Nondisclosure

by Geoffrey M Cooper

  She chuckled. “Good for you for shaking hands with him. You couldn’t have enjoyed that little ritual.”

  “Anything for the cause. So now I’m in my car, a block to the west. With a clear view of the entrance in my mirror.”

  “Good. Call me again when he leaves.”

  It didn’t take long. Ten minutes later, I saw Singer exit the building and turn east, in the direction of Karen’s office.

  I called and reported, “He’s on the move. Heading toward you.”

  “Okay. Wait a few minutes and then circle around so you come in from the opposite direction. See if he sets up outside my building.”

  I gave him a five-minute head start. Then I made a three-block circle and stopped a safe distance before reaching Karen’s building, headed west. I could see a large figure waiting by the entrance, so I doused the lights and called Karen again.

  “Someone’s waiting outside. I can’t see who it is in the dark, but it looks like a big man. Could be Singer.”

  “That’s good enough. Don’t try to get any closer. It’s not worth the risk of your being spotted. Are you ready to move out?”

  This was the part I really, really didn’t like. I’d tried to talk her out of it but failed. And rationally, I knew she was right. But I couldn’t stop myself from taking one more shot.

  “Look, this is just too risky. Why don’t we call the cops and let them pick him up? He was a nervous wreck when I left him. He’ll break under questioning.”

  “Brad, c’mon. We’ve been over and over this.” She made no attempt to disguise the impatience in her voice. “He’s not going to break and confess to rape and murder. This is the only way to nail him. And I need you to back me up. Are you with me or not?”

  What could I say? “All right, all right. Of course, I’m with you.”

  “Good. Just hang tough, and we’ll nail the bastard. He’s not going to hurt me. I’m expecting him, and I’ve got pepper spray and my gun, if I need it. It’s not like I’m Emily, walking home unsuspecting.”

  “I know. It’s just that I care about you, and he’s a scary bastard. But I know you can handle it.” At least I thought I believed that, even if the butterflies in my stomach were unconvinced.

  “Let’s get going, then. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I’m following your phone on the tracking app now.”

  “Okay. And you have your earbuds?”

  I put them in. “Yep.”

  “All right. Get yourself in position along the parallel track we outlined, and call me when you’re ready. After that, we’ll keep the phone line open, and I’ll be in constant communication.”

  I got out of the car and walked north, a block away from the route Karen was going to take. My job was to stay parallel to Karen’s course, far enough away that Singer couldn’t spot me but close enough to get to her quickly when needed.

  If he took the bait.

  When I got to the appointed corner, I called again. “Okay, I’m here.”

  “Leaving now,” she said. “Keep the line open and follow me on the phone.”

  A few minutes later, I saw her phone leave the building and turn right. “Spotted him at the entrance,” she said. “Moving out.”

  Every fiber of my being wanted to stop this. Karen using herself as bait to catch a killer! All I had to do was to go to her instead of following the plan. Let someone else catch Singer. But I couldn’t. I had to do what I’d said I would. So I kept my eyes on the phone and followed a block away.

  Two blocks later, Karen said, “Turning down the alley.”

  I clenched my teeth and said, “Okay.” This was a diversion planned to give Singer the perfect opportunity for an attack. A deserted dark alley, much like the place where Emily had been killed.

  She was a few minutes into it when she said, “It’s deserted, except someone just turned in after me. A large man.”

  My heart leaped. “I’m coming to you.”

  Her voice was tense. “Okay, but go slow and keep some distance. I don’t want him to see you. I’ve got the pepper spray ready.”

  I started moving toward her.

  Suddenly I heard her yell, “Hold it, police!”

  Then there were sounds of a scuffle, followed by a scream.

  I was running full speed, heart pounding, when she cried out, “Got the bastard!”

  He was on his stomach when I turned the corner into the alley, writhing from the pepper spray. Karen had her knee firmly planted on his neck and was cuffing his hands behind his back.

