Cries in the Night (9 page)

Rusty decided it was better to buy some time and hope someone smarter than he was came up with a plan on how to get everyone out without blowing the roof off. He nodded and put his hands together.

“Behind your back,” the man ordered.

Rusty reluctantly complied, his movements stiff in the heavy black jacket. Jason took out a tie wrap and tightened it around Rusty’s hands. The man jerked the tie wraps out of Jason’s hands and signaled for him to turn around. He threaded the heavy plastic through the holes and yanked it, then pulled the end of Rusty’s to tighten it another couple of notches.

“Have a seat,
gentlemen
,” he said sarcastically. “We’re going to be here awhile.”

Rusty dropped down on the couch and Jason followed. They exchanged a worried look, then turned back to their host.

A phone rang, causing all three of them to jump. The man took a small black cellphone out of his pocket and answered.

“Yes.” He listened for a few seconds, then answered, “They’re right here. No, they’re not hurt. We’ve just been talking a little politics.” He listened for a few more seconds. “No, I’m not going to shoot them … yet. I should warn you that I’ve had a lot of spare time on my hands for the last six months. A man can put together a shitload of explosives in that amount of time. I wouldn’t recommend anyone trying to breach the premises or … kaboom! Yeah, it’ll be ugly.” He listened again. “We don’t have enough time to list all the things I want, but we can start with giving me my fucking life back. Hell, I’m realistic. Staying in Denver doesn’t sound like a good idea for my future health and well-being. I could probably put all this behind me with a couple million in unmarked bills and a free pass to Mexico.” Again the voice on the other end spoke, causing the man to glance back at the two firefighters. “You know what, asshole? I’ve got nothing more to lose. Do you?”

CHAPTER SIX

Julie was unabashedly eavesdropping as the cops and firefighters discussed their options. They were at a stalemate in the negotiations. SWAT was still off to the side, trying to formulate a plan, but with the windows boarded up and the doors rigged, there weren’t a lot of ways to get into the house. They were looking into the possibility of breaching the premises through the basement or even the attic, but so far nothing conclusive had been decided.

Rusty’s and Jason’s families had arrived several hours ago and were trying to arrange the ransom, but a million dollars each was a lot of money for middle class families to raise in the middle of the night. They were ignoring the city policies for not giving in to kidnappers or terrorists and scrambling to try to find a way to meet the man’s demands.

Julie hesitated to butt into the family’s unit, but Sam and Chris were busy talking to the cops and the father was tagging along with his sons. A middle-aged woman stood all alone. Worry lines were etched across her forehead and her lips were pressed together tightly. Sam had hugged the woman when she arrived, so Julie guessed she was his, Sam and Rusty’s mom. If ever there was a victim, that woman was one.

Julie switched into advocate mode and walked over to her. She held out her hand. “Mrs. Wilson?”

The older, but still attractive woman took Julie’s hand in a firm grip and didn’t release it, as if she were holding on in hope of getting more information. “Yes … yes, I am. Do you have any news about Rusty?”

“No, not yet,” Julie told her. “But I know they’re still in contact with the man inside. As long as they keep him talking, it gives them time to plan.”

The woman looked into Julie’s eyes. “I go through this every day, worrying about whether or not my boys will come home at night. I was out of town when Sam got hurt this summer, and they kept it from me until Jack and I got home. He’s lucky he survived or I would have killed him.” She gave a short little laugh that was more hysterical than humorous. “My name is Pat.”

“I’m Julie Lawrence. I work for DPD as a Victim’s Advocate, but I’m here tonight as a friend. In the course of my job I run into one of your son’s at least every day.”

“I know they love their jobs, but it sure is hard on their parents.”

“I’ll bet it is,” Julie agreed.

“So why is this psycho doing this?”

“The cops are running a background check on him, but I haven’t heard if they’ve found out anything.”

Pat brushed a tear off her cheek. “I always worried that Rusty would get hurt in a fire. Never something like this.”

 

With the windows blocked and the only clocks visible being the timers set on the bombs, Rusty had no idea what time it was or how long they had been tied up. Periodically, the phone would ring and the man would have a brief conversation. Other than that, he didn’t talk much. He paced a lot, the remote never leaving his hand. In spite of the room being relatively cool, beads of sweat glistened on his high forehead. His cheeks were flushed and his hands shook constantly. Rusty was a little concerned the man was going to have a heart attack and collapse, falling on the remote. Even an accidental detonation would be a disaster.

The house had once been very nice. The draperies had flouncy treatments on top and delicate sheers blocking the sheets of plywood that covered the windows. The drapes were not something a man would buy and the plywood was a recent addition. The furniture wasn’t fancy, but it was of good quality. There were colorful throw pillows on the couch and chairs and a drooping silk flower arrangement on the mantle. Everything was dusty and the carpet had not been vacuumed for months … or longer. But it was clearly a house that had been decorated and loved at one time by a woman. The missing wife, no doubt.

