The Negotiator

by Dee Henderson

She blinked. “I guess so, if you want to.”

  “Trust me, Kate. I do. Hand me the bread knife.”

  Dinner made it to the table in a companionable fashion.

  “Pretty decent,” Kate allowed as she bit into the hot garlic bread.

  “It’s great and you know it,” Dave countered. “What did you do to this salad?”

  “I’m not telling.”

  “My sister will kill for a good recipe. I owe her. Come on, give.”

  “You’ll have to ask Lisa. She has sworn me to secrecy.”

  “Over a recipe?”

  “Hey, we know what is valuable in life.”

  He ate another bite and sighed. “How much to bribe it out of you?”

  She grinned. “It would be cheaper to beg it off Lisa.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Now you’ve piqued my interest. What would it cost?”

  “A chance to read that first edition Mark Twain you have in your living room.”

  “The frog story?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Good taste.”

  “I know good literature.”

  He chuckled. “I knew your sense of humor came from a master.”

  “Twain was a step above comic books.”

  “You were a reader as a kid?”

  Her laughter disappeared. “I don’t think I was ever a kid.”

  The silence drifted a few moments. “I step across that line before I realize I’m even near it. I’m sorry.”

  She tried to make the shrug casual. “You get too far under my guard. Normally a comment like that wouldn’t hit me by surprise.”

  “I gather the orphanage was rough.”

  “I had Marcus.”

  “I wondered. You two appear to almost read each other’s minds.”

  “Considering I knocked him flat the first half dozen times we met, we were destined to be either friends or enemies for life.” She smiled at the memory.

  “He let you?”

  “Hardly. I was a fierce little fighter when I was nine. He didn’t think he was supposed to hit girls back, so I sat him in the mud a few times to make my point.”

  “What did he call you?”

  “Nothing. He was the one trying to be nice.”

  “Oh.”

  She looked at him. “Don’t give me that painfully understanding look. I was an angry little kid, and he wanted to butt into my business. I didn’t like it.”

  “So you hit him.”

  “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

  Dave leaned back in his chair with his coffee. “What changed your mind?”

  “He gave me a puppy.”

  He choked on his coffee.

  She looked at him, daring him to say a word. His eyes narrowed, but he kept silent. “It was this black fuzz ball that had sharp teeth and an attitude, and it tried to bite me every time I tried to pet it, feed it, or work the tangles out of its mangy fur. Marcus just walked by, dumped it in my lap, and said here. I was too busy trying to keep the thing hidden from the staff to wonder why Marcus was so determined to pick on me. Every time that dog would get away, Marcus would have to go canvas the neighborhood and bring him back in a box.”

  “How long did this go on?”

  “Probably six months. Then the dog got hit by a car, and I think I nearly pulverized Marcus for not finding him alive. That sort of ended the hostilities on my side.”

  “I’m sorry about your dog.”

  “You know, I never called him my dog until after he was dead? I always dumped him back on Marcus with all this ‘you know what your dog did today’ outrage.”

  “How old was Marcus?”

  Kate pulled herself back from the memories. “What?”

  “How old was Marcus?”

  “Oh,” she thought about it a moment. “Eleven.”

  “That qualifies as a friend for life.”

  “Probably.” She grinned. “I’m going to have to repay him for that dog bit one of these days though. Maybe I’ll get him one of those yappy terriers.”

  “You are dangerous, lady.”

  “I’ve got a long memory. Did I hear you say something about dessert?”

  “Want something for that sweet tooth?”

  “Got the fixings for a sundae?”

  “Sure.”

  “That would be perfect.”

  He went to the freezer to find their options. “Ice cream appears to be your favorite.”

  It took her three drawers to find the ice cream scoop. “I’m a creature of habit.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll only have to learn everything about you once.”

  “Dream on.” She pulled open the refrigerator. “Do you want caramel or hot fudge?”

  “Fudge.”

  She pulled out the glass jar and put it into the microwave to warm. “Does this qualify as having dinner together?”

  He looked over at her, surprised. “I would think so. Why?”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Lisa will be expecting a verbatim rundown on the conversation.”

  He grinned. “Will she?”

  “She also wants to know if you’ve got a cousin or something.”

  “Lisa doesn’t need help in the dating department. Trust me.”

  “Oh? What have you heard that I haven’t?”

  “You didn’t see that ER doc hanging around her when you were at the hospital?”

  “Kevin?”

  “I think that’s his name.”

  “She dumped him six months ago.”

  “Well, he wants another chance.”

  “Not with my sister. I’ll flatten him first.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Made her cry.”

  “Over what?”

  “How should I know? She won’t tell anyone. But she was crying, and he’s a creep.”

  Dave passed her a spoon to lick. “Make an O’Malley cry, and you’re in mortal danger?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Nice to know you are all such diplomats.”

  “Simple rules work best.”

  “That one is simple enough. What’s another one?”

  She looked at the jar he was holding. “Don’t hog the chocolate.”

  He passed it over with a chuckle. “You’re predictable.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  They settled at the kitchen table to eat dessert.

