Concrete Savior (30 page)

“Don’t touch that,” Eran said. “I have an idea.” He looked thoughtfully from the elevator to the gun and then at Bheru. “We’ll ve the gun where it is and call it in as checking out suspicious activity. Brynna, you still think Vance Hinshaw’s body is in this building somewhere?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” She lifted her head and inhaled deeply. “If not him, some other poor bastard’s. But since this is where I confronted Jashire . . .”

“I was kind of at a loss as to how we were going to report it if we did find him,” Eran said, “but if we have help, can get some backup in here before we do or with us when we do, it will look a whole lot more copacetic.”

Bheru nodded. “Yes. Good idea.” He glanced at Brynna speculatively. “I would say that was quite a show, but you moved so quickly that I’m not sure of what I actually just saw. I’m starting to think there are a good many other
odd
things you can do and about which we know nothing.” When she said nothing he looked from her to Eran with that same thoughtful expression, then finally shrugged and parked himself next to the elevator to make sure their unfortunate guests didn’t manage to free themselves before backup arrived.

By the time several uniformed cops climbed the stairs in response to Eran’s call-in, the four men in the elevator were awake and hammering on the elevator doors, trying to push their fingers through the minute opening between the two and pry them open. Once the beat cops had taken custody of the idiots in the elevator and tagged the Uzi, Brynna and her two companions drifted into the stairwell and down to the fifth floor with another couple of cops who’d just arrived tagging after them. When they moved into the hallway, the smell of decomposing flesh was unmistakable.

“Holy shit,” said one of the beat cops. He looked at Brynna like he didn’t know what she was doing there, then he let it go as something the detectives would have to deal with. “I think we’ve got a dumped body in here somewhere.”

Brynna didn’t wait for anyone’s approval as she headed down the corridor. The other uniformed cop hurried after her. “Ma’am—ma’am! Wait, hold it—ma’am!”

Before he could say anything further, she stopped at a door that wasn’t quite closed. “I think it’s in here.”

The officer scowled and she let him step in front of her and push open the door. “Whew,” he said. “Smell that.”

Eran scowled and he and Bheru followed the man inside. “Well,” he said under his br>Brynna dio Brynna, “this isn’t going to be good.”

And it wasn’t. They found Vance Hinshaw tied to a chair that had been positioned inside the bathtub. His former appearance was only a memory now. The heat had bloated his face and body totally out of proportion, swelling his flesh over the ropes that circled his chest, wrists, and ankles. It was hard to tell if the stains on his clothing were blood or bodily fluids—human forensics would have to determine that and the cause of death, although Brynna’s guess would be that Jashire simply hadn’t bothered to give the poor man enough food or water. Right now it was at least a hundred degrees in this room, and this had been, she was sure, a horrible way to die.

“Unless he has a wallet on him, this man will have to be identified via dental records,” Eran told the other officers. Brynna frowned then realized that might be the only way it could be done—Georgina had never reported her husband as kidnapped and the entire situation was too heavily wrapped up in circumstances that his superiors would never find believable.

As they filed back into the hallway and she waited for Eran and Bheru to make the first of many calls and reports, Brynna sure hoped that Georgina Whitfield had plenty of photographs by which to remember her late husband.

WHEN GEORGINA WHITFIELD OPENED
the door and saw the three of them standing there, she fell to the floor in an untidy pile of arms and legs. Brynna caught her before she went all the way down, slipping a hand beneath one armpit and hoisting her back to her feet. She guided Gina toward the kitchen with Eran and Bheru following, finally settling the young woman on one of the kitchen chairs.

“I know what you’re here to tell me,” Gina said hoarsely. “I can see it in your faces. He’s dead, isn’t he? Vance is dead.”

“Yes,” Brynna answered. “I’m sorry.”

She looked from Brynna to the two men. “Was . . . was he alive when you found him? Was there ever even a
chance
?”

“No,” Eran said gently. “He’d been . . . gone for a while.”

“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Oh my God. All those people dead—for
nothing
. She lied the entire time, didn’t she?”

“I’m afraid so,” Brynna told her.

“I’m a murderer,” Gina said suddenly. Her back jerked into a rigidly straight line. “I might as well have shot or—or stabbed all those people myself!”

“That is not true,” Bheru put in. “You did the best you could under the influences hanging over you. Anyone would have done the same had they believed there was a chance to save a loved one.”

“But I had a feeling he was dead.” Gina covered her face with her hands, but her words were still clear. “Almost the whole time. I wouldn’t listen to it. I couldn’t accept it.”

Brynna reminded herself not to remark that a lot of people did just that. Hindsight would do Georgina no good now. The truth was, it never did anyone any good, at least not as it applied to the original situation.

“You need to know that we found him on our own,” Eran said. “I believed you wanted certain things to remain private, like the visions you have and what Casey did. I had to turn it over to the regular channels but I never told anyone that we’ve already been talking to you.” He was silent for a few seconds. “That means that once a preliminary identification is made, someone from the department’s going to show up here to tell you about it. I’m not telling you to keep any information to yourself, but I will warn you that things will become very difficult, for you and us, if people in the police department are asked to accept the true details of what went on here.”

