Every Fifteen Minutes (35 page)

“Sir, no, move it out, move it out!”

“Officer, the red pickup behind me is the boy's mother, the bomber's mother.” Eric made himself say the words. “I'm the boy's psychiatrist, Eric Parrish. The police called us and said to get to the scene, right away. You have to let us through.”

The cop frowned under the patent bill of his cap. “Sir, I've had reporters lying through their teeth to get closer to that mall.”

“Officer, you can verify this information. We were called by Detectives Rhoades and Pagano of the Radnor Police. We've been calling to tell them that we're on the way.”

“We don't know those guys. We're Upper Merion P.D.”

“Officer, there's going be a lot of different jurisdictions here, but we have to get through. You want to be the one who stops us, when we were summoned here?”

“Okay, go.” The cop waved them into an open lane to the left, behind a line of smoking flares.

“Thanks, Officer.” Eric hit the gas and signaled to Zack to follow him.

“Pretty fancy footwork.” Laurie smiled, tense.

“Beginner's luck.” Eric drove down King of Prussia Road, got in the left lane, and turned onto Mall Road, which bisected the mall complex, dividing the older Court on the right from the newer Plaza on the left. “Where's the video store, in the Court or the Plaza? Can you look that up on your phone?”

“Hold on.” Laurie looked down, touching buttons on the phone. “It's in the Plaza. Right downstairs, next to the Starbucks.”

“So which mall entrance do I want? The first one on the left?”

“Yep.” Laurie pointed. “That'll be the closest.”

Eric steered down Mall Road, craning his neck as he drove, trying to see the large parking lot in front of Lord & Taylor, which was controlled chaos. Police were hurrying terrified shoppers from the mall, a stream of men, women, and children running for their lives. Shouting, crying, and screaming wafted through the car window. Cops and other personnel were erecting a large white tent for a command center. Fire trucks were pulling up with firefighters, and boxy white ambulances idled, at the ready. Black Humvees unloaded black-helmeted SWAT teams. Official personnel ran this way and that, in uniforms of all types, including dark FBI and ATF windbreakers. Lights and portable generators were being connected, and sawhorses unloaded from the back of municipal trucks to set up a barricade.

Eric felt horrified to think that the person causing the terror was his own patient. “This is a nightmare. These poor people. I pray nobody gets hurt. Max doesn't know what he set in motion here.”

“Eric, I'm so sorry I got you into this.” Laurie sighed, eyeing the scene.

“No, it's okay. Max needs help. This is proof, as awful as it is.”

“But somebody else could've helped him, another psychiatrist. I got you into it, and look what happened. The cops, your job.”

“I wouldn't want anybody else to do it,” Eric said, realizing he meant it once it was said aloud. “I want to be the one to help him, and in a way, he's helping me.”

“Now you're talking crazy.”

“Who better?” Eric turned left onto the uphill ramp that led to the Plaza. The Neiman Marcus was to his right and the main entrance straight ahead. The ramp was blocked at the top by a line of uniformed police in front of sawhorses. Eric drove slowly toward them, with Zack's truck behind, and cops broke out of line and started running toward him down the ramp, motioning for him to stop, waving flashlights or their hands.

“Sir, you're not permitted on his road!” shouted one heavyset cop, as he reached the car, and Eric braked.

“Officer, I'm the bomber's psychiatrist and I'm here with his mother. We were called here by Detective Rhoades of the Radnor Police. You have to let us through.”

“I didn't hear anything like that.” The heavyset cop peered into the BMW at Laurie. “She the mother?”

“No, she's an emergency physician. The boy's mother is in the truck behind me, with her boyfriend. You have to let us through.”

“Sir, you two are just medical personnel, and we have all the first responders we need. The mother and the father might be getting through, but you and the other doc aren't going anywhere until I check with the brass.” The heavyset cop turned around, jogged back to the other cop, and they spoke, their caps bent together. Another cop ran back to Zack's truck, while the heavyset cop took off, hustling away to the line of cops.

“Eric, oh my God, look. Snipers.” Laurie pointed, and Eric looked up at the flat roof of the Neiman Marcus, where SWAT members in black gear were taking positions at the corners of the building. He could see that the position offered the best angle on the mall entrance, which was a panel of four doors set in a massive glass wall, but he couldn't see through the entrance.

