Uncharted Fate

by Racette, Cynthia

  Jeff waited for the perp to answer, anxious to hear his voice, to try to somewhat assess what kind of crazed fool he was dealing with. When he got no response, he went on, “We know you have the mayor in there and a woman. You have to tell us who you are and who she is. She has a family somewhere and they have right to know she’s in there.”

  “My name is Mark Spencer. The woman's name is Anna. I don’t know her last name. She used to work at Betty’s Diner.”

  Jeff's stomach fell like a stone and his heart skipped about three beats. “Anna? Are you sure? Anna Lamoreaux?” He felt like he was going to vomit.

  “Lemme check.” Jeff heard muffled sounds, then, “Is your last name Lamoreaux, Anna?” There was a pause, during which Jeff died a thousand deaths. The perp’s voice came back on. “Yeah, it is. How did you know that?”

  Jeff fought to stay levelheaded. “I know Anna. Let me speak to her, please.”

  "I dunno if it's okay or not, man. Why do you want to talk to her?"

  "Let me talk to her,” Jeff used as calm a voice as he could muster. "I want to make sure she’s all right. Would you feel better putting the phone on speaker? Then you can hear both sides."

  "Yeah, we could do that." Jeff heard him say to someone, "Cop wants me to put it on speaker."

  "That button." The speakerphone became obvious a moment later when Jeff heard the ambient noise from the call. "Anna, are you okay?"

  "Jeff," she said with a gasp. “Jeff, is it you?”

  “Yes, it’s me. Are you all right, Anna? He didn’t hurt you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “How did it happen you got mixed up in this thing?" Her tone was nearly hysterical and Jeff prayed she’d keep her cool.

  "I—It happened in the lobby downstairs and he brought me up here with a gun to my head."

  "I see. Did he hurt you in any way?"

  "No, I'm okay. Just scared."

  "I want to keep this line open so we can talk to all of you."

  "Okay. He heard you. You'd better talk to him now."

  “Mark.” Jeff made his voice calm. “It'll make it easier for you this way. And if we both keep our line connected we can talk about anything you want to, any time you want. Doesn't that make sense?”

  “We're all set here now. But you know, Anna is fine. I wouldn’t hurt her. Unless you pull something shady on me. As long as you deal straight with me, she'll be safe.”

  When Mayor Stanton sat back down beside Anna, he leaned over and whispered, "I don't know if it gives us any advantage, knowing where the police are set up, but they’re in the data processing office. I could tell from the extension the cop is using. We need to keep this knowledge from Spencer, though." They both turned back to Mark as he began to speak once more.

  Anna glanced up and walked closer to the phone so she could hear Jeff better. “Mark, the policeman wants to know how I know you," she said. "Can I tell him?”

  Mark hesitated. “I guess.”

  She crept closer to the speaker. “His name is Mark.”

  "Yeah, I know that much. What else?" Jeff asked.

  “He has a wife named Stephanie and two daughters and he lives on Hawley Street. I met him at Betty’s Diner. I think I mentioned him to you once or twice when I took some food over for him and his family.”

  Mark pushed her away from the phone. “You don’t need to know my life story, cop.”

  “My name is Detective Thomas. I’ll be the one talking with you. Just me and no one else. If you want anything, or need anything, dial extension 4012 and ask for me.” Jeff softened his voice and Anna had to wonder if all police officers were trained to use that tone with an agitated suspect. “Anna said you have a wife and two children. It must be difficult if Anna is helping your family with food. Are you sure you don’t want to give this up now for their sakes? Think of them.”

  Mark swallowed hard. “This is for their sakes. All of it. All I’ve ever done is for their sakes. You want to get me out of here, Thomas? You find me a job and make me a guarantee I won’t be shot or arrested when I open this door.”

  “I can’t guarantee you won’t be arrested. You’ve broken the law.”

