Dead Even (18 page)

The boy. I hope the boy is there. I want everything to go just as I have planned it!
He quickened his pace in anticipation.

*   *   *

Butch finished his second corned beef sandwich and downed the last of his coffee. He grimaced at the heavy sediment in the bottom of his styrofoam cup. “Jesus. How long has this shit been on, anyway?”

Mike leaned down and picked up his blue thermos. “Here. Try this. I stopped at Coastal Mart and had it filled.”

“
Now
you tell me,” Butch grumbled good-naturedly.

“Are you ever going to quit feeding your face and tell me what the hell was so urgent?” Mike asked.

They had agreed to meet at the station. It was deserted except for one officer manning the desk and he was out of earshot. Mike lowered his voice nevertheless. “Where are the printouts? I could be looking them over.”

Butch wiped his mouth on a paper napkin, shaking his head. “First things first. What the hell have you done to Harry Windslow to get him so down on you?”

Mike's face registered surprise. “Harry? Why, nothing that I know of. Hell, he's only been on the force for six months. I hardly know the man.”

Butch recounted the conversation he had overheard. “He sure as shit acts like he knows you. Those comments about your drinking—more specifically, ‘frying your brain with booze'—they had to come from somewhere. And unless I miss my guess, I'd say he was systematically trying to undermine you with the others.”

Mike shook his head, clearly perplexed. “That doesn't make sense, Butch. Windslow wasn't even around when I was drinking. Now, if it was one of the others, someone I'd royally pissed off in my drinking days, I might understand. But Windslow? What the shit could he have against me?”

Butch shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know, but it was him speaking. I couldn't place the voice until I went in, then I knew.”

Mike pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “I didn't tell you, but Markham questioned me about my drinking the other day. Said he'd heard rumors I'd started in again. Do you suppose it's all coming from Windslow?”

“Yeah. I'd say that was a fair assumption. I called a couple of the other guys, asked them if they'd heard anything, and they said Windslow had been dragging up all that old drinking stuff again. I think it's backfiring on him, though. The way I hear it, most of the other men are starting to wonder about
him. You
have a good reputation on the force, and most of the guys realize you just went a little crazy when Rebecca died. Windslow, on the other hand, is an unknown quantity. He hasn't been around here long enough for anyone to decide
what
he's made of.”

“Well, he came in here with a pretty high ranking from Denver. Lots of undercover narcotic missions under his belt. Do you suppose he was just pissed that Markham put me in charge of this last drug operation?”

Again Butch shrugged. “You've got me, partner. Who knows what burr the bastard has up his ass. Just look out for him, that's all I'm saying.”

“Funny thing, though,” Mike said a few minutes later as they began going over the computer lists. “I've always had the feeling that I knew Harry from somewhere. I even asked him once if we hadn't met before, but he insisted we hadn't. For some reason, it stuck in my mind that we had been at some party—and that I was drunk as a lord.”

Butch laughed. “You were at a lot of parties where you were drunk as a lord, Mike. You couldn't remember your way home, let alone who was at the party.”

Mike smiled. “Can't argue with that.”

Three hours later the two officers gathered up all of their findings and headed home for some long overdue sleep. They had reached two basic conclusions from their evenings work. Harry Windslow was a world-class asshole, and they were onto what appeared to be one of the worst mass murder sprees of the twentieth century.

*   *   *

Jason's eyes flew open and he stared into the darkness, trying to get his bearings, trying to decide what had awakened him. Had someone tried the door?

He inched his hand down to the floor and felt around for the flashlight. Before he located it, he heard a soft pop at the living room window. Quickly, he threw back the covers and grabbed for the items he had lined up so carefully on the table.

He heard the window start to rise, then a loud, piercing shriek filled the quiet apartment. By the time it ended, he had lit the fuse on his package of firecrackers and tossed it toward the open window. The noise sounded like rapid gunfire in the small living room.

