The Blind (26 page)

The plan was simple. Identify location. Wait for Vandemere to show with the mother and child. Start to make the switch. Shoot Vandemere. Disarm IED. Save mom and baby. And they all live happily ever after. The end.

Evie picked up the red dress hanging over the back of her chair. It was a choir robe from one of Ricci's men, hardly a match of the dress in the Murillo portrait, but it was long and red. She jammed the choir robe in her bag and turned to the door. Her right boot stilled in midair.

Jack. Dressed in a three-piece suit, his jacket unbuttoned and tie tack crooked. She planted her boot softly on the floor. “Jon told me about Abby. I'm so sorry, Jack.”

He let out a low, long breath. “We have a lot to discuss, including Abby, but now's not a good time.” He pulled a box from behind his back and handed it to her. “For you.”

Jack was a man who collected
things
, who felt comfortable with
things
. She knew this was his way of reaching out. “Jack, I—”

“It's for the case.”

Evie reached in and took out a dress of flowy red silk.

“It's not an exact replica, but close,” Jack said. “I told the seamstress to make sure it wasn't too full, that the woman who was going to wear this needed to be able to run and jump and disarm bombs. She made it adjustable so it could fit over protective gear, and she also used a special fabric on the arms. It's snug so you won't have any fabric accidentally hitting any wires or getting snagged on anything.”

Her fingers dug into the silk. People change.

He lifted both hands in the air in a surrender of sorts. “I love you, Evie, enough to let you go, and if you're going to die, I want you to die doing what you love.”

Like Abby.

She pulled the dress to her chest. It had cost him dearly to have this dress made.

Jack's jaw squared. “I know, I'm being controlling, but it's who I am, and right now this is the best I can do.”

“No, Jack. This”—she held up the dress—“isn't controlling. It's perfect.” Because it meant he wanted in on the deal and was willing to negotiate. She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss on his lips. “We'll work out the deal memo later.”

The dress tucked under her arm, she ran out of her office to catch a killer.

Friday, November 6
6:39 p.m.

D
on't you dare say a word.” Holding her skirt with one hand, she aimed a finger at Hatch, who was not bothering to hide a laugh. Brooks raised a single eyebrow, and Hayden pulled out a chair for her.

“You look perfect,” Parker said.

Like the woman in the four-hundred-year-old painting and like an FBI bomb tech ready to take on a ticking bomb. She sat in the chair; the dress—custom-made by one of Jack's
associates
in a matter of a few hours—rustled.

“Let's go over the final details,” Ricci said. “Anything on Freddy's tip line?”

Evie set Freddy's phone on the table. “Nothing yet.”

Ricci took out a laser pointer and aimed it at a screen set up on the wall of the conference room. She watched as Ricci went man-by-man through a step-by-step time line. She'd let Ricci and his men worry about location and time. For her, the big unknown was the time delay on the IED. If she had the standard thirty seconds, the girl and her baby would be fine, but it was possible that Brooks or one of the other snipers would pick off Vandemere before he flipped the switch. And of course everything hinged on Sabrina and little Angela being still and quiet. The girl was young, just sixteen years old. Would she be able to remain calm? Could she keep the baby calm?

Riiiiiing
.

Evie grabbed Freddy's phone. Call display showed a restricted number. “Agent Jimenez,” she said.

“What a beautiful voice you have, Evie.”

“Carter.” Douglas. Killer.

“Yes, it's me, and I'm looking forward to our little swap. I'll meet you at the long-term parking garage near Union Station in two hours. Just you, Evie. You come alone, or the mother and child will die.”

“I need proof of life, Carter. If I'm walking into this, I want to make sure Sabrina and Angela are still alive.”

There was a sharp shuffling, a click, and finally a faint cry of an infant.

Her stomach heaved. “Carter?”

The phone went silent.

“Carter!”

The face of the phone darkened.

“We have knowns,” Ricci said. “Place. Time. Everyone to their positions.”

A clock was ticking.

Evie hopped in her rental car. The government and business offices had emptied out, and traffic was light. As she drove toward Union Station her phone rang. Caller ID showed Freddy, but a different number than his tip line. Must be his private cell.

“Hey, Freddy. This better be important.”

“Um, yeah, it is.”

“What's up? You get another call from Vandemere?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“He…he…got to me.” A choked sob poured over the line. “Vandemere strapped a bomb on me.”

Her heart stilled. “Where are you? Is he there now?”

