“You
wouldn’t come to me, so I came to you.”
Sam
sat down on the step. “It’s been a bad couple days.”
“So
I heard. I read that article. What an idiot.”
She
didn’t respond. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. It was time to move
forward. “What’s going on at work?”
Aaron
handed her a stack of papers, but held back one manila envelope. “I brought you
the important stuff. There’s not much going on.”
“Have
they been through the office?”
Aaron
looked at her and nodded. “Yesterday morning. There was nothing there.” He
paused. “Except gum. They took the gum.”
She
nodded. The news that they hadn’t found more should have been a relief, but she
couldn’t get past the image of her colleagues watching as a group of uniforms
tore apart her desk.
Aaron
looked down the street in both directions, making a slow circle with his head.
Sam
thought to do the same, but held back. “Aaron, who are you looking for?” she
finally asked.
Aaron
snapped his gaze back to her and exhaled in one quick spurt. “Work’s been
creepy lately.”
“Creepy
how?”
“It’s
going to sound ridiculous . . .”
“Spit
it out.”
“It’s
like the papers on my desk seem . . . neater,” he blurted out.
Sam
had to smile. “Neater?”
“You
know how I keep things in my own piles by case. Just court filings and stuff,
nothing sensitive. But I’ve come in a couple mornings this week and the piles
seem different—more exact.”
“More
exact?”
“I
know. I told you it sounds ridiculous, but that’s the best way to explain it.
Last night about six, I came by and found Williams looking through my papers.”
Sam
raised an eyebrow.
“So,
of course, I immediately thought it was him, too. But when I asked him what he
needed, he said the court information for the Mahoney case. I looked at my desk
and it was a mess. Whenever he paws through my files, he makes a mess.”
“That’s
pretty typical Williams,” she said, but her mind drifted to the night the
lights had gone out and she wasn’t so sure.
“I
agree. Williams always messes my piles. He doesn’t try to hide that he’s been
there. He doesn’t even apologize when I call him on it.” Aaron shifted slightly
in his chair before angling it closer to her. When he looked back at her, he
shook his head. “This is different. The only way I can really explain it is
that it’s neater.”
“What
about my office?” she asked.
“I
used the keys you gave me for your office, and before the police came yesterday
I poked around in there. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in there.”
She
exhaled.
“But
then I was filing some old statistics in the cabinet in the cube next to mine,
and I noticed that those files looked disturbed too. It’s like someone
straightened them. Then I found this in the trash.” He handed her the manila
envelope he’d been holding in his lap.
Sam
opened it and peered inside at a single plastic glove. “One of the agents
could’ve had it in a pocket and thrown it away.”
He
nodded and began to fiddle with the wheel-lock mechanism on his chair.
“But
you don’t think so.”
He
shook his head. “I called Corona’s office first, but he was—”
“Out
of the office all week,” she finished for him. “He’s at home, though. I could
call him.”
“Yeah,
Nancy said I could leave a message for him, but what would I say? ‘The place
looks cleaner and I found a rubber glove. We’ve got a nosy maid on our
hands.” ’
Sam
smiled. “You did the right thing.” She knew from her experience with Corona
that he wasn’t taking things as seriously as she thought he should have been.
“There’s nothing more you can do except keep an eye out for what changes—and
keep the sensitive stuff locked up.”
Aaron
nodded.
“That
heater ever turn up?” she asked.
Aaron
shook his head.
She
frowned. “Of course.”
“I’m
sorry,” Aaron said.
“It’s
not your fault.” She thought about her car brakes. No headway there either. She
looked up at Aaron and saw the misery in his expression. “Don’t worry about it,
Aaron. I’ll get this guy.” She waved her hand to change the subject. “Now, tell
me what’s going on with you—not work stuff. How’s the training going?”
Their
conversation turned to his race, and Sam listened as he talked about the
rigorous training schedule and the people he’d met through training. The race
was three weeks from today and Sam loved hearing his enthusiasm. One of these
days she needed to get Derek to sit down with Aaron. Maybe Aaron’s go-get-’em
attitude would rub off.
