Facing Evil

by Kylie Brant

  Nausea circled in her stomach, immediately recognizing the plan. The two men left behind would coordinate the search for the ambulance, while Cam and the others would join the pursuit of the first vehicle to be seen in the search area.

  And if the two people they were searching for were on board, both of them were likely armed.

  * * * *

  “In pursuit of a navy Harley Sportster traveling east on Kingsley Boulevard. Two passengers. Gender undetermined. License plate Peter-Benjamin-Lincoln five eight nine.” Jackson’s radio was as clear as if the reporting officer were sitting right beside them.

  Cam had the Iowa State Patrol Air Wing pilot on speakerphone. “You hear all that?”

  “Even better, I’ve got the visual. But the driver just took a right into an alley.”

  The Polk County sheriff engaged the radio mic again to relay the development. “Driver turned right in an alley off Kingsley between eleven and twelve hundred block. Get a car on A Avenue. Hem that bastard in.”

  Cam had the Des Moines city map spread across his lap. The pilot’s voice was heard. “Vehicle has cleared the alley, turned south on A Avenue.”

  “Get a cruiser on Frontier, Greenhill Road, B and C Avenues, thirteen hundred block and south. Trap him.” Jackson repeated Cam’s order, took a corner on two wheels and they had a visual themselves. The motorcycle was several blocks ahead.

  Adrenaline was churning in his veins. But at the same time he recalled the diversion Vance had arranged in the jail this morning. He hoped like hell they weren’t chasing one now.

  * * * *

  Special Agent in Charge Maria Gonzalez had arrived on scene shortly after Cam left and was being briefed by Franks and Rodriguez. Conversation broke off when a Metro S.T.A.R. team member, clad in black helmet and Flak vest jogged up to them. “Sergeant Jared Johns, DMPD. We’ve located the ambulance.”

  After the motorcycle had burst out of the alley, the search had narrowed to a one- block radius. It hadn’t taken long for the two SWAT officers, armed with 3D imaging devices, to collect intelligence.

  The SWAT officer pulled off his helmet to reveal short-cropped blond hair and a lean jaw. “1143 Front Street. Looks like an abandoned warehouse. Large stationary object located in the center of the two left quadrants. Dimensions match those of the emergency vehicle.”

  “Signs of life?” Sophia asked hopefully.

  The man turned his blue gaze on her, nodded. His face glistened with perspiration. “Display shows five shapes within one static object. Little movement, all within close proximity. We’ve got no movement outside the dimensions of the vehicle. Unless the escapee is lying nearly motionless within that vehicle, he’s no longer in there.”

  “How long to assemble the rest of your team?” Gonzalez’s gaze was on her cell, searching for a contact. “We’ll need a breach.”

  “Once the request has been okayed, they’ll be here within the hour,” Johns said.

  “Owner of the address is one Emmett Leach,” Agent Franks told the SAC.

  “If you have his personal information, make the contact. But I’m not waiting on a warrant. Exigent circumstances.”

  A horrible sense of comprehension filled Sophia. Here, finally, might be the answer to a question that had been nagging at her. “Before you enter the building,” she said slowly, “I think you should have a bomb squad on hand.”

  * * * *

  Jackson screeched to a halt to block the alleyway the cycle had gone down. The neighborhood had turned more residential, with small homes huddled close together interspersed with the occasional business. “I need a cruiser midway down the fifteen hundred block of Greenhill to block the alley exit. Suspect is westbound and coming fast.”

  A second cruiser screamed to a halt seconds later and the driver looked behind him. Forward. Then veered off through the yard bordering the alley.

  “Shit.” Radcliffe put the car in gear again.

  Cam was in constant contact with the Air Wing pilot, who was guiding their moves. “Cruisers on the sixteen hundred block of Dallas Street,” he directed the sheriff, who relayed the message to the pursuit team. But on the next block the motorcycle driver reversed course and sped by an oncoming cruiser before taking to the yards again, temporarily out of sight.

  “He can’t take residential streets indefinitely.” Cam narrowed his gaze on the map, concentrating. “Pull off the pursuit team.”

  “What?” Jackson’s head swiveled toward him. “Like hell!”

  “It’s too dangerous. We’re running into too much traffic. And we still have the surveillance plane. We’ll remain in the chase, but the rest of the cruisers should hold back. Follow our direction as we figure out where he’s headed.”

  The sheriff didn’t like it. That much was clear from his expression. But he radioed his direction to the team. “Headed toward Hickman Road,” came the pilot’s laconic voice.

  “Hickman. Were any of the motels you traced to Baxter on Hickman?”

