“I didn’t mean to remind you of that,” he said sadly.
“It’s okay.” Dianna turned, and Jeremy let go slowly, apparently reluctant. All the more reason to move away in reinforcement of what she’d already made clear: she appreciated his caring but wanted no relationship beyond employer-employee.
Facing the Center, she once more saw the bomb detection unit arrive, with its unwieldy looking equipment. They had dogs with them, too, probably trained to sniff out explosives.
This couldn’t be happening again.
No, it was happening. And this time it might be more than one of Farley’s disgusting jokes.
She stared through the rapidly retreating crowd. Where was Travis? Was he safe?
She knew he’d impose himself into the middle of the action. Be wherever the damned bomb was anticipated to be, to stop it.
Behind her, Jeremy asked the cops questions they couldn’t answer. “Where do they think the bastard is this time? Who took his call? Did he give any clues where he stuck the bomb?”
Snail’s attempt to respond was valiant, though his answers seemed to be only educated guesses. Dianna stepped farther away, distancing herself from the men assigned to protect her, in mind-set if not actual space.
She scanned the retreating crowd for the familiar, hated face of Farley. Looked for his ugly grin. She didn’t see it. Not surprising. He probably watched from a distance, enjoying himself while ensuring that he would not be caught.
Bill Hultman approached. She didn’t like the chilly smile on the restaurant owner’s face. “Two bomb scares in two weeks is disruptive enough for me to get out of my lease, don’t you think, Ms. Englander? If the building doesn’t blow up, of course. Ever hear of a tenant’s right to quiet enjoyment? I’m sure I’ll find legal grounds to get out of it now.”
He sounded too pleased by the idea. But before Dianna could think of an appropriate response, her cell phone rang. She pulled it from her purse. The caller ID number was Travis’s. He’d told her he would call now and then to make sure she was with her bodyguards—and that she was safe.
“Hi,” she said eagerly into the receiver. “Where are you? Are you all right?”
A horrible laugh sounded in her ear. “I’m just fine, darling,” cackled an all-too-familiar voice.
Farley.
But the phone number was Travis’s cell. She was sure of it.
“What do you want?” she demanded coldly, her spine prickling in fear. How had Farley gotten Travis’s phone?
“I want you, of course, Dianna,” the voice said. “Did you notice the caller ID number before you answered?”
“No,” she lied.
“Oh, I bet you did. Why else would you answer that way?”
She remained silent.
“You know whose phone I have. How do you suppose I got it?”
Dianna had the horrible feeling he would tell her whether or not she replied. Where was Travis? He wasn’t the kind of person who lost things like his cell phone. He’d know if it was stolen.
Surely Farley hadn’t harmed him.
The devil’s next words shattered Dianna’s prayers. “You don’t need to answer, Dianna. I’ll tell you. I have Lt. Bronson. He’ll die here in Englander Center when my bomb explodes. Won’t you just love that? I know he’s an undercover cop and that the two of you have spent a lot of time together…under the covers. Isn’t that sweet? And now I’ll be able to destroy him, just as I did your dear Brad. Would you like to watch again?”
Dianna felt as though she was going to throw up. “Wh—what do you want, Farley?”
“One minute. Let’s not rush things. There’s someone else here who wants to say hello.”
“Dianna!” The shrill child’s voice shouted into the phone. “Help me. He came to my school and—”
“You can tell her later.” Farley’s voice was muffled as if he didn’t hold the phone. In a moment, he said, “You know who that is?”
Of course. Julie.
As scared as Dianna was before, now her throat closed in panic. “You bastard,” she choked. “Leave her alone.”
“I will…probably,” said Farley. “It’s not my intention to harm children, just use them.”
“What do you want?” Dianna tried not to sob into the phone.
“You.”
Could anyone survive long with a heart racing as hard and fast as hers? Maybe it didn’t matter.
She was going to die anyway.
Dianna turned to see what her bodyguards were doing. All three spoke with the angry Jeremy, though their eyes were on her.
Jeremy. What would he do if he knew his daughter was in danger? Should she tell him?
She turned her back again so her expression wouldn’t betray her horror. “What do you mean, you want me?”
“You’re the only person I worry about these days, Dianna. You’ve seen me as I really am. I’ve worn a disguise in front of Julie, so she’s no threat, but you can identify the real me to the cops. So, tell you what. You come here, and I’ll make a trade. Your life for your dear Lt. Bronson’s and sweet little Julie’s. Two for one. What a deal.”
“Let me talk to Travis.” She wasn’t stupid. Even if Farley had Travis, he might already be…dead.
“Nope. He’s a little indisposed right now, though I promise you he is alive—at least at this moment. Now, here’s what you do. I was there before, you know, when your dear lieutenant met with his undercover troops in that little basement room at the Center. Neither of you recognized me, of course. But that’s where I’ve taken Julie and Bronson. You come here, and I’ll make sure they get out of Englander Center before it goes boom.”
Dianna took a slow, deep breath. She wouldn’t get out. That’s what he meant. But she couldn’t let Travis and Julie die.
She would never be able to live with herself if two people she loved were murdered because of her.