  Kate worked through half of the ice cream in silence. It was almost time to face those security tapes. The thought made her light mood turn dark again.

  “Kate, what’s wrong?”

  She looked over at him for a moment, then back at the ice cream. “Stuff I can’t talk about.” She would love to tell him all of it—Jennifer’s cancer, the fear the name Emerson generated, but couldn’t do it. It was more than just her at this point, it was others in the O’Malley family, and they had to be protected whatever the cost. She didn’t need reporters digging into the story of their family history.

  “You’re sure?”

  He sounded disappointed, and she regretted that. “Yes.” She caught the red flash from the security grid out of the corner of her eye and turned.

  Dave got up to check and looked frustrated at the interruption. “It’s Susan and Travis.”

  She picked up their two bowls and stacked them. “Go meet them.”

  He looked at her and hesitated.

  She smiled, touching his arm. “Dave, I’m not trying to shut you out. I’m just not at liberty to talk about some issues yet. I’m sorry. I may be able to tell you later.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Just don’t keep secrets that are going to affect your safety, okay?”

  She couldn’t answer that; she wasn’t going to lie to him. He went to meet Susan and Travis.

  The patrol officer arrived with the tapes as Travis and Susan walked the grounds with Dave. Kate set up the
answering machine on the coffee table in the living room. Why Dave felt the need to have two agents on the grounds tonight she didn’t understand, but trying to change his mind about something he had settled on was a hopeless cause.

  She heard the front door close and glanced up as Dave came back into the living room. “Which one do we start with?”

  He settled in the chair across from the couch. “The one that just came from your machine. I want to know if he called back after the bomb went off.”

  Nodding, she found the tape. It was a full tape of calls; the point in time that her name was leaked to the media was obvious by the immediate bombardment of the media. Nothing useful.

  Kate put in the first tape with the call from Wednesday afternoon and picked up a pad of paper and pen to make sure she transcribed it word for word.

  “Hello, Kate O’Malley. I’ve been looking for you, and what do I see—you made the news last night. We’ll have to meet soon.”

  “Have to meet soon? The guy is stalking you!”

  She had heard too many of them over the years to give it that kind of weight. She had known they were going to disagree on this; she tried to placate Dave’s concern. “The call talks about the bank holdup. Yes, it sounds like a convict from a case I’ve worked, but that doesn’t mean he has me located yet.” She ignored his frown. “Here’s the one you heard.”

  “Hello, Kate. I taped the news tonight. Sounds like you have trouble coming your way. Soon it will be more than you can handle.”

  The laugh made her shiver. “If that is the bomber, the words could be interpreted as a reference to the plane.”

  She looked at the jotted notes on the cassettes. “This one would have been—Saturday afternoon.”

  “I think you’ve given up trying to catch me. Does that mean I win?”

  “Different voice,” Dave said immediately.

  “Yes. We’ve already got an idea who this guy is. There’s an outstanding warrant for his arrest on an unrelated matter.” Kate drew a line through the words she had written. She changed the tapes. “Last one. Monday morning.”

  “Did you enjoy your weekend? It will be the last one for a while.”

  “That sounds like another reference to the plane.”

  She frowned, looking at the words. “Maybe.”

  “Let’s hear the cleaned up tape from the tower.”

  She found her pocket recorder, inserted the tape, and pressed the play button.

  “The bomb goes off at eleven-fifteen. The plane is talking to the tower. Tell Kate O’Malley I haven’t forgotten the past.”

  “The same voice,” Dave said grimly.

  Her hand shaking slightly, Kate rewound the tape to play it again. It was the same voice. “Call Jim, tell him to pull my phone records.” The bomber had been calling her. The fear was overwhelming. Could she have prevented all of this? The crash? Her stomach roiled at the thought.

  Dave was already dialing. “You are not going back to your apartment till we find this guy, Kate.” For once she totally agreed with him; changing cities sounded like a good option right now. Someone wanted her dead. He was toying with her, mocking her, and warning her he was coming. The black rose of death. She had probably totally misjudged that “gift” as well as the calls.

  Dave got her boss on the line and explained what they had found and arranged to send the tapes to the lab. He hung up the phone.

  “Kate!” Dave’s hand closed around the back of her neck and pushed her head down. “Don’t you dare pass out.”

  She needed that stinging voice to pull her back from the brink. “Sorry,” she mumbled, feeling the rush of blood returning to her face.

  He briskly rubbed her back. “Don’t do that! You scared me,” he complained.

  She pushed his hands away, sitting back up. She took a deep breath to push away the tremors. “The rose, Dave. It’s not Tersh, it’s the bomber. It’s a black rose of death.”

  Dave paled. “He was at your apartment?”

  “Yeah. I think so. It’s too coincidental that Bobby Tersh would appear within days of that call and the message ‘we’ll have to meet soon.’”

  “Did the black roses make the papers five years ago?”

  “They were mentioned when Tersh was arrested, then committed.”

  She looked at him, hoping he would contradict her interpretation. He didn’t. “Bobby’s car was never seen in Illinois.”

