Uncharted Fate (19 page)

Chapter 17

In the mayor’s office, Anna sat on the edge of his luxurious leather desk chair, watching Mark, visibly agitated, pace back and forth across the dense beige plush carpet. The room was low-key and elegant. The wide desk of light-colored hardwood sat in front of bookshelves and discreet corner cabinets. A beige L-shaped sectional looked out upon the historic downtown office buildings. There was no other furniture in the room, merely the luxury of wide-open space.

Mayor Bob Stanton, standing behind Anna with his arms folded, was also watching Mark. “I hope you know, son, you've got a tiger by the tail now. It may get a little rough from here on out with you holding a gun on us.”

Mark turned on him. “I don’t need you to tell me that. Do you think I meant for this to happen? I was looking for some kind of office where I could talk them into giving me a job.”

“With a gun?”

“I thought I could threaten someone without having to use it. I was desperate. Nothing else has worked.”

“What happened in the lobby, then?” Anna asked.

“I’m not sure.” He looked confused. “There was this security guard coming toward me, and I was afraid he saw my gun. I turned away from him and pulled it out of my pocket to hide under my shirt. This lady saw it and screamed and everybody started to run. I got bumped and it went off and . . . and, the next thing I knew, I’d grabbed you. I was scared. I didn’t know where to go.”

His eyes, wide and dilated, shifted in distress from side to side. “I saw the sign for the mayor’s office and decided it would be the safest place. I don’t know why. I didn’t have anywhere else to go. They were after me.”

“They’re still after you,” the mayor pointed out. “The corridor outside is crawling with cops by now.”

“I know.” Mark’s voice was a hoarse crack of sound. “But they can’t get to me. I have you two.”

“Look, son—”

“My name is Mark. Ask Anna. She knows me.”

Stanton raised one eyebrow at that, and went on, “The longer you stay in here, the worse things will be for you. This place is essentially made of glass.” Anna watched in distress as Mark’s startled eyes took in the large expanses of glass making up almost two walls of the office. “All you have to do is step in front of one of those windows by accident, and a sharpshooter could pick you off,” the mayor added. “It’s too risky for you. Give up now, before someone gets hurt. Before you get hurt.”

The gun in Mark’s hand jerked spasmodically, and he motioned with it to the windows behind him. “You two, get over on the couch. I’ll stay near the desk, away from the windows.”

Anna and the mayor moved with caution to sit on the end of the couch away from the window. A glance through the glass beside the door showed the reception area and hall outside were now empty except for two uniformed policemen standing on either side of the glass wall, their pistols trained on the office door.

Mark made his way over to the wide desk, keeping his gun pointed in the mayor’s direction. He swept the contents off with the flat of his hand, and leaned over to sit on top of the smooth wood. The telephone rang and he jumped, startled. He stood, watching it ring for a few minutes, looking at it as if he thought it was a bomb.

“Mark.” Anna kept her voice easy. “It might be the police wanting to talk to you. You'd better answer it.”

He stared at it a while longer. It didn’t stop ringing. He slowly lifted the receiver and held it to his ear without speaking.

“Hello, this is Detective Thomas. Don’t be frightened. We want to help you. No one here wants anyone to get hurt, but you have to cooperate with us to a degree to ensure your safety, okay?”

Jeff waited for the perp to answer, anxious to hear his voice, to try to somewhat assess what kind of crazed fool he was dealing with. When he got no response, he went on, “We know you have the mayor in there and a woman. You have to tell us who you are and who she is. She has a family somewhere and they have right to know she’s in there.”

“My name is Mark Spencer. The woman's name is Anna. I don’t know her last name. She used to work at Betty’s Diner.”

Jeff's stomach fell like a stone and his heart skipped about three beats. “Anna? Are you sure? Anna Lamoreaux?” He felt like he was going to vomit.

“Lemme check.” Jeff heard muffled sounds, then, “Is your last name Lamoreaux, Anna?” There was a pause, during which Jeff died a thousand deaths. The perp’s voice came back on. “Yeah, it is. How did you know that?”

