Barrett’s anxiety flared as Hobbs floored the accelerator and they raced from the mansions of Katonah toward Manhattan; it was dusk. She glanced at the clock on the dash – it felt like days had passed, but it had been only four hours since they’d fled the reservoir.
Carla was in the back. She had her head in her hands. ‘Oh, my God, what if we’re wrong? What if she misunderstood? What if she got it wrong?’
‘We’re not wrong,’ Hobbs said. ‘It’s the only possibility, the only thing that makes sense. I should have locked the bastard up when I had the chance.’
Barrett thought back through the last forty minutes spent with a shell-shocked Mary Fleming. Throughout it, her eyes hand wandered to the short blonde wig the woman, who had twice been attacked by Richard Glash, wore.
Mary had caught her at it, and with a single motion removed it, to reveal two vivid scars that scanned the dome of her scalp, one a faded soft pink and the other more jagged.
To Barrett, what had followed revealed a side of Glash she’d barely glimpsed.
‘He told me that he loved me,’ Mary said, leading them to a sprawling back deck where a day earlier Richard Glash had stood.
Barrett took in the pricey views that stretched down to the Hudson River a few hundred feet below, and the neatly arranged wicker furniture and umbrellas. Mary Fleming had money and taste.
‘Strange way to show it,’ Hobbs remarked.
‘I always knew that if he ever got free, he would come for me. I knew that he’d kill me, so that’s why I did it. It was the only way.’ Mary sat on a white wicker chair and let her eyes drift to the river that meandered below her hillside house.
‘Did what?’ Barrett asked, trying to capture her attention as Mary gazed off. ‘What did you do, Mary?’
Still staring into the distance with her wig in her lap, she replied, ‘Isn’t that how you found me?’
‘Yes,’ Hobbs said, ‘your name came up on the prison visitors’ log. It came up as both Sullivan and Fleming.’
‘I was married,’ she explained. ‘I suppose it’s a good thing we’re divorced. I don’t know what Richard would have done if John had been here. Kill him, I imagine. I thought he’d come to kill me.’
‘What happened?’ Barrett urged.
‘I still can’t believe that I’m alive,’ she said. ‘I’d been watching the news. I knew Richard was out. I didn’t think he had my address, but he’s a genius. I knew he’d find me. I didn’t know what to do. In the end I did nothing. I sat here … waiting, and then he came. Just like you’re here now, he showed up.’ She’d pointed with a trembling finger at an arrangement of daisies and black-eyed Susans in a chunky crystal vase. ‘He brought me those flowers and candy.’ She hiccoughed. ‘He told me that he loved me.’
‘And then?’ Barrett urged, noting how Mary seemed to be disconnected, in shock.
‘I asked him if he was going to kill me. In a way, I’d been waiting for him all of my life. That’s why I did it.’ She glanced up at Hobbs. ‘I didn’t finish telling you …’ She shook her head, seemingly frozen. ‘What was I saying?’
‘You were telling us about his visit,’ Barrett prompted softly.
‘I was ready to die,’ Mary said, ‘almost a relief, knowing that he’d one day come for me. He said, “I don’t have to kill you anymore.” He said he’d taken care of it. He told me that he loved me and that he wanted to marry me. He said that he was going to do something that would make him very famous, that he’d make a good husband, that he’d be faithful and that we could have children. He got down on one knee – right there between the begonias – and asked me if I would marry him.’ She looked down at the human-hair wig she was gripping and twisting.
And then Barrett caught the glimmer of the diamond.
Mary held up her hand. ‘He’d even brought a ring.’
Carla gasped, looking at the small, emerald-shaped diamond in platinum. ‘That was Lucinda’s. Oh my God!’
Mary turned, as though just noticing her. ‘Who’s Lucinda?’
And while Barrett didn’t say it, what she thought was, Lucinda Peters got the murder Richard Glash had intended for you. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, and looked at Hobbs. ‘Mary, Richard Glash is attempting to do something so horrible that if he succeeds thousands of people – maybe more – will die. He’s not working alone, someone has been helping him.’
The bald woman with her scarred scalp just stared across the Hudson River Valley.