  Anna saw visible panic take hold of Mark. “You’d better, Thomas!” he shouted. “Or I’ll stay here until Doomsday. And the job is a deal breaker. For sure. You've gotta find me someplace to work. A decent job, too.”

  Jeff's voice was soothing and reassuring. “I think we can find you a job. What kind of job do you want?”

  “I’m trained to be a refrigeration repairman—freezers, air conditioners, refrigerators. All I want is to be able to do my trained work again. And not get laid off every winter.”

  “I’ll try to arrange something. I’ll be here all afternoon and I'll get back to you by five o’clock. If you need anything before then, remember you can just shout for me—got it?”

  The phone clicked in Jeff’s ear, which meant Mark had decided not to keep the line open. He stood wearily, shedding his navy suit jacket and vest. He wished he’d gotten some sleep last night, because he knew he wouldn’t get any tonight. He glanced at Carruthers. “This is going to be bad news. We’ve got the worst kind in there. He’s scared stiff, and he believes he’s on the side of justice—a poor, downtrodden young man who only wants to feed his family.”

  “You don’t usually sound this cynical, Jeff.”

  “I don’t usually have a kidnapper on my hands who’s holding my future wife hostage.”

  Carruthers let out a soft whistle. “Ooh, your Anna.”

  “Yes, my Anna. Actually, I feel sorry for the kid. Carruthers, I want you to go down to Betty’s Diner and ask for Betty. Bring her up here. She knows this Mark Spencer and she may be able to help us figure out how to deal with him. Have someone call Dr. Morelli. He’s worked with me before when we needed a psychologist. Also, have somebody bring up my hostage handbook. And send a squad car to Hawley Street and have them ask around until you find his place. I want to bring his wife here. Her name is Stephanie. Maybe she can talk some sense into him.”

  Carruthers nodded.

  “I’d better call Anna’s neighbor. Anna gave me her number. It’s here someplace.” Jeff flipped through his small black address book until he found her name. “Rose, that’s it. I’ve got to tell her what’s happened so she can take care of Mallory and Brian.”

  He punched the number in his iPhone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Rose? This is Jeff Thomas, the man Anna has been seeing.”

  Rose sounded startled. “Yes, may I help you?”

  “Could you babysit for Brian and Mallory when they get home from school?”

  “Of course. I always take care of Brian in the afternoon, although Mallory usually fends for herself.”

  “I think you’d better keep both of them there with you today. I don’t know when Anna is going to be able to come home.” If she comes home.

  “Why? Is there something wrong?”

  Jeff took a deep breath. “Have you heard about the hostage situation at city hall?”

  “No, why?”

  “I’m afraid she’s being held, along with the mayor, in his office.”

  “Anna?” Rose’s voice squeaked in his ear.

  “Yes.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Yes, so far. And we’re going to do our best to keep her all right. The mayor's there, too. It’s shaping up to be a siege. If I can tell her the kids are safe and being cared for, it’ll take one worry off her mind at least.”

  “I’ll keep them right here. Should I tell them what’s happening?”

  “I think so. They’ll be pretty upset, but it isn’t fair to hide it from them. They might get it from Twitter or Facebook or something. Or they may sense something’s wrong an
yway.”

  “The elementary bus just pulled up at the corner. I’d better go. Brian's here. Keep me posted, okay?”

  “Will do if I can. And thanks.”

  Anna crept along the sofa and peered through a sliver of the window overlooking the promenade. A mobile unit from the local TV station had set up across the road from the steps going into the municipal building. The place where, only two hours ago, she'd walked with indifference up the stairs, unaware of what lay ahead of her in the ultramodern building.

  Who in their wildest imaginings and nightmares would ever expect something like this to happen to them? But to who else, really? No one was entitled to this kind of horror, nonetheless some people had it thrust upon them through cruel mischance.

