A Case of Love (27 page)

The next trap was about half way up, just when Hawk was thinking that the guy was a blowhard, he stepped down on one of the metal treads, feeling it give a second before he threw himself forward, dragging his leg out of the hole that surely would have snapped the bone in two.

After that one, he moved a bit more cautiously, checking the step quickly before letting his weight rest on it. At the top of the stairs, he hesitated before the fire door, visually scanning every inch of the frame as well as the door itself, searching for booby traps.

He reached out to press on the push bar of the door, jumping when his phone went off before he touched it. “Hawkins,” he growled into the phone.

"This is Captain Dodge, Hawkins. What do we have?"

"The arsonist has a captive in this building sir, and he's riddled the place with traps. There's a trip wire on the first flight of stairs."

"One trap usually doesn't mean it's riddled, Hawkins."

"I'm standing outside the fire door now for the top floor, sir. That's where he's holding her."

"Let me send one of my men up there. He can check the door for traps and disarm anything he finds."

Hawk stared at the door, remembering the sound of Mac's voice, the panic she was feeling. “Make it quick."

Five minutes later he heard the sound of heavy boots on the treads and glanced up. “Gideon Hawkins,” he said, holding out his hand.

"Chris Patrick,” the man said, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. “Your man is smart, but I'm smarter,” he quipped. “I've disarmed the trip wire. It was set up to a smoke grenade. There'd have been lots of noise, a ton of smoke but not much else if you'd tripped it.” He moved to the fire door. Bending, he pushed the door open a mere inch, slipping in a tiny mirror kind of like the one you see in dentist offices.

He used it to search the door, spotting the wires a second before he'd have called it all clear. “Fuck me,” he growled.

"That's not big on my list of priorities right now,” Hawk said. “What did you find?"

"That isn't a smoke grenade. If you'd have gone through this door, we'd have been picking up your pieces for months to find enough of you to bury."

"Can you get me through it? We've got a hostage trapped in a room on the other side of that door. She's standing in gas up to her ankles with candles lit all over the place."

"Yeah, I can get you through it, but it'll take a few minutes.” He pulled out a small leather roll and untied it, rolling it out in front of him. Silver glistened against the black satin that lined the inside of the roll, holding every pick and scissor inside.

"Nice,” Hawk said off handedly, glancing down at the roll.

"These are my babies, I go nowhere with out them."

"I bet you're just a blast at parties and on dates."

"I do all right. I need you to hold this door open this much for me. No more than this because if you do, you'll trip the wire that'll set off the grenade. Got it?"

"Yeah,” Hawk said, reaching to hold open the door.

"You know, for a guy who's had the whole city in an uproar, he's really pretty basic on his traps. Push open the door and it pulls the pin on the grenade. Ten seconds later, bam, you're sushi."

"Pretty graphic picture there, Chris. Can't I just push open the door and you grab the pin and put it back in the grenade?"

"What if I drop it? What if it flies out of my reach? What if I can't get it back in the hole?"

"Then maybe you'd need to call your doctor,” Hawk said, blowing out a sigh. “I'm sorry, Chris, the captive is my girlfriend and I want to get her back."

"This will only take a minute,” he said, pushing a pair of pliers through the small gap. “Red or blue wire?"

"Are you telling me you don't know?"

"No, I've just always wanted to say that."

"So very not funny, Chris. Now shut up and get me through the door."

"You can open it now, Detective Hawkins."

Hawk pushed the door open slowly, breathing a sigh of relief when he could step through. “God, thank you,” he said, holding his hand out to the bomb squad tech. “One more door to get through. This has got to be the biggie."

He walked down the tattered rug in the hallway, staring at the scorched places on the wall where it looked like fire had been held against the paint, turning it black. There were three doors on either side of the hall and Hawk took a moment to get his bearings.

"Which one?” Chris asked.

He turned around, touching one door with the lightest of touches. “This one. From what Mackenzie told me on the phone, he's got gasoline and candles in there with one of the cans set to a timer. The can will blow and the candle will light the gasoline."

