Boom-BOOM!

by Wally Duff

“Hey, I do,” Molly said. “The Good Wife. The cute little lawyer guy has one of those diseases.”

  “And he’s dying from it,” I said. “I think Hannah has a problem like that and treating her is Micah’s sole focus in life.”

  “I agree,” Cas said.

  “And maybe that’s why he doesn’t want to give you an interview,” Linda said.

  “I can’t fathom what it must be like to have a disease that, as a physician, she knows has no cure,” Cas said.

  “Her feelings about that would make compelling reading,” Linda said.

  “How about I narrow my focus to Hannah?” I asked. “I could be wrong, but if we discover what’s wrong with her, we might break this story. Everybody agree with that?”

  Nods all around.

  “Okay then, here are your assignments,” I said. “Cas, I’ll email you all the scientific papers Micah and the other doctors he works with have written over the past four years. Maybe you can figure out what disease Micah is working on.”

  “Great.”

  “Linda, you keep working on Micah’s funding.

  “Done.”

  “And Molly, you’re the most important of all. You continue to contact Hannah daily and see how she’s feeling, but without being obvious about it. We have to know about any worsening of her condition.”

  “And what are you going to do?” Molly asked.

  “I’m going back to the dentist.”

  “Did he find a problem on Monday?” Cas asked.

  “I don’t know. He called this morning and said he wanted to go over my x-rays with me.”

  A little lie, but there was no reason to tell the girls that I had something else planned for Thursday morning. I was going to break into the dentist’s house.

  73

  It was Thursday morning. I’d spent Wednesday perfecting my plan to break into Lorenz’s house. I stood at Molly’s front door with Kerry in her stroller.

  “Thanks for doing this,” I said. “Today was the only time Dr. Lorenz could work me in to go over my x-rays. It shouldn’t take long. Is it okay if I stop at Whole Foods before I pick up Kerry?”

  “Not a problem,” Molly said.

  I picked up my daughter and handed her off to Molly. As I folded up the stroller, there was a crash in the playroom. Molly took Kerry in one arm and the stroller in the other.

  “Gotta go. Boys being boys.”

  A little before ten, I slow-jogged past Lorenz’s office on the other side of the street. My plan was to make sure he had a 10 a.m. appointment. A black GMC Envoy drove up. It had tinted windows, and I couldn’t see who was driving. But I recognized the passenger who climbed out; it was Donna the stripper.

  Checking out your dental health?

  Whatever Lorenz was going to do to her would give me plenty of time to break into his home. The Envoy left, and she entered his office.

  I wanted to snap a picture of the license plate of the SUV as it moved away from me, but it would be too obvious and might attract the attention of the driver. Instead, I memorized the number and ran off to break into Lorenz’s home.

  74

  When I reached our home, I sped into our alley, stopped at the trash cans, and entered the license plate number into my phone.

  Earlier that morning, when I was out for my run, I’d hidden my backpack behind our trash can. I removed latex gloves from the pack and put them on. Holding the straps of the pack in my left hand, I lifted the latch on Lorenz’s back gate and slipped into his yard.

  My first task was to locate the phone line power box at the corner of his house. When I entered the house, the security system would go off. I didn’t want a phone call going to the security company, so I had to disconnect that line. I unscrewed the two screws which held the panel in place. After putting it on the ground, I disconnected the phone line and replaced the panel but didn’t tighten down the screws all the way.

  I had been in Lyndell’s home enough times that I knew her security control box was hidden in the front entry closet, the same place as ours. The box was about fifty feet from the back door. Once I opened that door, I would have exactly thirty seconds to run to the closet, pry open the face to the control box, and unscrew the power line to the system.

  Hurrying up Lorenz’s back patio stairs, I stopped at the outside box and punched in Lyndell’s security code. It didn’t work. I tried her key. It didn’t work either.

  I inserted the electric lock pick gun into the door lock and flipped it on. It whirred and shook in my hand for several seconds and stopped. A simple twist of the torque wrench and the lock clicked open.

  As I stepped into Lorenz’s kitchen, a loud explosion rocked the neighborhood. The kitchen windows shook from the blast’s shock wave.

  No! Not now!

  75

  My head began to throb. I knew what was coming, but the security system had started beeping.

  Hurry!

  I had less than thirty seconds before it began blaring.

  Gritting my teeth, I ignored the impending PTSD attack and sprinted to the front closet. The jarring of my feet on the hardwood floors made stars burst behind my eyes.

  After prying off the front plate with a screwdriver, I disconnected the power line with six seconds to spare. The beeping stopped. I closed my eyes and waited for the rest of the PTSD attack.

  Relax. Breathe.

  The light show in my brain was mercifully short. When it was over, I parted the front curtains, peeking out to make sure our house hadn’t been damaged. It wasn’t, but I could see smoke billowing up over the treetops to the north two or three blocks away.

  I replaced the front plate of the security control box and pulled out my cell phone.

  “Molly, I’m at Whole Foods,” I said. “It sounded like a bomb just exploded. Did you hear it?”

