Thirty-five minutes prior to lights out
“He’s back,” the captain called from the door of the commissary and all four detectives, and the captain, took off for the bullpen at a dead run.
“Start a trace,” he snapped at his fellow detectives. Cortez veered off and headed for his phone.
Detective Hardwick wasted no time in punching the only blinking light, followed quickly by the speaker button.
“Detective Hardwick here. We thought you’d tucked tail and run.”
“It took you a long time to answer. I nearly gave up on you.”
“We were down in the commissary. We needed time to get back to the bullpen.”
The call proceeded, with all men listening intently for anything that might assist in providing a clue as to their officer’s whereabouts. One thing that none of them missed this time, however, was that Hardwick did nothing to agitate Price. No snapping, no baiting comments—nothing. That meant only one thing: Hardwick was worried.
The captain sat in on a majority of the conversation with Price, but as soon as Price mentioned cutting the power, he left for his office.
The moment Price concluded the call, Hardwick slammed his finger against the speaker button, “Tell me we got him!”
Cortez shook his head and sighed heavily, “I’m being told that we can’t trace a burner, unless we were to geolocate it by accessing his GPS or his Wi-Fi signal. There simply wasn’t enough time.”
“Shit!” Hardwick yelled, slamming his fist against his desk. He drew in a deep breath through his nostrils, “Let’s see if the captain’s made headway.”
All four detectives filed into the captain’s office. The captain looked up and questioned Cortez with a nod. Cortez shook his head and it was the captain’s turn to draw in a deep, agitated breath. He listened to the person on the other end a minute longer then responded.
“That’s correct, Governor, and only you can make it happen. It’s imperative that you—” He stopped talking when the governor interrupted him and then he interrupted the governor, “This isn’t a terrorist attack, sir; this is a serial killer who’s now got one of our own. If we don’t kill the power, he’ll ensure she dies within the next half an hour. How is that going to look come election time? We’re already struggling in the eyes of the citizenry—”
The captain’s tirade was interrupted again, but when he hung up the phone a minute later, he appeared satisfied. “The governor is calling the Department of Energy now to ensure that power is cut; however, he sadly regrets that he may not be able to see it done in only half hour.”
“Twenty-nine minutes now, actually,” Wilson said and his cheeks reddened at the looks he received. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“That’s a habit you better break, Wilson,” the captain snarled, “because I swear that if you point out the time to me one more time, I’m going to personally ensure you’re demoted to beat cop. Time to get this search started—again.”
The captain picked up the phone and gave the front desk sergeant the instructions on calling in all officers, whether on duty or not. It didn’t take long for them to arrive, as everyone had been told to remain on alert until the Christian Price fiasco blew over with certainty. Just as everyone was filing into the auditorium, the lights went out.
“I guess that means the governor got through okay,” Harding said, pulling out his flashlight.
“Hopefully, the Department of Energy will keep the power off until we locate our missing officer,” Cortez added, flicking his own flashlight on.
“Hopefully, we’ll find our missing officer before Price kills her,” Hardwick said softly and then all went to the auditorium to instruct the officers on their latest search parameters. None were aware that in the lowest level of their very own building, Lucia Mendocino was strapped to the elevator buffer, and should her co-workers fail to locate her before the electricity was turned back on, her head would be decimated, like a watermelon with a sledgehammer.