The Fregoli Delusion (30 page)

37

“Lieutenant Donaghue,” Chief
Bennett said, “the governor would like a few minutes with you.”

“Okay,” Hank replied, running a
hand through his hair.

Bennett glanced at his watch. “We
have to make it snappy. The procession’s about five minutes away.”

Hank followed him through the
sacristy, where the rector was giving last-minute instructions to the assistant
priest and deacon, and on into the private chapel. When Bennett opened the door
into the nave, they were met by a wall of sound from several hundred murmuring voices
and background organ music. The first two rows were empty, reserved for the
family and friends about to arrive from the funeral home. Bennett led him along
the front, past the three steps leading up to the chancel, toward the center
aisle.

Hank’s roving eyes took in the
ushers guarding the reserved front rows, other ushers at the back seating last-minute
arrivals, the smattering of police and military uniforms in the congregation, and
the VIPs in the row immediately behind the reserved pews, including Attorney
General Perry, Mayor Watts, Senator Brickland, and several
instantly-recognizable celebrities. He saw his mother, seated between Roberts and
Meredith, several rows back.

The governor sat at the end of the
VIP row in the center aisle. His white hair was lacquered into the trademark wave
across his forehead. He watched Hank with the bright blue eyes of a predator.

Hank heard the noise level drop as
he followed Bennett up the center aisle. Bennett introduced him, and the
governor shook his hand while remaining seated. Hank smiled broadly.
All’s
well with the world
, was his message to everyone watching.
No problems
.
Just another stiff getting his five minutes of fame.

Hank crouched down in the aisle so
that he was on eye level with the governor, whose eyes focused on the badge and
citations on his left breast before lifting to establish eye contact.

“What’s the situation,
Lieutenant?”

“We’ve apprehended the suspect’s
mother, sir,” Hank said quietly. “She’s an accessory, and she’s also wanted on
a related hit-and-run. We have photographic evidence placing our suspect at the
scene with what we believe may be the murder weapon in his hand. The suspect
himself is still at large, but we’ve issued a BOLO and expect to apprehend him
soon.”

“I understand there was a
shooting.”

“The suspect’s mother was wounded
by one of our detectives while threatening another officer with a knife. She’s
been taken to hospital and is stable. The suspect eluded capture at that time.”

The governor’s thick white
eyebrows twitched as he glanced up. “Chief Bennett assures me we’re perfectly
safe. I’ve been told that your fugitive’s armed and dangerous. Will he show up
here?”

“It’s possible,” Hank admitted.
“He apparently has an unreasonable belief he can still repair the damage to his
career.” He forced a grin. “It’s a case of plan for the worst and hope for the
best. If he shows up, we’ll be ready for him.”

“It’s absolutely imperative
nothing happen here. This family’s already been through enough, and I don’t
want them exposed to any more violence. Is that clear?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Good. You’re not a Republican
like your mother, are you?”

“No sir, I’m not.”

“Excellent. I feel even more
confident in your abilities now than I did a minute ago. I’d better let you get
back to work.”

“Yes, sir.” Hank shook his hand.
As he stood up, his cell phone buzzed. The governor’s expression immediately
became serious, but Hank smiled in assurance as he took out the phone and looked
at the call display.
All’s well with the world. No problems
.

“Stand by,” he said into the phone.
He walked up the center aisle, lowering the phone, and passed the reserved
front row at a leisurely pace, Bennett following like a shadow. They stepped
into the private chapel. Bennett closed the door behind them.

Hank put the phone to his ear. “What
have you got?”

“He’s here,” Horvath said.

38

“Here’s what happened,” Commander
Aaron Peterson said to Chief Bennett. “After he stole the Lexus from the
Parrises, he stopped at a shopping mall several blocks from the funeral home,
drove around the back, and took the tags from a vehicle belonging to one of the
store managers. He put the tags on the Lexus and drove to the funeral home. He
got there just as everyone was coming out. He managed to slip into the
procession and drive all the way downtown with it.”

