She forced her heart to still so she could hope to hear whatever it was that was going on outside. She heard nothing. No tires on gravel. No voices. No music from a car radio.
Ramp straightened at the window and moved his fingertips away from the switch on his wrist.
Her moment was gone. She felt a tear form in the corner of one eye. "You were telling me what the problem was with McVeigh and with Columbine. What was the problem?"
"Not just one. A few. The main one was their rage. But also the randomness of what they did. And the fact that they targeted innocent people. Those things changed the debate. If the bully steals your lunch and you respond by blowing up the whole damn cafeteria, nobody ends up paying attention to what the bully did to you. They focus on your rage, and on the innocent victims you killed by how you retaliated. That was the problem with Columbine. What they did-killing so many innocent people-changed the debate forever, and their message was diluted to the point that nobody really paid any attention to their motives. Not in the end, anyway. I won't allow that to happen tomorrow."
"You want the debate?"
"I want the debate."
"But you already said that there will be unintended victims from what you're planning."
"Yes, but they're not targets. That's the difference. They will prove one of my points, however."
"I don't understand."
"My mother was the unintended victim of the justice system's decision to free a murderer and put him back on the street. My plan will duplicate that. There's some irony there, I think. The ones who are responsible will suffer losses, and so will some innocent people. The justice system didn't target my mother. But they allowed her to be killed. They were callous to her safety."
"And you'll do the same tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"What gives you the right?"
He laughed, a tight sound that seemed to catch in his throat. "Revolution always begins with an act of anarchy. By definition, no one has the right to be an anarchist. I'm hoping to start a little revolution. So by definition, I'm assuming the right to be an anarchist."
"You can call it anarchy but it sounds like revenge to me. Vengeance. I don't see how what you're doing is any different. You'll be just another pissed-off kid with blood on his hands. You don't have to do this."
"I don't want the blood. I want the dialogue. That's what's different. The blood will get everyone's attention."
She implored him, "Don't do it."
"It's too late."
Lucy felt herself sinking into the sofa. The cogency of Ramp's argument was exhausting her. She wanted to ask him to use his energy differently. To beg him to find another way. But she knew he wasn't remotely interested. Her desperation caused her to play a card she wasn't sure she should play.
"The shrink that Marin's mother was going to see when you killed her today? I know him. His name is Dr. Gregory. He already knows a lot about what you and Marin are planning."
His pale eyes narrowed, the tips of his brows curling down toward the bridge of his nose. "How do you know that?"
"We're friends. He was worried about his wife's safety, so he came to me. I thought he might be able to help me figure out who killed Royal Peterson. We've been helping each other."
"Are you lying?"
"You still have my cell phone?"
"Yeah."
"Hit redial. You'll see his number. He's the last person I called. Or check caller ID. His number's in there."
Ramp retrieved the cell phone from his duffel and hit the redial button. He read the number that came up and then killed the call.
Lucy asked, "You know how to work it? Check the directory and you can match the name and number."
"Yes," he said, touching a series of buttons. "There it is. Alan Gregory."
"See?"
"He could be anybody. You could be playing me right now. How do I know you're not lying?"
Lucy said, "He knows about Paul."
Ramp smiled in a way that seemed full of compassion and something else. She wasn't sure about the something else. "You think Naomi told this Alan Gregory what the plans were?"
"I know he knows some things. I also know he was reluctant to tell me some other things."
"But he knows about the bombs?"
"Yes. And that you're angry at the justice system."
His jaws tightened. "She told him that?"
"Yes."
"What else? Tell me."
"He knows about the wouldn't-it-be-cool games."
"God, really? The man might really know something."
Lucy's phone suddenly came alive, chirping in his hand.
Ramp stared down at the phone. Didn't answer it.
He asked Lucy, "Who do you think was trying to call you?"
She hesitated a heartbeat or two. "My partner. His name is Sam Purdy. He's a detective in Boulder. And he's my friend."
"You were trying to decide whether to lie to me right then, weren't you? What did you decide?"
"I decided to tell you the truth." She paused. "Mostly because you can check for yourself on caller ID."
She waited for him to check the caller ID log. He didn't. "So your friend, this detective, he makes a habit of calling you in the middle of the night?"
"Sam knows I'm missing by now. I told him I'd check in with him when I got back from seeing your grandmother."
"What will he do if he thinks you're missing?"
"Whatever he can think of to find me. Sam's relentless and he's pretty resourceful."
"What does he know?"
"Whatever Alan Gregory knows, Sam knows. They're good friends."
"You making this whole thing up as you go along? You're pretty good if you are."
"It's all true, Jason."
"Do they know about the bombs?"
"For sure? No. But they're the ones who found the bomb at Royal Peterson's house, and Dr. Gregory was so worried that you might have targeted his wife with a bomb that he brought an explosive-sniffing dog into his house and to check his cars."
"Really? You mentioned his wife already. Who is she?"
"She's a deputy DA in Boulder who was tangentially involved in Marin's rape case."
"Her name?"
"Lauren Crowder."
"Doesn't ring a bell. I don't think Marin mentioned her."
Lucy shrugged to hide her sense of relief.
Ramp was flipping the phone into the air, catching it again as it completed one end-to-end rotation.
She said, "The special part you mentioned that would be coming at the end of the day. That's part of your route?"
"It is."
"What good am I in all this?"
"So far you're just good company. I appreciate that. I'm still considering what else you'll do."
"You're going to kill me, aren't you, Jason?" The use of his name was intentional. She even emphasized it.
He stepped back from the window and moved halfway into a shadowed place close to the wall. "I don't think I'll have to. I really hope not."
"I don't understand."
"If I'm still standing at the end of the day, your job is over. I won't have to kill you."
"But if they catch up with you before that?"
"That's up to them, of course. Your presence is to ensure that I get to keep going. To finish what I started."
"But there will be bombs close by all day long. Who knows what will happen? That's what you're saying?"
Ramp's hand flashed toward his right hip as though he'd been stung there by a yellow jacket.
The swift movement of his hand caused Lucy's breath to catch in the middle of her chest as though she'd suddenly been dipped in ice water.
He lifted a beeper from his belt and lit the screen.
"Wow," he said. "What a surprise. I have to go make a call. I'm going to have to gag you. I'm sorry."
"Please, no."
"I said I'm sorry. You want something to drink first?"
CHAPTER 41
They wheeled her to X-ray. She went out a back door when the tech went to get something."
A young detective whom I'd never met was the one doing the I-can't-believe-it-but-we-lost-her shuffle. Even without glancing at his face, I could tell that Sam Purdy wanted to take someone's head off and was considering whether this young man's noggin would be a good place to start.