Кей Хупер - Blood Ties

“That’s just as true the other way,” Quentin said. “If we ignore signs pointing to a motive behind this simply because we find the motive hard to swallow, then we’re no closer to stopping the killer—or killers—and the rampage continues.”

“True.”

Diana shook her head and said, “It still all boils down to guesswork, so far, at least. I thought psychic abilities would make this sort of thing easier.”

“Sometimes I think they make it harder,” Quentin told her. “In fact, I think that a lot.”

To Hollis, Diana said, “Not that I’m doubting you, but considering what happened last night in the gray time, do you think this Andrea might have been deceiving you? Lying about there being a bomb?”

“I don’t think so. She was awfully convincing. Awfully upset, now that I think about it. But I’m still relatively new to this stuff, so I can’t be a hundred percent sure about it.”

“So there may not be a bomb?”

“Rationally… yes. There may not be a bomb.”

Quentin said, “But you aren’t sure, and we can’t take the chance there isn’t a bomb.”

DeMarco looked at Hollis, his brows rising slightly. “What does your gut tell you? Was Andrea lying? Trying to trick you?”

Slowly, Hollis shook her head. “No. No, I really don’t think she was trying to trick me. I think she wanted—needed—to warn me. Because there’s a bomb in one of those cars.”

“That’s all I need to hear,” DeMarco said, returning his gaze to the quiet, peaceful street. “So now the question becomes, how do we get out of this with as few casualties as possible?”

“Gabe, I’ve got the sheriff getting ready to send the few people he has out to try and clear as much space as possible around the vehicles. Where are you?” Miranda asked.

“About two blocks from the station.” He parked the car as he spoke, getting out with his cell and his keys and without the backpack. “I’m armed. And I think I can find this bastard.” He locked the car and dropped the keys into one of his jacket pockets.

“What does Roxanne think?” The question was curiously literal.

Tell her I think he’s on top of that old theater building half a block down from the station. There’s no fire escape, no outside stairs, so you’ll have to go up from inside the building .

Gabriel relayed the information, adding, “The building’s for rent, Miranda. Empty. There’s a rear entrance.” When she seemed to hesitate, he added, “Look, I know you wanted to just watch this guy, but if he’s willing to blow up a nice little town, I say the time for watching is over.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “You won’t get an argument about that. But I don’t like you going up there alone, Gabe.”

“I don’t think we have time to argue about it.” He was nearly at the rear of the old theater building, where he’d been heading since he stepped out of the car. He could see that the old door was barred by an equally old padlock. “You guys are blocks away, and for all we know one or both of those SUVs are packed with explosives. Maybe even nails and other kinds of shrapnel. An explosion could destroy a lot more than those vehicles, and we both know it. I can take the bastard out.”

“All right.” Whatever hesitation Miranda might have felt was clearly past. “But don’t kill him unless you have to. We need to be able to talk to him if at all possible.”

“Copy that.”

“Leave the cell on; with a little luck we won’t lose the signal.”

“Copy that,” he repeated. “Talk to you on the other side.” He slid the cell, still on, into the other pocket of his jacket and then drew his weapon from the shoulder holster he wore underneath it. “Rox? The lock?”

Working on it. Tougher than I expected. The lock hasn’t been opened in a while, I’d say .

“So he used the front entrance to gain access. Wonder whether he had a key or broke in.”

In full view of anybody on Main Street, I’m guessing he had a key. He had to look and act normally enough not to attract any undue attention. Just a minute more…

There was a brief pause, and then Gabriel heard a click, and the old padlock swung free. He got rid of it and used muscle to force the door open, not at all happy when the ancient hinges creaked loudly.

Stairs. Just to your right. There’s no electricity, Gabe .

“And it’s dark as pitch.” He barely whispered it, pausing for only a moment inside the door to allow his eyes to adjust a bit to the dark.

These stairs go up to the projection room, I think. From there, we’ll have to find the door that leads to the roof .

“When was it ever easy?” With fumbling fingers, he found a rough old handrail and began to climb the dangerously creaky stairs as swiftly as he dared.

“Wait—” DeMarco gestured toward the street. “A couple of Duncan’s deputies are coming out. Damn, looks like the part-timers. I guess the rest of the first shift is out on patrol.”

Hollis said, “They aren’t very good at acting casual, are they? Their body language is tense as hell. There’s the sheriff. He’s a lot better at seeming nonchalant, I have to say.”

Miranda rejoined the group near the walkway in time to hear that and said, “As expected, the sheriff has no bomb squad, but he has a call in to Knoxville for the nearest one. Only a couple of his part-timers are at the station. He’s sent them out with orders to stay far away from the vehicles and keep the area around them clear. He’s going to try to get to the restaurants and stores in the immediate area, alert them to clear themselves and their customers out—or, at least, get away from windows facing the street. We’re going to give them five minutes to do as much as they can.”

“You’re thinking we have to detonate the bomb?” DeMarco said, after a quick glance at her.

“I’m thinking we need to be ready if we have to,” Miranda replied. “The nearest bomb squad is more than an hour away—and the lunch crowd, such as it is, is about to head to the downtown restaurants. We don’t have the equipment to safely inspect those vehicles, or even to effectively barricade the area, and we don’t have the luxury of time.”

“If he has a remote, one of us will have to approach before he’s likely to trigger it,” DeMarco said.

“I’m hoping we’re the ones with the remote.” She nodded to the keys in his hand. “We can unlock, raise the cargo doors, and start the engines from here. Maybe that’ll set off the bomb. If not…”

“The sort of body armor we have isn’t going to protect us, Miranda. Not from a bomb.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Still, it’s all we’ve got. Before any of us approach those vehicles, we get the vests on.”

“Copy that.”

But neither DeMarco nor any of the others moved, all their attention fixed on the vehicles a few short blocks away.

Quentin, after gauging the distance between the vehicles and the buildings around them, said, “There is not a whole lot of room down there. And way too many glass windows. I gather you’re also hoping for a small bomb or bombs with a small blast radius.”

“That would be my preference,” Miranda said. “Since explosives have never been part of the M.O. so far, I have to believe whatever he brought with him or got his hands on in the last twelve hours or so isn’t likely to be very large or very complicated.”

“Which,” DeMarco said, “means a remote detonation is a bit more likely. Wiring explosives into a vehicle’s electrical system or using some kind of timer is more difficult and time-consuming, even if he knows what he’s doing. And since those vehicles have been right out in the open since last night, I’m guessing he didn’t want to risk spending any more time than necessary near them.”