They stood in the middle of the
street, facing the front entrance of the church, their backs to the cameras at
the edge of the plaza that were now providing a live video feed to the networks.
In front of them, at the curb, were the hearse and limousines belonging to the
funeral home. To their left was the barricaded intersection of Clergy and
Simpson Streets, and to their right the barricades in front of the department
store next door to the church, in which the ceremony had just begun.

“The thing you have to
understand,” Peterson went on, glancing at the others in the scrum for support,
“is that we were looking for the Parris tags and we didn’t have the luxury of
time to run every blessed license plate. Plus, the windows on the Lexus are
tinted. Once we were underway, our focus was outward, not inward. I had to
divert resources elsewhere, first to the Benson residence and then to the
Parris residence. We did what we could with what we had available.”

Bennett chewed on the inside of
his cheek. “All right. Okay. So how did we spot him?”

“One of my officers on the
barricade saw him turn off,” Stone answered, folding his arms across his chest.
“After we admitted the hearse and the limousines, we were screening the other
vehicles in the procession as a precaution. Aaron’s right,” he looked at
Peterson, “every other vehicle in the damned procession had tinted glass and
the damned medical waiver stickers to boot, so we were asking the drivers to
lower their window so we could get a visual on everyone coming through. He must
have seen us doing that and turned off a block away. My officer noticed and sent
someone up. We found the Lexus right away and ran the plate, which didn’t match.
We called the registered owner and put two and two together.”

“So where the hell is he now?”
Bennett demanded.

“We’re operating on the assumption
he’s on foot and trying to approach the church,” Stone said.

Bennett glanced over his shoulder at
the plaza. “He might be over there, just another guy in the crowd. Studying the
layout, looking for an opening.”

“If he is,” Stone said, “we’ll
find him.”

Bennett looked at Hank. “You believe
Diane Benson’s his target?”

Hank nodded. “It makes the most
sense, sir. He tried Walter Parris and failed. Mrs. Benson’s already blown him
off, and he won’t take no for an answer a second time.”

“And you’re saying he just has a
handgun? Not a rifle? Not long range, just short range?”

“That’s what we believe.” He’d had
the handgun with him at the Parris house, Karen had assured him there wasn’t a
weapon in their garage he could have grabbed, and there hadn’t been enough time
for him to get his hands on another firearm while making his way from the house
to the funeral home in addition to switching license plates on the car. It made
sense that he was armed only with the Ruger and that he would need to get close
to Diane Benson to use it.

“He’s desperate,” said Ann
Martinez, “and he’s already made mistakes. He may be deluded, but he’s very
intelligent and he won’t want any more screw-ups. He’ll be cautious.” She
glanced at her watch. It was 1:08
p.m
.
“He’s got about an hour while the ceremony’s underway to pick his approach and
get into position.” She glanced at Hank. “I don’t know about the psychology or
anything, but I can’t see him still believing he can negotiate anything. This
has to be revenge, pure and simple. The narcissistic rage thing. Strike out at
whoever’s fouling up his plans.”

“I think that’s probably right,”
Hank said. “It’s most likely he’ll try to approach her when they’re coming out
of the church. She’ll be right behind the coffin and Mrs. Jarrett, so that’ll
be his cue.”

“You’re suggesting we concentrate
right here at the front of the church, then?” Bennett asked.

“We need to cover every angle,”
Hank said, “but this one’s the most likely, unless he feels he can penetrate
our security and get into the church while the ceremony’s still going on.”

Bennett turned around and looked
at the line of uniforms standing in front of the church entrance. “Can’t see
it. We’ve got it sealed, front and back.” He looked at Stone. “Do you think we
need to clear the plaza?”

Stone shook his head. “Not necessary.
If we can intercept him without tipping the media to what’s going on, it’d be a
hell of a lot better. If he’s hiding there now, in the crowd, we’ll find him
and pull him out. I agree with the lieutenant, he’s more likely to find a spot
on this side so he can approach the front door of the church when they’re
coming out.”

