Stephen White - Warning Signs

Adrienne asked, "Is it Viv?"

I shook my head. The sound in my ear was of stations changing quickly on a radio. Music, commercial, talk. The channel lottery stopped abruptly with a perky female voice prattling on about the explosion earlier that morning at Elitch's. I wouldn't exactly call what she was doing "news."

Adrienne said, "Who is it?"

I held up a finger, asking for her patience. She squished up one eye and shook her head at me to remind me that patience wasn't one of her best things.

As though I might have forgotten.

I covered the mouthpiece again. "Nobody's talking to me, but I hear a voice talking about the bomb at Red Rocks."

"What?"

That's when I heard a muffled sound of protest. Oddly, it was the most distinct sound that had yet come through the phone.

Again I covered the mouthpiece. "Adrienne, you have your phone with you?"

It was clear from her expression that it was like asking her whether she had her nose with her.

"Call Sam Purdy. I need to keep this call going." Even Adrienne could recognize the urgency in my voice when I told her the number.

She yanked her phone from her belt and punched at the buttons.

I handed her my phone and took hers. "Adrienne?" I spoke her name to see if she was on my wavelength. She was. "Keep the microphone covered," I told her. "I don't want whoever is on the other end of that call to hear anything from us. Is that clear? If you hear anything interesting, let me know."

She made a face to communicate how unhappy she was about how perplexed she was, but she placed her index finger over the microphone, leaned her head to the side, and slid the phone below her hair.

I waited until I heard Sam's bored voice before I turned my back on Adrienne and spoke. "Sam, it's Alan. Listen-my cell phone just rang. Nobody's actually talking to me but the line is live and I can hear part of a conversation going on in the background. Somebody is talking about the bomb that they found at Red Rocks. I don't know what to make of it."

I counted to three before he responded. "What exactly did you hear?"

"It's a guy talking. He's in a car, I think. He said something to someone about needing to find out whether they sent the bomb squad to Red Rocks. And I'm pretty sure he said that he thought the Denver Bomb Squad only had one mobile X-ray unit and one robot."

"Really? He said that? He talked about mobile X-rays and robots?"

"Yes."

"And this is all just like conversation in the background? He's not talking to you?"

"That's right."

"What else?"

"He's punching buttons on a radio, trying to find the news."

"That's it?"

"And there was a muffled sound like a groan."

"Muffled?"

"Yeah."

"A groan?"

"Yeah."

"The call's still going?"

"Just a sec." I turned to Adrienne. "It's still going?"

She nodded. I saw some magic flicker like a jewel in the corner of her eyes. I knew she wasn't bored.

"Still going, Sam."

"Where are you?"

"Outside the ER entrance at Community."

"I'll be there in three minutes."

I ended the call. When I looked up again, Adrienne's eyes were as big and bright as marbles.

She was almost breathless. "The guy? He just said he would take that off if somebody promised not to scream."

"Take what off?"

"I don't know. There was some funny moaning noise. Then he went, 'I'll take that off if you promise not to scream.' That's all he said. Jesus, Alan, do you really think-"

"Yes," I said. "I really do."

T he route into Lower Downtown was familiarto Lucy for two reasons. She was a Rockies fan and she was a young single woman. Being a Rockies fan meant Coors Field. Being a single woman meant way too many regrettable first dates in the clubs and restaurants of LoDo.

After Ramp circled along the Platte past the REI store, he went down Fifteenth Street to Wynkoop, turned left past Union Station, and then made a loop that brought the truck to the corner that was opposite the old Student Movers Building that had been incorporated into the structure of Coors Field. The ground floor of the renovated building was used for the Sandlot Brewery.

"This will work. We can park here for a while," he said. "But you need to stay down." He displayed his wrist, the one with the transmitter button taped to it.

She wondered if he was planning on trying to bring down the baseball stadium and immediately decided that it was impossible. She protested loudly into her gag. He ignored her.

They sat. She couldn't see a clock but she guessed that they sat for at least half an hour.

Finally, he said, "There she is."

Lucy had no idea which woman Ramp was identifying.

He started the truck and turned and circled back around until they came out a block away at the corner of Twentieth and Blake, directly across from the main entrance to the ballpark. Again, Ramp parked the truck on the street. This time, he hopped out of the cab and fed the meter.

When he climbed back into the truck, he said, "I'm going to try and find the news."

Lucy tried to talk into her gag. She couldn't even understand herself. The effort was futile.

Ramp said, "I need to find out if they sent the bomb squad to Red Rocks. I don't think they have two mobile X-ray units. And I don't think they have two robots." He reached out and started punching buttons on the radio.

Lucy tried to understand what was going on. Why did it matter to Ramp what was happening up at Red Rocks? Why was it important how many mobile X-ray units and robots the Denver Bomb Squad had?

She screamed into the gag.

Ramp raised his wrist and lifted an index finger to his lips to warn her to be quiet.

A minute or so passed. He said, "I'll take that off if you promise not to scream."

She nodded urgently.

He reached down and lowered the sock so that it was resting on her chin, not her mouth. Almost involuntarily she said, "Thank you." It came out in a cotton-mouthed whisper.

He was looking out the windshield.

"You're welcome. It's time." He reached down to the floor in front of his seat and lifted a device that looked like a controller for a child's electronic toy. "I thought you wanted to say something."

"Ramp, stop. Please. Don't do it. Don't set off any more bombs."

"That's it? That's all you wanted to say?" He reached over and lifted the sock back into place in Lucy's mouth.

She closed her eyes and shook her head in despair. She tugged at her wrist restraints until the plastic bit into her flesh. It was futile.

"I'll be back in a minute. I need to get closer for this thing to work. It doesn't have great range. Stay down or things will get worse for you. I'll be in sight of you the whole time. Do you understand?"

She didn't look at him.

"I'm telling you that you'll be within range." He raised his arm, the one with the transmitter taped to it.

She nodded.

His voice still even, he said, "I know this isn't any fun. But tell me you understand."

She nodded again.

Twenty or thirty seconds after Ramp exited the car, Lucy heard the reverberation of an explosion. It wasn't loud, or sharp. If she didn't know he was setting off a bomb, she would have believed the sound was caused by something else, something less sinister.

She started to cry.

It wasn't long before Ramp climbed back into the truck. A distant peal of sirens began to pierce through the benign blanket of sounds that covered the city in the morning.

"In case you're wondering, that was for a woman who worked for the Rockies-she was the wife of the judge who approved the sentence of the man who killed my mom. Time to go," he said. "Time to go."

S am pulled down Balsam from the east. Iimagined that he was still at the Colorado Building when I called him, and guessed that he must have come across town on Thirteenth, avoiding Broadway. He was driving his city car, not his old Cherokee, and I didn't recognize him until he turned into the entry drive for the ER. I waved at him, careful to keep one finger planted on the mouthpiece of the phone.