Of course, if she went, living with anything would no longer be an issue for her. As if she had a choice.
“All right, I’ll come,” she said softly into the phone.
“Come alone.” He hung up.
Dianna held her phone to her ear for another long moment, then slowly closed it and put it in her purse.
Behind her, Jeremy was still jabbering to the three police officers. Furtively, she sneaked a look. Snail and the others appeared irritated. Their gazes were on Jeremy.
She knew she should tell them about the call. Let them do something. They were, after all, cops.
But they didn’t know Farley. The man was cunning enough, insane enough, to kill Travis and Julie, then still blow up the place and escape. Not that she could stop him. But she knew he wanted her. Maybe that would be enough of a statement for him: he killed Brad Englander’s widow on the day the center named for him celebrated its first anniversary.
Maybe, by doing as he said, she would be the only victim, and he’d let Julie and Travis go.
And if she were really lucky…maybe she could get him first.
Again, she looked. Were Snail and the other officers distracted enough to let her slip away?
No time like the present to find out.
There were a lot of people around, the crowd evacuating the Center. Quickly, Dianna stepped among them. They were going the wrong way, but she’d double back as soon as she could.
Without another glance to see if she was being observed, she slipped away.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN she got away?” Travis demanded into the cell phone he’d borrowed to check on Dianna. He’d called Snail first for a report. Explosion? Hell. This news made him feel ready to detonate as fiercely as any bomb the SOB Farley may have planted at the Center.
“She was there one minute talking on her phone. We all had our eyes on her. And then…she was gone.” Snail’s voice sounded small and contrite. As it should. Travis would bust him for this. All of them.
But that wouldn’t protect Dianna.
Travis had the urge to hurl something in his frustration. If i
t had been his own cell phone, maybe he’d have destroyed it. But when he’d reached into his pocket, his had been gone. He was never careless enough to leave it behind. Had someone taken it? He’d been in more than one shoving crowd that day, but he knew all the sticky finger tricks. He’d used them himself.
But there was no time to deal with a mere annoyance right now. He was inside the Englander Center lobby with the explosives team, and he’d borrowed one of their phones. He was going to call Dianna but decided to first check with Snail.
Good thing he had. What the hell was she thinking? He’d call her in a second to find out, before laying into her but good. First, though…
“Find her.” Travis didn’t raise his voice but made it damned clear he meant business.
Why hadn’t the stubborn woman listened to him just this once?
He couldn’t rely on his men to locate her. He wouldn’t rely on them. Dianna was his responsibility, even if he’d been given conflicting orders.
“Any idea what direction she went?”
“She just disappeared into the crowd, sir,” Snail said.
Of course the crowd was heading away from Englander Center. That didn’t mean Dianna was.
Had Farley gotten to her? How?
He needed to find her. Fast.
He pressed her number into the cell phone and waited for her to respond.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone stopped ringing. “Dianna?” he shouted. “Where are you?”
“She’s with me, Bronson,” said a high and whiny male voice. “Care to join us? We’re in the Center’s basement. See you soon.”
And then there was nothing.
Chapter Fifteen
The Glen Farley Dianna knew, the demon who’d murdered Brad in front of her, had a middle-aged face, lined and paunchy.
The man who had faced her at the door of what was to have been her child-care room, who’d grabbed her cell phone from her purse when it rang, appeared years younger—no wrinkles, no sags.
Not even a scar from where she had raked her key down his face only a few weeks ago.
Shock slammed her in the face when she realized she had seen him earlier today, right here in the chilly Englander Center basement during Travis’s briefing of his undercover platoon. She’d noticed this guy she’d assumed was one of Travis’s cops because he’d looked familiar. Hadn’t she seen him before today, too? She hadn’t associated him with Farley, though. Why—?
“Please have a seat,” he said as if inviting her into his home for a party.
In his own sick way, maybe he was. But the large, ugly pistol he pointed at her belied any hospitable intent.
He wore a T-shirt and blue jeans, as most of the street performers did—those not in costume, at least. He appeared to be in his early twenties, in the dim basement light.
Only the cunningly mad gleam in his eyes told her that this was, in fact, Farley.
“Why do you have to kill me because I can recognize you?” she blurted. “You use disguises most of the time anyway.”
“Except when I want you to notice me,” he reminded her. “And sometimes I just want to be me without worrying if the cops will catch me.”
She didn’t bother pointing out that physical description was only one way the authorities could identify him. Logic had never been Farley’s forte.
She had no intention of taking her eyes off him or his gun, yet as she obeyed his insistent motion and stepped further into the room she peered into the dimness.
“Dianna!” Julie stood against the far wall, in an area that had been used—was it only an hour earlier?—for Travis’s platoon’s preparatory meeting. Some officers had changed into their undercover gear there, their costumes for performing. Neat stacks of their belongings littered the floor, not far from the pile of basement debris shoved out of the way into the corner—small pieces of wood, lumps of concrete, a broken tool or two.
Some ad hoc performers had left props for their acts there, too, for later retrieval if necessary.
Like Travis…
In the middle of the floor was something that turned Dianna’s blood flow to an icy trickle. It appeared to be sticks of dynamite attached to something resembling a clock.