“N…no. He's on his way to Union Station. Has the mother and kid. He has me tied up in the lower level of the Elliott Tower parking garage, but I managed to get my phone out. I puffed up my big ol' gut while he was tying me up, which gave me a little wiggle room. Pretty good stuff, huh? It'll make a great story.” He tried to laugh, but the sound was more of a husky sob.

She banged her fists on the steering wheel. “How the hell did he get you?”

“He called me pretending to have a lead on that old-time Hollywood A-lister boinking his co-star. Anyway, he got to me because he wanted insurance. If you or anyone else tried anything, he'd…he'd…”

“Freddy, you need to calm down. I want you to look at the IED. Is it similar to the one Lisa Franco was wearing that day at the library?”

“Yeah, exact same thing.”

“Hang tight, Freddy. I'm a block away.”

7:08 p.m.

“I'm sorry, Evie.” Freddy's words tripped out on a jerky breath as she got out of her car in the lower level of the garage. He sat on the ground near Jack's black Audi.

She held up a hand. “Don't move. Don't talk.” She pulled out her service revolver and did a visual sweep. Bright security light flooded the entire lower level, and she spotted no bodies, no movement, no suspect objects. Next time she saw Jack, she'd let him know in many different ways that she loved his attention to security detail.

Gun still extended, she backed up to her car. Her cell phone sat in her bag, but she couldn't use it for fear of detonating the IED's ignition device. She had no idea what Vandemere had engineered, but she wanted a closer look. Using the key and not the electronic fob, she opened the trunk and took out a ballistics shield.

Preserve life, Evie, all life, including yours.

Got it, Parker.

She positioned herself behind the shield. She'd prefer her bomb suit, but she didn't have time. When she got to within twenty feet she could see the IED. Same configuration as the device the other victims wore. Thirty seconds. That's all she needed.

“Good news, Freddy. I disarm stuff like this in my sleep.”

He didn't move.

She cautiously made her way toward him. Halfway to Freddy, the lights went out, plunging them into a sea of black. She ducked behind a pillar, blinking until her eyes adjusted. Her eyesight was better than twenty-twenty, and she saw dark gray on black shift near the stairwell. Someone had opened the door.

“Good evening, Evie,” a male voice said. Rushed and breathy.

Her stomach heaved.

Freddy choked out another sob.

“Calm down, Freddy,” Evie said. “You need to be still.”

“Good advice,” the voice said.

She squinted through the black. A man. Buzz cut, five-ten, but not as thin as she remembered Carter Vandemere. “Good evening, Carter.”

“Such a beautiful voice you have, Evie. Everything about you is beautiful, and the truly beautiful thing is you don't even know you're beautiful.”

She flattened herself against the concrete.

“I'll never forget the way you looked at me when we first met. Do you remember meeting in the Elliott Tower lobby?” The footsteps grew closer.

“Give yourself up, Carter. Ricci and the team are on their way.”

“No they're not. They're headed for Union Station. Probably with a few bomb dogs, heat-seeking equipment, and a sniper or two.”

“Ricci's expecting me. If I don't show, he'll come looking, and it will be as easy as putting a locator trace on my cell phone.”

“Then we better get a move on things. Tick, tock, like a clock.” More footsteps. Louder.

A soiled, sour smell rolled through the garage. Bile rose up her throat. “It's not going to work, Carter. I don't know what you have in mind, but you're the most wanted man in America. You're not going to get out of this city alive. Give yourself up. Ricci wants this thing over, and he's ready to deal.”

“I, too, want it over, and it will be. As soon as we paint the final strokes on the canvas, and as soon as Jack loses what he values most.”

He turned on a light attached to a band about his head, the kind miners wear underground.

Evie's blood froze. “The baby.” Vandemere looked so bulky because he wore one of those soft-sided baby carriers all her brothers used to tote around their kids. Strapped across his chest, the baby reminded her of a rag doll, head lolling to the side, eyes closed.

Oh, God!
Dead?

Carter picked up the baby's hand and waved it at her. “Don't worry, Evie. Angela's still alive.” He pinched the child's hand, and a soft mew came out. “But very, very sleepy. A few shots of pain medication knocked her right out, but I'm more than willing to completely knock her out if you want to go that route.” He pulled his hand from behind his back and aimed a 9mm at the baby's head. “Would you like to see me shoot the baby?”

A cry tore up Evie's throat.

