Every Fifteen Minutes

by Lisa Scottoline

  “Damn, I wish I could see what was going on.” Eric squinted, eyeing the mall. It was impossible to see farther inside, over the police and other personnel, running this way and that.

  “Wait a minute, hold on.” Laurie tapped away on the touch screen of her phone.

  “What are you doing?” Eric shifted over.

  “Here we go, it’s a live feed. There are so many news vans around, I knew one of them would have the video uploaded already.”

  “Of course.” Eric watched the video, a close-up of the inside of the mall shot from the outside. The lights were on the first floor, and the camera angle was trained on the video game store, which had a glass front wall. The image was indistinct due to its amplification, and the camera angle didn’t show the store in its entirety, but Eric could see enough to fill him with dread. Video City was empty in the front but there was a counter in the back, and behind it stood a dark silhouette, small in stature, which he recognized as Max in a hoodie. Eric realized that if he could see Max that easily, then so could the snipers.

  Laurie looked over. “Hey, the cops are letting Zack and Marie through.”

  “They are?” Eric turned around as Zack’s truck zoomed past them, heading alone to the mall entrance, where the cops parted and the truck was waved through. The pickup moved at a crawl toward the white tent, then stopped and was swarmed by uniformed police. Eric couldn’t see Zack and Marie because of the crowd and the darkness, but the police hustled them toward the white tent, so he knew Zack and Marie had gotten to somebody in command.

  “That’s good.” Laurie returned to watching the live feed on her phone.

  Eric scanned the scene, troubled. He hoped Marie had sobered up enough to talk to Max, but her very presence would remind him that there was nobody left to whom he was close. Max could have seen the TV news report about his being at the police station and believe that Eric had put him on the hook for Renée’s murder, betraying him. It would leave Max feeling even more alone, hopeless. Suicidal.

  “Sir, sir!” The heavyset cop came jogging back to the BMW. “Sir, please leave immediately. Turn your vehicle around. You’re not being permitted access.”

  “Officer, please, I know I can help. Let me show you some ID.” Eric reached for his ID lanyard, then remembered it had been in his pocket when his clothes were confiscated by the police.

  “Eric, we should go,” Laurie said, just as her phone rang. She answered the call, “Dr. Fortunato here. Zack, hold on.” Laurie turned quickly to Eric. “Zack wants to talk to you.”

  “Sir, move it out, move it along!” The heavyset cop waved him to turn around.

  “Officer, give me five minutes,” Eric said to the cop, taking the phone. “This is the mother and her boyfriend.” He put the call on speaker. “Zack, what’s going on?”

  “Marie is freaking the hell out,” Zack said, tense. “She can’t stop crying. They called Max on his cell but he’s not answering.”

  “Can you get me in there, Zack? Ask the powers-that-be in the tent. I can go talk to him.”

  “I tried that. They say no.”

  “Can you give the phone to whoever’s in charge? Let me talk to him.”

  “Okay.” There was some noise, then an authoritative voice came on. “This is Lieutenant James Jana. Who am I speaking with?”

  “Dr. Parrish, I’m Max’s psychiatrist. I know I can help if I can talk to Max. Is there any way you can patch me through to him?”

  “No, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. He’s not answering the phone. He made the one call and that’s it. He won’t even pick up for the mom. We left messages on his cell and the store landline.”

  “What did he say when you spoke with him? How did he sound?”

  “Cool, calm, and collected. You’re this kid’s psychiatrist. What’s his problem?”

  “I can’t discuss his diagnosis.”

  “You’re kidding, right? This kid has a bomb and you’re playing games, Doc? What about those kids he’s holding hostage? What about them?”

  “Lieutenant, what did he say to you, exactly? What does he want? Does he have any demands?”

  “That’s confidential police business. We’re not even releasing that to the hostage families. We don’t want it in the media.”

  “I’ll keep it confidential, I swear. Please tell me. It will help me understand his mental state, and I can help you reach him.”

