Attached to a dangling bullet.
At that moment, lying prone atop the flat roof of the heliport’s office, Rainbow watched her silhouette through the sight scope of his rifle. She had come to him like all the others had. Inducing her had taken more doing than with the rest of them; Salena Kaye had required an extraordinary amount of persuasion to make that phone call. But her torture opened a surprising new door to his enjoyment. And the result of it had succeeded in luring her to him. None of them could resist the seduction of a great clue. Not even the famous Detective Heat.
Rainbow took his time, waiting for the moment. He wanted to witness the juncture of horror’s full absorption-the lightning-crack realization when all the tumblers fell into place, when all the strings connected. The months of planning and the weeks of execution came down to this, and it would not be rushed. The taking of Nikki Heat’s life had to come right at the instant he saw the revelation break across her face.
To rush made it cheap. To wait made her his.
Patience. He settled the rifle stock on the sandbag and held the back of her head center-scope so the crosshairs would track across her ear to her temple to her brow to her forehead when she came around.
At last she began to turn.
EIGHTEEN
Rainbow wished he could see more of her face. Too much silhouette and shadow, he thought. Maybe he shouldn’t have killed so many lights, after all. But the glow inside the Sikorsky’s cabin should be enough. If she would only favor him just a bit more. He tensed his jaw and muttered to himself, “Come on, Nikki, let me see you.”
“You’d have to turn around,” said Detective Heat, “but I wouldn’t advise it.”
He lifted his head up from the rifle scope and cocked his head slightly to the side. In his periphery he made her out. Heat, not ten feet away, hidden behind the rooftop air-conditioning box with her elbows braced and her Sig aimed right at his head. She spoke quietly, in total control. “NYPD. Move your hands away from that rifle, or I’m going to get your brains all over my favorite jacket.”
Windsor complied. “How long have you been there?”
“Well before you,” said Detective Heat, the poster cop for tactics and cover. “Now crawl backward toward me, slowly.” He got up on all fours, creeping in reverse, moving out of reach of the rifle. “Good. Now, facedown, nose to the deck. Spread your arms wide and turn your palms up.” As soon as he parked himself, Heat came around, patted him down for weapons, and stood over him, bending slightly so her head wouldn’t bump the steel girders on the underside of the FDR. “You even scratch, I’ll shoot.” He said nothing, just kept his face to the tar.
Nikki half-turned to the helipad and called out, “Detective Hinesburg.”
Below, the silhouette near the helicopter spun her way. In the dim light, Heat could barely make out Sharon Hinesburg’s arms coming up in a combat stance, but then, back-lit by the window of the helicopter, Heat saw her pointing locked hands toward the rooftop of the modular building and sweeping them frantically back and forth. “Hold your fire, Detective,” she shouted. “I’ve got Glen Windsor in custody. Get over here and cover him while I get him down.”
Hinesburg repositioned the fire safety ladder Heat had used, carrying it to the front of the building where they could take advantage of more ambient light from across the river. From the rooftop, Nikki trained a bright Mag-Tac LED in Glen Windsor’s eyes to glare him out as he descended to Hinesburg. Both detectives held weapons on him. “Kiss the deck again,” said Heat when he reached the bottom. Nikki waited for the other detective to cuff his hands behind his back before she descended.
“How the fuck?” asked Rainbow, twisting his head to the side.
“Rule one of an ambush,” said Heat. “Show up first.”
“But how did you know?” asked Hinesburg. “I didn’t know.”
Heat didn’t have time for the list of things Hinesburg didn’t know-that would be coming, and soon-so she kept it brief. “Salena Kaye sounded drugged on that call. Tortured, too, it turns out. She even tried to give me a signal by mixing up Dunkin’ Donuts with Starbucks. Those raised my suspicion.
“But then I got the DMV hit on the minivan you have registered in Connecticut,” she said to Rainbow. “The silver minivan. Same color and model seen taking Salena Kaye away when I chased her. But you didn’t rescue her, did you, Glen? You’d been stalking me and kidnapped her. What did you do, chloroform her?”
“Chloroform,” he said. “They always go quietly.”
And then Heat made it all formal. “Glen Windsor, you are under arrest for the murders of Roy Conklin, Maxine Berkowitz, Douglas Sandmann, and Joseph Flynn.” With a glance to the helicopter, she added, “And Salena Kaye.”
His only response was to ask if he could get up now. Heat had more to accomplish and said no.
“Want me to get my car?” asked Hinesburg.
“No. I want you to give me your gun.”
Sharon chuckled nervously. “Excuse m-?” In a quick, unexpected move, Heat jerked the Smith amp; Wesson from her hand and slipped it in her jacket pocket. She held on to her Sig Sauer, covering both of them now.
“Nikki… What was that for?”
Heat popped her Mag on again and shined it down on Windsor so there’d be some light without blinding her. “This will help them spot us. I texted for backup while you moved the ladder. I’d like you on the ground, Sharon.”
“What is going on here?”
In the new light, Nikki could see the widening of her eyes. And the fear. Heat said, “Glen beat you to it.”
“To what? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You came to kill Salena Kaye before she could give up the terror plot. Or you came to kill me. Or both.”
“I… Wha… Seriously?”
“I knew you would listen to the recording of Salena’s phone call. It’s how you knew to come here. But just in case, I left the pad on my desk with the time and place of our meeting.”
“You baited me?”
“It’s only bait if you take it. Right, Glen?”
“Fuck yourself.”
Hinesburg said, “This is nuts. I came here to back you up.”
“Sure, you did. Very proactive of you for a change, Sharon.”
“OK, know what I think? You need to stop. It’s one thing not to like me, but-”
“This isn’t because I don’t like you.”
“Then why?”
“It’s because you’re the mole.” Hinesburg’s mouth opened to protest some more, but nothing came out. Nikki leveled her gaze at her and said, “I saw you on video at the Coney Crest, Sharon. Salena’s hideout.”
“Yuh. Because you told me to go there.” Hinesburg sounded worse than unconvincing. She sounded chin-deep in quicksand.
“I watched the security video from that place. Know what got my antenna up first? When you talked to the manager, you never flashed tin and you never showed him the picture of Salena Kaye.” Hinesburg started to talk, but Nikki pressed forward, cutting her off. “That got my attention, but I could even dismiss that as part of your sloppy work habits. Trust me, the least of your worries. But I let the video roll and I saw you on the other cam. Sharon, you went up to the second floor.”
“That does not mean anything.”
“No, but then I kept watching. And when you came down you were putting something in your bag. It looked just like a garage door opener. But it wasn’t, was it, Sharon? It was the remote control for the bomb that killed Tyler Wynn, wasn’t it? That’s why you showed up uninvited for that raid, to get close enough to trigger it.”
Hinesburg didn’t reply. Her eyes began to fill. She stared into nothingness. Heat waved her gun toward the blacktop. “Assume the position. Don’t make this worse for yourself than it is.”
Not so much defiant as immobile, Hinesburg stayed put. Her lip began to quiver. “They came to me one day and asked me to stay close to you.”