by J. M. Hayes
“Your call,” Mad Dog told his brother as they came up on the last place to turn before negotiating parking or drop-off zones. “Might not be Haines’ car. Who knows where Davis is. Maybe they’re all in the terminal.”
“That’s where I’ll go,” Englishman decided. “The girls would have gone after Judy, so that’s what I’ll do. You two check out that car.”
Mad Dog infuriated a security guard who thought he was moving too fast. Englishman pointed to the badge on his chest as he jumped out to join the parade of tourists, dumping his .38 and holster on the Mini’s floor before Mad Dog tore away, back toward the lot where they’d seen what they thought was Haines’ car.
There were several big lots, and it took Mad Dog a moment to find the entrance to the right one. Hailey finally convinced them to turn in and check the far corner, away from other vehicles.
“I wonder why…” Mad Dog said, but he threw the Mini to the end of the lot and into a nearby slot.
Hailey was the first one out of the Cooper. But she didn’t bound over to the apparently-abandoned Buick. She approached it warily, preceded by a rumble from deep in her throat. Once he was out of the Cooper and on his feet, Mad Dog discovered why. Two figures lay in the car, hastily bound with duct tape and strapped down on the seats to which they were confined by their seat belts—the Heathers.
“Damn,” he said, and stepped forward to tear a door open and get them out of there.
“Don’t touch it.” The panic in Parker’s voice made a non-existent ruff of hair stand up along his back. It matched the one Hailey was showing as she growled at the car.
“Why?” he asked. But he already knew because he could see the wires.
***
Judy had to take her shoes off to go through security. She thought that was silly. There were plenty of better places in her clothing—slacks, a white blouse and a blue blazer—to hide a weapon. So, why strip everyone of their shoes? At least she was wearing the cute sunflower-printed socks the Heathers had given her last Christmas.
She went through the metal detector without a problem after carefully removing all her jewelry and putting it in one of those containers they offered you. She’d dressed with the idea of passing these security checkpoints. Plastic buttons on this blazer, not metal ones, and a belt that tied and had no buckle. They found nothing wrong with her carry-on luggage, or her purse, so she was soon offered a seat where she could put her shoes back on. She had a bad moment then, sitting there, looking at those cheerful sunflower socks the girls had given her. Would she ever see the Heathers again? And, if she did, would their lives be ruined by having to care for a mother who couldn’t care for herself? Would she survive to see them marry? Ever see a grandchild? She felt herself tearing up until she realized a young soldier was in front of her, waiting for one of the chairs so he could get back into his own shoes. Lord, they were even checking soldiers. Absurd!
She pulled her flats on and made way for him and he smiled at her. He was Hispanic, maybe. He had a dark complexion and high cheek bones and he reminded her a little of Englishman. With a shy smile and eyes that swept across her figure before going to hide beneath his long lashes, he bore an amazing resemblance to the Englishman she’d seen, all those years ago, across the gym at the Bisons’ basketball game. Englishman was still in his Army uniform then, a wounded war hero, and everything Judy had dreamed of. After halftime, she’d squeezed into the seat next to him. He’d noticed her. She made sure of that, making a big deal of slipping past him in the bleachers and sticking her mini-skirted tush in his face. Even then, he hadn’t talked to her. Just an occasional glance out of the corner of those surprisingly blue eyes. Glances that took in her efforts to fill out her already tight sweater by throwing her shoulders back and taking deep, chest expanding breaths. His smile seemed to mock her and so, when the game was close and the crowd’s attention was riveted elsewhere, she’d slipped off a shoe and rubbed one of her feet up the side of his calf. He hadn’t been able to ignore her after that. Only a few hours later, before he discovered the girl who had picked him up was only a high school sophomore, they were lovers. The only lover she’d had in her life, and she didn’t regret the absence of wider experience one bit. Not even now.