“Decisions, decisions. The baby or your friend, Freddy. One of them will die if you choose to save the other. Like you, Evie, I'm pretty smart. So here's the deal. I will keep everyone alive, but you need to do your part. First, take your gun out of the holster and place it on the ground, and stop looking at the elevator. No one will be riding the elevator. It's conveniently without power right now thanks to a little maintenance memo from Claire.” He jabbed the gun at the baby's head. Another weak cry.

Evie set down her gun. “It's me you want. Take me and let them go.”

“That's the plan, but first I need to get you where you won't cause any damage. You're such a live wire, Evie. You've done some very brave things in your career. Sometimes I think you use your heart more than your head.” He pointed the gun at the door that read,
Stairs
. “After you. But first, slide your phone across the floor.”

She hesitated. This was her lifeline with the world. He aimed the gun back at the baby. She slid her phone to him, cringing as he crushed it with his shiny brown shoe.

7:19 p.m.

Ricci pulled his car onto a side street north of long-term parking near Union Station. Knox's blue sedan was two cars ahead, and Parker and his guys were pulling up behind him. He slid out of his car and waited for the little red Beetle.

Friday, November 6
7:42 p.m.

T
he Elliott Tower north stairwell was pitch-black. Even the emergency security lighting had been snuffed. Vandemere must have shut off the power to this section. Probably not too difficult for a man wielding the clout of Jack's executive assistant.

As Evie climbed the stairs, she counted landings. On the eighth floor, Freddy, huffing and gasping, stumbled. She grabbed him before he pitched forward and got him back on his feet. On the tenth floor, the baby whimpered. On the sixteenth floor, Freddy grabbed the railing. “Can't.” Huff. “Go.” Huff. “Anymore.” Huff. Huff. “Leave here.”

“Fine with me,” Carter said, “but that would mean leaving a bullet in your head.”

And that was Evie's issue. Vandemere didn't need Freddy alive. The photographer wasn't on the canvas. He wasn't part of the show. To Carter, Freddy was as expendable as an empty tube of paint.

Evie slipped her arm around Freddy. “You can do this.”

“Can't.”

She tucked her shoulder under his armpit. “Unfortunately, you don't have a choice. We're partners and we have all those weddings to go to.”

Freddy started up the next flight.

On the thirty-fifth floor, Carter's flashlight zeroed in on the door. “Excellent. We're here. Open the door, Evie.”

He waited on the landing until both she and Freddy walked in. Inside was a cavernous room that appeared to be under renovation, mostly dark but for a pair of lights glowing in one of the far corners. Carter waved the pistol at the lights, and they threaded their way through scaffolding, five-gallon buckets of paint, drop cloths, and boxes of light fixtures. “New tenants, due to move in after the first of the year, felt the place could use a new paint job.”

Big space. Plenty of places to hide. The issue was Freddy. She had to get him out of the room and then the baby in her arms. They reached the far north corner with the lights. They were the fancy mounted kind of lights, like those used by filmmakers. A camera on a tripod stood between the lights, the Record button not yet powered up. A mound she took for a pile of paint tarps moved and groaned. It was Sabrina, the baby's mother, shackled to a scaffold. With the back of her hand, the girl rubbed the snot from her nose. When Vandemere stepped into the soft pool of light, the girl's whimpering turned into a wail.

“Shut! Up!” Vandemere shouted.

The girl screamed and lunged at Vandemere, the chain rattling and growing taut. “Give me my baby!” She clawed like an animal. The scaffolding shook but didn't budge.

Carter lifted his gun and aimed it at the girl's forehead.

“Calm down, Sabrina,” Evie said. Like Freddy, this girl was expendable. Carter didn't care whether she lived or died. “He's not going to hurt you if you do as he says, isn't that right, Carter?”

“Yes. That's the plan.” He jerked the gun, clearly tipped with a silencer, in an upward sweep. “Get up.”

The girl looked at Evie.

“Get up, Sabrina,” Evie said. “We're going to get you to a safe place.”

The girl stood, never taking her eyes off the child still strapped to the bomber's chest.

“Get the key, Butterboy,” Vandemere said. “It's on the workbench.”

Bombers were meticulous planners. The more Evie knew, the better shot she had at getting herself and everyone else out of here. “What's the plan?” Evie asked.

“I'm taking her to the floor below.” Carter pointed the gun at Freddy. “Him too.”

“Then you'll let them go?”

He shook his head as if she were a child with the wrong answer and he was the second-grade teacher. “Then I'll lock them in a supply closet, and sometime on Monday when the employees of the accounting firm of Marshall and Beck come in for work, they'll find them, earlier if some hardworking stiff decides to clock in some hours on Saturday. Your friends will be thirsty and dirty, but alive.”

