| |
Breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Her counselor had given her an assignment. There was something she was supposed to do when she felt the start of a panic attack. She was supposed to look around. Find... Find what? What was there to find while she was stuck in a cramped conference room with a deranged father who was ready to blow the brains out of anyone who got between him and his son? What was there to listen for when all she could hear was the droning on of Diane Fiddlestein’s nasally voice as she talked about Woong Lindgren as if he was some nameless patient and not the spunky, mischievous little boy Kennedy had been watching for the past two days?
Woong. Too curious for his own good, asking more questions than Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men, but sweet enough to work his way into the hardest of hearts.
Woong. He couldn’t be sick. Kennedy tried to remember what time it’d been when they first arrived at the hospital. He’d been fine. Complained a little bit about his legs aching in the morning, and that was all. That and a little headache. Otherwise, he was totally normal. He wasn’t sick. He couldn’t be sick.
Brian swore and turned off the TV. “Nothing. Not a single word about my son.”
Kennedy wasn’t sure what he’d expected.
“If it weren’t for that outbreak ...”
Someone knocked on the door. “Kennedy?”
Air rushed back into her lungs. She glutted herself on the influx of oxygen.
“Kennedy?”
“Who’s that?” Brian stared at the barricaded door and then at her. “You know that guy? Who is he?”
“It’s the chaplain,” she told him.
“The one you were talking to earlier?”
She nodded.
“Kennedy! It’s me. You can unlock the door. Kennedy?”
Brian grabbed her by the upper arm, his fingers pinching into her bicep. “Not a word,” he snarled in her ear. “Got that? Not a cough, not a hiccup, don’t even think of breathing loud.”
“Kennedy!”
Brian jerked her by the arm off the couch. “Come on.”
She didn’t ask where he was taking her. Didn’t dare make a noise. She tripped over one of her stupid sandals as he yanked her toward the broom closet. Dumb heels. She kicked them off. She had to be ready to run when she got the chance.
“Kennedy!” Dominic’s voice was strained. Tense. Did he have any idea what was happening? Had he put enough of the pieces together to figure out what was going on?
Brian shoved Kennedy into the closet while Dominic jostled the doorknob. Brian pulled out his gun. No! She had to warn Dominic about the weapon. But how can you scream when you don’t have any breath? How can you warn your boyfriend away from imminent danger when you can’t even control your own lungs?
Brian hefted her up. She was in his arms now, her bare feet dangling a foot off the ground. “Get up there,” he grumbled. Kennedy reached up into an open air vent. Did he expect her to crawl through? “Get up,” he repeated and pushed her higher, his hands on the back pockets of her pants as he tried to force her through the narrow opening.
Now she wished she’d kept her sandals on. “No!” she screamed and kicked. She’d been aiming for his nose but ended up with her heel smashing into his eye socket instead. She gave him one more sturdy kick to knock him off his balance and jumped down. Pain raced up both ankles when she landed.
He grabbed her by the wrist as she tried to run past him. She kicked his shin without causing any harm. Why hadn’t she thought to bring better shoes? She’d trade in her GPA for a pair of spiked cleats right about now.
He had both arms wrapped around her, and she felt something hard across his chest. A bullet-proof vest, maybe? She’d have to warn Dominic and the security officers when they got into the room.
“Stop struggling, will you?” His breath was hot against her ear. She flailed in his grip, fighting to be set free but causing about as much damage as Simba the lion cub wrestling with his dad.
She snapped her head back. Controlled, forceful, like she’d practiced so many times in her self-defense class. She heard the snap of cartilage, Brian’s angry curse as he bent over. It was the chance she needed. With a grunt of exertion, she freed herself from his hold and ran to the door. She flung back the deadbolt as she strained to push the barricade aside. “Dominic!” she shouted. “He’s got a gun! Be careful!”
The door opened a few inches before hitting the loveseat. Kennedy was stuck between the couch and the wall.
“Kennedy!” Dominic’s voice flooded her senses with relief. It was ok. Everything was going to be ok.
Brian grabbed Kennedy by the collar of her shirt. The cold metal of his pistol pressed hard against her temple. “Don’t move,” he told Dominic. “I’ve got a gun to her head. You step inside, I shoot.”
“It’s ok.” Dominic’s voice was reassuring. Calm.
The door was open, but only slightly. Kennedy couldn’t see Dominic on the other side. She was afraid the second he poked his head around the corner, Brian would turn the gun on him and shoot. Her body was too terrified to even tremble.
“Listen, Brian. My name’s Dominic. Dominic Martinez. I’m a chaplain. I’m not here to arrest you. I’m not here to get you into any sort of trouble. I just want to talk, maybe pray with you. You’re a man of prayer, aren’t you?”
Kennedy held her breath. If anyone could talk down a psycho with a loaded gun aimed at her occipital lobe, Dominic was the man for the job.
Brian didn’t respond.
After a minute, Dominic continued. “Listen, we know about the explosives. We know you had hospital blueprints in your home. If you help me out, you can keep a lot of people from getting hurt. Good people, Brian. Can you help me?”
“Why would I do that?” he snarled.
Kennedy didn’t know if it was wishful thinking or not, but she thought she sensed him lessen his grip. If the stupid loveseat wasn’t in the way, she could run. As it was, she was pinned between the partially-opened door and the wall. Was this how she was going to die, with Dominic there on the other side, so close, so helpless?