Teary eyes and fond memories caused her to take the wrong concourse. She was almost to the end of the gates before she discovered her error. She turned around at the sign on which Wichita State basketball legend Dave Stallworth welcomed visitors and informed them he was a Shocker. The team’s nickname had been Wheat Shockers before urban snobbery shortened and altered the meaning. Not that taking the wrong way was a problem for Judy. Her plane wasn’t even boarding yet. She was retracing her steps, passing the security checkpoint when she heard one of the guards saying, “Thanks for your cooperation, Sheriff English.”
She turned with a wide grin and searched the crowd for a familiar face. The one she found wasn’t Englishman’s, even though the man was the one the guard had been addressing. He combed blond hair off his forehead and took his badge and ID case back from security, stuffing them into a pocket as he fumbled for his western cut boots and carry-on luggage. She almost went over and demanded to know what he was doing, passing himself off as her husband. But he might know about the alleged blond bomber at the Farmers & Merchants.
In the end, she let it go. With all these real law-enforcement types around, she decided she might be better off if Jud Haines didn’t spot her.
***
The sheriff looked around the lobby and didn’t see Judy or his daughters anywhere. Not Haines or Davis either. He didn’t know Mid-Continent Airport well. He’d only been there once since Nine-Eleven, a favor, picking up Doc Jones when he returned from a family funeral. The last time the sheriff had flown into Wichita himself was when he came home from that military hospital in Hawaii. In those days, you climbed down stairs from the plane and your friends and family could come out and greet you on the tarmac, just like his mom and Mad Dog had.
Even though he’d known he should expect additional security, the reality had stunned him. He’d felt like he was in an alien place. Maybe you needed security like this at airports in LA and Washington and New York, but in the heartland’s heart? He’d felt then like he’d felt in Buffalo Springs this morning. Like home wasn’t really home anymore.
He had a badge and he had ID proving he was in law enforcement, but he was out of his jurisdiction here. He wasn’t sure they’d let him through to the gates without a lengthy clearance process he didn’t have time for. But, it occurred to him, maybe he wouldn’t need to do that. He was ticketed for a seat on Judy’s plane.
He used his badge to bypass the line waiting to check in at the airline’s counter. “I’m supposed to be on a flight that’s leaving for Atlanta in a few minutes,” he told the clerk.
The clerk started entering his name from his ID onto her computer and agreed, not letting him finish. “I’ll say you are. Why are you here? You’re checked in. You’re supposed to be at your gate. They’re boarding right now.”
She looked at him accusingly and he said, “Well, I need a pass.”
“Oh my, you lost it.” She punched more keys and a printer buzzed and she handed him a ticket and a boarding pass. “You better hurry,” she said. “I can’t ask them to hold the flight for you.”
Since Nine-Eleven, it’s not a good idea to run in an airport. But if you do, having a badge pinned to your shirt makes it a lot more acceptable. They even waved him around the line waiting at the metal detector. He almost bypassed security completely. Almost. He would have but for the man doing random checks with a wand.
“I passed Sheriff English through here a few minutes ago,” the man said. “You’re not him.” That was when the armed security guard stepped between the sheriff and the concourse and things got seriously complicated.
***
I love what you’ve done to your hair.”
Judy was in the waiting area, hunkered down behind a magazine where she’d been sure Ju
d Haines would never notice her.
“Oh, thanks, Jud.” She reached up, flustered, trying to comb her fingers through her curls. There weren’t enough left. “What are you doing here?” She also wanted to ask why he was using her husband’s name, but Judy had other concerns on her mind, too. Haines might connect her with the robbery of the Farmers & Merchants and prevent her from flying to Paris. Paris had become an obsession.
“Family emergency,” he said, turning off his perpetual smile and looking briefly solemn. “I’ve got to make an international connection in Atlanta, same as you.”
“You know about my trip?” That surprised her.
“Yeah, Englishman told me. You know, you’re a lucky woman. He’s a really special guy.”
Judy didn’t understand and said so.
“I just found out I had to make this trip this afternoon. No problem with reservations out of Atlanta, but I couldn’t find a flight from Wichita. So Englishman offered me his ticket. Since he’s in the middle of a full-fledged crime spree, he couldn’t use it.”