The bomb that would destroy Englander Center. And everyone who remained inside…
“Where’s Travis?” Dianna demanded as Julie raced across the room and into her arms.
“On his way here,” Farley told her. “I lifted his cell phone when he gave his pep talk to his sadly recognizable undercover squad before. Fortunately, they added people for today and didn’t know one another, just checked identification. Mine looked so real. I doubt he noticed when one more person bumped him in that crowd when I ‘borrowed’ his cell phone from his pocket to call you. Now I’ve used yours to tell him where to find you. Full circle. You can watch each other die.”
“No!” Julie wailed. Her head back, she stared up into Dianna’s face with terrified eyes. “I don’t understand why Mr. Glen is doing this. When Daddy—”
“Didn’t I tell you before that you were to be very quiet unless I told you to talk, Julie?” Farley’s voice was low but the menace in it shredded the nerves along Dianna’s spine. Julie, trembling against her, began to sob.
Farley was going to kill them all. Travis, too. If only Dianna could warn him, somehow, to stay away.
As if he would.
Dianna admitted to herself that the thought of his being here gave her hope. Maybe he’d think of something to save them.
Maybe he’d die…
Dianna couldn’t chance it. She’d come here without telling anyone so she could save Travis as well as Julie. Yet how could she do anything at all while terrified for the child in her arms?
“You’ve got me,” she said woodenly to Farley. “You’ll have Travis. There’s no need to harm Julie.”
“Of course not,” he said with a wounded expression on the face that Dianna could now see, despite the gloominess of the poorly-lighted room, was coated with makeup. “I told you I use children. I don’t hurt them, as long as they obey me. Especially Julie. Run along now, quietly, young lady. Your dad is probably out there somewhere, right, Dianna?”
“Yes. I left him across the street.”
“But Dianna—”
“You can’t help me here, honey,” she said. “But you can help outside. Make sure the police know what’s going on here, okay?”
They already knew, even if they weren’t sure where the bomb was, but giving Julie a mission might get her moving quickly.
“Okay,” the child said reluctantly. Tears ran down her cheeks as she backed away from Dianna. “Is he going to kill you?”
Dianna shook her head. “I hope not, but I need for you to leave so I can talk some sense into him.” As if she could. Her chances of survival were nearly nil, and hated that a lie might be Julie’s last memory of her. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
She sighed in relief as Julie ran out of the room and down the hall in the direction of the emergency stairway.
Would it make any difference if she ran into Travis? Unlikely. He would come here, her knight whose shining armor consisted of snug T-shirt and jeans, and try to save her.
And they both would die.
“How sweet,” Farley said when Julie was gone. “But you realize, I’m sure, that you won’t be able to ‘talk sense into me,’ as you called it.”
“I know,” Dianna acknowledged. “Getting someone else to see reason requires a rational mind to deal with in the first place.”
The expression on Farley’s falsely youthful face turned ugly. “I know you think I’m mad. But I’ve always had good reasons for what I’ve done. Your dear husband hurt me and others. I had to stop him from harming more small businessmen with his miserable plans to put them out of business by redeveloping more perfectly fine areas all over the country that he considered run-down.”
“And you saved small businesses by destroying those redevelopments and killing
people?”
“Sure. And now I’ll have funding to keep going, too. I’ve found my niche. Killing is fun, and profiting from it, too—well, that’s nirvana.”
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer, but used the gun to wave her toward the wall. “Go over there. I need to tie you up, since your lover will arrive any moment.”
She slowly obeyed him, her eyes skipping from one possible weapon on the ground to another.
Where, in all the stuff, was what she sought?
When she glanced back at him, he held a rope. He’d have to put the gun down to tie her up. That would be her chance. But where was—
He grabbed her arm, but she dove for the pile of stuff in the corner. All she came up with in that instant was an irregular chunk of concrete. It should be big enough…
She hurled it at his head. He ducked, raising his gun hand and aiming at her.
No. It couldn’t end like this. Where was—
“Farley!” A beloved voice sounded from the doorway.
“Travis, look out!” Dianna screamed.
Too late. As Farley turned, he fired toward Travis, who also held a gun. And then Dianna spotted what she’d been looking for: Travis’s things, arranged neatly in a stack along the wall, a closed box at the bottom. She leapt toward the pile and pulled from the box one of his most lethal-looking knives.
When she looked up, she saw Travis stagger into the room, blood on his shirt, his gun hand unsteady.
“No!” She rushed to her feet. Farley had turned at her voice, obviously distracted by waging his war on two fronts.
Dianna took the knife by its hilt and spun it as Travis had taught her, but forward, not up in the air. The blade miraculously hit Farley’s gun hand, slicing his wrist open.
With a cry of pain, he fired again, but the shot went wild. He went down in a heap onto the floor as Travis leapt onto him.
How badly was Travis hurt? Dianna couldn’t tell. She lifted the concrete rock she’d thrown earlier and stood over the two grunting, fighting men. Farley was on top. Travis must have been weakened by his wound. She prayed he would be all right, even as she took the hunk of concrete and brought it down on Farley’s skull. Hard.
Guardian of Her Heart Page 18
