The Trigger

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The Trigger Page 21

by Jacqueline Diamond


  Although a woman could have planted the cell phone devices, Sam didn’t see the widowed mother of a baby risking her life that way. He also imagined she would have been more consumed by grief than by a thirst for vengeance.

  “Was there someone else involved with the case who might seek revenge?” he asked.

  The one word that broke through Carl’s dry lips chilled Sam to the core. “Brother.”

  “YOU KNOW WHAT?” Nora told Barbara. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to check the contents of your purse and suitcase before we go any further.”

  “I didn’t bring my cell phone.” The blond woman handed over her sleek designer purse. “I hate not having it, but I figured it posed too much of a risk. People will just have to leave messages with my sister.”

  “Nevertheless, the Trigger might have slipped a phone inside. You probably wouldn’t notice the extra weight.” Nora removed the contents of the purse one item at a time. “You don’t have a tape recorder or anything else containing a battery? Plastic explosives require an ignition source.”

  “No, I don’t think so.” Barbara frowned as she watched.

  “Any pockets in your suit?”

  The executive patted her lightweight jacket. “Yes, but they’re empty.”

  After removing everything from the pocketbook, Nora checked its compartments. Nothing.

  “I’ll put the stuff back,” Barbara said. “You go ahead and look in the suitcase.”

  Nora went through it carefully. No sign of danger. “You’re clean.”

  “He hasn’t found us yet.” The woman allowed herself a weak smile. “That’s good. You know what? I’m actually hungry. Let’s order, and then we can fix you up while we wait.”

  “Fine with me.” Nora was about to go in search of a waitress when one came in.

  “Sorry. I didn’t see you arrive.” Briskly, the young woman handed them menus. “Would you like to hear our specials?”

  The two of them nodded.

  From memory, the waitress recited, “Today we’ve got fried clams, shrimp and scallops—that’s the Chef’s Seafood Blowout. Our other special is a steak sandwich, fries and a shake. We call that our Blast From the Past.”

  Nora met Barbara’s startled gaze. To the waitress’s confusion, they both started to laugh.

  It wasn’t really funny. But the break in tension made Nora feel better, all the same.

  “DO YOU REMEMBER the brother’s name?” Sam asked.

  A shake of the head. Carl’s pallor didn’t bode well, although according to the monitors, his vital signs appeared stable.

  “Do you know what he looks like or where he works?” Sam went on.

  “Can’t recall.”

  The door opened and a doctor entered, clipboard in hand. The neurologist, apparently. “I’m sorry, but I need to examine the patient.”

  “I’m almost finished.” They’d come too close to the truth for Sam to give up now. “At least you must remember the driver’s name, don’t you?” He hoped the test driver hadn’t been hired from an outside company. If that was the case, it could take hours to track him down.

  “Tim,” Carl said.

  “Tim what?”

  The doctor opened his mouth to speak again. Sam glared so hard the man closed it silently.

  Carl’s jaw worked. At first nothing came out, and then Sam heard a name so familiar that it almost didn’t register.

  The name was Patchett.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  AS HE RACED THROUGH the hospital, Sam dialed Nora’s number. It rang three times, and then a recording told him the phone was out of service.

  Nora never turned off her phone while working.

  The battery might have died. She might have left it at home by mistake. But Sam knew neither of those things was true.

  Vividly, he saw Bud Patchett in the corridor outside Nora’s office this morning. He’d distracted Sam with his suggestion of how to hack into computer systems.

  The trick had worked. Sam hadn’t registered the fact that this man had had the opportunity to duck inside Nora’s office and switch the cell phone in her purse.

  Since he worked on the police and fire computer systems, Bud must have been following their investigation every step of the way. Sam had even sought his help. The memory of Bud’s feigned solicitude repelled him.

  A couple of years ago, he’d heard that Patchett had lost his brother, although until now, Sam hadn’t had any reason to connect that fact with the Trigger case. Many of his colleagues had even attended the funeral, although Sam had had to go out on a case that day. Understandably moody for weeks afterward, Bud had appeared to recover over time.