Judy’s heart froze. It no longer mattered how perfect the day outside the windows might be, or that a regional jet waited to whisk her to an Air France connection. “Oh,” she said. It was hard to believe Englishman would do that without telling her first. And hurtful. Of course, her cell phone had been turned off since she left home—avoiding calls from Englishman and the Heathers. Still, it didn’t seem right.
“Englishman wouldn’t do that,” she said, though she wasn’t sure that was true. The ticket was in his name and you couldn’t transfer it. Given the current security level at airports, Jud was taking quite a chance flying under a false identity. Englishman might even get in trouble for helping him. “I don’t think it’s legal.”
“You’re right,” Haines said, eyes flashing sincerely beneath his blond thatch. “But since it was an emergency, Englishman made me this ID card.” He flipped open the leather case. His picture stared at her above Englishman’s name on a Benteen County Sheriff’s Department identity card. “And he loaned me one of his badges,” Haines said, indicating the five pointed star on the opposite flap.
It was just the kind of selfless thing Englishman would do if someone needed his help—and it got him out of going to Paris. She sighed. Somehow, she’d known all along he’d find a way not to go with her.
“You look surprised,” Jud said. “I’m sorry. I figured Englishman would let you know.”
“My cell’s off,” Judy explained. She felt a rush of embarrassment. It was bad enough for Englishman to abandon her, worse for him to give his ticket away and let the recipient come tell her about it. Couldn’t he have gotten word to her somehow?
“Probably a good idea,” Haines said, turning his smile back on. “Leaving your cell phone off,” he explained when she showed her puzzlement. She’d lost the thread of their conversation.
“Long goodbyes and all that,” he said, “and they’ll make you turn it off during the flight anyway.”
Judy nodded. She just wanted him to go away so she could feel sorry for herself without interruptions. He didn’t do that, though. He dropped into the adjacent chair.
“This’ll be nice,” he said. “We can look out for each other, chat and keep our minds off our troubles, all the way to Atlanta.”
“Yeah, great,” Judy muttered. She’d just decided Paris was probably a better place than most in which to die.
***
The breeze was no longer soft, nor the sun gentle—not for Deputy Parker. In her head, it had turned hot and arid and the asphalt beneath her feet had been transformed from a parking lot on the outskirts of Wichita to a street in the middle of a Tucson summer. The Buick wasn’t a dirty old Chevy truck, but she was certain it contained the same demon. There was a bomb in there, with two girls, this time, instead of one. Her mistake had cost a life in Tucson. Here, the price would double.
“What should I do?” Mad Dog asked.
She didn’t know. Hell, she wanted to turn around and run until she’d gone far enough that she wouldn’t hear the explosion. She couldn’t face the responsibility. It was too much.
“Don’t touch it,” she said. “Don’t touch a thing.”
“There’s a bomb in there with the girls, isn’t there? Can you defuse it?”
“No,” she said, but not loud enough for him to hear. Her feet were stuck to the pavement. She couldn’t run and she couldn’t help. She couldn’t do a thing but wait for the eruption that would be followed by a rain of wreckage and shredded body parts.
“I’ll go look for Haines and Davis,” Mad Dog said. “One of them’s my son, I know it, and it’s me he wants, not them.” She heard him. She’d heard everything they’d discussed about the events of the day as they slipped between eighteen-wheelers at a hundred miles an hour. Mad Dog’s comment might have made sense to her if she’d been able to concentrate, to think of anything but the look in that woman’s eyes in the moment before she died on that blistering hot street in Arizona.
Mad Dog turned. “I’m going after them,” he said. “Get the girls out of there.”
“Be careful,” she said, loud enough for him to hear this time. “There might be a remote detonator.”
“Right,” he called over his shoulder. “So it’d probably be good if you get them out before I find anyone.” Hailey spun and followed him.
Mad Dog was right, she supposed. But first she’d have to make herself move.
