Rick Mofina - Every Second

He estimated the knife was five inches long, with a button to extend the retractable blade. By the feel of the padded non-slip handle, the contour and weight, he could tell it was a professional-quality knife.

Something solid.

It felt good in his hand.

In the darkness, he took great pains to move the knife around until he had it where he could get his thumb on the spring button and extend the steel blade. He brushed his finger over the edge, testing its sharpness.

Like a razor. Good.

Holding the knife between his fingertips and positioning it just so, he began cutting at the tape around his wrists, forcing them apart just a little so he could get at the plastic handcuffs underneath.

As he worked, the tape and cuffs began to give way but still held.

He took surgical care to ensure his bindings remained connected and in place, but weakened enough so that he could free his hands at will in an instant.

Each small rip, each tiny twist, was a victory.

It’s working.

Satisfied he’d gone as far as he could, he stopped.

He had a plan now and he reached deep down inside of himself, using his fear and anger to forge the courage he needed to act.

Dan slid the knife under the cuff of his sleeve, wedging the blade under his watchband.

He was ready.

Deer Kill River, New York

Less than an hour after leaving Manhattan, Kate glimpsed the hills flowing by as news photographer Stan Strobic pushed his pickup beyond the speed limit north on the New York Thruway.

A TV station in Kingston, New York, had reported that a car sought in the bank robbery in Queens was just discovered by a fisherman near the Deer Kill River. The Associated Press had picked up the story, and within minutes Kate and Strobic were driving to the scene.

Strobic’s truck was his prized possession, a Chevrolet Silverado 2014, regular cab with a long box cargo bed with cap, all in Victory Red, baby.

He loved to play his country music and was prone to peculiar behavior. Strobic never, ever cleaned out the bed of his truck. “As messy as a disorganized serial killer,” one of their coworkers had said. That’s why people were reluctant to work with him.

Kate had learned that Strobic’s assignments in Iraq and Afghanistan had changed him, but one thing was certain: no one could touch him when it came to shooting news. He was the best.

It was late in the day and Strobic bemoaned the growing shadows as they drove.

“We’re not going to have a lot of light left when we get there.”

Kate was on her phone watching for developments. She’d put out a lot of calls while digging for links between Lori Fulton and Blaine. Nothing had surfaced so far, doubling her disappointment because Varner had failed to alert her to the car at Deer Kill River.

Nick Varner.

Though his reluctance to help her had been frustrating, something about him seemed to fill her mind whenever she had a spare moment to think.

God, it’s been so long since I’ve been with someone.

Kate indulged herself with thoughts of Varner. She’d learned from a few police sources that he was widowed. His wife had died a few years ago, but they’d had no children and he wasn’t married or seeing anyone.

But why was she drawn to him? He’d done nothing but block her at every turn so far and yet…

He’s easy on the eyes. But it was more than that. She sensed that he had a good heart, even though he played the role of the hard-ass exceptionally well. But she had to be careful here. She couldn’t let emotion cloud her work and she sure as hell couldn’t depend on Varner to help her.

She was capable of doing her own investigating.

At that moment, Kate caught something on her Twitter feed.

“Whoa, what’s this?”

Help note left at gas station may be from fugitive banker.

She clicked on the link and read aloud a short news story from a local radio station identifying Weldon’s Gas and Grocery as the location. Kate Googled the store, got an address, and Strobic keyed it into his GPS.

“That’s Exit 16B, only a few miles up ahead,” he said.

“Let’s check it out.”

Several state police and Rockland County Sheriff’s Office emergency vehicles were parked in Weldon’s small lot when Kate and Strobic arrived.

A patrol officer stood at the door, blocking the entrance.

“I want to talk with the owner. We’re press.”

Kate and Strobic held up their Newslead IDs. Behind the officer, she saw crime scene technicians working deep inside the store.

“He’s over there.” The officer nodded to a corner of the parking lot behind a van where a couple of local news types were talking to a tall man with a thick, white beard.

Kate set her phone to record, Strobic got his camera ready and they joined a woman with a notebook and a man holding a microphone.

“Hi, Kate Page and Stan Strobic with Newslead. Are you the owner?” she asked the older man.

“That’s me, Roy Weldon, like it says on the sign.”

“You found a note related to the bank robbery in Queens?”

“Sure looks that way.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Kate said, giving an apologetic smile to the other reporters, who didn’t seem to mind. From the look of them, she guessed they were news rookies. She turned back to Roy. “Can you tell us how you discovered it?”

“Like I was saying to these good folks, this customer came in a few hours ago, just a few minutes before a bus full of high school football players. After everyone left, I went to clean up and found the note in the restroom. I thought it was a prank at first, but when I remembered the news, I put two and two together and figured this was the real deal. I mean, the man was driving a green Chevy Impala and looked kind of tense. Wouldn’t you, if you were wearing a bomb?”

“What does the note say?”

“That he’s involved in the robbery, there were bombs and to call police.”

“Can you show us the note?”

“He wrote it on the stall. I let Robbie here take a picture. He got here before police-listens to police radios. You reporters are crafty that way.”

“Sorry,” Kate said, turning to the male reporter who looked like he was still in high school. “You’re Robbie?”

“Rob Cantly, Hilltop Radio News.”

“Can you show us the note, Rob?”

“Sure.” He cued up a clear image on his phone for Kate and Strobic, who both took a photo of it.

DAN FULTON GREEN IMPALA HH47H490 CALL POLICE!

“Did you show this to anyone or post it anywhere?” Strobic asked.

“Not yet. I was just going to put it on the station’s Facebook page.”

“Don’t. Listen, can Newslead buy it for exclusive use from you? It’ll go across the country-along with your photo credit.”

Cantly swelled and looked at Weldon, who winked.

“I’m just a freelancer at the station…”

“Then freelance it to us. You took the photo, which means you own it,” Strobic said. “We’re a wire service, this will go global. Just send it to me right now with your contact information, and we’ll take it from there.” Strobic tilted his phone, Cantly copied his info, and within seconds Strobic had Cantly’s original image. “Perfect. Now, you can’t show it or share it with anyone else,” Strobic said. “Our photo rights guy will get in touch shortly. You’ll get a photo credit and a few hundred bucks.”

After Kate asked Weldon a few more questions, she and Strobic returned to the Thruway and continued north. Kate worked on the story on her phone in between calls to Nick Varner that went unanswered. She wrote fast and clean, knowing that it was a red-hot exclusive for Newslead. Reeka loved it, but without missing a beat she continued pressing Kate to get to the car scene at Deer Kill River, which was another fifty miles away.