by Sam Sisavath
“Yes. What did she tell you?”
“Now why would I tell you anything?”
“It doesn’t matter if you tell me or not. I didn’t kill the two bikers. Someone else did. Mickey will tell you the same thing, if she hasn’t already.”
“We’re not talking about two lowlife bikers right now. We’re talking about James Kale. We’re talking about the wife he left behind. The two kids that won’t be able to see their father come home tonight.”
“I didn’t kill him, and the truth won’t change regardless of how many times you keep asking the same question.”
“What about Tom Marshall?”
“What about him?”
“You still don’t know who he is? What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
“I’m done talking to you.”
“Are you invoking your Fifth Amendment rights?”
“You’re goddamn right I am.”
The second interview with Dawson hadn’t gone very well. It was also much, much shorter. Not that Allie was very surprised by how it’d turned out. They had her dead to rights. Even if they couldn’t get her on the deliveryman’s murder—and she had a feeling they were going to push for that anyway despite the lack of evidence—they had her for escaping custody. Never mind that she hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing; she had taken the opportunity, so it wasn’t going to really matter how she got out, only that she had.
There were other hosts of charges they could bring against her that no one had mentioned yet. Breaking and entering at the Don’t Stop In, then taking Mickey hostage, were just two more. The bartender could swear Allie wasn’t the one who had shot the bikers dead at Pete Williams’s trailer home, but she would also be able to swear that Allie had taken her there at gunpoint.
Allie had thought about telling Dawson about the security video at the Don’t Stop In, about how Pete had slipped the note that had started all of this underneath her coaster. But she didn’t, because that wouldn’t have done very much to help her innocence. The truth was, she wasn’t innocent. At least, not against most of the charges they were preparing to throw at her.
But all of that was for the days, weeks, and months to come, and didn’t mean squat as she sat on the same bench in the same private cell in the back of the same holding area. Except this time there was a permanent guard stationed outside her cell bars—Parker, the chatty female deputy from yesterday. Parker had either been instructed not to engage in conversation with her, or she’d come to the conclusion that the overt friendliness she’d shown Allie yesterday was not a good idea today. Allie had tried to talk to her, but Parker had stayed silent.
I guess we’re not buddies anymore.
That left Allie to sit in the small room by herself, surrounded by brick and mortar on three sides and steel bars on the fourth. Even her cellmates hadn’t tried talking to her. Everyone, it seemed, had realized that things were getting very serious and that Allie was a person to stay very, very far away from.
Not that she blamed Parker or the others. They didn’t even know about half of the mess she’d found herself stuck in. If they only knew the rest, they probably wouldn’t even want to be caught in the same building with her.
So where did all of that leave her?
Shit city, that’s where.
Dawson hadn’t mentioned anything about the phone they’d found on her person when she was arrested, and the detective hadn’t even bothered to ask her how she’d “escaped” in the first place. Allie had a feeling, though she couldn’t prove it, that he either already knew or he suspected. Whatever the reason, he hadn’t broached it, though she was very certain neither he nor the DA were going to let that stop them from charging her for the crime anyway.
They could charge her with another ten felonies for all she cared. Allie wasn’t concerned about court appearances or upcoming trials. What happened weeks or months from now was the least of her worries.
Right now, her mind was on Pete.
It had to be him who had taken out Mitch and Greasy Lips back at the trailer park. Who else could it be? He had the opportunity, the weapon…
So what else are you capable of, Pete?
A lot of things, as it turned out. He definitely wasn’t just a bartender. Pete had known what he was doing. There were no amateur qualities to the way he moved or handled his weapon. He’d switched between fire selectors on the M4A1 rifle—from full-auto to semi—depending on the situation to conserve ammo. He was also a cold-blooded killer. There was no denying that. He’d shot James Kale down like a dog and then laughed about it.
James Kale…
“We’re talking about James Kale,” Dawson had said. “We’re talking about the wife he left behind. The two kids that won’t be able to see their father come home tonight.”
Sure, there was a chance that Dawson was lying about Kale’s family, but she didn’t think so. Kale had left two kids and a wife behind, all because he’d stopped and got out of his vehicle when he saw Allie in the road. He was trying to be a Good Samaritan, and it had gotten him murdered for it.
“We’re talking about the wife he left behind. The two kids that won’t be able to see their father come home tonight.”
James Kale. The name was permanently etched inside Allie’s mind.
I’m sorry, James Kale. I’m truly sorry…
The wall behind her shook.
It wasn’t very much, but enough for Allie to be aware of it. The absence of any noise or activity inside her cell, the hallway outside, or seemingly the entire building, didn’t hurt.
She was sitting slightly forward on the bench when she felt it again.
This time it wasn’t just the wall behind her but the floor and ceiling, too. They trembled for a second or two, as if caught in the aftershock of an earthquake.
Earthquake? Can’t be.
