She tucked her shoulder under his armpit. “Unfortunately, you don’t have a choice. We’re partners and we have all those weddings to go to.”
Freddy started up the next flight.
On the thirty-fifth floor, Carter’s flashlight zeroed in on the door. “Excellent. We’re here. Open the door, Evie.”
He waited on the landing until both she and Freddy walked in. Inside was a cavernous room that appeared to be under renovation, mostly dark but for a pair of lights glowing in one of the far corners. Carter waved the pistol at the lights, and they threaded their way through scaffolding, five-gallon buckets of paint, drop cloths, and boxes of light fixtures. “New tenants, due to move in after the first of the year, felt the place could use a new paint job.”
Big space. Plenty of places to hide. The issue was Freddy. She had to get him out of the room and then the baby in her arms. They reached the far north corner with the lights. They were the fancy mounted kind of lights, like those used by filmmakers. A camera on a tripod stood between the lights, the Record button not yet powered up. A mound she took for a pile of paint tarps moved and groaned. It was Sabrina, the baby’s mother, shackled to a scaffold. With the back of her hand, the girl rubbed the snot from her nose. When Vandemere stepped into the soft pool of light, the girl’s whimpering turned into a wail.
“Shut! Up!” Vandemere shouted.
The girl screamed and lunged at Vandemere, the chain rattling and growing taut. “Give me my baby!” She clawed like an animal. The scaffolding shook but didn’t budge.
Carter lifted his gun and aimed it at the girl’s forehead.
“Calm down, Sabrina,” Evie said. Like Freddy, this girl was expendable. Carter didn’t care whether she lived or died. “He’s not going to hurt you if you do as he says, isn’t that right, Carter?”
“Yes. That’s the plan.” He jerked the gun, clearly tipped with a silencer, in an upward sweep. “Get up.”
The girl looked at Evie.
“Get up, Sabrina,” Evie said. “We’re going to get you to a safe place.”
The girl stood, never taking her eyes off the child still strapped to the bomber’s chest.
“Get the key, Butterboy,” Vandemere said. “It’s on the workbench.”
Bombers were meticulous planners. The more Evie knew, the better shot she had at getting herself and everyone else out of here. “What’s the plan?” Evie asked.
“I’m taking her to the floor below.” Carter pointed the gun at Freddy. “Him too.”
“Then you’ll let them go?”
He shook his head as if she were a child with the wrong answer and he was the second-grade teacher. “Then I’ll lock them in a supply closet, and sometime on Monday when the employees of the accounting firm of Marshall and Beck come in for work, they’ll find them, earlier if some hardworking stiff decides to clock in some hours on Saturday. Your friends will be thirsty and dirty, but alive.”
“The bomb?” Evie dipped her chin toward Freddy’s midsection.
“As long as Fat Freddy doesn’t pull any wires, he’ll be fine. Captain Ricci or any of his team will be able to shut him down in less than a minute.”
“Give me your word.”
“My word? Would you take my word, beautiful Evie?”
This man craved attention. She needed to give him strokes. “Absolutely.”
His chest puffed, and the baby whimpered. He waved the gun at Freddy. “Now, unlock one of the leg shackles from the girl.”
Freddy’s hands shook. His fingers glistening with sweat, he dropped the key. The girl let out a cry. Time was important to Carter because he knew that very soon Ricci and company would know she was missing. A simple search of her cell phone’s last location would identify her arrival at the Elliott Tower. Freddy fumbled in the gray beyond the pools of light and finally found the key. At last he got the shackle off the mother.
Carter waved the gun. “Now lock it around Evie’s ankle.”
Freddy squatted at her feet and looked up with huge eyes. When Ricci and the gang got here, they’d send men all over the tower, like ants on a giant wedding cake, and when someone got into the stairwell, they’d see the bits of red silk she’d been dropping like bread crumbs, the final tied to the doorknob of the landing on the thirty-fifth floor.
“Do it,” she told Freddy. The metal bit into the leather of her boot.
“Show me,” Carter said.
Freddy pulled on the metal. Solid. Locked.
“Same thing. Other side.”