  “Fine, only because of your relationship to the boy and the mother. But if this comes back to me, if I see this online or anywhere else, there will be hell to pay.”

  “That won’t happen, you have my word. Please tell me.”

  “He has five hostages, all kids. Four boys and a girl. He said he’s going to kill the first one in fifteen minutes and kill another one every fifteen minutes after that.”

  Eric felt his blood run cold. It was horrific, coinciding with Max’s tapping ritual, but something about it didn’t make sense. “What about the bomb? Why the bomb?”

  “Then he’s going to blow himself up and everybody with him.”

  Eric wasn’t buying the story, not from Max. “Lieutenant, ask yourself. How is this a plan? If he really wanted to kill those kids, why wait? Why give you so much notice? If he really wanted them dead, they’d be dead already. And why the bomb?”

  “Dr. Parrish, you tell me. The kid’s a head case.”

  “His plan tells you that he’s not going to kill those kids. He’s not going to set off a bomb. He wants to commit suicide by police. He wants your guys to kill him.”

  “That possibility ran through our minds. We have a top-notch terrorism negotiator here from Homeland Security who said the same thing.”

  “Homeland Security?” Eric glanced at Laurie, who looked grave in the dark car. “Lieutenant, this kid is not a terrorist. Nothing like that is going on. He’s just a—”

  “I don’t have time to yammer, Doc. We got to save mass lives.”

  Eric knew what that meant. They were going to kill Max before he got a chance to kill anybody else. The snipers were already getting into position. “Lieutenant, isn’t there any way I can get in there and talk to him?”

  “No, sir, there is not. Out of the question. It’s unsafe.”

  “But I think I can convince him to stop. You can save his life and the lives of those hostages.”

  “Sorry, I have to go. Good-bye.”

  “Damn it!” Eric gritted his teeth, handing Laurie back the phone.

  The heavyset cop clapped his hands together. “Sir, you heard the lieutenant. Please turn the vehicle around and exit the area.”

  “Eric.” Laurie touched his arm. “We have Marie’s cell phone number, and if he calls her, she can put you through to him. You tried your best, but we should go.”

  “Sir, listen to your wife. Turn it around, immediately.” The cop edged backwards to give the BMW room to navigate. “Immediately, sir!”

  “Okay. Will do. Thanks, Officer,” Eric said, waving him off, and the cop turned away to jog back to his post.

  Eric turned to Laurie, kissed her on the cheek, and opened the BMW door. “Wish me luck,” he said, then jumped out of the car.

  And hit the ground, running.

  Chapter Forty

  Eric bolted to the curb, jumped the short hedge, and ran straight into the melee in the parking lot, knowing the heavyset cop wouldn’t be able to find him in the darkness and confusion. Uniformed police, EMTs, FBI agents, ATF agents, and militaristic SWAT teams with military gear hustled this way and that. The night air filled with crackling radios, Nextel phones, people shouting, kids crying, and police barking orders. Snipers on the top of Neiman Marcus dropped into lethal crouches.

  Eric kept his head down, running toward the mall, ducking behind a parked ambulance, then a fire truck, hopscotching his way closer to the entrance. He moved steadily forward, looking for a way to get into the mall. Police in tan, black, and blue uniforms hustled stricken shoppers from the entrance, and nobody was entering except for cop
s, firefighters, and other first responders, an all-hands-on-deck effort to evacuate people before shots were fired or a bomb detonated. The command center was to his left, about a hundred feet away, so Eric ducked behind a fluorescent green fire truck.

  Firefighters stood on the other side of the truck, toward the back, talking in a small group, and Eric noticed something. A few of them had taken off their overcoats on this hot summer night, standing in their T-shirts, suspenders, and flame-retardant pants. Their jackets hung on the truck itself, and Eric knew it was his only chance. He grabbed one of the jackets, which read Campbell on the back, slipped it on, and ran toward the mall. He kept his head down, raced for the entrance, and joined the line of first responders dashing into the mall.