‘Mary,’ Barrett persisted, ‘is it you? Have you been helping him?’
‘No,’ she said, and then stopped. She looked up at Barrett and then at Hobbs on her other side. ‘I don’t think so. How could I?’
‘Did you leave a pickup truck for him in the parking lot of the Croton Forensic Hospital?’ Hobbs asked. ‘It’s not far from here,’
‘I know where it is,’ she said. ‘And no, of course not.’
Barrett’s frustration mounted with each passing second. They’d been wrong, Mary hadn’t been the accomplice – or was she lying? She felt for the woman who’d been so badly traumatized by Glash, but at the same time had the gut sense there was more. ‘Why did you visit Richard Glash in prison?’ she asked. ‘Not just once, but you were going at least monthly … for years.’
‘Because I knew eventually he’d get out,’ she said. ‘No matter what anyone says, one day he would have been let go, and that would be the day he’d come for me. Richard Glash never lets go. I know that better than anyone.’
‘Of course,’ Barrett said, ‘but why the visits?’
‘When I was a little girl, I lived next door to him. What he did to me was horrible, but before that, for a little while, although in my mind it seems longer, he and I were friends. For the couple months that he lived there we played together every day. I don’t remember much; just that he was my friend, and then one day he tried to kill me. Years later, he tried again. He wasn’t angry or mad, and I think the reason he didn’t succeed when we were teenagers is that somewhere buried inside him, he was still my friend. He could easily have killed me then. I begged him not to. I don’t remember much of it, just that he told me he’d try not to kill me, but that he needed to remove my scalp, and because the vessels in the head bleed so much; “there was a high probability that I would die from the blood loss”.’ She shivered in her chair, despite the ninety-plus degree heat. ‘That’s why I visited him in prison. He could have killed me that afternoon, but he stayed for hours doing … no, I can’t talk about what he did to me that day. But he stayed so long they caught him. In a sense I owe him my life, the only thing that saved me then … and now … is that I may be his only friend.’
‘You visited him to keep the friendship?’ Barrett asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And you didn’t help with the escape or buy him prepaid cell phones?’ Hobbs interjected.
‘Of course not. I never wanted to see him out. I just knew it would happen.’
‘Then who’s been helping him?’ Hobbs asked.
‘You say someone left a truck for him?’ Mary asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Was it black?’
‘Yes, why?’ Hobbs asked.
‘Richard would talk about his dreams when I’d visit him. He had two sets. One very normal and the other to go on a killing spree that would make him famous. He’d show me pictures he’d drawn of the two possibilities. In both, whether it was the wife and kids or the murder spree, there was always a black pickup truck. I can even see the logo on the back – a Ford, I think.’
Barrett nodded. ‘Who would know that he wanted a black truck?’
‘The only person I can think would be his father.’
‘What?’ Hobbs spat out.
Mary turned and looked back at him. ‘Peter Glash … his father. He has some sort of store or warehouse in the city.’
‘I know,’ Hobbs said, crouching beside her chair. ‘What makes you think the two men were in contact? His name never appeared on the visitors’ log.’
‘I’d forgotten that,’ she said.
‘What?’ Hobbs persisted.
‘He wouldn’t visit Richard. He’d visit another prisoner. I’m trying to remember his name.’
‘Clarence Albert?’ Barrett offered.
‘Yes,’ Mary said, twisting to face her. ‘That’s right. And then Mr Albert would let Richard know what his father had to say. It was very odd … of course, with Richard one doesn’t expect anything different …’
They’d left Katonah and Mary twenty minutes ago. Now, with his jaw set tight, Hobbs kept flooring the banged-up Crown Vic. As they turned off 684 and on to the Hutchinson they hit traffic. Though mid-afternoon, they had to slow to a stop-and-start crawl.
‘What’s going on?’ Hobbs muttered, looking at the jam that seemed to stretch for miles ahead of them.
Barrett flicked on the radio. Every station was emphatically announcing that the Department of Homeland Security had raised the alert level to red for Manhattan and the New York City boroughs. People were being urged not to panic – This is only a precaution – and they were being reassured that a major act of bioterrorism had been averted by the Department of Homeland Security working in collaboration with local, state and federal authorities.