Once again Freddy knelt and took the shackle off Sabrina. The girl stood and lunged toward Vandemere and her child.
Evie grabbed her shirt. “Don’t! He’s not going to shoot your baby, but he won’t hesitate to kill you.”
“Really, Evie, we’re soul mates. You know what’s in my head and in my heart.” Carter leveled the gun at the girl’s head. “To make it very clear, I will blow your brains out if you so much as come within ten feet of me. Got that?”
Sabrina threw her hand in front of her mouth, her teeth digging into her flesh as she tried to hold back the sobs.
“Stop stalling, Fat Ass,” Carter said to Freddy, who’d frozen in horror. “Get that on Evie’s other foot.”
Freddy locked the cuff in place and stood. He dusted his hands and knees. Something silver flashed, and he slipped the key in her hand and she bit back a smile. Despite his size, Freddy was a man with fast hands.
“Bad move, Freddy.” And Vandemere was a man with good eyes.
Evie’s stomach dropped as Carter, the gun barrel pressed against the baby’s head, held out his hand. “Throw me the key. Now!”
He was unraveling. She tossed the key. He pawed the air, but it flew past his shoulder and clattered under the workbench. He waved the gun at Freddy and Sabrina. “Now both of you, that way.” He pointed the gun at the door. “I’m taking you downstairs.”
“Give them the baby,” Evie said on a rush of air. She had to try. “There’s a doll in my car.”
“Nope. Not part of the deal. It’s always been and always will be you for the girl.”
“You don’t want to kill a child.”
“You’re right, Evie. I just want to create art.” He jabbed the mother in the back of the head with the gun. “Now move it.”
“My baby!” Sabrina grabbed Evie’s skirts. “You can’t let him hurt my baby!”
The mother’s scream tore through Evie’s head but didn’t shake her. “That’s not going to happen.” Not on her watch.
“Shut her up, Evie.” Vandemere ground his hands against his ears. “I can’t handle any more from her.”
“Sabrina, listen to me,” Evie said. “Your baby won’t be alone. She’ll be in my arms.”
“No, she won’t be safe there.” The young mother wailed. “I need her safe. In my arms.”
“First you need to save yourself. You and Freddy are going to a safe place, and I’m going to take care of your baby.” Evie untangled the girl’s fingers from her skirt. “Show her, Carter. Show her the original portrait you’re going to re-create. Show her your masterpiece.”
The bony hardness of his face softened around the edges. He picked up a sketch pad, holding it almost reverently. “Yes. The child will soon be in Evie’s arms.”
“Look at it, Sabrina,” Evie said. “I’ll have Angela. I’ll take care of her. Now do as he says. I can’t help your baby until you’re in a safe place.”
The girl took in a deep breath and shuffled toward the door to the stairwell.
Carter aimed the gun at Freddy. “You, too, Lard Butt.”
Freddy didn’t move, just like he hadn’t moved when Parker had come. BFFs for life. “Freddy,” Evie said between clenched teeth, “you’re going to do me much more good if you get out of this room to a different floor.”
Freddy’s terrified gaze shifted to his waist.
“Don’t worry about the IED, and don’t try to remove it yourself. Let Ricci take care of it.”
Freddy w
iped the sweat from his face, and Carter jerked the gun at him. Carter’s hand continued to shake so hard the gun clacked against his knuckles. Things were definitely not going as the bomber planned, which had him coming undone. If he blew and did something stupid, like shooting and setting off the bomb around Freddy’s waist, they could all die.
“He won’t kill you,” Evie said, her tone calm and factual. “You have a very specific role to play. You’re going to tell Carter’s story to millions. You have media contacts all over the world, and you’ve been taking pictures of all the bomb sites. You’re even going to get a six-figure book deal out of it. Tell Carter about it.”
“Uh, yeah.” Freddy’s gaze flicked from Evie to Vandemere. “I’m…uh…calling it After the Boom.”
Carter blinked, his hand growing steady. “Yes. I need you alive.”
Evie almost sank to the floor in a puddle of skirts, her relief was so great. “Get them out of here, Carter.” Preservation of life was key. Two down. Two more to go. “And Freddy, I expect fifteen percent, got it?”
