Faye Kellerman: Blindman’s Bluff

“I want one at the front door, one at the back door, one guarding the first bedroom and two of you clearing that closed door, which is probably a bathroom.” She turned to Breslau and Rangler. “We’ll check out the last closed door, which is probably Harriman’s bedroom.”

Heart hammering in her chest, Marge pounded on the door and yelled, “Police. Come out with your hands up.”

The response was a male voice that screamed out a “Help!”

“Harriman?”

“Yes! Help me! I’m under the bed.”

“Don’t move. Are you alone?”

“I have no idea.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Don’t move!” Marge repeated. “We’ll come in and get you.” Speaking loudly, she said, “We found the occupant. We’re going in. I need a couple more bodies.”

The two officers who had cleared the hallway bathroom came to help. Marge said, “This could be a setup. Everyone take a position of safety, and I’ll open the door when we’re all ready.”

When she got the nods, she flattened herself against the wall, turned the knob, and flung open the door.

Flashlights lit up the dark room, darting around the blackness like giant fireflies on a moonless night.

“We’re inside, Brett,” Marge said. “Stay put. We’re going to clear the room. Are there any lights that work in this room?”

“Try the bed lamp on the nightstand. I think that’s what my girlfriend uses.”

Marge worked her way to the nightstand lamp and turned it on. The space was a decent size with a king bed and two flanking nightstands. Across from the bed was a dresser. One wall had a closet with sliding mirrored doors and opposite that was a closed door, which Marge guessed opened to the bathroom.

Using standard procedure, she opened the bathroom door. Empty but the shower curtains were drawn.

“Police!” Marge screamed, pointing the gun at the tub enclosure. “Come out with your hands in the air!”

The shower curtains didn’t appear to hear because they didn’t even ripple. With great care, she pulled them back and revealed an empty tub.

“Clear!” She went back to the bedroom. “What about the closet?”

“Clear,” Rangler told her.

“Harriman?”

“Still here.”

“You can come out now.”

“I’m naked.”

“Somebody get a robe or something.”

Harriman crept out from under the bed and stood on shaky legs. He was trembling all over as they handed him a terry cloth robe. He was breathing as shallowly as a panting dog. “Did you find him?”

“Not yet.”

“I’m not crazy!” Harriman said. “I swear I heard something.”

“We’re not done searching, Brett. We’ve got the place surrounded. As soon as we get you out of here, we’ll finish up.” Marge offered him her arm. “I’ll guide you out.”

When they reached the front door, Harriman started shivering. “He’s here!” he whispered to Marge.

“I can smell him!”

“Then we’ll find him.”

“Please don’t leave until you do. I know he’s here!”

“Officer Fetterling is going to escort you to a police car. He’ll wait with you until we’ve cleared the area.”

He grabbed Marge’s arm. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. That’s what we’re paid to do.” When he was gone and safely ensconced inside one of the cruisers, Marge looked around.

“We’ve cleared everything but the hall closet.” Standing off to the side, she pounded on the door.

“Police! Come out with your hands in the air!”

Nothing. What was the likelihood that this last search would yield anyone?

The door had been locked from the inside. Was Harriman putting everyone on? Was he a drama king? But then how did the back porch light become unscrewed unless the blind man did it himself.

She thought about all the possibilities as she flattened herself against the wall. Then her brain shifted into pure focused energy. Hand on the knob, she shouted, “Take positions!”

Throwing open the door.

Nothing happened.

“Hold your positions!” Marge was still squashed against the wall, and something told her not to move. It was the smell of sweat…the smell of fear.

The air became very quiet. Her breathing was amplified in her brain, as if listening through a stethoscope. Heart pounding in her chest.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Slow it down, Marge.

“Hold your positions!” she repeated.

Listening carefully, she finally heard it; inhalations and exhalations that didn’t match her own breathing rate.

Someone was definitely inside, hiding.

“Police!” she shouted. “You’re surrounded! Come out with your hands in the air!”

Again, no one stirred.

“I’m giving you to the count of three and then we’re going to shoot-”

“No, don’t do that!” a voice pleaded.

“Get out, get out, get out,” Marge ordered.

Something rose from the corner, and Marge caught a glint of metal. “Drop the gun! Drop it! Drop it! Drop it!” When she heard something hard fall with a thud, she said, “Hands up, hands up, hands up!”

As the creature from the black lagoon emerged, Marge told him to hit the ground. As soon as he did, he was pounced on by four officers while two others searched the closet. The gun was a.32 Smith and Wesson, one of the weapons used in the Kaffey shootings.

What were the chances that it matched anything? She supposed it depended on who was lying spread-eagle on the floor. She shined a light on the face, seeing if he looked familiar while Rangler rifled through the man’s back pockets. He pulled out a wallet and then a driver’s license and showed it to the sarge.

Marge grinned. “Well, hello, Joe. Welcome back to the USA.”

THE PACING SERVED a twofold purpose. It kept Decker warm and it shook off some nerves. At three in the morning, the hospital loomed like an electric ghost as he held the phone to his ear.

He was shaking, but from excitement. “You got Cruces and Pine in custody?”

“Not bad for a day’s work-a very full day. I’ve been up around twenty hours.”

“Who’s down at the station house besides you?”

“Oliver, Messing, and Pratt. Who should interview whom?”

Decker thought a moment. “Okay, here’s the thing. The optimum would be that neither Pine nor Cruces gets a deal, but we may have to flip one against the other. With Pine, we’ve not only got fingerprints, we’ve also got Rondo Martin’s eyewitness testimony. He mentioned Pine before I did.

With Cruces, Rondo Martin remembered him, but only after I mentioned his name. His memory with Cruces is less clear. It makes more sense to have Cruces flip on Pine. So you and Oliver take Pine. If you don’t get anywhere, bring in someone else for a fresh perspective.”

“That sounds good. Where are you at up there, Rabbi?”

“There’s a team from Herrod P.D.-which is the next town over-that’s taking over our positions at the hospital in about a half hour. Tim England-Sheriff T-said he’d drop in in the morning. Martin’s in good hands.”

Marge said, “Now that Pine is in custody, maybe Martin can breathe a sigh of relief.”

“Maybe a little sigh, but not a big one until we find out who El Patrón is. Did anyone go back to interview Truillo, the bartender, at Ernie’s El Matador?”

“By the time Bontemps and Lee reached the place, it had closed for the night. I’ll make sure someone’s there when it opens tomorrow. Maybe it won’t be necessary once we talk to Cruces and Pine.”

“Rechecking is always necessary. Willy and I are taking the first flight down in the morning.” Decker checked his watch. The plane was set to leave at six-thirty-four hours from now. “We’ll see you at around eight in the morning.”