  “Thank God you’re okay,” I gasped.

  She raised her head. “I’m just fine,” she said. “This couldn’t have worked better. We’ve got him now.”

  She got up and turned him over with her foot. His eyes were closed, and he was helplessly coughing and sputtering. Just as it should be.

  Except that it wasn’t Mike Singer.

  28

  “Shit!” Karen swore. “Just some random son of a bitch who thought I was an easy mark. We caught the wrong damn fish.” She kicked her would-be assailant in frustration.

  I tried for a bit of levity. “Maybe the bait was too attractive to resist.”

  She gave a grim laugh. “Oh, shut up. This jerk was probably just after my bag. And if Singer was following me, he’s gone now.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “I’m going to call for backup and take this piece of crap into the station.” She nudged him with her foot again for emphasis. “I’ll have to go in with them to make a report and file charges. Why don’t you go home, and I’ll come over when I’m done? Maybe an hour or two. We’re going to have to come up with an alternate plan.”

  I waited with Karen until the backup came. Neither of us said much—we were alone with our thoughts. I couldn’t read her mind, but I suspected it was running pretty much along the same track as mine. If this had been our best shot at getting Singer, what were we going to do next? I hoped she was having better luck at finding an answer than I was.

  It took maybe ten frustrating minutes for two cruisers to show up and pull into the head of the alley, blue lights flashing. They put Karen’s assailant in one car, and Karen got into the other. I watched them take off and started to walk home, the same unanswered question bouncing around my head.

  By the time I got home, I was in a real funk. Karen and I were both out of our jobs, and my career was in shambles. Maybe I should sign the damned agreement—the two of us could just go hide somewhere. A cabin in New Hampshire. Or a nice island in the Caribbean. True, running away didn’t satisfy my sense of justice. But we could always shoot Singer before skipping town.

  I went straight to the kitchen and poured a glass of scotch when I got home. A large one—I needed lots of inspiration. I took an initial sip and then a larger swallow. Maybe it would help.

  Rosie was jumping up and down at my feet, so I turned around to pet her. Instead I recoiled in shock, the drink falling from my hand.

  Mike Singer was sitting in my favorite chair by the window, holding a gun pointed at my chest. He let out a sarcastic snort. “Surprised to see me? Did you really think I was going to fall for your stupid trap?”

  I grabbed the counter and took a deep breath to fight down the panic. My only chance was to connect with him. Get him talking. Get close to him and go for the gun.

  “Mike, c’mon. What are you talking about? I told you I was done with everything. How’d you get in here, anyway?”

  “Easy. All it took was a credit card with that wimpy lock you have.” He motioned with the gun to a chair at the dining table. “Sit down over there and we’ll talk. Pour yourself another drink first. We’re going to chat for a bit.”

  I refilled my glass and took the seat he indicated. Any opportunity to stall until I had an opening was worth taking.

  Rosie came over and rubbed against me, looking puzzled. I knew she sensed my anxiety and wanted to help. Too bad she wasn’t a German shepherd—a pug wasn’t much use as an attack dog.


  “Actually, your little trap was a pretty good ploy,” Singer said. “I followed your detective friend and was about to jump her in the alley. Until someone else beat me to it.”

  So it had almost worked. But still, what did he really know? I had to convince him that he wasn’t in danger. Give him a way out that didn’t require shooting me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “What trap?”

  He laughed. A short, scornful sound. “Don’t play me for a fool. I saw you in the alley with her. Complaining that your victim wasn’t me.”

  So much for that. “All right, fine. We did try to trap you. I told you before, Karen suspected you of the murder. But now she doesn’t have any way to prove it. You can just walk out of here at this point with no harm done. Why get yourself in more trouble?”

  “Sorry, but I don’t think so. Not with the two of you left alive to keep after me.”

  I took another pull at the scotch. “Killing us isn’t going to help you. Karen’s a detective. She’s told her whole unit about her suspicions.”