Jeff fought to stay levelheaded. “I know Anna. Let me speak to her, please.”

"I dunno if it's okay or not, man. Why do you want to talk to her?"

"Let me talk to her,” Jeff used as calm a voice as he could muster. "I want to make sure she’s all right. Would you feel better putting the phone on speaker? Then you can hear both sides."

"Yeah, we could do that." Jeff heard him say to someone, "Cop wants me to put it on speaker."

"That button." The speakerphone became obvious a moment later when Jeff heard the ambient noise from the call. "Anna, are you okay?"

"Jeff," she said with a gasp. “Jeff, is it you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you all right, Anna? He didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m fine.”

“How did it happen you got mixed up in this thing?" Her tone was nearly hysterical and Jeff prayed she’d keep her cool.

"I—It happened in the lobby downstairs and he brought me up here with a gun to my head."

"I see. Did he hurt you in any way?"

"No, I'm okay. Just scared."

"I want to keep this line open so we can talk to all of you."

"Okay. He heard you. You'd better talk to him now."

“Mark.” Jeff made his voice calm. “It'll make it easier for you this way. And if we both keep our line connected we can talk about anything you want to, any time you want. Doesn't that make sense?”

“We're all set here now. But you know, Anna is fine. I wouldn’t hurt her. Unless you pull something shady on me. As long as you deal straight with me, she'll be safe.”

When Mayor Stanton sat back down beside Anna, he leaned over and whispered, "I don't know if it gives us any advantage, knowing where the police are set up, but they’re in the data processing office. I could tell from the extension the cop is using. We need to keep this knowledge from Spencer, though." They both turned back to Mark as he began to speak once more.

Anna glanced up and walked closer to the phone so she could hear Jeff better. “Mark, the policeman wants to know how I know you," she said. "Can I tell him?”

Mark hesitated. “I guess.”

She crept closer to the speaker. “His name is Mark.”

"Yeah, I know that much. What else?" Jeff asked.

“He has a wife named Stephanie and two daughters and he lives on Hawley Street. I met him at Betty’s Diner. I think I mentioned him to you once or twice when I took some food over for him and his family.”

Mark pushed her away from the phone. “You don’t need to know my life story, cop.”

“My name is Detective Thomas. I’ll be the one talking with you. Just me and no one else. If you want anything, or need anything, dial extension 4012 and ask for me.” Jeff softened his voice and Anna had to wonder if all police officers were trained to use that tone with an agitated suspect. “Anna said you have a wife and two children. It must be difficult if Anna is helping your family with food. Are you sure you don’t want to give this up now for their sakes? Think of them.”

Mark swallowed hard. “This
is
for their sakes. All of it. All I’ve ever done is for their sakes. You want to get me out of here, Thomas? You find me a job and make me a guarantee I won’t be shot or arrested when I open this door.”

“I can’t guarantee you won’t be arrested. You’ve broken the law.”

Anna saw visible panic take hold of Mark. “You’d better, Thomas!” he shouted. “Or I’ll stay here until Doomsday. And the job is a deal breaker. For sure. You've gotta find me someplace to work. A decent job, too.”

Jeff's voice was soothing and reassuring. “I think we can find you a job. What kind of job do you want?”

“I’m trained to be a refrigeration repairman—freezers, air conditioners, refrigerators. All I want is to be able to do my trained work again. And not get laid off every winter.”

“I’ll try to arrange something. I’ll be here all afternoon and I'll get back to you by five o’clock. If you need anything before then, remember you can just shout for me—got it?”

The phone clicked in Jeff’s ear, which meant Mark had decided not to keep the line open. He stood wearily, shedding his navy suit jacket and vest. He wished he’d gotten some sleep last night, because he knew he wouldn’t get any tonight. He glanced at Carruthers. “This is going to be bad news. We’ve got the worst kind in there. He’s scared stiff, and he believes he’s on the side of justice—a poor, downtrodden young man who only wants to feed his family.”