  Eric crossed the threshold, glancing up at the second-floor balcony, horrified to see that snipers in black military uniforms were taking positions along the railing. They’d have a clear shot at Max inside the video game store, through the glass front wall. The firefighters took off in all different directions, hurrying shoppers outside as police officers relayed them forward, but Eric ran straight, streaked toward the video game store, and ran inside.

  “Max!” Eric called out, and Max turned around, standing behind the counter in Oakley sunglasses and a black hoodie.

  “Dr. Parrish.” Max raised a hunting rifle.

  Eric tried not to look at the muzzle of the rifle. He couldn’t see Max’s eyes behind the sunglasses. “You don’t want to shoot me. You don’t want to shoot anybody.”

  “You sure about that?” Max’s voice sounded chilled, a tone Eric had never heard coming from the boy.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know you, and I know you don’t want to shoot me or anybody else.” Eric’s mouth went dry. “That’s not who you are.”

  “You don’t know me that well, Dr. Parrish.”

  “Can I put my hands down? Will you lower that rifle?”

  “No. Keep your hands up.”

  “Max, what are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing? I have five hostages. They’re locked in the storeroom.” Max checked his watch, then looked up, his expression obscured by the sunglasses. “In five minutes, I’m going to take one out and shoot him. I’m trying to decide which one.”

  Eric absorbed, rather than merely heard the sentence. He felt it penetrate his skin, sending shockwaves through his body, to his very marrow. He didn’t know this Max, this faceless terror behind sunglasses and a weapon. This wasn’t the Max he had in his office, talking about feeling invisible. Eric could almost believe that this Max would kill kids and blow up a mall. But part of him still had faith.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?”

  “I believe in you, Max. I believe in you.” Eric spoke from the heart, not as a therapist, not even as a father, but just as a man with his hands in the air, praying he could get everybody out alive.

  “What does that mean? That you believe in me.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a feeling. It’s an emotion. You can’t parse it or analyze it. It’s pure.” Eric felt as if he was channeling something that had been in him for a long time. “I’m here for you. I want to get you out of here, alive. I can’t stand the idea that you could die, you’re too good for that, you’re too young.” Eric nodded over his shoulder, toward the balcony. “They have snipers, Max. They’re going to shoot you before you kill anybody, and I think that’s why you’re here. I think that’s what you want. And I’m here for you, to tell you it doesn’t have to be that way. That it can’t be that way. I want you to let the kids go and walk out with me.”

  “It does have to be this way. The kids have to die, and I have to die. The bomb has to go off and everybody has to die.”

  “No,” Eric said softly. “Can I put my hands down, please?”

  “Okay,” Max answered, after a moment.

  “Thank you.” Eric lowered his arms slowly, but he stayed in the same position, aware that he was blocking Max from the snipers’ rifles. They wouldn’t shoot if Eric was in the way. At least he hoped they wouldn’t.

  “You should just go, Dr. Parrish. You don’t need to be here. You don’t want to see what happens.”

  “I’m not leaving without you.”

  “Renée’s dead, Gummy’s dead.” Max checked his watch. “Everybody’s dead.”

  “I don’t think you killed Renée.”

  “Really?” Max snorted. “Four minutes.”

  “If you killed her, tell me you did. Because like I said, I don’t believe you. I believe in you.”

  “That’s catchy, Dr. Parrish but”—Max paused, swallowing visibly—“if you want to know the truth, I don’t know whether I killed her or not. I probably did. It probably was me. That’s what we’re both worried about, isn’t it? You were worried, you asked me all those questions.”

  “Why do you say that you don’t know if you killed her?”

  “I was drunk.” Max lowered the weapon slightly.

  “What do you mean, you were drunk?”

  “I started drinking. Vodka. My mom always has plenty of it around and I took some. After Gummy died, I was upset, I called you, remember?”

  “Yes, of course.” Eric heard Max’s voice soften, and he sounded a little more like the boy who’d been in session.