  She watched Mark, sitting on top of Mayor Stanton’s desk, his feet swaying so his heels kept thumping against the desk in agitation, his fingers twitching on the handle of his gun. Were all hostage-takers like him? Someone many people knew and liked? Someone trodden down by circumstance? Someone caught in a whirlwind of events getting too out of hand too quickly? Mark was, without a doubt, out of his mind with fear, and had no idea how to deal with the situation. That made him dangerous—not with evil intent, not aggressively-natured, not with a tendency toward crime and hostility—but fear, uncertainty and desperation.

  A patrolman came into the data processing room and stopped in front of Jeff’s desk. “Sir? There’s a whole mob of TV people outside the building. They’d like a short interview with you.”

  Jeff looked up. “I don’t have time for it now.”

  “The chief says he wants you to do it. There are too many wild rumors and he wants you to give the news people some facts to try to control some of the speculation.”

  “Then tell him to do it.”

  “I spoke to him, sir, and he sent me up to you.”

  “Oh, all right. I’ll have to get someone to man this phone in case Spencer calls through while I'm gone.”

  Just then Carruthers came through the door with a frightened-looking Betty behind him. “Oh, good. Carruthers, you stay here and keep an eye on things while I go talk to the news people. If Spencer calls, send for me immediately.”

  Betty rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Jeff, this is awful. I stopped and told Henri. He was horrified. Poor Anna. Poor Mark.”

  “‘Poor Mark’ is the one who initiated this thing. He’s the reason we've had to evacuate hundreds of people from all over this building. They were jumping out of their skins every time the floor creaked and we couldn't take a chance on anyone getting in the line of fire anyway.”

  “But he’s a good boy. I’m sure this thing just got out of hand.”

  “That’s the impression I got. However, we have to deal with the situation as it is.” An idea came to him. “Betty, come with me and talk to the newsmen. You can give them information on Mark Spencer.”

  Betty looked flustered. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

  “Yes, you can.” Jeff took her hand and pulled her after him. “Let’s go.”

  Cameras and mikes were set up around the corner from the building where the mayor’s suite watched the city. Jeff recognized the anchorman from the six o’clock news who stepped forward to take over the questioning.

  “Detective Thomas? I hear you’ve been put in charge of handling the hostage situation. Could you tell us exactly what’s been happening up there?” The anchorman thrust a mike at him.

  Jeff looked straight into the camera. “Mark Spencer, age approximately twenty-five, is holding two hostages in the mayor’s office. The hostages are Mayor Stanton and Mrs. Anna Lamoreaux, a woman he grabbed in the lobby as he was being approached by security guards.”

  “Can you tell us anything about this Spencer? Does he have a record? Is he making any demands?”

  “He has no record. He has been out of work for some time, and he says all he wants is a job.” Jeff turned toward Betty. “This is the proprietress of Betty’s Diner. She's familiar with him.”

  Betty leaned into the mike. “Mark is really a nice boy. He’s been out of work since early last fall, over a year. It’s been awfully hard on him and his family since his unemployment ran out. I’ve heard him say time and time again all he ever wanted was a good job so he could support his wife and children.” Betty’s anxiety over the situation was beginning to show. “It seems to me society is more at fault than Mark. Why—”

  The anchorman cut her off with a smile. “Thank you, Betty.” He turned to Jeff. “Detective, have you tried to talk him into giving himself up?”

  “Yes, of course. He says he won’t leave until we promise him the job and safe conduct.”

  “Will you get him that job?”

  Jeff shook his head. “We can promise him a job after a time, but he’ll have to be arrested and stand trial for kidnapping and more. That’s the hitch and he knows it.”

  At that moment, a patrol car pulled up to the curb and a policeman helped a young woman out of the car. She was dressed in tattered jeans and a faded tee shirt.

  “Stephanie,” Betty cried, rushing forward to enfold the girl in her arms.

  “Bet it’s the wife,” the anchorman murmured. “Get a shot of her.” The camera pivoted around and focused on the two women. Stephanie collapsed in tears on Betty’s shoulder.