“You’re a good man, Brian. Lots of people know that. A man of faith. Everything you’re doing, you’re doing because you think it’s best for your son. And now I’m asking you to think about the other people, too. There’s a lot of scared folks in the ER, Brian. Some of them are kids. Same age as your little guy. I know you want them to be able to go home and spend a safe, peaceful night with their families, right? So I need you to tell me where the bomb is. If you help me, then all these innocent people don’t have to get hurt.”
“You think the bomb’s in the ER?” he asked. His voice had lost its hardened edge. Were Dominic’s calm presence and softly spoken words actually working?
“We found the blueprints of yours. But our teams have looked everywhere and we haven’t found it yet. So we’re hoping you can go ahead and tell us. It’d mean a lot to those scared boys and girls who just want to be safe.”
“There’s no bomb in the ER.”
Kennedy couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like a boast.
“We know you were building something, Brian. Can you tell us what you were planning? I want to help you and your family. I really do. I’m not saying what that judge did was right. But if you go on like this, if you injure a bunch of innocent people, there’s no chance the legal system’s going to change its mind. You know that, right?”
“Maybe.”
It wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. Kennedy didn’t dare raise her hopes too high. Was Dominic actually about to convince Brian to give up the location of the explosive?
“So where’s the bomb, Brian? We really want to take care of this so all these scared people can go home and be safe.”
“It’s not in the ER,” he repeated.
“Then where?”
Brian loosened his hold. This time, Kennedy was sure of it.
“Brian?” Dominic’s voice revealed a strain of tension. “Talk to me, buddy. What’s going on behind that door?”
“Why don’t you come in here and find out?” The words themselves might have sounded ominous, but Brian’s tone was polite and subdued.
Kennedy mentally begged Dominic not to listen. The minute he exposed himself, Brian could shoot.
“Ok, I’m stepping into the conference room right now, all right?”
Kennedy squinted, preparing to close her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch her boyfriend getting murdered.
“I’m keeping my hands up. I don’t have a gun or anything, ok? I’m nothing but the chaplain. Just here to talk. That’s all I want to do.”
Kennedy’s legs nearly collapsed when Dominic walked slowly into the room and stood in front of them. His eyes flickered once to her then settled back on Brian.
“Now listen to me. I’ve already said I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just here to get a little information, ok?”
Brian didn’t answer.
“I want us to trust each other, Brian. And right now, it’s hard for us to trust each other when you have that gun to an innocent girl’s head. See what I’m saying? What if you set it down for a minute? I don’t mean to take it from you. That’s not what I’m suggesting. I just think we all might be a little more comfortable if you put it back in its holster. What do you say about that?”
“I think I’ll wait and see for myself and make sure you don’t have an army of SWAT team members behind you for backup.”
“That’s ok with me. I can understand a smart guy like you wanting to be as cautious as possible. But tell me something. My friend you’ve got there, her name’s Kennedy. And I know you and I both would hate to see anything bad accidentally happen to her. So maybe what you can do is let her go, and then you and I can keep up our conversation.”
Brian didn’t say anything, and he didn’t let go either. Kennedy stared at the clock. She had never experienced such long seconds in her life.
Brian let out his breath. Kennedy thought she felt his body tremble just a little.
Come on, Dominic. Keep him calm. No matter what it takes, you’ve got to keep him calm.
“By the way, I’ve got a message from your wife,” Dominic said. “From Shannon. She wants you to know Timmy’s doing well. She said the side effects haven’t been too bad this round. There’s a chance I could ask and see if we could get you to talk to her on the phone. Would you like that? To talk to your wife?”
“What do you want from me?” Brian shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
“What I want is to know what you’ve done with the explosives you made. Is that something you think we can talk about now?”
Kennedy felt Brian nod. The motion was so slight she was afraid at first she imagined it, but Dominic must have seen it too.
“Good. Because the sooner you tell us about the explosives, the sooner this whole thing is over for all of us. What did you do with the bomb, Brian? Where did you put it?”
Now Kennedy was sure Brian was trembling.
“I’ll tell you, but first the girl gets behind me.”
“Listen,” Dominic said, glancing once again at Kennedy. She couldn’t read his expression. “I’m really grateful you’re ready to talk about that bomb. Really grateful. But I want you to think about Kennedy for a minute. She’s been through a lot. She’s scared ...”
“I’ll do it,” Kennedy interrupted. She was surprised at the forcefulness of her own voice. “I’ll do it,” she repeated. As long as Brian holstered that gun. As long as he remained calm. As long as he told Dominic where the bomb was, she didn’t care where she stood. Without waiting to hear any arguments, she stepped several paces back. She didn’t know why Brian wanted her behind him, but she was thankful to be free from his hold. She backed up until she was standing near the closet with the air vent.
“Ok,” Dominic said. “I’m listening.”
Kennedy was dizzy. Dizzy and weak. Her legs could hardly support her weight.
Brian started to unbutton his shirt.
“What are you doing?” Was that fear now in Dominic’s voice? That voice that had remained so calm and composed for so long? “Brian?” he asked again. His words were shaky.
Brian took one arm out of his shirt sleeve and then the other. Kennedy could see it now, too. Could understand the tension in Dominic’s tone.
“Here it is.” Brian pointed to the heavy vest strapped to his chest, covered in wires. “This is the bomb you’ve been looking for.”