“Laurie, where exactly is Video City?”

“Hold on.” Laurie looked down at the mall map on her phone, the bright blue light illuminating her face from below. “The first store at the entrance is the bank, the second is a Sunglass Hut, then the third is Video City.”

“Damn, I wish I could see what was going on.” Eric squinted, eyeing the mall. It was impossible to see farther inside, over the police and other personnel, running this way and that.

“Wait a minute, hold on.” Laurie tapped away on the touch screen of her phone.

“What are you doing?” Eric shifted over.

“Here we go, it's a live feed. There are so many news vans around, I knew one of them would have the video uploaded already.”

“Of course.” Eric watched the video, a close-up of the inside of the mall shot from the outside. The lights were on the first floor, and the camera angle was trained on the video game store, which had a glass front wall. The image was indistinct due to its amplification, and the camera angle didn't show the store in its entirety, but Eric could see enough to fill him with dread. Video City was empty in the front but there was a counter in the back, and behind it stood a dark silhouette, small in stature, which he recognized as Max in a hoodie. Eric realized that if he could see Max that easily, then so could the snipers.

Laurie looked over. “Hey, the cops are letting Zack and Marie through.”

“They are?” Eric turned around as Zack's truck zoomed past them, heading alone to the mall entrance, where the cops parted and the truck was waved through. The pickup moved at a crawl toward the white tent, then stopped and was swarmed by uniformed police. Eric couldn't see Zack and Marie because of the crowd and the darkness, but the police hustled them toward the white tent, so he knew Zack and Marie had gotten to somebody in command.

“That's good.” Laurie returned to watching the live feed on her phone.

Eric scanned the scene, troubled. He hoped Marie had sobered up enough to talk to Max, but her very presence would remind him that there was nobody left to whom he was close. Max could have seen the TV news report about his being at the police station and believe that Eric had put him on the hook for Ren
é
e's murder, betraying him. It would leave Max feeling even more alone, hopeless. Suicidal.

“Sir, sir!” The heavyset cop came jogging back to the BMW. “Sir, please leave immediately. Turn your vehicle around. You're not being permitted access.”

“Officer, please, I know I can help. Let me show you some ID.” Eric reached for his ID lanyard, then remembered it had been in his pocket when his clothes were confiscated by the police.

“Eric, we should go,” Laurie said, just as her phone rang. She answered the call, “Dr. Fortunato here. Zack, hold on.” Laurie turned quickly to Eric. “Zack wants to talk to you.”

“Sir, move it out, move it along!” The heavyset cop waved him to turn around.

“Officer, give me five minutes,” Eric said to the cop, taking the phone. “This is the mother and her boyfriend.” He put the call on speaker. “Zack, what's going on?”

“Marie is freaking the hell out,” Zack said, tense. “She can't stop crying. They called Max on his cell but he's not answering.”

“Can you get me in there, Zack? Ask the powers-that-be in the tent. I can go talk to him.”

“I tried that. They say no.”

“Can you give the phone to whoever's in charge? Let me talk to him.”

“Okay.” There was some noise, then an authoritative voice came on. “This is Lieutenant James Jana. Who am I speaking with?”

“Dr. Parrish, I'm Max's psychiatrist. I know I can help if I can talk to Max. Is there any way you can patch me through to him?”

“No, I couldn't even if I wanted to. He's not answering the phone. He made the one call and that's it. He won't even pick up for the mom. We left messages on his cell and the store landline.”

“What did he say when you spoke with him? How did he sound?”

“Cool, calm, and collected. You're this kid's psychiatrist. What's his problem?”

“I can't discuss his diagnosis.”

“You're kidding, right? This kid has a bomb and you're playing games, Doc? What about those kids he's holding hostage? What about them?”

“Lieutenant, what did he say to you, exactly? What does he want? Does he have any demands?”

“That's confidential police business. We're not even releasing that to the hostage families. We don't want it in the media.”

“I'll keep it confidential, I swear. Please tell me. It will help me understand his mental state, and I can help you reach him.”