  He made the sarcastic laughing sound again. “You really must think I’m dumb. If that was true, she would’ve had real cops for backup in the alley. Not just you.”

  “They didn’t know she was going to pull the alley trick. She said they wouldn’t let her if she told them. Too dangerous. She organized it with me on her own.”

  “Yeah, sure she did.” He raised the gun so that it pointed at my head. “Enough of your stupid bullshit. This’ll end with the two of you. I have a nice suicide planned for you. Your note’s already written. Sad how you were too despondent over your arrest and the end of your career to go on. And your detective friend will be another rape and murder victim, just like you tried to set up. Except it’ll happen later tonight when she’s not expecting me.”

  “Who are you kidding?” I said. “You can’t fake a suicide by shooting me.”

  He grinned. “Sure I can. You’ll pass out in a few more minutes from the ketamine I added to your scotch. The whole department knows having a glass of scotch is what you do when you get home, so that was an easy setup. Once you’re out, I’ll help you hold the gun to your head, and your own finger will pull the trigger. Your prints on the gun, powder burns on your hands, a nice note left behind for the cops. Nobody’ll think twice about it.”

  I had only one move left, and I didn’t know how long it would be before the drug hit me. Maybe just a few more minutes. Playing to his ego seemed like my best shot.

  I let out a sigh. “I guess I should’ve known you’d have it all figured out. Pretty much the same way you drugged Emily, right? And the woman back in New Haven?”

  “Yep, and others before them,” he said. “But Emily had a dual purpose.”

  “Because you used her to frame Upton and push him out of future work on the drug?”

  “Maybe you’re not as stupid as I thought,” he said. “I deserved credit for Immunoboost, not that little jerk. Now it’s all mine. And it would have worked perfectly until Emily started to remember what happened.”

  I felt dizzy, and I could tell my speech was starting to slur. The drug was kicking in. But I had to stay focused. He was getting more and more absorbed in himself. It would be time soon.

  I picked up my glass. “So you attacked her a second time? And killed her.”

  “That was unfortunate, but I didn’t have any choice. She could have ruined everything.”

  The time might or might not have been right, but I couldn’t hold off any longer. I threw my glass at his face and jumped up to charge him. A last chance to grab for the gun.

  Except my legs collapsed, and I fell to the floor. I’d waited too long.

  “Nice try,” he said. “Looks like it’s time now.”

  I watched helplessly as he approached me. I could barely move, and my vision was blurred.

  I sensed some kind of movement to the side.

  Then I heard the gun go off.

  And everything went black.

  29

  My head was pounding, and the ceiling was spinning. At least I thought it was the ceiling, although I couldn’t see clearly. I tried to roll over, and someone started to run toward me. Singer? But hadn’t he already shot me?

  I started to yell, but whoever it was gently took my head in warm hands. A soft voice said, “Shh, it’s all right. You’re okay now.”

  I managed to focus. And saw Karen kneeling beside me. “Take it easy. Don’t try to move yet,” she said.

  A wave of relief swept over me. “Karen? How did you get here? Where’s Singer?” I forced myself to a sitting position and started to look around the apartment. Nobody there but Karen. And Rosie, who was vigorously snuggling up to me.

  “Singer’s all taken care of,” she said. “I got here just in time, while you had him talking. I could hear him as soon as I opened the door, so I snuck in quietly, and neither of you saw me. Then you threw the glass at him, and I had my chance to jump him with the pepper spray. The gun went off and put a hole in the wall, but that was it. You’ll be fine as soon as the drug wears off.”

  I squeezed her hand. “Did you hear what he was saying? I can’t remember exactly, but I think he was talking about killing Emily.”

  “I heard him, and it’ll probably come back to you too. But even better, it’ll all be recorded on Rosie’s surveillance system. Thanks to you being such a goofy dog owner, we have his full confession on tape.”

  Relief washed over me. It had worked after all. I rubbed Rosie’s head to thank her for getting us the recording system. “So where is he now?” I asked.