“You don’t usually sound this cynical, Jeff.”

“I don’t usually have a kidnapper on my hands who’s holding my future wife hostage.”

Carruthers let out a soft whistle. “Ooh, your Anna.”

“Yes, my Anna. Actually, I feel sorry for the kid. Carruthers, I want you to go down to Betty’s Diner and ask for Betty. Bring her up here. She knows this Mark Spencer and she may be able to help us figure out how to deal with him. Have someone call Dr. Morelli. He’s worked with me before when we needed a psychologist. Also, have somebody bring up my hostage handbook. And send a squad car to Hawley Street and have them ask around until you find his place. I want to bring his wife here. Her name is Stephanie. Maybe she can talk some sense into him.”

Carruthers nodded.

“I’d better call Anna’s neighbor. Anna gave me her number. It’s here someplace.” Jeff flipped through his small black address book until he found her name. “Rose, that’s it. I’ve got to tell her what’s happened so she can take care of Mallory and Brian.”

He punched the number in his iPhone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Rose? This is Jeff Thomas, the man Anna has been seeing.”

Rose sounded startled. “Yes, may I help you?”

“Could you babysit for Brian and Mallory when they get home from school?”

“Of course. I always take care of Brian in the afternoon, although Mallory usually fends for herself.”

“I think you’d better keep both of them there with you today. I don’t know when Anna is going to be able to come home.”
If she comes home
.

“Why? Is there something wrong?”

Jeff took a deep breath. “Have you heard about the hostage situation at city hall?”

“No, why?”

“I’m afraid she’s being held, along with the mayor, in his office.”

“Anna?” Rose’s voice squeaked in his ear.

“Yes.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yes, so far. And we’re going to do our best to keep her all right. The mayor's there, too. It’s shaping up to be a siege. If I can tell her the kids are safe and being cared for, it’ll take one worry off her mind at least.”

“I’ll keep them right here. Should I tell them what’s happening?”

“I think so. They’ll be pretty upset, but it isn’t fair to hide it from them. They might get it from Twitter or Facebook or something. Or they may sense something’s wrong anyway.”

“The elementary bus just pulled up at the corner. I’d better go. Brian's here. Keep me posted, okay?”

“Will do if I can. And thanks.”

Anna crept along the sofa and peered through a sliver of the window overlooking the promenade. A mobile unit from the local TV station had set up across the road from the steps going into the municipal building. The place where, only two hours ago, she'd walked with indifference up the stairs, unaware of what lay ahead of her in the ultramodern building.

Who in their wildest imaginings and nightmares would ever expect something like this to happen to them? But to who else, really? No one was entitled to this kind of horror, nonetheless some people had it thrust upon them through cruel mischance.

She watched Mark, sitting on top of Mayor Stanton’s desk, his feet swaying so his heels kept thumping against the desk in agitation, his fingers twitching on the handle of his gun. Were all hostage-takers like him? Someone many people knew and liked? Someone trodden down by circumstance? Someone caught in a whirlwind of events getting too out of hand too quickly? Mark was, without a doubt, out of his mind with fear, and had no idea how to deal with the situation. That made him dangerous—not with evil intent, not aggressively-natured, not with a tendency toward crime and hostility—but fear, uncertainty and desperation.

A patrolman came into the data processing room and stopped in front of Jeff’s desk. “Sir? There’s a whole mob of TV people outside the building. They’d like a short interview with you.”

Jeff looked up. “I don’t have time for it now.”

“The chief says he wants you to do it. There are too many wild rumors and he wants you to give the news people some facts to try to control some of the speculation.”

“Then tell him to do it.”

“I spoke to him, sir, and he sent me up to you.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll have to get someone to man this phone in case Spencer calls through while I'm gone.”

Just then Carruthers came through the door with a frightened-looking Betty behind him. “Oh, good. Carruthers, you stay here and keep an eye on things while I go talk to the news people. If Spencer calls, send for me immediately.”