Carter pointed the gun at the stairwell, and Freddy and Sabrina shuffled through the paint cans and scaffolding. A single-file line, Carter at the back. With his back to her, Evie scanned the area. She needed a weapon. On the floor near a stack of paint tarps was something long and shiny. A screwdriver. Evie stretched out on her stomach and reached. The tips of her fingers were within a half inch, and her mouth twisted. Why the hell didn’t she have long, girly nails?
“Open the door,” Carter told Freddy.
She stretched, the shackles digging into her booted ankles, and touched metal. She might even be able to use it to pick the lock.
“Dammit, I said open the door, Porker!”
With the tip of her finger, she rolled the screwdriver closer.
Near the door, someone screamed, “Noooooooo!”
Evie looked up just in time to see Sabrina spring toward Vandemere. “I’m not going to let you hurt my baby.”
Carter raised the gun. Even from across the room Evie could see the tremor gripping his arm. Pop!
The girl’s body froze in midair, her arms wide as if ready to hug. A pool of dampness, more black than red in the shadows, seeped across her shoulder. She collapsed onto the floor.
Freddy teetered for a moment, a giant mountain about to tumble and fall. He grabbed another scaffold as if to steady himself and pulled. Paint cans clattered and splattered. Freddy lumbered toward the door.
Carter turned the gun on the wide, slow target.
“You shoot him, and he’ll pitch forward onto the IED,” Evie called out. “If he lands on it, we all die.”
Pop!
The mountain crumbled and Evie choked out a cry. “Freddy!”
Carter ran to the still mound and leaned over the body, his fingers flying. Seconds later, he held up a black wire. “It’s amazing what someone with the right knowledge can do in just a few seconds.”
Evie’s chin sank into her chest as she bit back a sob.
Carter tucked the gun into the child carrier and wiped blood splatter from his hands on his jeans, unfazed that he’d gunned down two innocents. Were they dead? She listened for breathing. Silence. Damn her ears!
Carter came back to the corner and adjusted both lights so they shone directly on her. “Ready for the show?”
She lowered her gaze to avoid the brightness. Keeping him talking meant keeping him from setting the bomb. She gripped the screwdriver in her hand buried in the folds of her skirt. “What’s your gig? Are you streaming live? Got someone from the news media on board?”
“No, not this time. The final show is only for one.”
“Jack.” Evie’s heart plunged to the pit of her stomach. Because everything kept coming back to Jack. Her fingers tightened around the screwdriver.
“Yes, Jack,” Carter said. “Who doesn’t know good art when it’s right in front of him.”
“All because the Abby Foundation rejected you for a grant.” She squinted through the brightness and spotted him in silhouette. He was six inches from the right side of the camera.
“Because of Abby.”
“Abby?” She bent back her wrist.
“My muse. The light and love of my life. The woman I gave my heart to. She said I frightened her, repulsed her.” Spit flew from his mouth, the droplets illuminated as they shot across the bright cones of light. “I had to stop those horrible, ugly words.” He brought his fingers up to his throat. “And as I stopped the words, she was gasping and calling big brother’s name the entire time. ‘Help me, Jack. I need you, Jack.’” He jammed his gun hand at the ceiling. “It should have been my name on her lips. My name!”
The muscles along Evie’s shoulder tightened as she lifted her arm.
Carter jerked his gun hand. Pop. Crack! A section of the scaffolding behind her shook and splintered. She ducked, but not before a chunk of wood slammed into her upper arm.
He made a tsking sound. “I’m an artist, Evie. I see things most people miss.” He aimed the gun at her chest. “Now put down the screwdriver. It’s ruining the composition.”
Her arm throbbing, the screwdriver clattered to the floor.
Chapter Forty-One
Friday, November 6
8:44 p.m.
Ricci checked his watch, then the street.
“Where the hell is she?” Knox asked. “If she doesn’t get here soon, this thing could blow up in our faces. You think she got lost or something?”
Brooks, the sharpshooter from Evie’s team, drilled him with a glare. “Does Evie look like the type to get lost?”