  “I called for help, and they’ve taken him downtown. You’ve been out for over an hour. They’ll want to get a statement from you, but it can wait until tomorrow. Maybe you’ll be able to remember more then, but it really doesn’t matter. We have plenty to be sure that he spends the rest of his life in a cage.”

  “So it’s really over? You have enough to put him away?”

  She smiled again. But this time, there was a cold look in her eyes. “Singer’s finished. But it’s not quite over yet. You and I still have a bit more work to do.”

  The room had gone back to spinning in my head. “Now?” I asked.

  She bent over and kissed me. “No. After you get some sleep and you’re back to being yourself again.”

  I was naked in bed when I woke up. I didn’t remember getting here, but I did remember Singer trying to kill me last night. And Karen saving my ass.

  I threw on a robe and padded out to the kitchen. Karen was there with a cup of coffee and a newspaper in front of her.

  “Good to see you walking on your own,” she said. “Get some coffee and take a look at this.”

  Most of the front page of the Globe was devoted to Singer’s arrest. Karen was the woman of the hour, the heroic detective who’d single-handedly taken down a monster—dubbed the “College Killer” by the reporter. I got a sidebar mention as her helper and near next victim, which was plenty for me.

  “How’d they get all this?” I asked.

  “The chief called them as soon as we arrested Singer last night. He loves publicity for the department, even if it was about me instead of him. Anyway, the news people were all over it. I spent an hour or so with a reporter after I got you to bed, and he hustled to get it in this morning’s paper. And of course, it was immediately picked up by TV and radio, so it’s all over the place now.”

  I swallowed more coffee. It felt great going down. “So you’re the star of the hour. Maybe even of the day—or week. They’re not going to fire you after this, I assume.”

  “No, they already offered me a promotion instead.” She shrugged. “Not sure if I want it, though. The chief’s still the same. Anyway, I’ll see. First, we have some more work to do if you’re up to it.”

  I finished the coffee and stood up. “A quick shower and I’ll be good to go. Where to?”

  “You’ll see. Don’t worry—it’s an errand you’ll enjoy.”


  We got to the Presidential Palace a little before nine. It was still an impressive building, but it seemed to have lost much of its grandeur since my last visit. Perhaps because I knew it was about to take a fall. Or at least the man at the top was.

  Two uniforms met us outside, but Karen asked them to wait in the lobby while we took the elevator up to the top floor. The receptionist greeted us with an icy stare.

  “Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

  “No,” Karen said. “But I think President Emerson may be expecting us.” She held up her badge.

  The receptionist glanced at it but was unimpressed. “I’m sorry, but nobody just walks in to see the president.” She pushed a button on the desk, and two well-muscled apes in black suits appeared from nowhere. “Please see these two out,” she said.

  One of them grabbed Karen’s arm, and I half expected her to pepper spray him. But instead she said, “Don’t you recognize me?”

  “From where, the local nuthouse? C’mon, lady, let’s go.”

  “I was thinking you might have seen this morning’s news.”

  He paused, and a look of recognition crossed his face. “Wait, are you the one who took down that rapist?”

  She nodded. “That’s me. And do you want to be the cop who threw me out of the building? Our new chief will love that.”

  He let go of her arm and seemed to be trying to think. Then he turned to the receptionist. “Sorry, Alice, let them go ahead in.”

  Karen said, “You can stay where you are, Alice. We’ll let ourselves in.”

  And we proceeded into President Emerson’s inner sanctum.

  He was sitting behind his big desk with a copy of the Globe in front of him. Our entrance startled him, and he looked up sharply. “What’s this about?”

  “It’s about obstruction of justice,” Karen said. “Kenneth Emerson, I’m placing you under arrest.”

  “You’re crazy,” he spat. “You can’t do that! You work for the institute. For me.”

  “I’m a police officer, sworn to enforce the law. That comes before loyalty to whoever signs my paycheck.”