She got up and walked over to her cell bars. Parker was still outside, but instead of leaning against the wall where she’d been all day, the deputy was farther up the hallway, talking into her radio.
“What’s going on?” Allie asked.
Parker didn’t answer or turn around. She was too busy listening to a muffled voice on her radio.
“Parker,” Allie said. “What’s going on? What was that trembling?”
The deputy glanced over her shoulder. “You felt that too?”
Allie nodded. “Twice.”
“I knew it wasn’t my imagination.” She turned around and clicked her radio, and said into it, “It’s not just me, other people felt it, too. Anyone know what’s going on out there?”
Allie leaned against the cold metal bars but couldn’t make out the voice that responded over Parker’s radio. Instead of interrupting the deputy, Allie waited patiently.
About five or so minutes later, Parker put her radio away and walked back over.
“What happened?” Allie asked.
“Some kind of explosion a few blocks from here,” Parker said.
“An explosion?”
“A vehicle in a strip mall parking lot. Someone planted a bomb inside and detonated it.”
“Who was it?”
Parker shrugged. “The pros are on the scene now.”
“Anyone hurt?”
“Not that I know of. They evacuated the area before the explosion.”
“They evacuated the area?”
“Apparently the bomber called in a warning thirty minutes before, so they were able to get everyone out of the place. The blast was strong enough it still took out most of the windows along the shops and cars, though.”
An explosion. A premeditated one, where the bomber warned them ahead of time. Did it have anything to do with her? Did she want it to have anything to do with her?
Parker was standing outside her cell bars now and giving Allie a stare that told Allie the deputy was wondering the same thing.
“What?” Allie said anyway.
“You know anything about this?” Parker asked.
“How would I know?”<
br />
“That’s not a no.”
“No. I don’t know anything about this, Parker.”
Parker didn’t say anything, but kept staring at Allie for a moment or two.
Finally, the deputy nodded, before walking over to the wall next to Allie’s cell to resume her position.
“So?” Allie said. She could just barely see Parker’s side profile from inside her cell, and even that required pressing her face against the slick—and disgusting—bars.
“So, what?” Parker said.
“What else did they tell you?”
“That’s all.”
“Someone put a bomb in a car and parked it in a strip mall, then told the authorities to evacuate the area?”
“That’s about it.”
“That’s odd, don’t you think?”
Parker chuckled. “You think that’s odd?”
“Don’t you?”
“After the week this town’s been through? I’d say that’s the least odd thing that’s happened.”
Allie smiled. She had to admit, the deputy made a good point.
Parker turned around and leaned over as if afraid someone might eavesdrop on their conversation. “Tell me. How’d you get out of there last night?”
“They didn’t tell you?” Allie asked.
The deputy shook her head. “No one knows. The deputies on duty last night said they didn’t see or hear anything.”
Except for Deputy Lincoln, who is apparently a very believable liar, Allie thought but didn’t interrupt Parker.
The other woman continued. “All the security footage from last night was erased. I mean, all of them, including the ones in here. No one could figure out how you did it; how you just walked out of here.” Parker leaned in even closer. “How did you do it?”
Allie didn’t answer right away. Was Parker trying to entrap her? Was all of this an elaborate charade to find out the truth of last night or to get her to admit guilt on camera?
She glanced up at the camera on the wall near the ceiling across the hallway from her cell. It was pointed right at her and Parker.
“So?” Parker said. “How’d you do it? How’d you just walk out of here?”
Allie smiled. “Are you sure you want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Are you really sure?”
Parker didn’t answer quite as quickly the second time. She seemed to be thinking about it, before pulling slightly back and shaking her head.
“On second thought,” Parker said as she resumed her position against the wall. “Forget I said anything. All of this is way above my pay grade.”
Smart woman. Wish I could forget about all this, too.
“You married, Parker?” Allie asked.
“Divorced,” Parker said.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Why? I’m not. He was a major league twat and whoremonger. I’m glad I kicked his ass to the curb when I did.”
“Good for you.”
“Damn straight,” Parker said, when there was a loud banging noise from up the hallway.
Allie pressed her face against the bars to get a better look, but there was no chance of seeing what was happening all the way up the other side of the corridor. Parker had no such difficulties, and she turned around to check the commotion before glancing back at Allie.
That’s not a good sign, Allie thought when she saw the expression on Parker’s face. It looked worried. Very, very worried.
She found out why when Dawson appeared, surrounded by six heavily-armed SWAT commandos in full urban assault gear.
Definitely not a good sign.
“What’s going on, sir?” Parker asked.
“We’re moving the prisoner to another location,” Dawson said.
“Why? What happened?”
“The key, Deputy.”
Parker handed the key over before stepping aside.
“Step back,” Dawson said to Allie.
She did, retreating from the bars. “Why am I being moved?”
“There’s been a bomb threat on the station,” Dawson said. He nodded at the commandos, and one of them opened the cell door with Parker’s key. “We’re evacuating everyone, including you.”