"It's not easy to light pools of gasoline. What you're actually igniting is the vapors from the gas, not the gas itself. If you throw a match into a pool of gasoline, usually it will just get wet and go out. Fire needs fuel to eat.” Chris was on his hands and knees, pushing his small mirror under the door.

"Mac!” Hawk called through the door.

"Gideon?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I've got a bomb tech with me. Can you tell us if there are any wires or devices hooked up by the door?"

"Yes, there's two wires. They come off of the door knob.” She shuffled around, trying to get a better look at them. “I think they run to under one of the cans of gasoline,"

"Got em,” Chris said.

"What are you going to do about them?” Hawk growled, moving away from the door and pacing the floor.

"Diffuse the bomb so you can get your girl and we can get the fuck out of this hell hole, what did you think I was doing here, scratching my ass?"

"Sorry Chris."

"Don't apologize, just be ready to go in and grab her when I tell you too. I'd like out of this place. It's creepy."

"So's our arsonist.” Hawk came over and was about to lay his hand on the knob.

"No, don't touch that. You'll trip the connection and set off the bomb."

Hawk tore his hand away quickly. “Is there anything I can do?"

"Stay out of my way and don't touch anything. I can't see the bomb, it's under a gasoline tank. I'm kind of flying blind here."

Hawk backed up, listening as the bomb tech talked to himself. When he looked up at Hawk, Gideon realized he'd been talking to him and he'd missed it.

"Yeah?"

"You ready?"

"About as ready as I'll ever be,” he said, walking up to the door again.

"I'm going to cut the wire and if the bomb doesn't blow, you should be set to go in and get her. Got me?"

"Tell me when,” Hawk said, his hand lingering over the door knob but not touching it.

Chris fiddled with his scissors, then nodded. “Go!"

Hawk flung open the door, the smell of gasoline almost choking him. He saw Mackenzie, taped to the chair and reached into his pocket for his knife.

"Oh thank God, Gideon. Hurry,” she urged even as she felt the knife slip through the duct tape holding her feet to the chair. He cut her free, being extremely careful of her hands. Just as he was about to pick her up in his arms, a noise caught his attention.

At the door was Chris, his eyes huge, a long thin knife at his throat, held in a hand that was covered in bandages.

"It would have been perfect but this fucker had to ruin it on me. I was going to get rid of both of you at the same time. Now I'll have to do it myself.” With those words, the arsonist ran the knife across Chris's neck, slicing down to the bone. Blood squirted in jets as his jugular was cut and Chris gave a small rattled sigh, falling face first to the floor, splashing up a mixture of blood and gasoline everywhere. Mac screamed, closing her eyes tight to rid herself of the sight of the man lying in a pool of ever spreading blood and gas.

"I won't be so easy to get rid of,” Hawk said, crushing the guilt he felt down deep inside. He'd have time to mourn later, after he got this guy under control and him and Mac out of here.

"So I'll enjoy it more."

"Just tell me one thing,” he said. “Why Mac?"

"She wrote lies about me!"

"What lies did she write? She went to experts on your psychosis who gave her the information. It's not Mac's fault, it's theirs."

"Psychosis? You make me sound crazy."

"You just killed a man standing in gasoline with candles all around you. Tell me if that doesn't sound like you're crazy. Look at you. You've caused yourself permanent damage with these burns, what's not crazy about what you do. So give yourself up and we'll find you a nice padded cell somewhere safe where you can heal and the doctors can help you..."

"A cell? You want me to give myself up to you so you can be a hero and you want to put me in a cell? You son of a bitch!” He yelled the words throwing himself at Hawk. In the process, his pants slid up against one of the candles, the gasoline soaked liquid catching quickly.

The arsonist's screams of rage turned into screams of pain as he thrashed around, knocking over candles and cans of gasoline. The flames flew across the liquid toward Mackenzie and Hawk. Hawk swung her up in his arms, running out of the room before setting her down on her feet on the carpet.

Horrible screams kept coming from the room until there was a sudden crash and the whistle of wind. They grew fainter and then stopped. Hawk looked back into the room once, staring at Chris's body as it started to burn. Then he covered his mouth with his sleeve. “Let's get out of here."

