“I’m sorry. Sam said—”
“I don’t care what Sam tells you. You’re my responsibility, not hers. Heaven knows I need all the help I can get, but until you hear differently from someone besides Sam, you follow my lead. Regardless of whose idea it is, you talk to me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She sighed and closed her eyes momentarily. “Now what did Sam suggest?”
“That I should do everything you say.”
Jennifer blinked. “She’s right.” She looked past him at the warehouse. “I want this creep as much as you do. You’re our best shot . . .” She stopped.
“I know. You need me to get him. Who gives a rip about Kevin as long as we get what we need out of him; is that it?”
She stared at him, whether angered or embarrassed, he couldn’t tell. Her face softened.
“No, that isn’t it. I’m sorry you’re living through this hell, Kevin. It’s beyond me why innocent people have to suffer, but try as I have, changing the fact is beyond me.” She held his eyes with her own. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh. I just . . . I’m not going to let him get to you. He killed my brother, remember? I lost Roy, but I’m not going to lose you.”
Kevin suddenly understood. It explained her anger. Maybe more.
“And yes, as a matter of fact, I do need you,” she said. “You’re our best hope of apprehending a very demented nut case who happens to be after you.”
Now Kevin felt more like a clumsy freshman than anyone who might be hauled into the school office for discipline. Stupid, Kevin. Stupid, stupid.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Apology accepted. Just don’t run off again, okay?”
“Guaranteed.” He lifted his eyes and saw the same strange look he’d seen in Sam’s eyes at times. A cross between concern and empathy. Stupid, stupid, Kevin.
Jennifer dropped her eyes to his mouth and took a deep breath. “So. You saw him.”
He nodded.
She glanced back at the door. “He’s progressing.”
“Progressing?”
“He wants more. More contact, more danger. Resolution.”
“Then why doesn’t he just come out and ask me for whatever it is he wants?”
She held a flashlight in her hand. “Are you up to walking through it with me? We’ll wait until my men come out—I don’t want to compromise any evidence. I realize you’re frazzled, but the sooner I know how this went down, the greater our chances of using any information we come up with.”
He nodded. “The cops know yet?”
“Not yet. Milton can’t seem to keep his trap shut. He knows we found you and so does the media. As far as the public is concerned, this didn’t happen. Tensions are high enough as it is.”
She looked at her watch. “We still have eighteen minutes left in his ninety-minute window. Somehow that doesn’t add up. Honestly, we were thinking library rather than warehouse.”
“Library. What wants to be filled but will always be empty?As in empty knowledge.”
“Yes.”
“Hmm.”
“We’re getting evidence; that’s what counts. We have his voice on tape; we have his presence in this building; we have more background. He’s had several chances to hurt you and he hasn’t. Sam told me that you spoke with him. I need to know exactly what he said.”
“More background?” Kevin asked. “What background?”
An FBI agent walked toward them. “Excuse me, just wanted to let you know that the lights are back on. Fuse was pulled.”
“No explosives?”
“Not that we can find. There’s something here I think you should see.”
She looked up at Kevin. “I’ll be right back.”
“Do you want me to show you what happened?”
“As soon as they’re finished securing the scene. We don’t want any more footprints or trace evidence than necessary. Hold tight.” She hurried for the door and disappeared into the warehouse.
Kevin shoved his hands into his pockets and ran his fingers over Slater’s cell phone. He was a klutz, no doubt about it. Maybe that was the sin Slater wanted him to confess. Kevin Parson is a fool and a klutz, a man incapable of entering society in any normal way because his Aunt Balinda beat his intellect against an imaginary wall for the first twenty-three years of his life. His mind is scarred beyond recognition.
He glanced back at the building, and the image of Jennifer walking for the door replayed itself. Sam was right; she liked him, didn’t she?
Liked him? How could he know whether she liked him? You see, Kevin. That’s the way first-class losers think. They have no shame. They find themselves pinned down by an assassin’s knife and their mind is drawn to the FBI agent they’ve known for all of three days.Two days if he subtracted the day he ran off with Sam, the stunning CBI agent.
The cell phone vibrated at his fingertips and he jumped.
It went off again. Slater was calling and that was a problem, wasn’t it? Why would Slater call now?
The phone rang a third time before he managed to unfold it. “H . . . hello?”
“H . . . hello? You sound like an imbecile, Kevin. I thought I said no cops.”
Kevin spun to the warehouse. The agents were inside. There was a bomb in there after all, wasn’t there? “Cops? We didn’t call cops. I thought FBI were okay.”
“Cops, Kevin. They’re all pigs. Pigs in the parlor. I’m watching the news and the news says the cops know where you are. Maybe I should count to three and blow their guts to kingdom come.”
“You said no cops!” Kevin shouted. There was a bomb in the warehouse and Jennifer was in there. He had to get her out. He ran for the door. “We didn’t usethe cops.”
“Are you running, Kevin? Quick, quick get them out. But don’t get too close. The bomb might go boom and they’ll find your entrails on the walls with the others’.”
Kevin shoved his head in the door. “Out!” he screamed. “Get out! There’s a bomb!”
He ran for the street.
“You’re right, there is a bomb,” Slater said. “You have thirteen minutes left, Kevin. If I decide not to punish you . What wants to be filled but will always be empty?”
He slid to a stop. “Slater! Come out and face me, you . . .”
But Slater was gone. Kevin snapped the phone shut and whirled to the warehouse just in time to see Jennifer emerge, followed by both agents.
Jennifer saw the look on his face and stopped. “What is it?”
“Slater,” he said dumbly.
“Slater called,” Jennifer said. She rushed up to him. “We’re wrong, aren’t we? This isn’t it!”
Kevin’s head began to spin. He placed his hands on his temples and closed his eyes. “Think, Jennifer. Think! What wants to be filled but will always be empty?He knew we would come here so he waited for us, but this isn’t it! What wants to be filled? What!”
“A library,” the agent named Bill said.
“Did he say how much time?” Jennifer asked.
“Thirteen minutes. He said he may blow it early because the cops talked to the press.”
“Milton,” Jennifer said. “I swear I could wring his neck. God help us.” She yanked a notepad from her hip pocket, stared at the page filled with writing, and began to pace. “36933, what else could have a number associated—”
“A reference number,” Kevin blurted.
“But from which library?” Jennifer asked. “There’s got to be a thousand—”
“The school of divinity,” Kevin said. “Augustine Memorial. He’s going to blow up the Augustine Memorial Library.”
They stared at each other for a moment frozen in time. As one, the three FBI agents ran for the car. “Call Milton!” Bill said. “Evacuate the library.”
“No cops,” Jennifer said. “Call the school.”
“What if we can’t get through to the right people fast enough? We need a squad car over there.”
“That’s why we’re going. What’s the fastest way to the school?”