Audra jumped from her bed and hit the floor running. “Jason!” she screamed. “Oh, God! Please, no!” Her hand fumbled for the switch to the overhead light, found it, and the living room came to life. She was astonished to see Jason at the window, blowing an air horn. The noise was deafening.

“Jason,” she yelled over the din. “What is it? What's wrong?”

He continued blowing the horn, but yelled back at her. “Call the police, Miss Delaney. Someone was trying to get in.”

She started toward him, uncertain. “What? Are you sure?”

Jason quit blowing the horn and ran toward her. “Yes! I think I scared him off, but we have to call the police. Right now!”

Audra could see the boy was frightened and didn't wait for any more confirmation of an intruder. She hurried to the phone and punched 911. She listened a few seconds, then flipped the disconnect button up and down. Nothing. There was no dial tone.

“What's the matter, Miss Delaney?” Jason asked.

The full realization of what might be happening suddenly hit her full force.
Howard Simpson! He found me!

She knelt down and hugged Jason to her, tears burning in her eyes. “The phone is dead,” she whispered the words. “We can't call.”

It took Jason only seconds to grasp the significance of the statement. He pulled away from Audra and positioned himself once again at the window. He held the air horn up to the space where the window had been opened, and began pumping the black ball again. His brother used the loud horn at football games, and had been turned in twice to the police for blowing it around the house. With a little luck, his teacher's neighbors would likewise get annoyed.

Audra raced into the kitchen and searched through a drawer for a large knife. “What else?” She spoke the words aloud. “My God, what else do I have to protect us?”

Jason saw a light go on in the house next door. He inched the window higher and continued blowing the horn. Finally, he saw a window being raised. He stopped and listened.

“What the hell is going on out there? Pipe down! People are trying to sleep!”

Jason yelled as loud as he could. “Call the police, mister! And tell them we need Mike Ramsey.”

“What's the matter, son?” the man yelled back. “Can I help?”

“Yes. Someone tried to get in Miss Delaney's house. Come over and stay with us. We're scared,” he yelled back, then added, forcefully. “But call the police first!”

“Okay, son. Hang on. I'll call, then I'll be right there.”

Jason turned around and saw his teacher standing in back of him. She had a long knife in one hand and a small fire extinguisher in the other.

He went over and hugged her around the legs. “I think we're all right now, Miss Delaney.” His small body was shaking, and he could feel tears brimming in his eyes.

Audra knelt down and placed her weapons on the floor, then gathered him to her.

In only minutes, there was a knock at the door. “Are you in there, Audra?” her neighbor yelled.

Audra started to the door, but Jason scampered in front of her, and quickly pulled his alarm system from the door before she opened it.

Audra had never been so glad to see anyone in her life. Her arms went around old Mr. Percy. “Thank you for coming, Clem. Someone tried to get into the house. We were so frightened!”

He patted her back, kindly. “There, there. It's all right now. I called the police. They should be here shortly.”

“We tried to call, but there is something wrong with the phone. Thank God you heard us.”

Percy laughed. “Pretty hard
not
to hear you, I'd say! I noticed most of the houses on the block are lit up, now. I'll wager the police are getting more than just
my
call.”

“What about Mike Ramsey?” Jason asked. “Is he coming?”

Percy reached over and ruffled Jason's hair, an act that normally Jason couldn't stand, but which felt wonderful to him now.

“He sure is, son. When I called 911, they said they couldn't take any other messages, so I looked up Ramsey's number and called him myself. He said he'd be right here.”

Clem walked over and examined the open window. “Screen's off. And the glass has been cut.” He shoved the window down. “Looks like your thief knew what he was doing. There's a small round hole in the pane right above the window lock. All he had to do was unlatch it, open the window, and he was in.”

Audra could feel the blood drain from her face.
He almost had me again! And Jason!

Chapter SIXTEEN

Mike arrived at the scene just as Officer Dickenson was beginning to take Audra's statement. He rushed over, his arms going around her automatically. “Are you all right? What happened?”