"What about...?"

"He's gone, there's nothing I can do."

Mac started to walk down the hallway, stumbling and limping, the pain pill she'd taken hours ago completely out of her system. She shrieked when Hawk lifted her in his arms again, carrying her down the flights of stairs as firemen flew up them to take care of the fire that was now burning almost out of control. He carried her out to the ambulance that had been brought up, turning her face away from what was left of the arsonist. He'd jumped out the window, racing away from the flames that had been such a huge part of who he was.

"Kenzie, baby, are you all right?” Dillon said, coming up as soon as Hawk sat her down.

"I'm fine, Dillon. Hunt, it's good to see you both.” She coughed lightly as the tech put an oxygen mask on her and began to unwrap her hands.

"Oh your hands,” Dillon sighed, lifting one and staring at the neat row of stitches that ran along each finger. “How'd you do this?"

"As if you didn't know,” Hawk said, standing back a bit to let her relatives in to see her.

"Don't start with me Hawkins. I still have a bone to pick with you about letting her get taken by this guy in the first place.” He turned, smiling gently at Kenzie. “You're coming home with me, right? Your mom and dad miss you. They'd love to see you, Kenz."

Mac looked up at Gideon, waiting for him to tell her cousin to drop dead like he had before. When he didn't say anything, only looked down at his feet, she felt a pain unlike anything she'd felt before grab her heart. “I guess I could go home for a few days,” she said hesitatingly.

"Okay, that's all settled. I'll call and get us tickets. We can leave right away.” He grabbed his phone and hit a speed dial button. Soon he was back. “We've got three tickets on the next flight that leaves in three hours. Your mom has got plenty of clothes you left back there so you don't need to pack. Anything else you need, we can get you after the trip. She's okay to leave, isn't she?” Dillon asked the EMT.

"Yeah, just let me finish with the bandages. If she's going to be gone for any longer than a week, she should see her own doctor to have these checked."

"We can do that.” Dillon said.

"Hawk?” Mackenzie said, glancing around the scene. She didn't see his tall, broad shouldered figure anywhere. “Where did he go?"

"He was here just a second ago,” Hunt said, glancing around and seeing his car gone. “His car is missing."

"He didn't stay to say good-bye?"

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Hawk listened to Mac talk about going home and felt his stomach lurch. His head was hurting from the gasoline fumes and his mind was still spinning from watching Chris die in such a horrid and terrible fashion. It was too much, he thought he was going to vomit. He turned, leaving Mac in the protective embraces of her cousins and walked to his car, driving away.

His apartment was still a wreck and he didn't want to go where anyone could find him anyway. Stopping quickly to pack a bag, he grabbed the keys to the cabin he and his dad had built north in the mountains. He'd go there for a few days, recover and get his mind on straight.

A few days fishing in the river that ran behind the cabin and he'd be right with the world again. Maybe then he could think of Mackenzie without feeling a hollowed pit in his stomach. Then he would decide what to do or if he should even do anything.

He drove the sixty some winding miles to the cabin road fairly quickly. The sun was warm and the wind was fresh coming in the windows of his car. Stopping only to pick up a week's worth of supplies, he turned off his cell phone and tossed it into the glove box. It wouldn't get a signal where he was heading anyway.

The road to the cabin was little more than a two track, barely kept up when he wasn't around to keep it groomed and the branches off. It was rutted and his car bottomed out more than once even though he was careful. Then the trail seemed to bloom out of the woods and into a wide clearing that was grassy and filled with wild flowers and the buzzing of bees. The sound of the river was a warm and welcoming sound, giving him a lazy feeling of coming home.

Gideon felt the worry and strain of the past few days fall from his shoulders as he parked the car and got out, going to the door and opening it with one of the keys on the ring. The others were for the shed and the boat house, both down closer to the river.

It was a regulation log house, the inside chinked against the winter's cold winds. He hadn't been up here in the winter in many years, not since his father died. They'd come up for a week, brave the cold and hunt. Hawk smiled as he thought of the lies his father had told him, of the ones that had gotten away. It just made him realize how much he missed his father.