiable.”
“We can’t trust what kind of spin the legal profession might put on this,” Kim said. “You’re trespassing and I’m here under false pretenses. Come on! I don’t want to argue now!”
“Shouldn’t we stay here until the police come?” Tracy asked.
“No way,” Kim said. “I’m not going to sit in jail while this all gets sorted out. Come on now, let’s go before anybody gets here.”
Tracy doubted the wisdom of fleeing the scene but she could also tell that Kim’s mind was made up. She let herself be led from the men’s room. Kim looked up and down the hall, surprised that the shots had not brought any of his cleaning crew colleagues.
“How did you get in here?” Kim whispered.