“If he does, who do you think he’s going to pick for his next example? He’s already shot one cop-why not one of yours? Or our scientist?”
Mulvaney held the door to the stairwell for him, possibly implying that Patrick shouldn’t let it hit him in the butt on the way out. “It’s not in the money. You have to keep this to yourself, and I mean it-the employees here don’t even know about it, for obvious reasons. There’s a metallic tracer in the bands, but all it will do is show up at the metal detector by the doors. I wasn’t lying-a robber, under normal circumstances, would never make it to that vault, so there aren’t any standard security devices there. The bands are meant to catch thieves who work here and decide to cut out early one day and head to Aruba. Last time that happened was 1963.”
“So Lucas won’t notice-”
“He might hear a beep when they go out the doors, but since the guy’s carrying a damn M4 carbine, I don’t think it’s going to worry him much. Unfortunately, it’s not going to help us at all either.”
“Mmm.” Patrick checked Theresa’s status on the security unit’s monitors but grew frustrated with the lousy audio quality. At least in the library he could hear the phone conversations. He hurried back up Rockwell, hoping nothing had happened to Theresa in his absence. Not that he could do a bloody thing about it anyway.
19
12:46 P.M.
Six stories down, Theresa remained occupied with the squirming child on her lap.
Two-year-old Ethan pushed at her, trying to get away from this stranger, and hit her with the stuffed Cleveland Browns dog. She gave him a bit of space but wouldn’t let go. His screams pierced her eardrums.
“Told you so,” she said to Lucas.
“Don’t hassle me, ma’am. You should be able to handle kids- you’ve got your own.”
He must have overheard her conversation with Rachael. “Just one, and it’s been a long time since she was two.”
Lucas glanced at his watch. “Hang in there. His mama’s only got seven minutes left. And how’d you know he was two?”
Her lungs seemed to seize up, and she covered herself by getting a firmer grip on the writhing boy and turning him to face outward. “He’s pretty solid for his size. And he’s definitely got all his teeth, since he just bit me with them.”
Lucas watched her with a cool, shark-eyed stare, but said only, “Don’t bite, Ethan. It’s a nasty habit.”
The boy quieted, distracted by the sweeping room and the mysterious man in front of him. He straddled Theresa’s thigh, with one of her arms firmly around his waist. “Bo,” he said, suddenly and clearly, shaking the stuffed animal. “Bo.”
“That don’t concern me,” Lucas answered, his eyes on Theresa still. “What concerns me is your mama has five minutes and twenty seconds left.”
“I still don’t see how you expect a young girl to find and then break into a small vault, or whatever the heck is up there,” Theresa said.
“You’d be amazed what people can do when they have the proper incentive.”
“You’ve got some money, you have your car. You could leave now and come out way ahead.” Theresa wished she could have read Cavanaugh’s book before getting herself into this. Whatever she said might agitate him, spur him on. On the other hand, she couldn’t sit idly by while he shot a two-year-old.
“You think so, do you?”
“I’m probably going to get fired for giving you that car, if not thrown in jail. I’d hate to have it be for nothing.”
“Yeah, what about that?” He crouched in front of her, putting them at the same eye level, submachine gun across his knees. The sudden advance startled her. “You did that because you love that cop?”
“You’re not watching the street. They might come for your car.”
“The marble behind you, Theresa, is as smooth as a mirror. I can see any movement outside. Cops are many things, but invisible is not one of them. Now, did you come here because you’re in love with that cop?”
Love. Something she had almost convinced herself didn’t exist until one night when Paul suddenly put his arms around her, outside a ring of crime-scene tape in the Metroparks after everyone else had left. He hadn’t asked her to dinner or a movie or out for drinks, knowing that her defense system would rise if forewarned. He simply stepped inside the castle walls before she had time to lower the gate.
She swallowed. “Yes.” “Crazy, the things people do for love.” She couldn’t speak around the lump in her throat. “Bo,” the child insisted. “Is that what you’re robbing this place for?” Theresa asked him.
“Love?”
“You trying to analyze me, Theresa? Figure me out? Or just distract me from the fact that Ethan’s mom has twenty-seven seconds remaining?”
“I’d like to know why my fiancé is bleeding to death and why my daughter may have to grow into adulthood without a mother.”
He edged closer to her, so close she could see the red veins standing out against the whites of his eyes, could smell the last traces of a breath mint on his tongue. “I’d really like to tell you, but I’m afraid you wouldn’t understand.”
“I might understand a lot more than you think.” He didn’t actually roll his eyes, but he came close. She went on. “I understand that someone didn’t take very good care of you when you were a little boy.”
The red-rimmed eyes narrowed, and his body receded from her ever so slightly. “You saying I wasn’t raised right?”
“I’m saying someone burned the inside of your left wrist with a cigarette, at least four times that I can see. I had a young man about your age in last month. The abuse had occurred when he was five, but his wounds were less distinct than yours. So you were, what? Ten? Twelve?”
He stood as quickly as if he had discovered a scorpion at his toes, checked his watch, and said, “Mama’s time is up.”
“You’re not going to shoot this little boy.”
“And who’s going to stop me, Theresa? You?”
“What will it gain you, except a quick trip to a lethal injection?”
“That’s assuming I get caught.”
“You know you’re going to be caught eventually. You’re not stupid.”
They certainly didn’t seem to be bonding-in fact, she seemed to annoy him more with every word. Yet he kept talking to her. Why?
“I’m not going to get caught.” He did not say this as if he believed it, however. The tone of his voice sounded neither boastful nor wistful; it sounded resigned, as if he knew he would do exactly that.
“Let’s say you do. If you leave here without hurting anyone, the cops will pursue you, yes. But if you hurt a child, they will chase you to the very ends of the earth.”
Bobby shifted in the background, but Lucas did not turn. “You seem to forget I’ve already killed someone.”
She didn’t want to mention Mark Ludlow again; it might make things worse. But he had freely discussed the bank teller. “You mean Cherise? What happened to her anyway?”
Without raising his voice he asked, “You think I didn’t shoot her? You think maybe I’m faking all this?”
“No.” But her voice lacked certainty.
“Anybody else here think I’m faking this?”
The other hostages, who had been present to hear the gunshot and Cherise’s voice, abruptly cut off, shook their heads. Missy even cast Theresa a murderous look.
What am I doing? What she’d said to Cavanaugh was true. Forensic work burdened her with only a limited amount of personal responsibility. Sure, she cared about solving an innocent victim’s murder, but if she could not, she didn’t take it personally. Sometimes the evidence just wasn’t there. But now she had to be proactive, and other people could die as a result. The idea made her heart pound even more than Lucas’s threats.
“Set the boy down,” Lucas said to Theresa, referring to Ethan. “Just leave him there.”
“He’ll run away.”