Gina’s expression was bitter. “Don’t worry, Detective Redmond. I’m very familiar with what ‘normal’ people can do to someone like me.” She gave a short laugh that sounded more like she was choking through her tears. “Because of her visions, my mother’s been in a mental institution since I was a kid. They claim she’s schizophrenic.” Another harsh laugh grated out of Gina’s throat. “Maybe that’s what I am. Maybe that’s where I belong.”

“I do not believe that,” Bheru said. “What you have is both a blessing and a curse. So far it has not been kind to you, but perhaps someday you will find a good reason for its existence.”

Gina looked like she wanted to disagree, then her shoulders slumped. “Maybe. It’s not like it’s going to go away, right?” She hugged herself, fingers digging hard into her upper arms.

Brynna wished she could find something comfort to say, but there were other, more critical things that needed to be addressed. “Gina,” she said, “I need to ask you something. I know that right now all you can think about is Vance, but we have to find out about the last guy that Casey rescued, Tate Wernick. We need to know if
you
know what’s going to happen.”

Gina looked up. Her face was hollow-cheeked and rimmed with red shadows. Her eyes were bloodshot, like someone who had been drinking for days. True grief could make a person look like that.

“Oh my God,” Gina gasped. She had slowly slumped forward, but now she again sat up straight. “Oh my
God
. Tate Wernick—you have to stop him!”

There was something so urgent in the tone of her voice that Eran literally jerked on his seat. “What is it?” he asked sharply. “What’s he going to do?”

“Oh, I can’t believe . . . I’m—I’m—
Oh my God.
” She couldn’t even get the words out.

“Gina,” Brynna prompted. “Tell us!”

“He’s made this—this bomb thing, this truck bomb. Yeah, that’s what it is. He’s going to set it off today!”

Eran’s mouth dropped open. “You knew this all along and you didn’t tell us?” Brynna thought he sounded more incredulous than he had throughout this entire ordeal. Even so, he didn’t pause long enough to let Gina answer. “Where?” he demanded. Suddenly he was all business. “I need to know where!”

“In front of that building with the big plaza and that crazy-looking statue.”

Bheru was watching her closely. “Ms. Whitfield, you’ve just described about fifty buildings downtown.”

“I know!” Gina cried. “I don’t know the name of the building—I can’t recall it. Oh God, why can’t I
remember
?”

“Just take a deep breath and think,” Bheru told her. “Breathe and exhale, and tell us what you saw.”

Gina sucked in a ragged mouthful of air. “It’s glass—it’s
all
glass, and it’s round and kind of blue. It’s got tile columns and a little plaza with a fountain and that big statue in it. It’s off Clark Street, I think, or maybe LaSalle.”

“That statue,” Eran said. Brynna could tell he was forcing himself to speak levelly. “What does it look like?”

“It’s really modern. It’s—”

“Is it all black, like the Picasso at the Daley Center?” Bheru suggested.

“No,” Gina said. “It’s really large, white, and outlined in black. It’s by that other artist who’s so famous, but I can’t recall his name.”

“Dubuffet?”

Gina frowned. “That sounds familiar . . . yeah, I think so.”

Eran and Bheru stood at the same time. “The James R. Thompson Center,” Eran said grimly. “He could very easily park a truck bomb right next to the building. There’s so much glass in that building—everything would shatter. The loss of life would be tremendous.”

“When?” Bheru asked.

“Today,” Gina answered. “This afternoon. He’s so angry about everything. At a little after four o’clock, when all the government employees are getting out of work.”

“Great.” Eran looked at his watch and Brynna saw the color drain from his face. “That means we have just about a half hour.”

THE LAST PERSON CHARLIE
Hogue thought he would find standing on the other side of his hotel room door was his wife.

His shock must have shown in his face because she smiled at him a little sadly. “Hello, Charlie. May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said. He backed away, pulling the door wider. “Of course.”

Brenda came inside and looked curiously around the hotel room. Then she stood there without moving, as though she wasn’t quite sure she belonged. For a moment, Charlie felt a deep, deep shame. He had put her in this position, his wife of twenty years. Made her feel like she shouldn’t be at his side. “Sit,” he said, pointing toward the only chair in the room. “Not very fancy, I’m afraid. But, you know, I kept the budget in mind.”

She nodded and settled herself on the very edge of the dingy upholstered chair. She was wearing a sundress with tiny peach and white flowers on it. Brenda wasn’t a slender woman, but she wasn’t heavy, either—just more or less average. The dress fit her well and made her look a little more curvy than usual. He thought she looked beautiful. Her shiny, shoulder-length hair was showing the effects of Chicago’s humidity, and it framed her face in soft waves. She had always had good skin, had always taken care of herself, so despite having two school-age kids, she didn’t look her age.

He supposed he did. Like a lot of guys, he went out in the sun all the time and never put anything on his skin for protection, and as he had just found out, the hair that was starting to thin at his crown was just like his father’s, Douglas Redmond. Eran didn’t have that problem; he must’ve gotten the good genes from their mother’s side. He and Eran were built a lot alike, with brown hair and the same-shaped eyes, and a good build. Eran had taken better care of himself whereas Charlie had spent his free time poking around the backyard, going fishing, sometimes playing a round of golf. He didn’t feel bad about how he looked, although maybe a little self-conscious when he was next to Eran. Eran’s job had obviously demanded that he stay in better physical condition. Now that Charlie was getting older, he was finally trying to pay a little more attention to his physical well-being.