  “I just wanted to drink, I didn’t want to think about it. I parked near the school and nobody saw me, I just sat there drinking. I fell asleep in the car and when I woke, I just started drinking again. I wanted to see if you could really drink yourself to death.”

  Eric became aware that there was movement behind him. He saw in his peripheral vision the black shadow of a sniper on the balcony, in front of Tiffany’s. He stood his ground, between the sniper and Max. “Where were you yesterday morning, when she was killed?”

  “I woke up in the Giant parking lot, I was hungover. It’s, like, I don’t remember anything.”

  “Where’s the Giant parking lot? Is it near Pickering Park?”

  “Fifteen minutes away. I passed out, and when I woke up, I didn’t even know where I was. I musta driven there drunk.”

  Eric listened, pushing his awareness of the sniper from his mind. Sweat formed under the heavy jacket.

  “When I woke up, it was, like, three o’clock in the afternoon, and I threw up, and I turned on the radio and they said … Renée was … dead.” Max faltered, as if the words lodged in his throat. “I don’t know if I did it or not, but I probably did. So now I have to pay, and now everybody has to pay.”

  “Max, what if you didn’t do it? What if somebody else did it?”

  “Who? Who would’ve done it?” Max’s voice turned almost pleading. “Answer me that. Tell me. I’m the crazy one, I’m the one with the tapping, I’m the one who fantasized about killing her and now she’s dead. I think I did it, and it doesn’t matter anyway because there’s nothing anymore. There’s nothing for me. Everybody’s dead.” Max checked his watch. “Three minutes.”

  “Your grandmother wouldn’t want you to do this. Your grandmother would want you to let those kids go and walk out with me.”

  “My grandmother’s dead. I don’t have anybody.”

  “That’s not true. You have a yellow rabbit.”

  “What?”

  “A yellow rabbit, I saw it in your room. Next to your bed, by the photograph.” Eric was improvising, but let himself talk, hoping to strike a chord. “It was interesting to me, to see that. In a room covered with all kinds of video game posters, a little yellow rabbit slumped over. I’m curious why you saved it.”

  “Oh please.”

  “Tell me, tough guy with the sunglasses, not to mention the rifle.” Eric let a note of humor filter into his tone. “Why the rabbit?”

  “It’s just a toy, is all.”

  “A toy from a better time of your life.”

  “Right.”

  “You were happy then?”

  “Yes.”

 
“What if you could be happy again?”

  Max didn’t answer.

  “You can be happy again. Even after all you’ve gone through, you can be happy again, and I can help you. Give me a chance.”

  “So?” Max said, after a moment.

  “So we figure this out together, just like therapy. It’s the same thing, just you and me, walking into the cave together. You have the flashlight, and I have your hand.”

  “No, sorry. Too late.”

  “What about the bomb?”

  “What about it?”

  “Where is it?”

  Max nodded toward a Whole Foods bag sitting on the counter, and Eric swallowed hard.

  “Is it going to blow up?”

  “No, that’s not how it works.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I made it. It’s not hard, you can just look on the Internet.”

  “Really.” Eric had read that, but it was hard to imagine Max making a bomb. And the boy hadn’t been home. Where did he make a bomb? How did Max get the ingredients? The time? “I want to see it. I want to see what a bomb looks like.”

  “You can’t see it, really. It’s wrapped up.”

  “I still want to see it. Show it to me.”

  Max stayed still, then shrugged. “Why don’t you go see it for yourself then?”

  “I can’t move.”

  “Why not?” Max checked his watch. “Two minutes.”

  “Because of the sniper. I’m covering you. I’m blocking his shot.”

  “What?” Max tilted his head up, but Eric couldn’t tell if he saw the sniper behind his dark glasses.

  “The sniper behind me, he’s moving into position, and these guys are experts. He’s going to shoot you right over my shoulder—or he’s going to shoot through me.”

  “So you should move, Dr. Parrish.”

  “No, I’m standing here. If they want to shoot you, they’re going to have to shoot me.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  Max said nothing, biting his lip. “Please. Move.”