People were running out of their rooms and down the hall. Matt directed them to the southern staircase. They were panicked, but mostly orderly.
“Harris! Dammit, Michael! Can you hear me?”
Matt reached the door. The ceiling tiles had fallen and dust was everywhere. He couldn’t tell where the smoke was coming from. The first explosions came from the top floor, but the next three sounded like they were on the second floor.
He looked in the doorway. The ceiling above had collapsed, the tiles smoking and burning, and Michael was pulling away debris to get to the family. The drapes had caught fire.
The bastard had rigged his room. Which meant he wasn’t there, he was somewhere else in the hotel. Hiding. Waiting for the right moment to escape.
Matt helped Michael get to the family. The mother clutched her infant, and the father had the toddler. “We need to get you out.”
“I got them,” Michael said. “Find Hamilton.”
Matt realized his com had disengaged. He reset it. Ryder was talking, but not to him.
“Ryder.”
“You’re there.”
“Yes.”
“We’ve cleared half the hotel. Hamilton has not exited.”
“He rigged his room. The other explosions sounded like they were coming from below.”
“The second floor—there are people trapped in their rooms next to the north stairwell. SWAT is working on getting them out. Fire is on its way, but they won’t go in until we locate Hamilton.”
“Keep your eyes on the door. He’s betting on distracting us.”
“Quinn asked if you’ve checked the utility closets. There’s one on each floor next to the elevator.”
“I’m on it.”
He rigged his room, and either he went up to the roof, or he went to the second floor, where the second explosions occurred, and planned to slip out with the guests. Matt trusted Ryder and Kara to handle the main doors, but the explosions created havoc among the guests.
“Ryder,” he said, “you still there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Find out where SWAT is, I’m on the third floor, heading up to four. I need a team. We’ll clear from the top down and the bottom up.”
“Roger. Stand by.”
Matt took the center staircase up to the fourth floor, passing several guests coming down. He looked at each face. No Hamilton. Used the master key the hotel manager gave him to check the utility room. No Hamilton.
The center staircase was the only one that went to the roof. The door should be locked. It wasn’t. It had been broken open, cold air rushing through the crack.
Matt said, “Tell all teams that suspect may be on the roof.”
There would be ladders that could be dropped.
Plus, Hamilton had his own ladder. Dammit, he might have already slipped away!
“Where are the ladders on the roof?” he asked.
“Stand by,” Ryder said.
Matt didn’t want to stand by. Hamilton could have already escaped before SWAT arrived. They could guard the hotel ladders, but Hamilton had his own. He could descend anywhere at any time.
He was about to go through the roof door when Ryder said, “Ladders on both the north and south faces, but they’re locked.”
“So was the damn door.”
“SWAT has teams both north and south, also sending officers your way.”
He wasn’t going to get away. Hamilton had to see that, right? That there was no way out?
Two SWAT officers met Matt in the stairwell. “Did you see the suspect?” one asked. Matt recognized him as the team leader at the raid of Hamilton’s house.
“No, but this door is busted open. My people are in the lobby looking for him among the guests, and your people have the other exits covered. He’s either up here or still inside. But this could be a trap—he had enough supplies to make twelve Molotov cocktails, and I counted nine explosions.”
“Six on the fourth floor and three on the second,” the team leader said. “Fire suppression system launched in multiple rooms. We’re still assessing injuries.”
“How do you want to do this?” Matt asked.
He squatted and checked the door for wires, then peered through. “How certain are you that he’s out there?”
“Eighty percent,” Matt said. “He purchased a forty-five-foot chain ladder. He planned this.” Though why was the million-dollar question. It seemed foolish for him to stay in the same hotel as the FBI—and Hamilton knew that they were here.
Unless he thought they’d bring Maddox here—which, until Andy had been killed, had been the original plan.
“There’s a duct system that, if we stay low, will cover us,” the team leader said. “Stay here until we clear the roof, Agent Costa.”
Matt hated sitting on the sidelines, but he concurred.
“Three, two, one.”
The two SWAT members pushed open the door and ran toward the closest duct. Almost immediately, Matt saw a flash of light, then an explosion right next to the duct.
“Man down! Man down!”
Matt ran over to the duct. One of the officers was bleeding in the leg. “Glass,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Medic, stat,” the team leader said.
“I’m fine,” the officer grimaced.
He wasn’t. He was immobile and losing blood, but he would live.
“Stay put,” Matt said. He looked over to where the makeshift grenade had come from. Hamilton was jumping over the side. The fire was burning out quickly—the icy roof coupled with the snow and wind ensured there wouldn’t be an extensive burn.
Matt ran over while talking into his com. He slid twice, caught himself. “Suspect is descending the western front of the building on a ladder! He’s armed and dangerous.”
Matt looked over the side. Hamilton was already halfway down, half climbing, half sliding down the ladder.
He hesitated, then Matt saw that he had another glass jar in his hand.
“Freeze!” Matt shouted. He had a shot, but right below Hamilton were dozens of guests who had been evacuated. SWAT was already trying to clear them out of the way, but Matt couldn’t risk hitting a civilian.