“Has anyone tried calling her?” Cho asked.
“I did.” Every gaze turned to Parker Lord. “She’s not answering her phone. I’m getting a trace.”
* * *
8:51 p.m.
Evie was so far out of her comfort zone, she would have laughed if she weren’t staring death in the face. She had no gun, no body armor, nothing that went boom. All she had was a red froufrou dress and a baby in her one good arm. Little Angela kicked her legs and let out a sharp cry.
Evie rocked. “It’s not going to work, Carter.”
“Of course it will. I’ve been making bombs for the past decade.”
“Not the bomb, your plan. You are not going to get out of this alive. The police know what you look like. They know you operate downtown. There’s no way you’ll get by the barricades they have set up.”
“I will.” Carter affixed a piece of black electrical tape to a wire. “You look skeptical, Evie, but I have someone who loves me, who’ll do anything to help me and make my horrendous life a little better any way she can. Put ice packs on black eyes from schoolyard bullies. Wipe tears from my fat little face. Feed me chocolate cake until I’m ready to puke.”
Evie pictured the woman with the garage apartment. “Your mother.”
“Yes, a mother’s love is amazing, isn’t it? Strong, unbending, and never, ever ending.”
He picked up the cylinder from the workbench. “Now take a good look, Evie.” He stroked it, a smile twisting his lips. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He stood partially in the shadows, but she could see it was the same type of IED as the ones used on the previous victims.
The bundle in her arms kicked and mewed. Whatever drug Carter had pumped into baby Angela was wearing off.
Holding the device with two hands, he walked toward her. Good. Same collapsing circuit, which meant she had thirty seconds. That’s all she needed to disarm it. The flesh of her upper arm throbbed where she’d been hammered by a flying chunk of the scaffolding, and she took stock. Blood seeped through the sleeve of the silk dress, and she had limited mobility in her shoulder. Not one hundred percent, but that hadn’t stopped her before. Her fingers itched to get to work. But instead of strapping the bomb to her waist, he walked past her and placed it behind the bench, well out of reach.
“Wait! That isn’t how you do things. The bomb is supposed to be on me.” She licked her lips, dry and parched
, like her throat.
“You’re my biggest fan, Evie, and you know my work. Too well.” He smiled a grotesquely wide smile, the planes of his face becoming more skeleton-like. “Anyway, with the increased distance, the trajectory widens, creating a larger mass for carnage.” He cocked his head, as if seeing the work from a new angle. “Beautiful.”
Angela flailed, and Evie rocked faster. Calm down, sweet baby, calm down.
He reached for the timer.
“Wait!”
“No, Evie. It’s time.” He flicked the switch on the side of the cylinder.
The numbers glowed red. Thirty minutes.
“Bye, bye, beauty.”
She yanked on the shackles. “Waaaait!”
Baby Angela screamed.
Carter Vandemere laughed as he slipped from behind the bench and reached for the camera’s Power button.
Someone grunted. The tower of five-gallon paint buckets near the workbench teetered, then tumbled. One caught Vandemere in the head. Blood burst from his temple. Beige paint spilled across his body. With a groan, he and the camera crashed onto the floor.
“Freddy!” Evie cried out.
Sabrina, the child’s mother, staggered from behind the workbench and ran toward Evie. “My baby!”
“Go back to the workbench. Find the key.”
The mother grabbed the child and hugged her to her chest, leaving Evie’s arms unbearably empty.
“The key!” Evie shouted. Because of the shackles, she couldn’t reach the bomb to disarm it. And with her injured arm, the best option was to free herself and run. “Check under his workbench. Find the key.”
Sabrina ran toward the bench but stopped five feet from Vandemere. Her arms drew tighter around her daughter.
“The key!”
“I…I…can’t.” The girl backed away as if facing a monster. “I can’t go near him.”
“That’s okay, Sabrina. Go to the floor below. Find a phone. Call nine-one-one. Hurry, you need to get Angela out of here.”
Twenty-seven minutes.
The girl breathed in the child’s scent, her chest expanding as if drawing strength from the baby’s essence. Leaning on the scaffolding, she made her way to the door.
The Blind Page 29