Audra held him tight, not wishing to let go of the moment and acutely aware of his hard body pressing against hers. “Thank God you're here,” she whispered in his ear. “It was Howard Simpson, I know. He has found me.”

Mike held her away from him, somehow not surprised that she had learned Simpson's name. “Did you see him?”

She shook her head. “No. Jason scared him off, somehow.” Audra covered her face with trembling hands. “Oh, Mike. I put Jason in so much danger. I'll never forgive myself!”

He pulled her back toward him and she buried her face on his chest. “It's all right, Audra,” he said, “and that's nonsense. You had no way of knowing Simpson knew who you were. No way at all. If anyone is to blame, it's me. I should have assigned someone to your house, on the off chance Simpson might track you down.”

Jason emerged from the bedroom, spotted Mike, and ran toward him. “Mike!” he yelled and leaped into his arms. “It was awesome! Totally awesome!”

Mike hugged the freckle-faced boy tight, then shifted him to one arm. “What's this I hear about you being a hero? Just how did you manage to scare this guy off?”

Officer Dickenson interrupted. “That's just what we were about to find out, Mike. And I sent Jack to look around outside, see if he can pick up a trail, but I'm sure the guy is long gone by now.”

“Did you get my message about not disturbing anything?”

Dickenson nodded. “Yeah, and the lab boys are on the way—a little miffed at being called out in the middle of the night over an intruder. What's this all about anyway?”

“Just a hunch, Joe. Butch has been working for three days, feeding info into our computers over attacks similar to the one Audra Delaney survived ten years ago. Earlier this evening he started picking up some disturbing coincidences. Might be nothing, but if we
are
onto something, this attempted break-in could give us what we need to blow the case wide open.” He stopped talking and looked at Jason. “I'll tell you all about it later. Right now we need to get busy.”

The front door opened and Jack Hunter entered, stamping snow from his feet. “No trail to follow. His tracks lead straight to the middle of the street, and there the snow is too packed to leave any mark.”

“Any good prints left out there?” Mike asked.

Jack nodded. “Several. The boys should be able to get a good cast.”

Mike set Jason down on the couch and turned to Dickenson. “Call in for two cars to watch Howard Simpson's house—front and back. Tell them not to use squad cars—we don't want to scare him off. And call Butch. Tell him I need him.”

“Right. I'll have to call from the car, though. The phone lines have been cut to this apartment.”

“Oh, Jesus!” Mike said, feeling a knot start in his stomach. “That pretty much sews it up then. This certainly wasn't just an ordinary burglary attempt! This guy meant business!”

Mike strode purposely through the apartment to the back door and began undoing locks. He turned back to Hunter. “Have you checked to see whether or not he tried the doors first?”

Hunter shook his head. “No. You got here about as fast as we did. We haven't had a chance to do much of anything, yet.”

Mike pulled the door open and jumped as a loud shriek filled the apartment. “What the hell—”

He reached down and removed a rubber-tipped contraption from the bottom of the door.

Audra came running in from the other room. “That's the noise I heard first tonight. The one that awakened me. What is it?”

Mike shook his head. “I have no idea. I've never seen anything like this before.” He turned the gadget over in his hand. “But it was on the
inside
of the door.”

Jason looked up at Mike sheepishly. “It's a screamer. My brother had a whole bunch left over from the Fourth of July, so I brought them along.”

Mike looked at him skeptically. “A screamer?”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “When you pull it apart, it lets out a loud scream. I put them on all the windows and the two doors.” He took the object from Mike's hand. “See, if you tack one rubber end to the bottom of the window, and the other to the frame, when the window is opened it breaks the connection and sets it off. Same way for the door. It was my brother's idea. He booby-trapped our house last Halloween and scared Momma half to death!”

Mike shook his head. “Are you telling me you scared this guy off with a ten cent
toy?
”

Jason grinned mischievously. “That was just the start. Then I lit a package of firecrackers and threw them toward the window, and then I started blowing my brother's air horn.”