Billboard Cop

by Lynde Lakes

  York dropped his head in his hands. “It’s my fault. I wired her. I let her walk right into a trap.” He groaned. “It’s my fault she’s going to die.”

  “You checked the wire, right?”

  He pounded the dashboard. “Yes, damn it. It was working!” What was he doing? There was no time to flog himself. Focus. “If the killer took another exit ramp—”

  A report came over the police radio and York stiffened. A blue-and-white unit had pulled over a gray Honda. York’s heart pounded erratically. He was about to check it out when a second call canceled the report. It was the wrong car.

  Ted cursed. “Now what?”

  “Drive the area again.” After circling the building several more times, York reluctantly admitted the Honda wasn’t in the area. It was time to end this. The killer must have taken her somewhere else. But where? He only knew that he’d comb the whole damn city until he found her—or her dead body. Panic stormed through York like a flash flood. “A woman and a boy’s lives are at stake and we’re in the wrong damned place!” He swallowed. “Let me see that map again.”

  The SWAT leader smoothed the wrinkled map out over the hood of his van and Ted pointed the heavy-duty flashlight at it. When the phone call came in from a phone booth six blocks away, they had plotted all vacant buildings within a mile radius. If not here, where? It had to be close by and near the highway. Because the killer had killed here before... “Dammit, this is the most likely location.”

  He turned and faced the warehouse with its high truck bays near a series of loading docks. The building was dark and quiet. But if the killer was holding Jen and Buddy in one of the windowless interior rooms...

  With no cars in the area they’d assumed no one was inside. York’s neck prickled as an image flashed before his eyes. The padlock on this warehouse wasn’t like the heavy-duty commercial ones used on the other condemned buildings and the no-trespass seal was missing.

  He whirled and faced the SWAT leader. “Secure all the doors. Get men on the roof.” He headed for the warehouse and called over his shoulder. “Cover me, I’m going in.”

  ****

  Inside the warehouse, Jen’s heart pounded at the faint sound of helicopter and car engines. Keep stalling. Help’s on the way. Thank God for the wire. York was hearing every word, almost as if he were here by her side. Please, God, don’t let me be wrong.

  Buddy stirred. He had to be miserable trussed up like a turkey with that tape on his mouth. At least she could talk. Words were her only weapon. “How did you meet Zombolas?”

  “Internet.” Lee knelt down and opened a briefcase. He removed neat little bundles wrapped in plain brown paper.

  Jen bit her lip, upset with what she was seeing…thinking.

  “Zombolas advertised on a classified web site,” Lee continued, “promising a killer of a job. I got the hidden message. Then, voila, we teamed up.”

  Jen prayed for a steady voice. “What are you doing?”

  Lee gave her a sly sideways glance. “Detective York and his bomb paranoia gave me this idea. I’m not an expert, you understand, but I’ve managed to rig something up that’ll do the trick.”

  A bomb! She was right. He planned to set off a bomb! She inhaled. Be calm. York will get here in time.

  Whistling The Star Spangled Banner, Lee laid out wires around the perimeter of the room as if they were strands of Christmas lights. When he finished, he waved a small unit that looked like a garage door opener. “You’ve always liked modern gadgets, Jen. You’ll appreciate what this little jewel can do.”

  Her throat felt dry. Show no fear. “Let me guess. It ignites things.”

  “That, and much more. It also detects radio frequencies, like the wire you’re wearing.” He paused for effect. “And disables them.”

  Her blood turned to ice. She shivered, in spite of the August heat captured in the stifling, tightly closed building. Dear God, York hadn’t heard their conversation and perhaps he didn’t even know she was here. The engines she’d heard before had faded to nothing. Oh, no. I’m totally alone in this.

  Hang tough. Show no fear. “Just curious,” she said. “Who owns the gray car?” York had told her that Lee rented a red Mustang, not a Honda.

  Lee kept stringing the fuse wires around the room. “My current playmate. She’s a generous wench. And she isn’t married to her job.”

  If he thought the put-down would matter with a trail of explosives around her... “Where’s the car now?” If it was parked outside, York would see it.