  “No.” And he was all too aware that although they’d found three motels where she registered, there could be more. “If she goes back to the rooms we discovered, she’s going to be surprised by one of my agents there, waiting for her.”

  The motorcycle was no longer in sight. They followed the pilot’s updates, taking Hickman westbound for a time until the disembodied voice sounded again. “Vehicle took the Merle Hay exit.”

  Jackson passed along the information to the pursuit team, but there was a frown on his face. “Where the hell are they headed?”

  The muscles in his belly clenched as a sense of certainty hit him. “What better place to get lost in a crowd than at a mall?”

  Chapter 10

  Sophia had thought it was stressful watching the bomb dog work. But seeing Jared Johns assembled with the entry unit of the Metro S.TA.R. team and ready to breach the warehouse had her clutching her fingers together in anxiety.

  The collection of law enforcement leaders had swelled. A shiny black tactical truck had rolled up down the street from the building housing the ambulance, and a communications officer provided updates to the other law enforcement leaders. A bomb squad was also on scene.

  She waited with the law enforcement leaders a couple blocks away from the site. They all huddled around a laptop sitting on top of the front of a cruiser. On the screen they had a real time vantage point from which they could view what was happening on the scene.

  The warehouse was fronted with three garage doors and one regular entrance that had a piece of plywood over its window. The K-9 dog hadn’t alerted more strongly to that entrance than it had to the overhead doors, so it had been chosen for entry. Because he had mentioned his role, Sophia knew that the SWAT officer Jared Johns was one of the two dark-clothed team members wielding the battering ram. The door swung open violently at first contact, and the team members stepped aside for the K-9 handler.

  “No verbal response, but there’s banging on the inside of the vehicle in response to questions,” the liaison reported via the radio wielded by Rodriguez. “Dog has alerted only on the vehicle, most strongly at the rear.” The K-9 handler walked out to meet an individual trudging forward carrying a case and wearing a Kevlar suit that covered him from head to foot.

  The man went inside and the entry team swarmed after him. Moments later the center overhead door rose.

  What followed then was the most harrowing task Sophia had ever witnessed. The tactical team withdrew and the explosives expert approached the vehicle with a long handled device he’d taken out of the case and assembled. He swept it slowly beneath the undercarriage of the ambulance. And then again. Next he started with the driver’s side of the vehicle and ran a handheld device over each of the front doors.

  “What’s he doing?”

  Franks had come to stand beside her. “Bomb detecting device. He’s trying to figure out a point of entry.”

  She looked at him. Hesitated. Unsure whether to ask the question that was uppermost on her mind. “What h
ave you heard from Cam?”

  “Aerial surveillance is directing the pursuit. Last I heard they were heading for a mall. Merle Hay.”

  “What…” She broke off when a small robotic machine on wheels went wheeling into the garage, seemingly on its own. The bomb technician on screen bent down to take something else from the case. Fixed it to one of the robotic claws. Then he walked clumsily to the door and disappeared from view.

  Sophia realized she was holding her breath. Expelled it. Whoever was running the robot remotely had it raising its robotic arm to window height. Pressing something against the glass. A few minutes later a large hole appeared in the window of the passenger door. Somewhat jerkily the robot withdrew its robotic arm, laid the tool on the cement. Then approached the window again, arm reaching up and inside the hole. It withdrew, and the length of the arm shortened while it seemed to search the exterior of the passenger door. A moment later it had the door pulled open.

  “R2-D2 should be that handy,” she muttered and Franks turned to grin at her.

  “Never thought I’d hear a Star Wars reference coming from you.”

  “You realize Cam has the entire collection. He forced me to sit through viewings of every one of the movies. I learned to murmur appreciative comments at appropriate intervals.”

  Two bomb technicians returned to the area wearing full body armor. In a few seconds they had the passenger in front extricated from his seat belt and were supporting him out of the building. From what she could see on the screen, the man was limp. Unresponsive. Jackson’s deputy.

  “Front passenger not alert. Technician notes three other victims held in the back. All four are bound and gagged. All are alive.”

  She expelled a long breath of relief. But the sensation was short-lived. The technicians still had to get the rest of the people out. And then dispose of the bomb attached to the back doors.

  And if it detonated before they were able to, there would be six victims instead of four.

  * * * *

  Vance jumped the curb outside the main department store’s entrance and they both got off the motorcycle, leaving it and their helmets behind. Inside the lobby Vickie took off the backpack and unzipped it. Pulled out the bag she’d shoved in there and handed it to Vance. He disappeared inside the store, heading for an unattended dressing room area where his blue tee shirt would be discarded for the yellow one he wore underneath. The cap and false facial hair would pass all but the closest scrutiny. Vickie had made sure of that when she’d purchased them.