“Turn around and get down on your knees,” one of the commandos said as he entered the cell.
Allie did as instructed. Not that she had any choice. Her chances against one heavily-armed and fully-geared SWAT was low enough, but six of them?
One of them grabbed her wrists and bent them behind her back without an ounce of TLC.
She grimaced, but instead of whining about it, said to Dawson—even though she couldn’t see him behind her, “Why would someone want to bomb a police station?”
“We’ll be sure to ask the bomber when we catch him,” Dawson said.
The commando jerked her back up to her feet and turned her around. Two of them flanked her, thick, gloved hands grabbing each one of her arms before they led her outside.
Dawson walked up the hallway, and Allie’s entourage followed. Allie locked eyes with Parker, who mouthed “Good luck” as she passed.
The occupants of the general cells were at their bars looking out at her with curious eyes. One of them was the man with the mullet that had tried to strike up a conversation with her the previous day. He wasn’t very curious today.
Up ahead, uniformed deputies entered the holding area. Allie guessed they would be moving the other cell occupants next.
She focused on Dawson, walking in front of her. “I don’t know anything about this, Dawson. I’ve been in here all day, remember?”
“I didn’t say you had anything to do with this,” Dawson said.
“Then why am I being moved?”
“I told you: We’re moving everyone. The entire station is being evacuated. You just happen to be a very special case.”
“All this over a bomb threat?”
“Not a bomb threat, but the latest bomb threat.”
“Wait. How many have there been?”
“Three. The first one was on an abandoned trailer outside the city limits. The second one was at a strip mall parking lot. Now the station. We’re not taking any chances.” Then, without any conviction, “But of course you don’t know anything about this.”
Allie shook her head. “I don’t know anything about this.”
“Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t. But if you have friends out there who are trying to help you escape again, they’re going to find out very quickly that it’s not going to be so easy the second time around.”
Dawson grabbed the door and pulled it open, revealing a hallway filled with even more SWAT commandos that stared back at her from behind their Kevlar helmets and goggles. Ten, maybe twenty of them. It was difficult to count the number with everyone squeezed into the small corridor, their bulky urban assault gear and military-grade weapons taking up all the space.
“Let’s move!” Dawson barked as the door behind Allie slammed shut with the force of a bomb.
Twenty-Seven
Three bomb threats, including two that were already carried out. The one outside the city limits had gone unnoticed by Allie because of the distance, but not the one at the strip mall parking lot. And now, the police station. It was as if the bomber wanted the WCPD to know that he was serious, and that he was getting closer, almost like a…well, ticking bomb.
“Maybe you do, and maybe you don’t,” Dawson had said. “But if you have friends out there who are trying to help you escape again, they’re going to find out very quickly that it’s not going to be so easy this time.”
There wasn’t a question in any of that. The detective clearly didn’t believe her when she said she had nothing to do with this or even knew anything about it. Maybe she shouldn’t have expected anything but doubt. She had, after all, been lying to Dawson for two straight days now. Why would he believe her now?
Besides, not that this changed anything for him or the rest of the police department. The bomber had made his intenti
ons clear and had already proven capable of doing exactly what he’d threatened: set off bombs at designated spots. What she didn’t know was the bomber’s final goal.
Was it her? It couldn’t be…
…could it?
No one she knew would do such a thing. Even though Parker had said no one was injured in the strip mall bomb, the possibility of injury, or even death, was there. Shopping centers were popular places. Neither Hank nor Lucy would take such a risk even if they were capable of this, which they weren’t. Hank was an ex-cop and maybe knew his way around explosives, but Lucy was just a teenager trying to finish her senior year of high school. Allie could trust the girl around a computer, but not a bomb.
So it couldn’t have been anyone she knew, which meant this didn’t involve her. Besides, she wasn’t the only one being held at the station. There were two other cells, both nearly full of people, including three Devil’s Crew MC bikers. Now those were people capable of something like this. For all she knew, any of the others could have a crazy friend running around out there blowing things up to get them moved. It was suicide to assault a police station filled with armed cops, but if you could get them outside and on the move...
And that was precisely what was happening now. She wasn’t the only one being relocated; the others were as well. She just happened to have the biggest entourage, with the biggest guns to make sure she didn’t escape again. If Dawson and the others only knew how she had simply walked out last night, they wouldn’t have gone to such extremes and concentrated so much of their manpower on her.
Allie thought about trying to convince Dawson that this didn’t have anything to do with her, but he didn’t appear to be in any mood to talk. The detective sat next to her on the metal bench inside the back of the armored transport, cleaning his glasses with a small square cloth that he kept inside one of his jacket pockets.
They weren’t the only two in the moving vehicle. There was a SWAT commando sitting on her left and another one to Dawson’s right. Three more occupied the bench opposite from them. They carried rifles—two Colt AR-15s and an M4A1 that looked similar to the model Pete had used earlier today, except the man holding it was bigger than Pete in the shoulders.