  “Drove it right into the building through the cargo door.” He held up a padlock key. “No one knows we’re here. Yet.”

  His chilling word yet sent a shiver down Jen’s spine.

  “I’ll give the detective a call after I’m out of here. He’ll rush to your rescue. Then, I’ll press this button and all my problems will go boom and disappear.”

  “Whatever you do, save Buddy. You have the power to do this merciful thing. I’m begging you. Just this one thing.”

  He snickered. “Prove to the world that I’m not all bad; is that the deal? I couldn’t be, or you wouldn’t have cared for me. Am I right?”

  Damn him. First, he ridiculed her sense of loyalty, and now he mocked her pleas for Buddy. He finished what he was doing, and came and stood beside her. His expression softened, deceptively. “I’m proud of you, Jen. At last you got what you wanted, the big story.” He laughed. “Too bad you won’t be around to write it.”

  Jen twisted her hands, but the rope binding her wrists refused to give and cut deeper into her flesh. Lee referred to an instruction sheet as he worked. This was a nightmare. She closed her eyes and tried to find a calm center. To stall, she had to use his ego against him. “Hmmm, impressive—gun expert and a bomb specialist, too.” She was amazed at how steady she held her voice.

  “Downloaded the info from the Internet. Anyone who can read can make a bomb.”

  Yeah, right. If he was green at this, he could accidentally set it off. Was he really an amateur or just playing games?

  Lee stopped laying out the colored wires and came and stood over her, leering down with a domineering smirk. She hated him for making her feel so small, so trapped. He crouched at her feet. When he touched her face, she flinched and turned away, but he caught her chin and made her look at him. He ran his thumb along her jaw line.

  She jerked back. “Don’t touch me.”

  He grabbed her by the hair, sending needles of pain to the roots. “Tough talk, lover, for a woman in your spot.”

  Every instinct in her wanted to shout go to hell, but it wasn’t in her best interest to fuel his anger.

  He held her gaze, with bright, crazed eyes. “Did you know I detested your job?”

  “You told me often enough.”

  “Journalism,” he spat, “the working slob’s quick-fix literature.” His voice gentled deceptively, and he said, “It could’ve been different, Jen. I even hoped for a while...”

  Jen groaned inwardly. Liar. Still, the shred of hope that she could reach him on some level was all she had. “What? Tell me what you hoped.” His silence encouraged her. “This isn’t the real you,” she said, her words coming faster. “Turn yourself in and I’ll help. You’ve had some kind of break down...you know...temporary insanity or something.”

  He stared at her, his face stony.

  “None of this makes sense, Lee. Don’t you see that? If you get rid of me another reporter will be assigned in my place. The Globe won’t give up on a big story like this.”

  He shot to his feet. “Then I’ll blow the whole damned agency out of existence!”

  His violent outburst sent a jolt of terror through Jen. She swallowed. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Keep the fear hidden and your voice steady. “There are other newspapers.”

  He laughed. “You don’t get it. Thanks to York, I’ve found a new toy. And I’m having a hell of a good time.”

  He was crazy. And she was crazy for talking to him, but she wouldn’t give
up, not as long as she had breath. Lee moved about the room, laying the small bundles of brown wrapped explosives at even intervals.

  Her mouth was dry. “All this to kill one woman and a small boy?”

  “It’s overkill. But I’ve always been a thorough man. Besides, it’s not just you and the boy. Wylinski will be at this party, too.”

  “York?” Oh, God, no.

  “He’s the thorn in my side. He won’t quit until one of us is dead. This will end it.”

  A cry of protest strangled Jen. She gritted her teeth to keep her protective shell from cracking. “How does this device work?” She had to slow his progress.

  He twisted a white and black wire together. “Always the reporter. Always full of questions. Bright women are a royal pain in the ass. But since this is your last day...”

  Lee slowly, almost reverently, lowered a small black box attached to a bunch of wires around her neck. Her breath caught as the box stilled between her breasts.

  “The countdown is triggered by this transmitter and timing device.”