“Fine, only because of your relationship to the boy and the mother. But if this comes back to me, if I see this online or anywhere else, there will be hell to pay.”

“That won't happen, you have my word. Please tell me.”

“He has five hostages, all kids. Four boys and a girl. He said he's going to kill the first one in fifteen minutes and kill another one every fifteen minutes after that.”

Eric felt his blood run cold. It was horrific, coinciding with Max's tapping ritual, but something about it didn't make sense. “What about the bomb? Why the bomb?”

“Then he's going to blow himself up and everybody with him.”

Eric wasn't buying the story, not from Max. “Lieutenant, ask yourself. How is this a plan? If he really wanted to kill those kids, why wait? Why give you so much notice? If he really wanted them dead, they'd be dead already. And why the bomb?”

“Dr. Parrish, you tell me. The kid's a head case.”

“His plan tells you that he's not going to kill those kids. He's not going to set off a bomb. He wants to commit suicide by police. He wants your guys to kill him.”

“That possibility ran through our minds. We have a top-notch terrorism negotiator here from Homeland Security who said the same thing.”

“Homeland Security?” Eric glanced at Laurie, who looked grave in the dark car. “Lieutenant, this kid is not a terrorist. Nothing like that is going on. He's just a—”

“I don't have time to yammer, Doc. We got to save mass lives.”

Eric knew what that meant. They were going to kill Max before he got a chance to kill anybody else. The snipers were already getting into position. “Lieutenant, isn't there any way I can get in there and talk to him?”

“No, sir, there is not. Out of the question. It's unsafe.”

“But I think I can convince him to stop. You can save his life and the lives of those hostages.”

“Sorry, I have to go. Good-bye.”

“Damn it!” Eric gritted his teeth, handing Laurie back the phone.

The heavyset cop clapped his hands together. “Sir, you heard the lieutenant. Please turn the vehicle around and exit the area.”

“Eric.” Laurie touched his arm. “We have Marie's cell phone number, and if he calls her, she can put you through to him. You tried your best, but we should go.”

“Sir, listen to your wife. Turn it around, immediately.” The cop edged backwards to give the BMW room to navigate. “Immediately, sir!”

“Okay. Will do. Thanks, Officer,” Eric said, waving him off, and the cop turned away to jog back to his post.

Eric turned to Laurie, kissed her on the cheek, and opened the BMW door. “Wish me luck,” he said, then jumped out of the car.

And hit the ground, running.

 

Chapter Forty

Eric bolted to the curb, jumped the short hedge, and ran straight into the melee in the parking lot, knowing the heavyset cop wouldn't be able to find him in the darkness and confusion. Uniformed police, EMTs, FBI agents, ATF agents, and militaristic SWAT teams with military gear hustled this way and that. The night air filled with crackling radios, Nextel phones, people shouting, kids crying, and police barking orders. Snipers on the top of Neiman Marcus dropped into lethal crouches.

Eric kept his head down, running toward the mall, ducking behind a parked ambulance, then a fire truck, hopscotching his way closer to the entrance. He moved steadily forward, looking for a way to get into the mall. Police in tan, black, and blue uniforms hustled stricken shoppers from the entrance, and nobody was entering except for cops, firefighters, and other first responders, an all-hands-on-deck effort to evacuate people before shots were fired or a bomb detonated. The command center was to his left, about a hundred feet away, so Eric ducked behind a fluorescent green fire truck.

Firefighters stood on the other side of the truck, toward the back, talking in a small group, and Eric noticed something. A few of them had taken off their overcoats on this hot summer night, standing in their T-shirts, suspenders, and flame-retardant pants. Their jackets hung on the truck itself, and Eric knew it was his only chance. He grabbed one of the jackets, which read Campbell on the back, slipped it on, and ran toward the mall. He kept his head down, raced for the entrance, and joined the line of first responders dashing into the mall.

Eric crossed the threshold, glancing up at the second-floor balcony, horrified to see that snipers in black military uniforms were taking positions along the railing. They'd have a clear shot at Max inside the video game store, through the glass front wall. The firefighters took off in all different directions, hurrying shoppers outside as police officers relayed them forward, but Eric ran straight, streaked toward the video game store, and ran inside.