Uncharted Fate (20 page)

Betty rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “Jeff, this is awful. I stopped and told Henri. He was horrified. Poor Anna. Poor Mark.”

“‘Poor Mark’ is the one who initiated this thing. He’s the reason we've had to evacuate hundreds of people from all over this building. They were jumping out of their skins every time the floor creaked and we couldn't take a chance on anyone getting in the line of fire anyway.”

“But he’s a good boy. I’m sure this thing just got out of hand.”

“That’s the impression I got. However, we have to deal with the situation as it is.” An idea came to him. “Betty, come with me and talk to the newsmen. You can give them information on Mark Spencer.”

Betty looked flustered. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Jeff took her hand and pulled her after him. “Let’s go.”

Cameras and mikes were set up around the corner from the building where the mayor’s suite watched the city. Jeff recognized the anchorman from the six o’clock news who stepped forward to take over the questioning.

“Detective Thomas? I hear you’ve been put in charge of handling the hostage situation. Could you tell us exactly what’s been happening up there?” The anchorman thrust a mike at him.

Jeff looked straight into the camera. “Mark Spencer, age approximately twenty-five, is holding two hostages in the mayor’s office. The hostages are Mayor Stanton and Mrs. Anna Lamoreaux, a woman he grabbed in the lobby as he was being approached by security guards.”

“Can you tell us anything about this Spencer? Does he have a record? Is he making any demands?”

“He has no record. He has been out of work for some time, and he says all he wants is a job.” Jeff turned toward Betty. “This is the proprietress of Betty’s Diner. She's familiar with him.”

Betty leaned into the mike. “Mark is really a nice boy. He’s been out of work since early last fall, over a year. It’s been awfully hard on him and his family since his unemployment ran out. I’ve heard him say time and time again all he ever wanted was a good job so he could support his wife and children.” Betty’s anxiety over the situation was beginning to show. “It seems to me society is more at fault than Mark. Why—”

The anchorman cut her off with a smile. “Thank you, Betty.” He turned to Jeff. “Detective, have you tried to talk him into giving himself up?”

“Yes, of course. He says he won’t leave until we promise him the job and safe conduct.”

“Will you get him that job?”

Jeff shook his head. “We can promise him a job after a time, but he’ll have to be arrested and stand trial for kidnapping and more. That’s the hitch and he knows it.”

At that moment, a patrol car pulled up to the curb and a policeman helped a young woman out of the car. She was dressed in tattered jeans and a faded tee shirt.

“Stephanie,” Betty cried, rushing forward to enfold the girl in her arms.

“Bet it’s the wife,” the anchorman murmured. “Get a shot of her.” The camera pivoted around and focused on the two women. Stephanie collapsed in tears on Betty’s shoulder.

The anchorman strode forward with his microphone. “Mrs. Spencer, could you shed some light on what could have motivated your husband to commit a crime like this?”

Stephanie raised her head, her face dazed, and blinked the tears out of her eyes. When she spotted the TV camera and microphone, she shook her head weakly and started to cry again. “No, please . . . I can’t . . . please.” She ran in blind panic away from the cluster of accusatory, inquisitive people, and the mobile camera operator started to follow her.

Jeff ran forward and stopped the cameraman with a hand on his sleeve. “Enough, mister.” He caught up with Stephanie. Putting an arm around her shaking shoulders, he led her into the building to the elevator and the fourth floor. Betty followed them in silence. They stepped off the elevator and Jeff stood staring at the big, empty reception room. Nothing had changed.

“Is this where they are?” murmured Stephanie.

“Yes, through the door behind the secretary’s desk.”

He led her down the hall to the data processing office. Carruthers, sitting in the chair in front of the phone, looked up and stood quickly. “The mayor’s wife is here. We put her in that first office down the hall.”

Jeff’s shoulders slumped. He wasn’t sure he could handle more than he was already facing. “Stephanie, sit here at one of the desks. I have to go talk to Mrs. Stanton and reassure her as much as I can. When I get back, I’d like you to call your husband and try to talk him into giving himself up. Betty, could you stay with her please, and keep her company?”

Betty nodded and Stephanie fiddled with the handle of the imitation leather handbag she was clutching. “Detective Thomas, please tell Mrs. Stanton I’m really sorry.”

“I’ll tell her.”

Jeff headed down the hallway and slipped into the office. A woman, presumably the mayor’s wife, jumped up. She looked like someone's beloved grandmother, an attractive woman around fifty-five years old. She nervously fingered the buttons on the powder-blue blazer she was wearing with a blue-plaid skirt.

“How is my husband?” she cried.

“He’s fine,” Jeff said. He guided her back to her chair and sat beside her. “I have to be honest with you and tell you this kind of situation is always dangerous, but we’re handling it as best we can. Everything that can be done to keep your husband and Mrs. Lamoreaux safe, is being done.”