  She listened. No ticking. She began to breathe again. “Which gives you time to escape,” she said, fighting the persistent constriction in her throat.

  “Right. I’ll be far away in Lexington, eating waffles and syrup at my favorite all night diner when the big bang shoots fireworks into the sky.”

  A vision of severed body parts flying in every direction flashed in her mind. Thank God York would never know that his cop paranoia about bombs had given Lee this idea. Maybe being exploded into a million pieces would be less painful than being strangled. No, don’t give up. Hang on.

  Buddy moaned and shifted position. She longed to hold him. “I don’t get it. Zombolas won’t pay you to kill a harmless four-year-old child, so what do you have to gain by killing him?”

  “It ups the ante to draw Wylinski here. It’s the perfect lure—a beautiful woman and an innocent kid. What red-blooded cop could resist a rescue like that?”

  Jen’s stomach knotted. None. Especially a man like York.

  She’d wanted him to rescue them, prayed for it. Now she wanted the opposite. Don’t fall for his ploy, York. Stay away.

  ****

  York sensed Ted following on his heels, both of them creeping forward silent as cats. The warehouse’s truck bay loomed before them. The two questionable padlocks hanging from the hatch appeared secure. But when York gave one a twist, it opened. The second followed. “Bingo,” he whispered.

  The lock on the pedestrian door wasn’t engaged either. He stepped inside and flashed his light around; he sucked in his breath. “Double bingo,” he said, looking at the gray Honda parked in the bay. He radioed their position to the SWAT leader. “Need backup now,” York whispered.

  York knew the layout of the warehouse. With his .38 special drawn, he motioned to Ted to circle left as he headed right. They had the strangler cornered. York felt a trickle of sweat roll down his spine. He wanted to take the SOB alive, but if necessary to save Jen and the boy, he wouldn’t hesitate to blow him away.

  York swallowed, trying to down the rusty taste in his mouth. His hands remained steady while anxiety coiled around his gut like a slithering python. He followed the murmur of voices, still too distant to identify—one was a woman’s.

  Jen, I’m coming.

  ****

  Jen shivered, Lee had just finished setting out the explosives when he froze and listened. She heard it, too, the low rumble of the bay door opening. Hope and fear twisted inside her, tangled as the wires Lee had strung on and about her.

  Alarm glinted in Lee’s eyes. “Early guests have changed things.” He grabbed Buddy by his waist, lifted him high and slung him over his shoulder. “Looks like I’m forced to grant one of your wishes. The boy goes with me.”

  “Be careful with him. He’s—”

  A deranged look contorted Lee’s face. “He’ll be fine. Fate willed it this way. After all, I am the boy, and the boy is me.”

  “What are you talking about?” She despised her fear-thinned wail.

  Lee picked up the transmitter that resembled a garage door opener. “Don’t worry, you won’t feel a thing.” He paused and winked. “No hard feelings, princess.”

  As Lee left the room, Buddy’s eyes opened and met hers, looking wide and frightened. Then there was only silence, and the quickened beat of her heart.

  ****

  York’s heart pounded. Something moved ahead. He aimed his gun at the silhouette framed by the lighted doorway. “Freeze.”

  “You won’t shoot.”

  The familiar voice sent a surge of blood to York’s brain. “I knew it was you all along, Brock.”

  “Give that pig a cop’s shiny merit badge.” Brock shifted something in front of him. “I have the boy. Clear the way.” He came forward, looking smug.

  With adrenaline pumping rapid-fire through York’s veins and his finger steady on the trigger, he watched Ted circle behind Brock with his gun drawn. “The kid’s chances are zip if I let you take him outta here,” York said. “Put him down, or I’ll shoot.”

  “You might hit the kid.”

  “But I won’t,” Ted piped up. “Got a direct shot to the back of your slimy head.”

  From York’s rear, the SWAT leader shouted, “I’ve got a clear shot, too. Just say the word.”

  Brock smirked. “Big hero. Holding all the cards.” He dropped Buddy to the floor with a thud. “Except one. And you get the credit, because you gave me the idea.”