Hamilton lit the rag, and it had already started to burn. He threw the jar into the crowd. Screams echoed in the storm. The explosion was big, but fizzled quickly. Unfortunately, it gave Hamilton enough time to descend as everyone below took cover.
SWAT would get him, and while Matt didn’t think he had any more of those bombs, he could have purchased other supplies that they didn’t know about.
He has one more. He detonated eleven; he has twelve.
“I’m coming down the ladder,” he said. “He’s almost at the bottom.”
In his ear, Ryder said, “Harris and Quinn are in pursuit.”
Matt scaled down and heard another explosion, followed by an earsplitting scream.
* * *
Kara was right behind Michael Harris as they exited the lobby and ran in the direction Costa said Hamilton was scaling down. SWAT and SPD officers were doing everything they could to get the panicked guests out of the way, but the Molotov cocktail Hamilton tossed into the crowd resulted in several injuries. SWAT was protecting the medics who ran over to work on the injured.
“I see him,” Harris called, and ran on the icy walk. He slipped but didn’t fall.
Kara pursued, saw a skinny man drop eight feet from the bottom of a hanging ladder. He had a gun in his hand and was aiming it up.
Shit, Matt was on that ladder.
“Drop the weapon!” Kara shouted.
She didn’t have a clear shot—beyond Hamilton were people, including a fire truck.
“Everyone out of the way!”
Harris had a much louder, booming voice. “Everyone down!”
; People started to drop to the wet ground.
Hamilton fled instead of shooting at Matt. Hamilton had a good thirty-foot lead, but Harris was quick, even in the snow. Hamilton rounded the corner. Harris was about to follow, when Kara saw a flicker of light in the dark.
“Bomb!” she shouted.
Harris didn’t hesitate. He threw himself into bushes just as Hamilton tossed a Molotov cocktail around the corner.
It exploded exactly where Harris had been.
Kara was knocked on her ass, but she scrambled up, then helped Harris up.
“Thanks,” he shouted, his ears obviously still ringing from the explosion. “I owe you one.”
“How many of those fucking bombs does he have?”
“We think twelve. He shouldn’t have anymore. He’s covered in gas—I could smell him as I pursued.”
Matt caught up with them.
“Where’d he go?”
“Around the corner. SWAT is on those doors.”
Matt stood at the corner of the building and looked down the side.
Glen Hamilton stood only feet away, gun in hand.
He fired as Matt jumped back. The bullet hit the corner of the building.
“Fuck that,” Matt said. He leaned just around the corner and fired as soon as he caught sight of Hamilton.
He hit him once, twice—then saw a flash and he jumped back as Hamilton burst into flames. He screamed in agony, the accelerant he was coated in burning rapidly.
Harris got up and ran to Hamilton. He tackled him into a snowbank, and rolled him around, effectively putting out the flames. His body was still smoking.
“He’s alive,” Harris said.
Though Hamilton was seriously injured, Harris cuffed him, then searched him. Found two knives. He kicked away his gun, which Matt picked up.
“You should have let him burn,” Kara said, her voice hardened. “He killed a cop.”
“And he’ll pay for that,” Harris said.
Matt called over the paramedics. He searched Glen Hamilton one more time, determined that he couldn’t hurt anyone, but had two SPD officers stay with him. “Go with him to the hospital. Do not let him out of your sight. As soon as the doctors clear him, he goes straight to the infirmary at the state prison while we wait to arraign him. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Hamilton moaned as the paramedics worked on him. Blood soaked into the white snow. Matt knew he’d hit him at least once, but didn’t know where.
“I’ll kill him,” Hamilton said. “You can’t keep that cop safe forever. I will kill him!”
Matt walked away. Kara and Michael followed. “He’s never getting out of prison. He killed a cop and nine other people—more if we tie the homeless men and his father to his killing spree. He’ll be sitting on death row until he’s dead.”
Kara looked upset, and so did Michael. Matt needed to fix this, but he didn’t know how.
“You did the right thing, Michael.”
“I know.”
“I want him dead, but I want him dead the right way.”
“There is no wrong way,” Kara said. She took a deep breath, let it out. “Well,” she said, her voice a hair lighter, “you fibbies sure know how to have fun. And here I thought you were all a bunch of pricks with sticks up your ass.”
“Only the feds in LA,” Matt said and caught her eye. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She had to deal with not only Andy’s death, but her case in LA. He didn’t say anything, but he might be able to help get Thornton off her back. Quietly.
Matt cleared his throat. “Now, paperwork.”
Michael groaned, and Kara laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Michael said.
“I’m on vacation. That means no paperwork. I’m ready to give my statement whenever you’re ready to take it.” She winked, and walked over to where Ryder Kim was helping one of the victims.
But instead of taking a break, Kara dived in and helped the medics and cops create order.
Matt had learned to expect nothing less from Detective Quinn.
51
Friday, March 12
Liberty Lake
Morning
Andy Knolls had a funeral worthy of a hero.
