I looked at my watch; thirty-five seconds had gone by.
“Where are you, Coombs?”
"Always the departmental small talk, huh, Lieutenant?
I'm starting to lose some respect for you. You're supposed to be a smart chick. Make your Marty-boy proud. So tell me, how come all these people are dead and you still don't have it figured right?"
I could feel him sneering at me. God, I hated this man.
“What is it, Coombs? What haven't I figured out?”
“I heard your daddy ran out on you about the time I went to jail,” he said.
I knew what he was building up to tell me. Still, I had to keep him on the line. In the outer room, Jacobi was listening, but he was also watching me.
Coombs snickered. “You probably thought that the old man was jacking off some barmaid. Or that he left some bad markers out on the street.” Coombs put on a voice of mock sympathy. “God, it must've been tough when he took off and your mom died.”
“I'm going to enjoy nailing you, Coombs. I'll be there when they start the drip at San Quentin.”
“Too bad you won't have the chance, sweetheart. But I wanted to tell you something important. Listen. Your old man did leave markers. To me... I own them... I took the fall. For him. For the whole police department. I own them all. I did the time. But guess what, little Lindsay? I wasn't alone.”
Every fiber in my body tightened. My chest nearly exploded with rage. I glanced at Jacobi. He nodded to me as if to say, a Few more beats... Keep him on.
“You want me, Coombs? I saw the photo in your room. I know what you want. I'll meet you anywhere... ”
“You want the killer so bad, it's almost touching. But sorry, I have to pass on your offer. I've got one more date.”
“Coombs,” I said, glancing at the clock, “you want me, let's go at it. Can you beat a woman, Frank? I don't think you can.”
“Sorry, Lieutenant. Thanks for the fun talk. But it seems like, everything that happens, you're just a tad too late. I still don't think broads belong in the department. Just an opinion.”
I heard a click.
I ran out into the squad room. Cappy had a line going with Dispatch. I was desperately hoping Coombs hadn't used a cell phone. Cells were the hardest to trace. One -more date... I didn't know what the hell Coombs was threatening. What was next? What?
“He's still in the city,” Cappy shouted to me. He reached for a pen. “He's in a phone booth. They're trying to narrow it down.”
The detective started to write, then he looked up. His face was screwed in disbelief. “He's in a booth... at the corner of Ninth and Bryant.”
All of our eyes met, and then everybody in the room was moving.
Coombs was calling from a block away.
Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance
Chapter 100
I STRAPPED ON MY GLOCK and yelled a call for closest available unit. Then I charged out of the office. Cappy and Jacobi trailed on my heels.
Just a block away... What was Coombs going to do?
I didn't wait for the elevator. I bounded down the back stairs as fast as my legs would carry me. In the lobby, I pushed through staffers and civilians standing around and burst through the glass doors leading to Bryant Street.
There was the usual mass of people milling around on the front steps at lunchtime: lawyers, bondsmen, and detectives.
I turned my gaze toward Ninth, craning my head to spot anything. No one who looked like Coombs. Cappy and Jacobi caught up to me.
“I'll go ahead,” Cappy said.
Then it hit me. One more date. Coombs was here, wasn't he? He was at the Hall of justice.
“Police,” I shouted, signaling the unsuspecting crowd. “Everybody stand alert.”
I scanned through the startled crowd for his face. My Glock was at the ready. Bystanders looked at me in wide-eyed surprise. Several crouched down or started to move away.
This is what I remember about what happened next:
A uniformed cop came up the stairs, walking toward me. I hardly noticed; I was scanning for Coombs's face.
The uniform came out of the crowd, the face obscured behind sunglasses and the visor of his hat. He was holding out his hand.
I focused right past him, scanning- down the street, searching for Coombs. Then I heard someone shout my name. “Hey! Boxer!”
Everything exploded on the steps of the Hall. Jacobi, Cappy, yelling, “Gun... ”
My eyes flashed toward the cop. In that instant, the strangest thing came clear to me. His blues. He was wearing a patrolman's uniform that I hadn't seen in a while. I fixed on the face, and to my shock, it was Coombs. It was Chimera. I was the date he was planning to keep.
Someone spun me from behind as I raised my Glock.
“Hey!” I yelled.
I saw Coombs's gun spurt orange. Twice. Nothing I could do to stop it.
Then everything got incredibly crazy and confused. Chaos. Terror.
I know that I got off a shot before my body went numb with pain.
I saw Coombs lurch forward, his glasses flying off, his gun pointed my way. He staggered, but he was still coming for me. His dark eyes glared with hate.
Then a scary shooting gallery erupted in front of the Hall.
A cacophony of loud, echoing pops... five, six, seven in rapid succession, coming from all directions. People were screaming, running for cover.
Coombs's blue uniform erupted in bursts of bright red. Cappy and Jacobi were firing at him. His body hurtled backward, jerking with the hits. His face showed terrible pain.
The air was laced with a burning cordite smell. The echo of each shot crashed in my ears.
Then it was eerily quiet. The silence was startling to me.
“Oh, Jesus,” I remembered saying, finding myself down on the concrete steps. I didn't know for sure if I'd been shot.
Jacobi was leaning over me. “Lindsay, stay right there. Be still.” His hands were on my shoulders, and his voice reverberated through my brain.
I nodded, inventorying my body for a wound. Shouts and walls echoed all around, people rushing everywhere.
I reached for Warren's arm and slowly pulled myself up.
He tried to give me an order: “Lindsay, stay down. I'm telling you now.”
Coombs was on his back, ruptures of crimson oozing out of his blue shirt.
I pushed by Jacobi. I had to see Coombs, had to look into his eyes. I hoped he was still alive, because when the monster took his last breath, I wanted him staring up at me.
A few uniforms had formed a protective ring around Coombs, ordering everyone to stay clear.
Coombs was still alive, labored sounds escaping from his heaving chest. An EMS team came running, two techs lugging equipment. One, a woman, began ripping at Coombs's bloody shirt. The other was taking his pressure and setting up an IV.
Our eyes met. Coombs's gaze was waxy, but then his mouth twitched into an ugly smile. He tried to say something to me.
The EMS woman was backing people off, shouting out his vitals.
“I have to hear what he's saying,” I told the tech. “Giv” me a minute here."
“He can't talk,” she said. “Give him room to breathe, Lieutenant. He's dying on us!”
“I have to hear,” I said again, then I knelt down close.
Coombs's uniform shirt had been cut open, a mosaic of ugly wounds exposed.
His mouth quivered. He was still trying to talk. What did he want to tell me?
I leaned closer, the blood on Coombs smearing my blouse. I didn't care. I put my ear close.
“One last...,” he whispered. Every breath was a fight for him now. Was this how it ended? With Coombs taking his secrets straight to hell?
One last...? One last target, one last victim? I stared into his eyes, saw the hatred still there.
“One last what, Coombs?” I asked"
Blood bubbled out of his mouth. He took in a hard breath, husbanding the last of his strength, straining against the power of his own death.