  The anchorman strode forward with his microphone. “Mrs. Spencer, could you shed some light on what could have motivated your husband to commit a crime like this?”

  Stephanie raised her head, her face dazed, and blinked the tears out of her eyes. When she spotted the TV camera and microphone, she shook her head weakly and started to cry again. “No, please . . . I can’t . . . please.” She ran in blind panic away from the cluster of accusatory, inquisitive people, and the mobile camera operator started to follow her.

  Jeff ran forward and stopped the cameraman with a hand on his sleeve. “Enough, mister.” He caught up with Stephanie. Putting an arm around her shaking shoulders, he led her into the building to the elevator and the fourth floor. Betty followed them in silence. They stepped off the elevator and Jeff stood staring at the big, empty reception room. Nothing had changed.

  “Is this where they are?” murmured Stephanie.

  “Yes, through the door behind the secretary’s desk.”

  He led her down the hall to the data processing office. Carruthers, sitting in the chair in front of the phone, looked up and stood quickly. “The mayor’s wife is here. We put her in that first office down the hall.”

  Jeff’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t sure he could handle more than he was already facing. “Stephanie, sit here at one of the desks. I have to go talk to Mrs. Stanton and reassure her as much as I can. When I get back, I’d like you to call your husband and try to talk him into giving himself up. Betty, could you stay with her please, and keep her company?”

  Betty nodded and Stephanie fiddled with the handle of the imitation leather handbag she was clutching. “Detective Thomas, please tell Mrs. Stanton I’m really sorry.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  Jeff headed down the hallway and slipped into the office. A woman, presumably the mayor’s wife, jumped up. She looked like someone's beloved grandmother, an attractive woman around fifty-five years old. She nervously fingered the buttons on the powder-blue blazer she was wearing with a blue-plaid skirt.

  “How is my husband?” she cried.

  “He’s fine,” Jeff said. He guided her back to her chair and sat beside her. “I have to be honest with you and tell you this kind of situation is always dangerous, but we’re handling it as best we can. Everything that can be done to keep your husband and Mrs. Lamoreaux safe, is being done.”

  “Is he a dangerous young man?”

  “No, not intrinsically. He’s a frustrated, disturbed young man, but from everything I’ve
heard, he’s not what you would call a troublemaker. He is frightened, however, and that’s not good. His wife is down the hall and we’re going to have her try to talk him into surrendering now.”

  “Could I go down there?” she asked, hope plain on her face.

  “I think it would be best if you stay here.”

  “Oh please, I feel helpless, so out of things way down here. I’ll stay out of the way.”

  Jeff sighed. He knew how she felt. He wouldn’t have wanted to be shuttled off to an office where he couldn’t keep track of what was happening, either. “Okay, but if anything starts happening, I may ask you to come back here for your own safety. And I want you to stay put down there.”

  In the mayor’s office, Anna was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She hadn’t eaten anything since the lobster at the celebration dinner the night before. It seemed as if light years passed since then, and she was so hungry her stomach hurt. Not sure if she should mention something as mundane as food, she watched Mark pace back and forth in front of the desk.

  Before she could decide, the telephone buzzed on the desk, and Mark jerked around to stare at it before picking up the receiver. “Hello?” he said, suspicion edging the word. He listened briefly, then pressed the button again for the speaker function.

  “Mark?" A woman’s voice drifted through the speaker. "It’s Steph.”

  “Steph? Oh Sweet Jesus, honey. Have they got you down here?” He seemed to visibly collapse at her voice and stumbled around the desk to sit in the chair, his gun forgotten on the desktop and his forehead in his palm.

  If she hadn’t been so far away, Anna would’ve tried to get the gun. A glance at Mayor Stanton told her he was having the same thought. He shook his head slightly.

  “Yes, I’m here. Are you all right, Mark? What happened?”

  “Oh honey, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He started to sob. “Honest, I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”