  “Sure did. I was afraid Chase had blown up the family room, but he didn’t.”

  I waited. “And?”

  “Oh, right. And I can see smoke about a block away. Maybe it’s a gas main, or something.”

  “And Kerry’s okay?”

  “She’s perfect. She’s finger painting a picture for you.”

  “I’ll help you wipe up the mess when I pick her up.”

  The explosion was going to attract the policemen and firemen in the area, keeping them from discovering my breaking and entering.

  Good news for me.

  I hadn’t taken the time to lock the back door. I ran back to the kitchen and relocked it. I sniffed. The scent of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee wafted over me. Considering Lorenz’s plump body, his breakfast selection wasn’t a surprise.

  Hurrying down the hall, I rushed toward the room I assumed was Lorenz’s office. My cell phone rang from my backpack. The unexpected noise made me jump. I’d forgotten to shut it off after I’d called Molly.

  Dumb me.

  “Tina, are you and Kerry okay?” Carter asked.

  “We’re fine,” I said. “Why are you asking?”

  “We received a report that there’s been a gas leak explosion near North Paulina and West Roscoe. I wanted to make sure both of you are safe.”

  “No problems here, but I can hear police cars and fire engines whizzing down Lincoln.”

  “Please stay home until I learn more.”

  That is so not happening, Honey.

  76

  I shut off my phone and dropped it into my backpack. My plan to steal Lorenz’s information was based on a character flaw common to most men with a desk.

  They clutter it with Post-it notes, stacks of computer printouts, and scribbled-on yellow legal pads. I would sift through the materials and copy what I needed by taking pictures with a special camera the Post had given me for a task like this. As a backup, I could use my cell phone to take more pictures.

  Lorenz would never suspect I’d been there.

  The smell of stale coffee and sweat wafted over me when I opened the door to Lyndell’s office. I saw a computer sitting on her antique desk. My plan so
far had worked perfectly, except for one problem: the desktop was spotless. There wasn’t a single piece of paper, legal pad, or Post-it note anywhere. I slid open the desk drawers, but they were bare.

  Lyndell’s generic, gray-metal, three-drawer filing cabinet sat on the floor to the left of the desk. I peeked in it next. The insides were empty except for a few lonely dust bunnies. Lorenz was apparently too young to use outmoded technology.

  Time for Plan B. I plugged in the flash drive I’d purchased in case this happened and booted up his computer.

  Damn.

  It was password protected. Hunting underneath the drawers of his desk, I hoped like me he couldn’t remember his password and had written it down.

  I was under the desk when the sound of footsteps on the back patio deck broke the silence in the house; that was followed by a key turning in the back door lock and the opening of the door.

  I heard a cough.

  No!

  77

  There was another cough.

  Lorenz?

  Yanking the flash drive out of his computer, I shoved it into my backpack.

  Hide!

  The door to the basement was across the hall from the office. There was no time to go anywhere else. I ran down the steps and paused at the foot of the stairs to listen. My pulse hammered in my ears, making it hard to hear.

  A man spoke.

  Uh-oh! Not English.

  Another male voice answered him in the same language, one I’d heard in Afghanistan.

  Arabic.

  It wasn’t Lorenz!

  I opened the first door to my right. It was the bathroom. I hurried in and closed the door. I scanned the small space for somewhere to hide.

  The linen closet.

  My hands shook as I opened the door and stepped in.

  Not big enough.

  Jamming my backpack in the corner of the closet, I moved to my right and slid into the bathtub. I scooted down and pulled the opaque shower curtain closed.

  A man said something in Arabic. It sounded like he was giving instructions.

  Another cough.

  It was followed by the pounding of different pairs of feet moving quickly around the house.

  Call 911!

  I reached for my cell phone to report a home invasion at Lorenz’s, but the phone was in my backpack.

  And it’s in the linen closet.

  Before I could climb out of the tub and grab it, the basement door opened and slammed against the wall. Someone ran down the stairs.

  Sliding further down in the bathtub, I heard a door open. There was a pause. The door closed.

  The process was repeated.

  Someone is searching each room down here!

  Then the bathroom door opened.

  Help!

  78

  I sniffed.

  Cigarette smoke.

  The stench made me gag.

  I swallowed the bile bubbling into my throat.

  My heart hammered so hard against my sternum, I was sure he could hear it.

  The intruder shouted a few words in Arabic.

  A man.

  He coughed.

  The unexpected sound startled me, and I bucked against the tub.

  No!

  Had I nudged the shower curtain causing it to move?

  Get ready!

  I tightened up my muscles. I was not going down without the fight of my life.

  A voice from upstairs answered him.

  The man in the bathroom replied.

  I heard him step toward the tub.

  Anticipating the shower curtain being yanked back, I clenched my right hand into a fist.

  Go for his eyes.

  But he didn’t touch the shower curtain. Instead, he coughed again, snarfed a loogie, and spit it into sink.

  He walked out, and I heard his footsteps go up the stairs.

  A new and different male voice yelled out from the front of the house. That was followed by footsteps running to the rear of the house.