Bennett nodded. “All right. This
is your detail, so lock it down. I have to go back inside. Text me with any
updates.” He turned and walked away.

Stone looked at Peterson and
motioned with his chin. “Go ahead. I’ll text you if there are any updates.”

Peterson smiled humorlessly and
followed Bennett back into the church. Martinez went with him.

Stone looked at Hank.
“Lieutenant?”

“Detective Horvath and I will
circulate, sir. We may be able to spot him.”

“Good hunting.”

“Thank you, sir.”

39

They started in the plaza across
the street. Horvath found the departmental public information officer, who
confirmed the media hadn’t yet picked up on the search for the fugitive. She
had an extra portable radio, which she gave to Horvath so they could maintain
contact with Stone’s coordinated search.

They circulated through the plaza
without spotting Holland. Hank was recognized several times by media
personalities who called out to him for a comment. Hank just shook his head
with an apologetic smile.

“Must be nice being a media rock
star,” Horvath quipped.

Hank barely heard him. They’d
reached the far end of the plaza. He was looking across Clergy Street at the
department store next to the church. “Have you been inside that store before?”

“Nope. Want me to take a look?”

Hank shook his head. “I will. Do
me a favor and go down Simpson to Concord and check out the hotel behind the
church.”

“Walk the beat, huh?” He held out
the radio. “Want this?”

“No. Hang on to it. If I need to
reach you, I’ll use my cell.”

They crossed Clergy Street
together. Horvath peeled off to the left, walking in front of the church and
down to the corner. He turned onto Simpson and disappeared around the corner.
Hank walked past the uniformed officers and the metal barricade into the crowd
lined up on the sidewalk in front of the department store. Dodging cardboard signs
held up by people for and against the governor, the senator, and big business,
he wove his way to the front door of the department store. He stopped and
turned around, scanning the crowd around him.

No sign of Holland.

He went into the store. It was
nearly empty. He walked up to a cashier, held up his badge and identification,
and asked to see the manager. When he arrived, Hank asked about side and rear
exits. There was a door that led into the narrow space between the store and
the church, the manager explained, but it hadn’t been opened in years. There
was a rear delivery door, but it led into a courtyard on the other end of the
block, away from the church.

Hank showed them Holland’s DMV
photo. Neither the cashier nor the manager had seen him. Hank asked about store
video security and was told it didn’t work. The store operated on a very low
budget, the manager explained apologetically. Their inventory was the cheapest
they could find, staff were paid minimum wage, and if something broke, it
usually wasn’t fixed unless the insurance company found out about it.

Hank asked to see the side door.
The manager led him through the lingerie department to a locked door. The
manager opened it and they picked their way through a cluttered stock room to a
metal door on the far wall. There were several cardboard cartons stacked in
front of the door. The manager moved them aside, chattering about dead
inventory and cash flow, then he hunted through the keys on his key ring, found
the one he wanted, and unlocked the door. It opened inward, reluctantly, hinges
creaking.

Obviously, Holland hadn’t come
this way. Just the same, Hank stepped out into the passage. It was narrow
enough that he could reach out and touch the wall of the church in front of him.
He told the manager to close and lock the door behind him, and to make sure no
one else tried to come through there. The manager nodded and shut the door.

The passage was dark and cluttered
with refuse and weeds. Hank looked to his left, up to Clergy Street. Stone
obviously counted on no one being able to enter the passage from the sidewalk
because it was behind police security lines. He looked to his right. Much
closer, maybe thirty feet away, was the parking lot behind the church.

As he began to move in that
direction, he heard a faint popping sound in front of him that echoed off the
passage walls.

He pulled out his cell phone and
speed-dialed Horvath. “What’s happening, Jim?”

“I’m standing in front of the
hotel on Concord,” Horvath said, sounding a little out of breath. “A woman’s
been shot.”