His jaw tightened. “It’s just a face, Olivia. I did nothing to earn it.”
She brushed her fingers against his cheek. “It’s a very nice face. But more important is the man beneath. You’re a good man, David. Honorable and kind. You make the world a better place.”
He looked over his shoulder, his eyes glittering. “I needed you to think so.”
His eyes held hers. She couldn’t look away if she’d wanted to. “I do.”
“I still want you,” he whispered, “more than I want to breathe.”
Her pulse quickened. “Who needs to breathe?” Before she could blink, his mouth was on hers, ravenous and greedy, his hands setting fire to her skin wherever he touched. He tumbled her to the pillows and followed her down. Then she couldn’t breathe and didn’t care.
Wednesday, September 22, 12:25 a.m.
He snugged the knot of his tie, his cop costume complete. Neckties were uncomfortable. Never got how his old man could wear them around the house.
He climbed from the back of his van to the front and drove to a street that paralleled the school’s rear parking lot. The lot was their evacuation spot, conveniently included on the school’s Web page to give the parents a fuzzy feeling about their kids’ safety.
It’s showtime. Voice scrambler in one hand, cell phone in the other, he called the school’s main switchboard, his message memorized.
Wednesday, September 22, 12:35 a.m.
Olivia was almost asleep when a phone rang. “It’s yours,” she mumbled. “Mine plays Looney Tunes.”
David leaned over her and fumbled for his cell. “Hunter.” He abruptly jumped out of bed and, shoving the phone between his shoulder and ear, pulled on his boxers. “What happened?” He grabbed his pants, then his hands went still. “I’m on my way.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t have to report till eight.”
“Callback situation. Reinforcements needed on a residence fire out of control.”
“Why didn’t they just call supporting firehouses?”
“They did. This is really bad and we have some men down. The fire spread to the next house and a propane tank blew. Took out part of the block.” He finished getting dressed then leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. “Go back to sleep. I may not be back for a while.” He hesitated at the door. “Olivia…”
She knew what he wanted to say, but knew as well as he did that it was way too soon for words they’d both take very seriously. “I’ll be fine. You be careful.”
“Always. I’ll call you in the morning if I’m not back.”
She switched off the light and slid back down under the blanket. Then on an impulse, switched pillows. She could smell him and it made her sigh. She’d nearly dozed off when her cell phone blasted the Looney Tunes theme. Loudly. “Sutherland.”
“It’s Kane. You need to get to the deaf school. Now.”
She swung out of bed, wincing. Her muscles had been sorely taxed. “Why?”
“Bomb threat.”
Adrenaline cleared her brain and she dropped her dress over her head. “When?”
“Ten minutes ago. They’re evacuating the school now. The bomb squad and the fire department are already there.”
Her mind racing, she shoved her feet in the ridiculous heels. “Where are you?”
“Just leaving my house. I’ll be there in fifteen with my lights. Where are you?”
“David’s cabin. I’ll meet you as fast as I can get there.” She grabbed her keys from her purse and headed to her car where she’d left her overnight bag, still talking to him. “Kane, why would someone bomb the school?” she asked, afraid she already knew.
“One, they’re fucking nuts. Two, they have a beef with someone at the school. Three, someone wants the population evacuated from the dorms.”
“Kenny. We talked to twenty-one kids. Only Kenny lived in the dorms.”
“I know. I already told dispatch to have the first responders find him and watch him. I gave them Kenny’s description, just in case there’s confusion on the site.”
“How did they know about him?” She had her bag and was running back to the cabin. “He’s our link to a potential eyewitness, but who told them we talked to him?”
“Could have been anyone at the school. I don’t guess twenty kids kept it a secret.”
“Oh God.” The sick feeling was slinking down her spine. “Kane, I never actually talked to Val. I left her voice mails, but she never did anything but text.”
“Shit. Get dressed and meet me here. I’ll get a unit to check on the interpreter.”
Wednesday, September 22, 12:45 a.m.
It was controlled chaos, he thought. He stood in the trees beyond the back lot of the school, watching the children pour out of the dormitories, all in pajamas. There were more than he’d thought there’d be, ranging in age from five to eighteen, all scared.
They wore shoes, or at least carried them in their hands. His gaze moved to the oldest group of boys and watched for a pair of blue Converse high-tops.
The kids signed busily as the dorm staff herded them to their specified safe area. He was beginning to think he’d never find Kenny, when he saw him. Sandy blond, five-ten, wearing blue high-tops. Standing off to the side, looking miserable.
He took his notepad and scrawled two separate messages, then swaggered over to the boy as he’d seen countless cops swagger in and out of his shop over the years. He tapped him on the shoulder, ignoring the students and staff behind him.
Kenny read the note. Kenny Lathem, the detectives want to speak with you again.
For a moment, he thought the kid would run. But Kenny steeled his spine and nodded stiffly. He started to walk, Kenny in front of him.
“Wait.” It was one of the dorm staff who stood shivering in the wind. “Where are you taking him?” The young man’s speech was slightly slurred, but understandable.
Keeping his head down, he handed the note to the staff person, then took it back after the staff read it and nodded. He wore black gloves and had left no fingerprints, but there was no reason to hand evidence over to the cops. His hat covered enough of his face that if he kept his head down, no one would be able to clearly describe him.
And if they did, then so what? He looked like everybody. He had one of those faces that just blended in. Add to that the face putty he’d used to build up his cheekbones, chin, and nose, and he was unrecognizable.
He jerked his head, motioning Kenny to come. They rounded the building, out of sight. Then he drew his gun and watched the boy’s eyes widen in fear. Stepping closer, he pressed the barrel of the gun to Kenny’s gut and handed the kid the second note.
If you scream, I will kill you. Turn around and walk. Slowly. If you run, I will kill you. Then I will kill every member of your family. Nod if you understand.
Kenny’s nod was tiny, but perceptible.
He patted the kid’s pocket, found Kenny’s phone, then shoved the phone in his own pocket and the gun into Kenny’s kidney. They began to walk. He could see his van parked just beyond the trees.
Almost there. Almost home free. They were at the van and he slid the side door open and shoved the kid in. Then he heard it. The snap of a twig behind him. Fuck.
“Stop. Police.” It was a deep voice and loud. And coming closer.
Fuck. He yanked the side door closed and reached for the driver’s door, wrenching it open. He had one foot in when a hand grabbed his collar and yanked.
“Get out of the car, goddammit,” the cop snarled.
His left hand clamped on the wheel and held on. His right hand still held his gun. He held it close to his chest so that the cop couldn’t see it. The cop’s hand left his collar, but grabbed his left wrist and twisted it behind him.
It hurt. A goddamn lot. The cop held him down and with his free hand opened the side door. Kenny scrambled out and ran. “You’re under arrest,” the cop said.
Hell no. He gave a huge shove back and twisted, firing as he did so. He heard the blast, felt the jerk of the discharge up into his shoulder, smelled the acrid odor of gunpowder, heard a little gasp. The hand on his wrist loosened and he fired again. The cop’s body just fell away. He jumped in his seat, twisted the key he’d left in the ignition, and peeled out, zigzagging to throw his door closed as he sped away.