“The bomb?” Evie dipped her chin toward Freddy's midsection.

“As long as Fat Freddy doesn't pull any wires, he'll be fine. Captain Ricci or any of his team will be able to shut him down in less than a minute.”

“Give me your word.”

“My word? Would you take my word, beautiful Evie?”

This man craved attention. She needed to give him strokes. “Absolutely.”

His chest puffed, and the baby whimpered. He waved the gun at Freddy. “Now, unlock one of the leg shackles from the girl.”

Freddy's hands shook. His fingers glistening with sweat, he dropped the key. The girl let out a cry. Time was important to Carter because he knew that very soon Ricci and company would know she was missing. A simple search of her cell phone's last location would identify her arrival at the Elliott Tower. Freddy fumbled in the gray beyond the pools of light and finally found the key. At last he got the shackle off the mother.

Carter waved the gun. “Now lock it around Evie's ankle.”

Freddy squatted at her feet and looked up with huge eyes. When Ricci and the gang got here, they'd send men all over the tower, like ants on a giant wedding cake, and when someone got into the stairwell, they'd see the bits of red silk she'd been dropping like bread crumbs, the final tied to the doorknob of the landing on the thirty-fifth floor.

“Do it,” she told Freddy. The metal bit into the leather of her boot.

“Show me,” Carter said.

Freddy pulled on the metal. Solid. Locked.

“Same thing. Other side.”

Once again Freddy knelt and took the shackle off Sabrina. The girl stood and lunged toward Vandemere and her child.

Evie grabbed her shirt. “Don't! He's not going to shoot your baby, but he won't hesitate to kill you.”

“Really, Evie, we're soul mates. You know what's in my head and in my heart.” Carter leveled the gun at the girl's head. “To make it very clear, I will blow your brains out if you so much as come within ten feet of me. Got that?”

Sabrina threw her hand in front of her mouth, her teeth digging into her flesh as she tried to hold back the sobs.

“Stop stalling, Fat Ass,” Carter said to Freddy, who'd frozen in horror. “Get that on Evie's other foot.”

Freddy locked the cuff in place and stood. He dusted his hands and knees. Something silver flashed, and he slipped the key in her hand and she bit back a smile. Despite his size, Freddy was a man with fast hands.

“Bad move, Freddy.” And Vandemere was a man with good eyes.

Evie's stomach dropped as Carter, the gun barrel pressed against the baby's head, held out his hand. “Throw me the key. Now!”

He was unraveling. She tossed the key. He pawed the air, but it flew past his shoulder and clattered under the workbench. He waved the gun at Freddy and Sabrina. “Now both of you, that way.” He pointed the gun at the door. “I'm taking you downstairs.”

“Give them the baby,” Evie said on a rush of air. She had to try. “There's a doll in my car.”

“Nope. Not part of the deal. It's always been and always will be you for the girl.”

“You don't want to kill a child.”

“You're right, Evie. I just want to create art.” He jabbed the mother in the back of the head with the gun. “Now move it.”

“My baby!” Sabrina grabbed Evie's skirts. “You can't let him hurt my baby!”

The mother's scream tore through Evie's head but didn't shake her. “That's not going to happen.” Not on her watch.

“Shut her up, Evie.” Vandemere ground his hands against his ears. “I can't handle any more from her.”

“Sabrina, listen to me,” Evie said. “Your baby won't be alone. She'll be in my arms.”

“No, she won't be safe there.” The young mother wailed. “I need her safe. In my arms.”

“First you need to save yourself. You and Freddy are going to a safe place, and I'm going to take care of your baby.” Evie untangled the girl's fingers from her skirt. “Show her, Carter. Show her the original portrait you're going to re-create. Show her your masterpiece.”

The bony hardness of his face softened around the edges. He picked up a sketch pad, holding it almost reverently. “Yes. The child will soon be in Evie's arms.”

“Look at it, Sabrina,” Evie said. “I'll have Angela. I'll take care of her. Now do as he says. I can't help your baby until you're in a safe place.”

The girl took in a deep breath and shuffled toward the door to the stairwell.

Carter aimed the gun at Freddy. “You, too, Lard Butt.”

Freddy didn't move, just like he hadn't moved when Parker had come. BFFs for life. “Freddy,” Evie said between clenched teeth, “you're going to do me much more good if you get out of this room to a different floor.”

Freddy's terrified gaze shifted to his waist.