  “The bomber borrowed his MO,” she agreed, feeling cold.

  Set it aside, she demanded of herself. There was more information about this guy available now that they knew he was making the calls. Don’t you dare overreact to this threat! You’ve vowed never to let someone else dictate, control your life by fear. You’re letting him win!

  The reminder settled the emotions, shoved them aside, and calmed her inside. That’s better. Control the situation; don’t let it control you.

  She got up to pace. “They were running the tests this afternoon to find out where the bomb threat call originated. What did they find out?”

  “Hold on.” He called Bob Roberts and asked the question. “How certain are they about that?” He scrawled something on the pad of paper. “Okay. Thanks.” He hung up the phone.

  “Bob says they’ve determined the call was not made from inside any of the terminals. The power levels drop way off inside the building. Outside, the area is harder to pinpoint. The power levels were consistent along a strip of ground that goes from the general aviation terminal to the long-term parking lot. They found one area of elevated ground by the parking area that would let you look down onto the runways. If you wanted to watch what happened, that would be a good location.”

  Kate nodded at the news, but her focus had already shifted. Had she ever heard this voice before? When? Where? The bomb threat was as clear as the lab would be able to get it. She closed her eyes as she listened to it, again, and then again.

  Come on. She could nail this guy if she could just remember the voice.…

  She paced over to the window, holding the recorder to her ear as she played it again. Likely a bomb case…one by one she went through the list of names they had focused on from her past cases, and one by one she eliminated them. They would do it officially at the lab with the tapes on file, but she didn’t forget faces or voices.

  She felt like throwing the recorder but instead dropped herself down on the couch. “I don’t know the voice.”

  “It was a long shot that you would.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t forget voices, and if I haven’t met him, then we’ve got real trouble.” She got up to pace back to the window. “How are we going to catch a ghost?” She saw a car pull up to the distant security gate and heard Dave move to check the monitor.

  “Marcus is here.”

  Kate rather numbly gathered up the evidence that would need to go to the police lab. She sealed the tapes and marked the evidence bag. Marcus was back. He hadn’t called. There were several ways to interpret that, and she didn’t know which one to prepare for.

  Marcus paused just inside the doorway. She had never seen that look before on her brother’s face. He held out his hand. “Kate, let’s take a walk.”

  She set down the pad of paper without a word and joined him. The sun was low in the sky now, and the breeze from earlier in the day had died down. She had been through so much with Marcus. He didn’t want to hurt her; she could see it in his face. She was braced for the bad news long before he spoke.

  “No one has seen him since the blast. He’s gone underground.”

  He had run. If there had been doubts about Tony Jr.’s involvement, hope that somehow she was wrong, they crumbled in the dust. “There was no one at his home?”

  “His wife, Marla. Clearly frightened, nervous, but I think telling the truth. She hasn’t seen him since Tuesday morning.”

  Tony was married. She hadn’t considered that possibility. If he had a good life, why destroy it? Did he hate Nathan so much? Was losing the business so impo
ssible to live with that he took it out on innocent people?

  “There are men watching his house. This is being kept very close to the vest as the facts are checked out—it’s high priority, getting a lot of resources, but need-to-know for now.”

  She nodded, knowing they had to move quickly.

  “We should have a good bio on him in the next couple hours. But I’ve already learned one fact you need to know. He worked as a baggage handler at O’Hare several years ago. He was dismissed under suspicious circumstances. There wasn’t enough to charge him, but eight others in his section went to jail for moving drugs.”

  “So he knows both security procedures and people who still work there.”

  “That’s a safe assumption.”

  She shuddered at the pieces of this puzzle. “You’re saying he did it.”

  “I don’t know. Marla went pale as a ghost at the suggestion. She clearly believes he had nothing to do with it. I asked if she knew anything about the meeting with Nathan, and while she didn’t know specifics, she surprised me by offering us access to the company books. It’s possible the threat of losing the company was sufficient motive. He probably had access to the explosives. We’ll have to find out.”

  There wasn’t much doubt really. He had the means and the motive; he had the opportunity. “He’s disappeared.”

  “Not a good reality, but if he thought there was enough circumstantial evidence to make him look guilty? Maybe he panicked. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen that.”

  “Did Marla know Tony had a sister?”

  “No. He’s never mentioned you.”

  They walked in silence. She tried to absorb the news he had given her but was too tired now to do more than nod. “Get me another place to stay.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I don’t want to be here when the word gets out. You know what the media is going to be like. ‘Cop’s Brother Prime Suspect in Bombing.’ I don’t want Dave pulled into the middle of this.” She didn’t want to be near him twenty-four hours a day when the doubts, the suspicions, tore apart what might have become a good friendship.

  “Kate, I wish you would reconsider. I think you need Dave’s help. He’s good at his job.”

  “I know he is, but I don’t want him in the middle of this. Please.”

  Marcus sighed. “Think about it, in light of what we now know. If Tony is the man responsible, look at what he has done. He killed Nathan not caring how many others he killed. He pulled you directly into it by putting your name in the bomb threat. He’s striking out at those who he thinks are responsible for his problems.”