As they listened Hobbs’s cell went off. He glanced at the readout – his boss. ‘It’s Felix.’
‘You going to pick up?’ Barrett asked.
‘What the hell.’ He flipped it open. ‘What’s up, Felix?’
‘Where are you, Hobbs? I’ve got those morons from Homeland Security calling every five minutes asking why you and Glash’s two hostages haven’t reported to a quarantine facility. Who’d you piss off?’
‘Jesus! You’d think they’d have more important concerns. Like finding Glash.’
Felix Schmitt paused; he and Hobbs went way back. ‘I take it that getting to quarantine isn’t your top priority; what is?’
‘Getting Glash before he infects Manhattan with bubonic plague.’
‘You working with a different script than the DHS? They say all of the plague was dumped in the reservoir, that it’s been neutralized – that the manhunt for Glash is over. They’re saying he and his last two hostages are dead.’
Hobbs asked, ‘Yeah, but do they say they have positive ID?’
‘Yes, why?’
‘Because they’re lying bags of shit! Look, Felix, we were at the reservoir. Somehow Glash drove a Volkswagen with some stiffs in it over an impossible-to-reach ditch. As of two, three hours ago, no one had even made it all the way down to the bottom to ID the bodies.’
Felix again paused. ‘Hobbs, you’re in such deep shit right now. In fact, getting you and your two lady friends tucked away into quarantine is like their number one priority. Right now, it’s you, and not Glash, who’s the threat of contagion. They’re saying if we can’t haul your asses in we might be looking at a large-scale quarantine – location determined by all the places you’ve been.’
Hobbs’s jaw twitched and his knuckles turned white as they gripped the wheel. ‘Felix, this is a bunch of cover-your-ass spin. None of us are infected; we’re feeling just fine, thanks.’ He looked up at the sign for the Whitestone Bridge and the West Side Highway.
‘Ed,’ Carla said, ‘behind us.’
Barrett turned and Hobbs looked in the rear-view. Two patrol cars were plowing through the traffic, with lights and no sirens. Ed looked at the cell in his hand. ‘Felix, you’re a total shit!’
‘Sorry, Hobbs. Just following orders.’
Hobbs rolled down the window and hurled his phone out. ‘Hold on,’ he said, as he turned on his siren and, clipping a limousine on their right, shot across three lanes and then accelerated toward an off ramp into the Bronx.
The patrol cars gave pursuit; their sirens wailed and were joined by two more unmarked vehicles.
Ed flew through the quiet residential streets. Small children looked up agape; one woman jumped back from her mailbox; a collie tied up in its front yard howled.
‘Hobbs,’ Barrett said, ‘they’ve got it all wrong.’
‘I know,’ he said, turning off the flashing light and siren. ‘I could kill Felix. It’s one thing to rat me out. He could have at least listened to me. But I shouldn’t have thrown that phone out.’
‘They were using it to trace us,’ Barrett said, as Hobbs took a hard right toward the tan-brick housing projects around Riverdale Park.
He glanced in the mirror; now a single squad car was chasing. ‘Hold on to something,’ he yelled.
Barrett and Carla braced as Hobbs slammed on the brakes, threw the car into reverse, then shot behind the squad car. He reversed directions with a jagged J turn and headed back toward Johnson Avenue. Glancing behind he could see he’d momentarily eluded their pursuers. He turned in to a residential street of two-story homes and spotted a garage that had been left open. He pulled in and shut off the motor.
He jumped out of the car, glanced down the street and rolled down the door.
‘Hobbs,’ Barrett said, ‘we’ve got to get into the city and stop him.’
‘I know,’ he said, breathing heavily.
Through a row of small windows at the top of the garage door they spotted two black Cherokee helicopters flying noisily toward Harlem.
‘You don’t think those are for us?’ Barrett asked.
‘I think they are,’ Hobbs said. He looked around the garage and tried the door that led into the two-story brick home. It was locked. He knocked – no reply. He waited less then ten seconds and kicked it open. Inside, it was homey and warm. The smell of potpourri wafted up from terracotta dishes and the walls were covered with dozens of framed family photographs, many of them large montages of weddings and children’s birthday parties.