“Don't worry about the IED, and don't try to remove it yourself. Let Ricci take care of it.”

Freddy wiped the sweat from his face, and Carter jerked the gun at him. Carter's hand continued to shake so hard the gun clacked against his knuckles. Things were definitely not going as the bomber planned, which had him coming undone. If he blew and did something stupid, like shooting and setting off the bomb around Freddy's waist, they could all die.

“He won't kill you,” Evie said, her tone calm and factual. “You have a very specific role to play. You're going to tell Carter's story to millions. You have media contacts all over the world, and you've been taking pictures of all the bomb sites. You're even going to get a six-figure book deal out of it. Tell Carter about it.”

“Uh, yeah.” Freddy's gaze flicked from Evie to Vandemere. “I'm…uh…calling it
After the Boom
.”

Carter blinked, his hand growing steady. “Yes. I need you alive.”

Evie almost sank to the floor in a puddle of skirts, her relief was so great. “Get them out of here, Carter.” Preservation of life was key. Two down. Two more to go. “And Freddy, I expect fifteen percent, got it?”

Carter pointed the gun at the stairwell, and Freddy and Sabrina shuffled through the paint cans and scaffolding. A single-file line, Carter at the back. With his back to her, Evie scanned the area. She needed a weapon. On the floor near a stack of paint tarps was something long and shiny. A screwdriver. Evie stretched out on her stomach and reached. The tips of her fingers were within a half inch, and her mouth twisted. Why the hell didn't she have long, girly nails?

“Open the door,” Carter told Freddy.

She stretched, the shackles digging into her booted ankles, and touched metal. She might even be able to use it to pick the lock.

“Dammit, I said open the door, Porker!”

With the tip of her finger, she rolled the screwdriver closer.

Near the door, someone screamed, “Noooooooo!”

Evie looked up just in time to see Sabrina spring toward Vandemere. “I'm not going to let you hurt my baby.”

Carter raised the gun. Even from across the room Evie could see the tremor gripping his arm.
Pop!

The girl's body froze in midair, her arms wide as if ready to hug. A pool of dampness, more black than red in the shadows, seeped across her shoulder. She collapsed onto the floor.

Freddy teetered for a moment, a giant mountain about to tumble and fall. He grabbed another scaffold as if to steady himself and pulled. Paint cans clattered and splattered. Freddy lumbered toward the door.

Carter turned the gun on the wide, slow target.

“You shoot him, and he'll pitch forward onto the IED,” Evie called out. “If he lands on it, we all die.”

Pop!

The mountain crumbled and Evie choked out a cry. “Freddy!”

Carter ran to the still mound and leaned over the body, his fingers flying. Seconds later, he held up a black wire. “It's amazing what someone with the right knowledge can do in just a few seconds.”

Evie's chin sank into her chest as she bit back a sob.

Carter tucked the gun into the child carrier and wiped blood splatter from his hands on his jeans, unfazed that he'd gunned down two innocents. Were they dead? She listened for breathing. Silence. Damn her ears!

Carter came back to the corner and adjusted both lights so they shone directly on her. “Ready for the show?”

She lowered her gaze to avoid the brightness. Keeping him talking meant keeping him from setting the bomb. She gripped the screwdriver in her hand buried in the folds of her skirt. “What's your gig? Are you streaming live? Got someone from the news media on board?”

“No, not this time. The final show is only for one.”

“Jack.” Evie's heart plunged to the pit of her stomach. Because everything kept coming back to Jack. Her fingers tightened around the screwdriver.

“Yes, Jack,” Carter said. “Who doesn't know good art when it's right in front of him.”

“All because the Abby Foundation rejected you for a grant.” She squinted through the brightness and spotted him in silhouette. He was six inches from the right side of the camera.

“Because of Abby.”

“Abby?” She bent back her wrist.

“My muse. The light and love of my life. The woman I gave my heart to. She said I frightened her, repulsed her.” Spit flew from his mouth, the droplets illuminated as they shot across the bright cones of light. “I had to stop those horrible, ugly words.” He brought his fingers up to his throat. “And as I stopped the words, she was gasping and calling big brother's name the entire time. ‘Help me,
Jack
. I need you,
Jack
.'” He jammed his gun hand at the ceiling. “It should have been my name on her lips. My name!”

The muscles along Evie's shoulder tightened as she lifted her arm.

Carter jerked his gun hand.
Pop. Crack!
A section of the scaffolding behind her shook and splintered. She ducked, but not before a chunk of wood slammed into her upper arm.