Every cop in the Spokane Valley, and many from other parts of the state and adjoining Idaho, came to pay respects to the fallen officer Friday morning. His fiancée took condolences, but she looked shell-shocked. Matt had tried to talk to her earlier, but she didn’t want to discuss Andy or how he died.
Brian Maddox gave the eulogy, which hit Matt harder than he thought. Matt had known Andy Knolls for less than a week, but he had been a good cop and an even better man. He had a large family, and even more friends. He saw Kara’s grandmother sitting in the large church with a woman even older than her, but Kara wasn’t with her.
Everyone was mourning. Tears flowed freely, even on the rigid faces of law enforcement. They had caught Andy’s killer, but Andy was still dead.
Matt would do anything to bring Andy back. To erase the pain that filled the church as his friends and family grieved; to erase the sorrow in his own heart. He’d buried too many good men and women, heroes who gave their lives for others. But Andy’s death hit him harder than most.
Kara stood in the back, in the far corner, away from most everyone. At first Matt hadn’t seen her—she’d dressed to blend, her hair up, little makeup, dark, nondescript clothing. She had a cut on her neck that was healing from being clipped by a shard of glass at the hotel. She had a cop’s face—solemn, serious, almost emotionless.
Matt had tried to talk to her yesterday, but she’d given him an excuse involving her grandmother that he just didn’t buy. At first he thought he’d made her mad, but realized today that she had taken Andy’s death particularly hard. She hadn’t been able to deal with her grief until after Hamilton had been caught.
After the funeral, Matt didn’t feel the need to go to the Knolls’s house. He’d already spoken to Andy’s parents and that would suffice. Instead, he followed Kara to her car on the edge of the church parking lot.
“Hey.”
She looked up at him. Tears glistened in her eyes.
He rubbed her arm. She closed her eyes. “I hate what I said to him.”
“Don’t go there.”
“I can’t help it. I pushed him to be bolder. He should never have gone up to that house. He should have never been put in that position.”
“He was doing his job, Kara. I knew he was checking up on the family. I didn’t think twice about it. We were spread thin and trying to cover every possible scenario.”
“He didn’t have the right training. He didn’t know how to respond to the threat.” Her voice cracked as her eyes drifted back toward the church where Andy’s coffin was being loaded into the hearse.
“He did everything he could have. More training is always a good thing, but he couldn’t have predicted that Hamilton was in the house. Tolliver woke up yesterday, gave his statement. He blames himself as well. Says he should have shot him, didn’t see the knife until Hamilton pulled it out of Andy’s body. Said Hamilton was in a rage, a wild animal, and it happened so fast he could barely react.”
“I’ll be fine,” Kara said, though she sounded forlorn. “Better than his fiancée.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe what I said to her, about the killer preferring knives. I hate myself. I don’t think.”
“Stop. You’re a great cop, Kara.” Matt put his hand on her forearm and squeezed. He wanted to give her peace but didn’t know how when his emotions were just as raw. Yet, in that brief moment, she silently acknowledged their shared pain.
“You’re not half-bad, for a fed.”
“You know, we don’t have any place to be,” he said. “I’ve already wrapped up most of the paperwork. Ryder said you came and signed your s
tatement yesterday. You may need to testify at a hearing, but it’s a formality and it won’t be anytime soon. You really went above and beyond. I’ll make sure your boss knows that.”
“You don’t have to do anything for me.”
“I’m not doing it for you—I’m doing it because you were an asset, especially since my team was so thin. By this time next month I’ll be fully staffed.”
“You have a good thing going here,” she said. “I can see the value.” She smiled at him and spontaneously kissed him. “And you’ve convinced me that not all feds are pricks.”
“I saved the entire profession.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said.
He wanted her again. That one kiss when he thought they were done was not enough. He wanted more. “I can take a day off—we earned it. Maybe go skiing. Take a night up at Mount Spokane. I heard they have a nice resort. One night to unwind.” He rubbed his palm against hers. She felt the jolt, just like he did. “What do you say? Nothing is better than fresh powder.” He paused. “You ski, don’t you?”
“I’m pretty good.”
He suspected that was an understatement. “So? We both deserve a night off. A little skiing, good food, great sex.” He kissed her, but she averted her head.
“I’m leaving tonight.”
“It’s not the fifteenth.”
“I can’t stay here. I need to fix what’s broken in LA.”
“Just one more day?” He hated to plead with her, but dammit, he’d earned a night with her. A night when there wasn’t a killer stalking cops.
“There’s a lot going on with my department, with my case. You have a job, I have a job.”
Matt knew that Kara was right, and neither of them were in a position to have a relationship.
He didn’t want it to end like this. “Maybe I want to go away for a night because I like morning sex.”
“All men like sex in the morning. And afternoon. And evening. And—”
“Maybe it’s more dependent on who we’re having sex with than most women think.”
“How ’bout this? Stop talking.”
“Kara—”
“And I’ll let you know when I can get away for a couple of days and if you can get away for those same couple of days, maybe we can spend them together. Besides, you promised to teach me to scuba dive.”
The Third to Die Page 39