Barrett let the smells and warmth of the cozy house wash over her. The normalcy of it brought tears to her eyes as she walked into the carpeted living room and switched on the large-screen television. The first image was Corbin Zane in his hazmat suit. He’d taken off the protective shield for the camera; behind him was the activity at the Ashokan Reservoir. At the bottom of the screen the rolling dialog was that the alert level had been raised to red for Manhattan and the five boroughs.
‘We believe,’ Zane said, ‘with a high degree of confidence that the biological weapon has been isolated and neutralized. But based on the seriousness and the potential for devastating consequences we are taking all precautions until we have one hundred percent certainty that the virus has not been transmitted.’
‘Bacteria, you moron,’ Barrett muttered. Her frustration and fear were at boiling point. She pictured her mother, probably at work right now, her hair in a gingham kerchief over big plastic rollers, setting up the bar … no way to get out of the city, and her sister who wouldn’t leave even if it were an option. She knew that Justine would be at University Hospital getting prepared for the massive influx of worried Manhattanites. She looked at Hobbs, who was dialing the phone, hanging up and then dialing again.
He looked back at her and pressed the button to put the phone on speaker. ‘I’m sorry,’ a voice said, ‘all circuits are currently busy. Please wait and try your number again. This is a recording.’
‘Glash,’ Carla said. ‘We have to go and stop him. There’s got to be a way into the city.’
They turned as flashing lights flooded through the lace-curtained windows. They heard sirens and saw one of the patrol cars that had been pursuing them head slowly down the tree-lined street. The siren was then turned off and a woman’s voice blared through the car’s loudspeaker.
‘Detective Hobbs, you and your passengers are to surrender immediately. This is a direct order from the Department of Homeland Security.’
Ed glanced in the direction of the garage. ‘Shit.’
‘The police radio?’ Barrett said. ‘It has GPS too?’
‘Yup.’
‘What do we do?’ she asked.
The cruiser stopped in front of the house. The voice again came loud and clear. ‘Detective Hobbs, we are instructed to escort you and your passengers to the nearest quarantine facility. If you do not comply we have been instructed to use whatever force is necessary.’
‘What are we going to do?’ Carla was peering through the curtains, as the cops exited their vehicle and drew their weapons. Behind them two other cruisers and a National Guard personnel vehicle were pulling up as additional sirens wailed in the distance. Overhead the roar of a helicopter shook the house. A wedding photo fell from the wall; its glass shattered.
‘We surrender,’ Hobbs said.
‘What?’ Carla replied.
Barrett caught Hobbs’s eye. ‘Why, Ed? We can’t give up. If we all took off in different directions, maybe …’
‘For God’s sake, Barrett, would you listen to yourself?’ Hobbs blurted, struggling to be heard over the sirens and the roar of the chopper. ‘These guys aren’t fooling around. If Zane is anything like Cosway we’re dealing with a shoot-first-ask-questions-later mentality. Now, listen to me,’ he said. ‘Since nine-eleven I’ve been in a dozen major disaster drills for the city.’
‘And,’ Barrett said, taken aback by Hobbs’s vehemence; he seemed angry … at her, ‘I’ve been in some too. What’s the point?’
‘We did a couple city-wide drills with bioterrorism themes.’
‘I still don’t get it,’ Barrett said.
‘All the quarantine facilities were in Manhattan. It’s our best shot right now. If we resist … they’ll level the house and everything – everyone – in it.’
‘Ed,’ Barrett started to protest, ‘once they’ve got us—’
‘Barrett’ – he grabbed her by the shoulders. She startled, torn between breaking free and wondering why he was so angry with her – ‘please do this for me. I can’t take the thought of anything happening to you. Please …’
‘OK.’ She realized it wasn’t anger, and his hands felt strong on her shoulders. She stared into his eyes, and wondered if he’d try to kiss her.
He gave a half-smile and let go. He walked toward the front door, opened it slightly and shouted, ‘Don’t shoot. We’re coming out.’ He put his hands on his head.
Barrett looked at Carla, shrugged her shoulders, and followed him out.