  Swiftly she walked through the store and headed to another shop that carried high-end clothing. She picked out several items from the rack, while keeping an eye on the other shoppers in the store. The mall was busier than she would have thought for being mid-day and mid-week.

  That suited her needs exactly.

  When a well-dressed woman in her fifties left her friend to head toward the hallway lined with dressing rooms, Vickie grabbed a handful of garments and followed her.

  “Can I take these for you?”

  Stupid interfering sales clerk. She forced a smile. “Sure. You have such pretty things.”

  “Oh, we do,” the girl agreed enthusiastically, as she led the way down the short hallway. “We already have our fall things in, which seems ridiculous, because it’s only July. That’s why we’re running such a super sale.” She stopped before a dressing room and handed Vickie a number. “Three items, right?”

  “That’s right.” She went inside the dressing room, keeping the door cracked so she could watch the clerk’s progress. When she was out of sight, Vickie walked to the room the other customer had disappeared into and opened the door.

  The woman whirled around, her arms clasped over her bra-clad breasts, her mouth an ‘O’ of surprise.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Vickie backed out quickly. “I’m right next door, I’m so sorry. I got the wrong room.” She closed the door and entered the room next to it.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” the woman’s voice floated over the partitions. “I’ve done the same thing before. It’s so embarrassing.”

  “It is. I’m just still shook up from almost breaking an axle in the Sears parking lot. There’s a hole in the pavement that practically swallowed the front end of my car. I just know it’ll be out of alignment now. Did you see it?”

  “I didn’t, thank God. I parked outside Younkers. Walked right by the display of the best purses. Did you see the sale they’re having today? I did so much damage there.” There was the sound of her door opening. Vickie peeked out and saw her going down the hall to model the top she was trying on for her friend.

  She unzipped her backpack and snatched the garments she’d selected before swinging around the corner into the room to lift the woman’s purse off the chair and slip it in her pack. Then walked out again into the store.

  The salesclerk hurried up to her. “How did those items work for you? Can I get you a different size or color?”

  Vickie shoved the hangers at her. “I’ll probably be back,” she said over her shoulder. Once out in the mall again she strode to the public restroom and selected a stall. She took off her shirt and hung it on the hook on the back of the door, leaving her clad in a black stretch tank. Then she pulled a hat out of her backpack much like the one she’d given Mason, and wrapped her hair into a knot, which was hidden once she donned the cap. Large framed clear lens glasses were perched on her nose.

  Turning her attention to the coral handbag she’d stolen, she withdrew the keys and wallet found inside. She pocketed the keys, tossed the wallet in the backpack and hung the purse on the hook before leaving again, nearly running over two elderly women on their way to the sinks.

  As she walked out the door, she heard one of them say to the other, “Isn’t that disgusting? She didn’t even wash her hands.”

  Out in the hall again she texted Mase. Younkers entrance by purses. The walk to the department store seemed to take a century. Below her she could see a throng of people on the next level, milling around the food court. She didn’t know what was going on there, but a crowd could only slow down detection.

  A security guard was heading her way and she kept her head bent, fingers moving on the phone as if she were still engrossed in texting. She felt him look at her, but she kept walking. Nonchalant. And when she turned the corner she was able to see that he had continued moving. Every person he passed was given the same scrutiny.

  Eat shit, cop, she thought smugly. You’ll never know how close you came.

  Vickie sailed through Younkers, turning the wrong way a couple times before finding the display of purses. She pushed through the doors past them and pulled the keys out of her pocket, continuing walking as she pressed the fob several times. On cue, the lights began flashing on a sassy red Toyota. She slid in, fit the key to the ignition and cruised up to the doors she’d just exited.

  She had to do a double take when Mase came out wearing that beard and mustache. Damn, she’d done good. She barely knew him herself.

  He got in and slammed the door after him, keeping his face turned away from people passing by. “Okay, Vick.” He found the lever to move the seat as far back as it would go. “Let’s roll.”

  They’d been inside the mall just under fourteen minutes.

  * * * *

  “Nothing so far,” the security guard reported as Cam approached him. Frustrated Cam looked over the railing. Noticed the mob below. “What’s going on with the food court?”

  “Indoor farmer’s market. They’re here weekly all summer. I’ve got a couple officers down there looking. I alerted the anchor stores and they’re stationing someone at each of their exits. Sent along the pictures you sent me, too.”