  York heard a click as Brock pressed a button on something in his hand. “Too, bad. Now we all have to go boom.”

  “York!” Jen screamed from inside the room Brock had just left. “Get Buddy and run. I’m rigged with a bomb!”

  York grabbed the transmitter from Brock’s hand. “How do you abort this?”

  Brock laughed. “You can’t stop it.”

  Ted twisted Brock’s hand behind his back. “Tell us, or I’ll break your arm.”

  “Forget it,” Brock said. “We’re all dead.”

  “How many minutes?” York snapped.

  “Should’ve already blown.” Lee sneered. “Think I did something wrong?”

  “Ted,” York yelled. “Get the boy out. And get a bomb squad in here.” He ran through the doorway, heading for Jen.

  “Stop,” she screamed. “Don’t come any closer.”

  “I’m getting you out of here.”

  “No! Touch me and everything blows.”

  He stopped. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. “Okay. Stay calm.”

  “Take Buddy and go,” Jen cried.

  “Buddy’s already out. There’s just you.”

  “And you,” Jen whispered.

  Ignoring the impact of her words, York focused. “Brock hit the transmitter button to start the countdown. How many minutes do we have?”

  “He said it’d be instantaneous,” Jen said with a tremor in her voice.

  “Perhaps it was supposed to be.” Maybe this psycho was a damned amateur, and maybe he wasn’t. He didn’t respect the man, but he sure as hell respected the bomb.

  “Lee got the instructions off the Internet,” Jen said. “He was looking at them as he worked.”

  York glanced around. “Where are they?”

  “His shirt pocket.”

  York rushed out, then returned with the instructions in hand, feeling his own internal clock ticking in cadence with his pulsing heart. “Okay, let’s see what we have here.”

  York scanned the sheet, his eyes alert for numbers. “I’ve got it. It has a fifteen minute failsafe delay.”

  “How many left?”

  Maybe three had passed—better estimate five. He hoped he’d masked his fear before she locked in on it. He swallowed. “Plus or minus ten.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. A small moan escaped her trembling lips.

  He cursed himself, and stepped over the tangle of wires and crouched down beside her. Their gazes met. “Plus or minus?” she said barely above a whisper.r />
  “It’s enough.”

  He felt her studying him.

  “You’re staying to the end, aren’t you?” she asked softly.

  “Absolutely.”

  “I love you for it,” her voice wavered, “but I don’t want you to die.”

  “No one’s dying.”

  Without touching anything, York examined the tangle of wires on and around Jen. He wished the bomb squad were here with their robot and disarming gun and their protective gear. Although he doubted that any of that would help with the quantity of explosives in this room, he’d feel better with an expert in on this. “Ted,” he shouted. “Is the bomb squad on the way?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  York’s squelching look stopped his partner before he spilled the news that they might not make it in time.

  “Brock’s getting nervous,” Ted said. “I cuffed him to a support in the next room, and one of the SWAT guys is watching him. That arrogant psycho’s demanding to taken out of here.”

  “Forget him. Got tools?”

  “SWAT gave me this.”

  York took the toolbox and quickly rummaged through it. “Timing will be close. Get everyone out now. Including you.”

  “I’m staying,” Ted said.

  “Don’t be stupid. Loraine needs you alive.” York shot Ted a sharp glance. “Now go. I don’t have time to argue.”

  Jen moistened her feverish lips, looking brave. “If he leaves,” she said. “We’ll be alone—to live or die together.” She lifted her chin. “I want you to know,” she said in an absurdly calm voice, “whatever the outcome, I feel safer with you than with anyone else.”

  “Dammit, no talk of dying.” York wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve, and studied the jumble of wires. “Is Brock good at following instructions, or does he like to change things?”

  York knew Jen didn’t know this man any better than he did, but talking relieved tension.

  “Lee didn’t make a move without checking and re-checking the instructions,” Jen said with a tremor in her voice.

  York scanned the circuitry. The works looked straight forward. But Brock liked to play games, so he could’ve been putting on an act. “Did he hesitate at any point?”