Photographs were everywhere, hanging on the walls, arranged on the mantle and sitting on the furniture. Most of them were of a smiling dark-haired woman who wasn’t beautiful, but there was a twinkle in her eyes that made her appealing. The man was with her in several of the photos, holding her hand or giving her a kiss. They appeared to be a happy couple in love. Rusty could see why the man was so upset that he had lost that connection.

Odd that he hadn’t taken down all her photos and stuck them in a drawer or a box in the back of the closet. That’s what most broken-hearted lovers did when the romance was over. Rusty wondered how long she had been gone. Maybe the police would be able to track her down and get her to talk her husband out of
blowing them off the face of the earth. Rusty was sure that his brother, Sam, would be following every lead he could find. Actually, if one of them had to be in here and one out there, it was better that it was Sam on the outside. He would know how to handle the situation. Rusty was just the crazy brother who ran into burning buildings.

All the lights were on in the house, probably so the man could keep an eye on things while preparing to blow up half of Denver. He had a TV turned on and was enjoying his fifteen minutes of fame. It was also providing him with a constant update on what was going on outside. If he got out of this alive, Rusty vowed to talk to the local TV stations about their very detailed reporting and how it provided too much information to the bad guys while the crime was in progress.

The TV was angled away from the two firefighters, so they couldn’t get a good view, but they could see that quite a crowd had gathered. Rusty’s heart ached when he saw his mother’s pale, drawn face, but he felt surprisingly better when he saw Julie standing next to her with an arm around his mother’s shoulders. He also saw his brother Sam in a circle of other cops as they stood in front of the huge RV-like vehicle that was the Mobile Command Unit in situations such as this. He knew they were going through all the scenarios and would choose the one they thought was best. Soon, he hoped.

Even though the temperature in the room was cool, Rusty and Jason were sweltering inside their heavy gear. All the things that provided protection against the flames were acting like a portable sauna. They would both probably be pounds lighter when … or if … they walked away from this. The man was growing more restless and probably more unstable by the moment.

The FD provided continuing education and Rusty remembered one on conflict negotiation. He wished now he’d paid a little more attention, but he had honestly never thought he’d have to use it. Everyone liked firefighters. They saved lives and rescued kittens from trees. Although, to be perfectly honest, he’d never actually retrieved a kitten from anything. He’d pulled a raccoon out of a gutter once, but he didn’t think that would impress this guy much.

Befriend him. He remembered hearing that somewhere. It was certainly worth a try.

“I’m Rusty and this kid is Jason. Since we’re all in this together, what should we call you?”

“We’re not ever going to be drinking buds,” the man snorted. He was silent for a moment as if considering how much information was safe to share. “But I guess if we’re going to blow up together, you should know who’s lighting the fuse.”

“That’s a colorful image that I could have lived without,” Jason murmured and Rusty jabbed him with his elbow.

The man didn’t seem to have noticed. “My name is Joe. Just Joe. That’s all you need to know.”

“So, Joe. What sort of work did you do?”

“Why? You gonna offer me a job?”

Rusty could see this was going down a dark path, so he changed the subject. “Why Mexico?”

“Because it never friggin’ snows there,” Joe responded, then shrugged. “I heard the fishing’s good and a little bit of cash will go a really long way.”

“I wouldn’t miss the snow either,” Rusty agreed. “Hot beaches and beautiful women … or was it the other way around?”

Joe’s expression darkened as he studied his captives critically. He resumed his agitated pacing.

“It sucks that you lost your job, but sooner or later the economy is going to get better, and you’ll find something.”

“No, it’ll never be the same. Shit, I’m forty-eight years old. Nobody will hire me. It’s too late to start over.”

Rusty couldn’t argue against what was obviously true, but he tried to minimize it to make Joe feel better. “I know how much people are struggling. I see it every day.”

“Then today’s your lucky day because you’re seeing it up close and personal.” Joe glanced at his watch and shook his head. “I don’t think they’re going to save you.”

Rusty exhaled slowly. As Joe had pointed out over and over, the economy was rotten. The City of Denver couldn’t afford the money even if they were inclined to pay it. Of course, the city wouldn’t pay the ransom or provide an escape to Mexico for Joe. It was their policy not to make that sort of deal with extortionists. And there was no way Rusty’s parents could dig up that kind of cash. Nor would he want them to.

Rusty knew it wouldn’t be in his best interests to pass any of that information on to Joe. He decided to try another track. “You don’t strike me as a guy who really wants to die. There’s still an easy option to get you out of this.”

Joe snorted. “Yeah, being someone’s bitch in prison.”

“But you’d have free room and board … and health care,” Jason pointed out.

Both Rusty and Joe turned to glare at the younger man who realized, a moment too late, that his comment wasn’t exactly helpful. In fact, it only served to irritate Joe even more. His finger shook as it hovered over the buttons.

 

Julie eased closer to the command vehicle. The waiting was driving her crazy. She couldn’t imagine what hell the Wilsons were going through.