  No matter how upset the mechanic must have been, there was no excuse for the violence, lies and hypocrisy that had followed. The Trigger had played his co-workers for fools, using their trust against them as he racked up victims. So great had his obsession grown that he’d become willing to sacrifice anyone who could further his purpose.

  Sam couldn’t bear the thought of losing Nora, with her stubbornness and blazing courage. Her quick mind and ready smile lit up his life.

  He’d yearned to protect her, and now, it seemed, he couldn’t. What a monstrous ego Bud must possess, to believe his own sorrow justified devastating other people’s lives.

  Sam forced himself to concentrate. Surely the Trigger meant to activate the bomb as soon as he saw the two women drive off together. In the confined space of an automobile, they’d both be torn apart. If it hadn’t already happened, there wasn’t a moment to waste.

  He called the dispatcher, tensely relating what he knew. She immediately ordered patrol officers and the backup team into action and put out an All Points Bulletin for Bud.

  There’d been no report of an explosion so far. Sam wondered if Barbara’s plane had been late. The Trigger might still be waiting for the pair to get into the little red sports car.

  In that open vehicle, he’d be able to see them clearly when they left the airport. Then he could place his cowardly, murderous call.

  Sam told the dispatcher to call the supervisor at the VIP terminal and ask him or her to relay a warning to Nora. Next, he asked her to notify the restaurant manager, just in case somehow they’d made it there alive. Someone had to be able to reach the women.

  Sam loped out of the building past the roped-off area where a bomb had detonated less than a week ago. The devastation only underscored today’s deadly peril.

  At his car, a painful reality hit him. Without knowing the women’s exact location, he had no idea how to save them.

  A dozen years ago, he’d been helpless to rescue his father. Last night in the dream, he’d had the same horrifying experience with Nora. Now it was happening in real life.

  Yet Sam had to take action, any action. The restaurant lay half a mile away, en route to the airport. He decided to go there first.

  Keeping his attention on the traffic, Sam activated his light and siren, hit the gas and drove like a maniac.

  IN THE BATHROOM MIRROR, Barbara watched Nora tuck her hair beneath the wig. “You still don’t look like me.”

  “I’m not trying to trick your friends, just create a general impression,” Nora reminded her. “We don’t believe the Trigger necessarily knew his targets personally. Some of them, he may never have seen in person before he…contacted them.”

  The executive shuddered. “It’s so cold-blooded, killing total strangers because they once made the wrong decision.”

  “We don’t even know for sure that that’s his motivation,” Nora added. “He could be a disgruntled former employee.”

  “No matter who he is, I’m glad you’re the one going out there today and not me.” Barbara produced a brush. “Let me fix that. It may sound vain, but I wouldn’t be caught dead with my hair in that outdated flip.”

  “Thanks.” Nora submitted to a faint tugging at her scalp as the wig shifted. “Are your sunglasses prescription? It might help if I wear them.”

  “Be my gues
t.” Barbara handed them over, and Nora put them away for later. “Do you have a different lipstick? This shade works better for a brunette than a blonde. I don’t want people to think I’m losing my touch.”

  Just her luck, Nora reflected, to pose as a woman who seemed almost as worried about her image as her safety. “Sorry. I didn’t bring any other color.”

  “Take this one.” Barbara fished out a tube and gave it to her.

  “Okay if I save it till after we have lunch?”

  “I suppose so.” The executive returned the brush to her bag. “I’m getting nervous again. When do those other officers arrive?”

  Nora checked her watch. “Half an hour. Let’s go eat.” To her, the exciting prospect ahead inspired an appetite. Besides, she’d ordered the Blowout, and she loved seafood.

  As they exited the ladies’ room, Nora heard a siren in the distance. Heart attack victim? Car chase? Right now, she had her own work to do.

  It occurred to her that Sam must have arrived at the hospital nearly an hour ago. Had he learned anything from Carl Garcola? Surely he’d have called if the man had revealed the Trigger’s identity.