As
Aaron spoke, Sam tried to think of a good present to get him for the
accomplishment. Something cool for his new chair, she decided.
“I
should get going,” he said when they’d caught up on the race and his plans.
“You going to be okay?”
“Perfect.”
“Will
you call me later in the week?”
“I
promise,” she said as she heard her phone ring.
Aaron
waved her into the house.
Sam
headed for the kitchen and the portable phone.
“You’ve
got a package out front,” she heard Aaron yell.
“I’ll
get it.”
“Okay,
I’m off. Have a good day.”
“Sure,”
she muttered.
“Well,
try at least,” Aaron called back.
She
smiled and picked up the phone. “Hello.”
“Did
you get the present I sent you, Sammy Jean?”
Sam
felt her knees buckle beneath her and she gripped the counter. Her number
wasn’t listed. And no one called her by that name. She shook her head. She
couldn’t let him get to her. She stiffened her weak leg muscles and clenched
her jaw. “You son of a bitch. I’m after you.”
“Take
it easy now, Sammy. You’d better go get it before either of you gets too hot.
Wouldn’t want you to explode.”
The
line went dead.
Explode,
she thought. “Jesus Christ!” Sam dropped the phone and ran to the front door.
There, leaned up against the house, beside the doorstep, was a box. She could
see only one word, handwritten across the side in black ink: BOOM. A bomb!
The
street was empty. Aaron had gone. The boys! She had to get the boys out and
then call for help. Pushing the door closed, Sam bolted to the back of the
house, waiting for the explosion to hit.
She
pushed Rob’s door open and screamed at him to get up. “We’ve got to get out of
the house! Now, Rob, now!”
Rob
sat up and blinked hard.
“Come
on,” she urged him. “Hurry up.”
She
ran past his door to Derek’s and opened it. The bed was empty. The room was
empty. Where was Derek?
“Derek!”
she screamed. “Derek!”
Rob
stumbled into the hall behind her. “He’s in the shower. Don’t you hear it?”
Sam
looked at Rob and blinked, hearing the water for the first time. “We’ve got to
get him out of there.” She rushed to the back of the house and tried the knob
on the bathroom door. It was locked. “Derek!” she screamed, pounding on the
door.
“You
know how weird he is in the shower. He always locks the door. He’ll be out in a
minute.”
They
didn’t have a minute.
She
turned to Rob. “Work on getting him out of there. Then go out the back door,
through the Dennises’ yard onto the other street. Stay away from the front of
the house. Okay?”
Rob
blinked. “Why?”
She
didn’t want to panic him, but she knew he was old enough to handle the truth. “There
might be a bomb in the front yard. I need to get you and Derek out of here.”
“A
bomb,” he repeated, his mouth falling open.
“We
have to hurry,” she pressed. “We have to get Derek out of there.”
Rob
turned to the bathroom door and started to pound on it. “Derek! Derek, there’s
a bomb.”
Sam
pounded with him. “We need to get out of the house!” Her mind raced. How
quickly would it detonate, how much or how little time did she have to get it
away from the house? She didn’t want to touch it. She didn’t know what would
set it off. She had to do something. The car brakes, the heater—Jesus, he
was
trying to kill her.
He
wouldn’t have called if it was going to be activated by motion. She would never
pick it up now. So she had to assume he’d put a timer in it. She thought about
calling for the bomb squad, but she didn’t have the time. “Come on, Derek.”
She
knew nothing about bombs, had never even seen a live one. She’d heard once that
a bomb had been deactivated by rain. With that thought in mind, she rushed out
the front door and picked up the water hose. With the faucet on all the way,
she pointed the hose at the box and sprayed toward the street. The box nudged
into the path. She cringed but it didn’t explode.
She
held the lever at full spray, watching as the box skipped down the front path
to the sidewalk. It surprised her to see it move so quickly, and she wondered
what kind of device was so light.
“He
can’t hear us,” Rob said, running out to the yard.
“Keep
trying! I’m going to get it away from the house. Stay back there until you can
get him out and then go out the back door.”