***
It finally hit the sheriff. The woman at the airline counter, she’d told him he was already checked in. She’d assumed he’d lost his gate pass and ticket and issued him new ones. Now, this guy at the security gate said a Sheriff English had already gone through. Probably Jud Haines, he supposed, considering what Mrs. Kraus found when she was searching the supervisor’s desk.
“You sure about that other guy,” one security guard asked another. There were four of them, now, gathered around discussing his fate. “This fellow’s got all the right IDs to go with that badge. He’s even got a membership card to the Kansas Peace Officer’s Association. He looks legit to me.”
“I am legit,” the sheriff said, looking around for his daughters. “The other guy, I think he’s the one who’s been setting off bombs and leaving terrorist threats all over my county today. Robbed the bank, too.”
“Aw jeez,” the ranking officer said. “If this guy’s for real, we gotta shut this place down, clear the terminal, and sweep it for explosives. I don’t wanna do that unless I’m damn sure. Last false alarm I know of cost the man who called it his job.”
“Why don’t we just phone this guy’s office,” the one with his hand on the butt of his gun said. “They can tell us whether he’s who he says he is.”
Great idea, the sheriff thought, but not this afternoon. Not after Mrs. Kraus had found a bomb in the courthouse and cleared the building. If nobody answered at the number on his business card, they were going to get more suspicious. It would take even longer to persuade them that the other Sheriff English had to be prevented from boarding a plane. And he wasn’t going to get a chance to talk to Judy. By the time he persuaded them to check with the Highway Patrol and he cleared things up, her plane would be gone. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could convince anyone who mattered before they got to Atlanta. Then Haines could disappear under another assumed identity and stopping Judy would require the sort of actions he’d promised the Heathers wouldn’t happen. And where the hell were the girls, anyway?
Some of the security people around the sheriff had been working the line through the metal detectors and carry-on x-ray and things there had slowed to a crawl. More than a couple of loud grumbles had been raised in complaint, but one voice, with a serious Panhandle twang, turned suddenly threatening. It drew the attention of the men around him and the sheriff seized the opportunity. An incoming flight must have just disembarked, because the concourse leading to the gate he wanted was suddenly flooded with humanity.
One step, two steps; he was
in the crowd and the guards still hadn’t noticed. He turned and ducked and sprinted toward Judy’s gate. “Hey!” somebody shouted behind him, and then he was around the corner and in no danger, for the moment, of taking a round in the back. They would sound the alarm, and stop him soon enough, but not, he hoped, before he found Judy and the Heathers. And best of all, once they sounded that alarm, no commercial flights would leave this airport for hours.
He spared a moment to wonder how long he might cool his heels in a cell, victim of the Patriot Act and some seriously pissed security people. They wouldn’t even have to charge him, or bother letting anyone know where he was for a few months, since he was about to cost the government and the airlines a lot of money. But then he saw her, and recognized her in spite of the hair, just as she was ducking through the gate to board her flight. Jud Haines was right behind her. No sign of the Heathers, but he had to deal with Judy right now, persuade her not to go. Getting her cured, that was worth any price.
***
“Mmmm!” Parker could hear one of the girls trying to talk through the duct tape and closed windows of the car. And then, though her feet wanted to flee, they began carrying her toward the Heathers and the bomb instead. Slow and awkward—like wadding through the mucky bottom of a farm pond—but she got there.
One Heather lay stretched across the front seats. The other was in the back. A cat’s cradle of wires linked them and the Buick’s four doors. They weren’t bundled with duct tape like the woman in Tucson. Each had a strip wrapped over her mouth. Other strips bound their ankles and held their hands behind their backs. The rest tied them to the seat belts, fastened to keep them below window level so it was unlikely they’d be discovered in this empty corner of the parking lot.
Parker had to put her hand on the roof of the car to keep from falling over. She was hyperventilating, she thought, but she didn’t have any paper bags to breathe into, or time to pause for a panic attack. If there was a remote on the device, Mad Dog might encounter the bomber any second.