  Maybe she ought to check in with Sam anyway, to be on the safe side. Distressed at nearly losing Barbara in traffic and preoccupied with keeping her safe, Nora hadn’t reported in, since the undercover operation wasn’t yet officially underway. She resolved to make the call as soon as they resumed their seats.

  First, however, they had to pass through the open part of the restaurant. Again, Nora surveyed the occupants. Although she saw no one suspicious, a worry nagged at her.

  The Trigger did his dirty work from a distance. If he’d learned of their arrangements and planted a bomb in the private room, he wouldn’t be sitting here in plain view, risking injury. He’d be outside with binoculars, watching through the window until they went back in.

  Subliminally, she noted the siren’s wail growing louder as it approached. The sound increased her uneasiness.

  Nora believed in intuition.

  “You know what?” she told Barbara. “I want to make a tour of the parking lot.”

  “I thought we were safe here,” the executive said disapprovingly.

  “I believe we are, but…well, it’s just a hunch.” And probably a fruitless one, Nora conceded. Besides, she could hardly leave Barbara unescorted while she circled the lot. “I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

  Far from acting reassured, the woman beside her stiffened. “What’s that man doing in our room?”

  A thirtyish fellow in a blazer emerged from the reserved area, his expression puzzled. He didn’t match the description of the man outside the hospital, but perhaps the Trigger had persuaded him to leave a cell phone on the table on a pretext. It would certainly seem like an innocent request.

  “Let’s play it safe. We’ll go to my car. Keep it natural but move fast.” As she caught Barbara’s arm and turned, they nearly collided with the waitress carrying their plates.

  “Is something wrong?” the woman asked.

  “Do you know that man?” Nora pointed.

  “Sure, that’s Brad. Our manager.”

  The young man caught their gaze. As he started toward them, the siren blared directly outside the restaurant. Once it fell silent, Nora heard other sirens further off.

  “What’s going on?” Barbara gazed wildly from the approaching manager to the flashing red light visible through the front window. “That isn’t a police car.”

  With a sense of relief, Nora recognized the sedan. “It’s my partner.”

  “Is either of you Sergeant Keyes?” the manager said.

  “That’s me.”

  “The police dispatcher just called.” He glanced around uneasily. “Maybe we should discuss this somewhere private.”

  As he hesitated, Nora caught a glimpse of Sam, his face hard with resolve. Shoving the glass front door so hard it snapped open, he barreled toward them.

  Her pleasure at seeing him changed to apprehension tinged with annoyance. If something was wrong, why hadn’t he called? Did he have to barge in here and take over?

  Before she could speak, he ripped her purse off her shoulder. “The Trigger is Bud Patchett!” To Barbara, Sam said, “Just a precaution.” Snatching the pocketbook from her hand, he fled.

  Other diners stared after him. A couple buzzed angrily, apparently under the impression that they’d witnessed a purse snatching.

  Bud Patchett. Nora stood rooted to the spot, stunned.

  She visualized the tall, muscular figure outside her office this morning. Bud, who’d always seemed friendly and outgoing, must have sneaked into her office and set up her murder.

  It gave her the chills. But not for her own sake.

  Her purse might blow at any moment. Sam had put himself in harm’s way to save her.

  Nora’s heart squeezed. She’d never felt more than mild fear for herself, no matter the danger. A new kind of terror gripped her at the possibility of losing this man.

  She wanted Sam to live long enough for her to tell him that even though he sometimes infuriated her, she loved being his partner. Long enough to hold him again. Long enough to at least say goodbye.

  Abruptly, her mind jerked out of its daze. If the bomb went off, it could smash the front window. “Everybody down!” she roared, so loud that Barbara and the manager both flinched. “Courage Bay Police Department! There’s a bomb on the premises. Get under the tables!”

  Some people obeyed. Others simply stared at her.

  “Down!” Nora shouted. “Under your tables! Right now!”

