Tess Gerritsen - Keeper of the Bride

“Spectre’s got Nina! Move it!”

Gillis threw the car into gear. They screeched away from the curb. “Which way?”

“Left. Here!”

Gillis swerved around the corner.

Sam caught a glimpse of his own car, two blocks ahead, as it moved into an intersection and turned right.

“There!”

“I see it,” Gillis said, and made the same turn.

Spectre must have spotted them, too. A moment later he accelerated and shot through a red light. Cars skidded to a stop in the intersection.

As Gillis steered through the maze of vehicles and pressed his pursuit, Sam picked up the car phone and called for assistance from all available patrol cars. With a little help, they could have Spectre boxed in.

For now, they just had to keep him in sight.

“This guy’s a maniac,” Gillis muttered.

“Don’t lose her.”

“He’s gonna get us all killed. Look!”

Up ahead, Spectre swerved into the left lane, passed a car, and swerved back to the right just as a truck barreled down on him.

“Stay with them!” Sam ordered.

“I’m trying, I’m trying,” Gillis, too, swerved left to pass. Too much traffic was heading toward them; he swerved back.

Seconds were lost. Seconds that Spectre pushed to his advantage.

Gillis tried again, this time managing to scoot back into his lane before colliding head-on with an oncoming van.

Spectre was nowhere in sight.

“What the hell?” muttered Gillis.

They stared at the road, saw stray taillights here and there, but otherwise it was an empty street. They drove on, through intersection after intersection, scanning the side roads. With every block they passed, Sam’s panic swelled.

A half mile later, he was forced to accept the obvious. They had lost Spectre.

He had lost Nina.

Gillis was driving in grim silence now. Sam’s despair had rubbed off on him as well. Neither one said it, but both of them knew. Nina was as good as dead.

“I’m sorry, Sam,” murmured Gillis. “God, I’m sorry.”

Sam could only stare ahead, wordless, his view blurring in a haze of tears. Moments passed. An eternity.

Patrol cars reported in. No trace of the car. Or Spectre.

Finally, at midnight, Gillis pulled over and parked at the curb. Both men sat in silence.

Gillis said, “There’s still a chance.”

Sam dropped his head in his hands. A chance. Spectre could be fifty miles away by now. Or he could be right around the corner. What I would give for one, small chance….

His gaze fell and he focused on Gillis’s car phone.

One small chance.

He picked up the phone and dialed.

“Who’re you calling?” asked Gillis.

“Spectre.”

“What?”

“I’m calling my car phone.” He listened as it rang. Five, six times.

Spectre answered, his voice raised in a bizarre falsetto. “Hello, you have reached the Portland Bomb Squad. No one’s available to answer your call, as we seem to have misplaced our damn telephone.”

“This is Navarro,” growled Sam.

“Why hello, Detective Navarro. How are you?”

“Is she all right?”

“Who?”

“Is she all right?”

“Ah, you must be referring to the young lady. Perhaps I’ll let her speak for herself.”

There was a pause. He heard muffled voices, some sort of scraping sound. A soft, distant whine. Then Nina’s voice came on, quiet, frightened. “Sam?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No. No, I’m fine.”

“Where are you? Where’s he taken you?”

“Oops,” cut in Spectre. “Forbidden topic, Detective. Afraid I must abort this phone call.”

“Wait. Wait! ” cried Sam.

“Any parting words?”

“If you hurt her, Spectre — if anything happens to her — I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Is this a law enforcement officer I’m speaking to?”

“I mean it. I’ll kill you.”

“I’m shocked. Shocked, I tell you.”

“Spectre!”

He was answered by laughter, soft and mocking. And then, abruptly, the line went dead.

Frantically Sam redialed and got a busy signal. He hung up, counted to ten, and dialed once more.

Another busy signal. Spectre had taken the phone off the hook.

Sam slammed the receiver down. “She’s still alive.”

“Where are they?”

“She never got the chance to tell me.”

“It’s been an hour. They could be anywhere within a fifty-mile radius.”

“I know, I know.” Sam sat back, trying to think through his swirl of panic. During his years as a cop, he’d always managed to keep his head cool, his thoughts focused. But tonight, for the first time in his career, he felt paralyzed by fear. By the knowledge that, with every moment that passed, every moment he did nothing, Nina’s chances for survival faded.

“Why hasn’t he killed her?” murmured Gillis. “Why is she still alive?”

Sam looked at his partner. At least Gillis still had a functioning brain. And he was thinking. Puzzling over a question that should’ve been obvious to them both.

“He’s keeping her alive for a reason,” said Gillis.

“A trump card. Insurance in case he’s trapped.”

“No, he’s already home free. Right now, she’s more of a liability than a help. Hostages slow you down. Complicate things. But he’s allowed her to live.”

So far, thought Sam with a wave of helpless rage. I’m losing it, losing my ability to think straight. Her life depends on me. I can’t afford to blow it.

He looked at the phone again, and a memory echoed in his head. Something he’d heard over the phone during that brief pause between hearing Spectre’s voice and Nina’s. That distant wail, rising and falling.

A siren.

He reached for the phone again and dialed 911.

“Emergency operator,” answered a voice.

“This is Detective Sam Navarro, Portland Police. I need a list of all emergency dispatches made in the last twenty minutes. Anywhere in the Portland-South Portland area.”

“Which vehicles, sir?”

“Everything. Ambulance, fire, police. All of them.”

There was a brief silence, then another voice came on the line. Sam had his notepad ready.

“This is the supervisor, Detective Navarro,” a woman said. “I’ve checked with the South Portland dispatcher. Combined, we’ve had three dispatches in the last twenty minutes. At 11:55, an ambulance was sent to 2203 Green Street in Portland. At 12:10, the police were dispatched to a burglar alarm at 751 Bickford Street in South Portland. And at 12:13, a squad car was called to the vicinity of Munjoy Hill for a report of some disturbance of the peace. There were no fire trucks dispatched during that period.”

“Okay, thanks.” Sam hung up and rifled through the glove compartment for a map. Quickly he circled the three dispatch locations.

“What now?” asked Gillis.

“I heard a siren over the phone, when I was talking to Spectre. Which means he had to be within hearing distance of some emergency vehicle. And these are the only three locations vehicles were dispatched to.”

Gillis glanced at the map and shook his head. “We’ve got dozens of city blocks covered there! From point of dispatch to destination.”

“But these are starting points.”

“Like a haystack’s a starting point.”

“It’s all we have to go on. Let’s start at Munjoy Hill.”

“This is crazy. The APB’s out on your car. We’ve got people looking for it already. We’d be running ourselves ragged trying to chase sirens.”

“Munjoy Hill, Gillis. Go.”

“You’re beat. I’m beat. We should go back to HQ and wait for things to develop.”