She
squeezed the spray gun harder. It was still too close to the house. “Come on,”
she whispered.
Almost
there, she thought, looking at the empty street. She stopped the water and
pumped it on again, giving the box a last push to the street. It fell over the
curb and she dropped the hose, turning back to the house. She had to call the
police. As she reached for the doorknob, she heard a honk and turned back.
Nick’s
car was pulling toward the curb.
“No!”
she screamed, waving her arms to stop him.
He
stopped inches from the box.
As
he opened his door, she yelled to warn him. “Run! It’s a bomb! He sent a bomb!”
Nick
left his door open and came around his car, keeping distance between himself and
the curb.
“Come
on! Hurry up,” she urged, feeling sweat trickle down her back.
Nick
looked down at the package and then at Sam. “This isn’t a bomb, Sam.”
She
watched him lean over and pick it up. The word “boom” was gone now. The outer
packaging had dissolved, and inside she could see a familiar white box. She
shuddered as he pulled the loose, wet cardboard the rest of the way off.
“I
think it’s chocolate, Sam, not a bomb. It looks like See’s Candies.” He frowned
and took his cell phone off his belt. He dialed and Sam could hear him talking
in hushed tones to someone on the other end. After a minute, he nodded and
replaced the phone on his belt. “Someone’s going to come check out the box. You
want to tell me what the hell happened?”
Sam
sank down onto the wet grass and covered her face with her hands. She was
shaking. She fought to pull herself together, remembering that the caller had
said not to let them get too hot. He’d led her to believe that the package was
a bomb. Was he watching her now? She looked up and down the street and saw no
one.
Nick
leaned over her, his hand extended. “Come on. You did the right thing.”
She
ignored his hand and stood up, feeling the muscles in her legs quake beneath
her.
The
front door opened and Derek and Rob rushed out. Derek’s hair was still dripping
wet and his flannel shirt was pulled on inside out. “What happened? Is
everything okay? Where’s the bomb?”
“Fine,”
Nick said. “Everything’s fine.”
Sam
couldn’t speak. Instead, she leaned over, pressed her palms flat to her knees,
and tried to catch her breath. It was the same guy—the missing file, the photo,
the exploding heater, the cut brakes, and now this. He knew she’d think the
threat was real. The others had all been real. Maybe he was expecting her to
call the police and get a bomb squad out there. Nothing would damage her
credibility at this point more than something so humiliating.
“It
wasn’t a bomb. I was wrong.” She looked at Rob and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
The
boys mumbled something between themselves, and Sam stood up and paced in front
of the house. She could feel Nick right behind her. She shook her head without
turning back.
“He
called me, Nick. He told me it would explode. I thought after the heater at work
and the car brakes that it was a bomb. I was sure it was a bomb.”
Nick
turned her around and pulled her against him.
She
pushed herself away. “I can’t, Nick. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to again.”
It took all the fight she had left.
“Sam,
you’re going to have to trust me. I didn’t know about the warrant. I thought I
was protecting you.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known. Cintrello’s been
out to hang someone for this thing from the start. You were just the easiest
target.” He took her shoulders. “Please give it a chance.”
“I
don’t know, Nick. It’s too much right now. I can’t think that way.” She looked
out at the water-soaked box and felt weak and tired.
“I’ll
be here when you’re ready,” Nick whispered. “In the meantime, we’re going to
catch this S.O.B. We’re going to catch him and make him pay.”
Hearing
him talk made her want to cry. He believed in her. He might be the only one who
did. “Is he trying to kill me or just make me look like an ass?” she asked.
“This feels like something different from the murders. Is that even possible?”
“I
don’t know, but we’re not going to let him do anything else. We’re going to
fight back, you hear me? Fight back.”
“How
about the boys? I don’t want them subjected to this. What if he pulled a stunt
like this when I wasn’t here? They could get hurt.”
“We’ll
work it out. Between the two of us, we’ll make sure someone’s here for them.
It’s going to be okay.”
She
nodded, drinking his words like water, refusing to think about what would
happen if he was wrong.