  The back door opened and closed. I listened, but the only sound was from my own rapid breathing.

  I slid back the shower curtain and stepped over the edge of the tub. Grabbing several sheets of toilet paper, I swabbed the entire surface of the sink.

  DNA.

  If the lab could extract it from the blob, I had a way to identify the man. After retrieving my backpack, I put the wad of paper in an empty sandwich bag I had stashed in there.

  Moving out of the bathroom, I heard a sound that was becoming all too familiar to my ears; it was a key turning in a lock, this time at the front door.

  Dammit! Not again!

  79

  I stood in the hall outside of the bathroom and waited. The front door opened and then closed. Footsteps echoed off the wood floor in the hall.

  Has to be Lorenz.

  If he had Donna the stripper with him, she wasn’t here for her dental health. If he took her to the third-floor master bedroom to do more than examine her teeth, I could easily escape. I tiptoed to the base of the stairs so I could hear his conversation with the stripper.

  A man said something in English, but he didn’t sound like Lorenz.

  “I’m a little surprised the security system wasn’t on,” the man said.

  “Like you told me on the way out here, Lorenz’s assignment involved strippers,” a different man said. “He probably wasn’t as focused as he should have been.”

  Two men?

  Footsteps went toward the back of the house and stopped.

  “This the computer room?” the second man asked.

  “Supposed to be. The SAC went over the house plans with me.”

  SAC?

  I’d learned that acronym when I was in D.C.: Special Agent in Charge.

  Oh. My. God!

  The men upstairs were FBI agents!

  “Where’s the computer?”

  “Not seeing it.”

  “Better search the rest of the house. Could be in a different room.”

  Hide again!

  I grabbed my cell phone and screwdriver from my backpack in the linen closet. Climbing into the tub, I slid down and pulled the shower curtain closed. I listened as one agent made a quick walk through the lower level. He didn’t bother with the bathroom.

  When he returned upstairs, I climbed out of the tub and tiptoed to the foot of the stairs.

  “All clean down there,” the man said. “What about the video and audio surveillance equipment? Don’t want the locals to find our equipment.”

  Locals? Chicago cops?

  “The boss told me the budget hadn’t allowed for that. He didn’t say it, but my initial impression was that he wasn’t convinced this op was even necessary.”

  “With what just happened, I bet he wishes he’d taken this whole assignment more seriously.”

  “Got that right. Losing an agent is gonna look bad on his record.”

  WHAT?!

  “What about the stripper? Did she make it?”

  “No, she was killed in the explosion too.”

  OMG! Lorenz and Donna are dead!

  80

  Two people I know are dead! I have to do something!

  The front door opened and closed.

  The house was quiet again.

  The agents are gone.

  The explosion I’d heard had to have been Lorenz and Donna being blown up. And because of that, cops were going to process the dentist’s entire house for clues. My hands began to shake.

  Calm down.

  I shut my eyes and took in several deep breaths. I had to be certain I didn’t leave any clues behind that would connect me to being in Lorenz’s house. I still had on my latex gloves, so my fingerprints wouldn’t be a problem. And even if they were discovered, I’d been in Lyndell’s home many times before.

  But the bathtub was a different story. There would be fibers and debris from my clothing and running shoes that shouldn’t be there. I found cleaning products on the floor of the linen closet next to m
y backpack and used them to scrub down all the surfaces I’d been in contact with.

  I grabbed my backpack and rushed up the stairs to the office. The computer’s hard drive was gone. Returning to the security control box in the entry closet, I reversed what I’d done before and reattached the power line.

  Hurrying out the back door, I went to the phone box, unscrewed the two already loosened screws, and reconnected the phone line. I replaced the back and tightened the screws.

  I halted in the alley and leaned against the fence to catch my breath. Tears began running down my cheeks.

  Donna and Lorenz were dead.

  And I’d almost been caught by the men speaking Arabic and then the FBI agents.

  I wiped my nose.

  This was way too close.

  I began shivering even though the outside temperature hovered in the low 90s. I scanned Lorenz’s back door and yard to make sure I hadn’t left any of my equipment behind.

  The security system!

  The first intruders had come in that door. I’d assumed they’d picked the lock like I had. But why hadn’t they been concerned about the security system? Did they have Lorenz’s code? If they did, how did they get it? If they did take the computer, why did they do it? Were they associated with al-Turk?

  I’m not going to figure this out standing in the alley.

  Stripping off my sweaty latex gloves, I ran up my back stairs and rushed through the door into the kitchen. I ditched the gloves in the trash. From my backpack, I removed the sack with the intruder’s DNA and hurried down to the laundry room, hiding it where I’d previously hidden al-Turk’s trash.

  I left my house and walked toward Molly’s to pick up Kerry. On the way, I called Carter. “Any news on the gas explosion?” I asked.

  An EMT truck blew by me.

  “The blast occurred at a recently opened dentist’s office. The police think a gas called nitrous oxide, which the dentist used for anesthesia, might have caused it. Two people are dead, presumably the dentist and one of his patients.”

  I had to be sure.

  “Did you say dentist?”