  Mercifully, the remaining diners complied, but Barbara stood motionless. Pulling her to the floor, Nora threw herself over the woman.

  SAM ZIGZAGGED between parked cars, gripping both purses by their straps. He didn’t dare pitch them where the explosion could ignite gas tanks and magnify the damage.

  He registered more vulnerabilities at every turn. Across the lot, a young couple were lifting a baby from a car seat. To his right, a fuel tanker pulled into the corner gas station.

  Was Bud watching? Sam had to assume that even if the killer realized his plot had failed, he’d behave as he had at the hospital. That meant detonating the bomb to destroy evidence no matter who got hurt.

  The only hope lay to his left, where a cinder-block wall separated the Sunscape Coffee Shop from a self-storage facility. Praying that no unlucky soul was walking or driving out of sight behind the barrier, Sam swung the pocketbooks around his head and lobbed them full-force over the wall.

  They didn’t quite make it.

  They were still in midair when the blast went off with a force that smashed him backward into a parked van. The last thing he felt was a painful throbbing in his head and the sting of glass against his cheeks.

  THE BOOM ROCKED the restaurant, shattering windows and sending dishes, glasses and food flying. Something thudded painfully into Nora’s hip and she felt the wig fly from her head. The harsh scent of smoke mingled with the odors of spilled coffee and splattered food. Keeping down, she couldn’t tell how strong or how close the explosion had been.

  As the shock faded, a baby began to cry. Nora finally dared to look up. Although the damage appeared extensive, the walls and ceiling remained intact. Around her, people stirred.

  “Please stay down!” She had to consider the possibility of a second explosion, either from a bomb or from one of the cars. “Is anyone seriously hurt?”

  No one answered, and, mercifully, she didn’t see any inert figures or major bleeding. If only she knew what had happened to Sam! Had he had time to toss the purses before the detonation?

  Nora couldn’t allow herself to yield to emotions. A woman under her protection and a restaurant full of people needed directions.

  Shaking off some stray utensils that had landed on her, she pulled herself from atop Barbara. “Are you all right?”

  “A little shaken,” her charge said hoarsely. “How about you?”

  “I’m fine.” Ignoring
the pain in her hip, Nora stood up. Through the gaping front window, she saw red lights flash into the parking lot.

  If only Sam would come striding in here and give her his lopsided grin. But she couldn’t wait for that. Despite the apparent sturdiness of the building, the danger of structural collapse remained.

  “We need to evacuate,” she announced in an authoritative voice. “Proceed in an orderly manner through the door to my left.” She indicated the undamaged side of the building. “Remain on the premises until an officer gives you the all clear. Does anyone require medical treatment?”

  Heads shook in the negative as the diners followed her directions. A few had suffered cuts from flying glass, but everyone seemed able to move without assistance. They left behind a restaurant in shambles: overturned tables, broken dishes, and scattered food.

  Battling her impulse to run in search of Sam, Nora shepherded everyone outside. She made a visual sweep of the restaurant to confirm that no one lay unnoticed and unconscious.

  A squad car rolled alongside. “Please don’t leave,” Nora requested as she joined the diners on the walkway. “We need you all as witnesses. Also, it may not be safe to start your cars yet. Please wait until the officers clear you.”

  Paramedics, a fire truck and other cruisers had arrived in front of the building. “I need to coordinate with the bomb squad,” she told Barbara. “Can you wait here for me?”

  The executive nodded, apparently reassured by the presence of uniformed officers. “No problem.”

  Nora pointed her out to an officer she knew. He promised to keep an eye on her.

  Her heart in her throat, she sprinted toward the front of the restaurant. The fact that Sam hadn’t come to assess the situation scared the wits out of her.

  As she rounded the corner, Nora slowed to navigate the debris. A paramedic van blocked the center of the lot, where a couple of techs knelt beside a motionless form on the pavement.

  Nora’s throat clamped shut.

  She came closer. Blood covered the man’s face but she knew those broad shoulders and that rumpled dark-blond hair. Sam.

 

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