“Is he a dangerous young man?”

“No, not intrinsically. He’s a frustrated, disturbed young man, but from everything I’ve heard, he’s not what you would call a troublemaker. He is frightened, however, and that’s not good. His wife is down the hall and we’re going to have her try to talk him into surrendering now.”

“Could I go down there?” she asked, hope plain on her face.

“I think it would be best if you stay here.”

“Oh please, I feel helpless, so out of things way down here. I’ll stay out of the way.”

Jeff sighed. He knew how she felt. He wouldn’t have wanted to be shuttled off to an office where he couldn’t keep track of what was happening, either. “Okay, but if anything starts happening, I may ask you to come back here for your own safety. And I want you to stay put down there.”

In the mayor’s office, Anna was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She hadn’t eaten anything since the lobster at the celebration dinner the night before. It seemed as if light years passed since then, and she was so hungry her stomach hurt. Not sure if she should mention something as mundane as food, she watched Mark pace back and forth in front of the desk.

Before she could decide, the telephone buzzed on the desk, and Mark jerked around to stare at it before picking up the receiver. “Hello?” he said, suspicion edging the word. He listened briefly, then pressed the button again for the speaker function.

“Mark?" A woman’s voice drifted through the speaker. "It’s Steph.”

“Steph? Oh Sweet Jesus, honey. Have they got you down here?” He seemed to visibly collapse at her voice and stumbled around the desk to sit in the chair, his gun forgotten on the desktop and his forehead in his palm.

If she hadn’t been so far away, Anna would’ve tried to get the gun. A glance at Mayor Stanton told her he was having the same thought. He shook his head slightly.

“Yes, I’m here. Are you all right, Mark? What happened?”

“Oh honey, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He started to sob. “Honest, I didn’t. I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“I know you don’t, Mark. Why don’t you give yourself up? It would be the best thing.”

“I can’t now. They’d arrest me. Then what would happen to you and the kids?”

“Don’t worry about us. Think about yourself.”

“I can’t. I’m staying here for you. I don’t matter. I’d stand in front of the window and let the SWAT team pick me off if I owned any insurance to leave you.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Stephanie was crying again now, too. “Don’t say something like that. You’re more important to us than money.”

“I’m not much good if I can’t even keep my family from starving.” Mark put his hands over his face and rocked, the picture of despair.

“Sweetie, please give yourself up. You have to.”

“No, I can’t.”

Chapter 18

Earlier, Rose had gone over to Anna’s house to tell Mallory she was to stay at Rose’s until her mother got home. Mallory was morose and moody and said she wanted to stay home. Rose insisted she should be at her house in case Jeff or their mother called. When she got the two children together, she told them what happened.

Brian started to cry, and Mallory sat, dazed, in her chair, trembling badly. Rose could see it from where she sat. “No.” Mallory shook her head over and over. “Not Mom, too. It can’t happen. We can’t lose Mom, too. No.”

Pain and fear emanated from both of the children. Rose felt so badly for them. To know their mother was in such danger this soon after losing their father must be nearly unbearable for them both. She got up and went to Brian and he leapt into her arms, grasping her around the neck as he cried into her shoulder.

“Your mom will be all right. Jeff is there, taking care of everything.”

“Jeff. . .” Mallory murmured, looking at Rose distractedly. “He’s a good cop. But Rose, you read about these things all the time. Somebody’s always getting killed. The police storm the place sometimes, shooting their way in. Always—somebody’s killed.”

“The policemen know what they’re doing. It's rare that police injure hostages. Usually it’s the kidnapper himself.”

Brian stopped crying and was hiccupping from time to time. Mallory looked at him but Rose could see she was too upset herself to help him much. Brian looked bewildered. Lost. Rose could tell he was thinking he'd never see his father again and now he might never see his mother again either. Rose wasn’t sure what to do, except to offer him her warm strength.

Mallory propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her face into her shaking fingers. Rose knew what she was thinking—it was written all over her face. This was her fault. She'd been nasty and rotten to her mother after her dad had died. She'd given her too much trouble. Rose had witnessed it several times.

Mallory tried to pray, to atone, to bargain. “Please, God,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I hurt Mom that much. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it. I won’t hurt her ever again if only you’ll let her come out safe. And I’ll never touch another joint again. I promise.”

Mallory went over to sit next to Brian, slowly talking to him to try to soothe him. She crooned to her little brother like she would a fretful baby.

Mallory looked at Rose. "You know what's weird? I wish Jeff was here. He's at city hall, though. And that's where he can help Mom most so I'm glad he's there with her. Cam—Cam might be home. Can I call Cam?"

"Of course, dear.”

  Rose tried not to listen but Mallory's voice was sharp with distress so it was impossible. “Cam, this is Mallory.”

  She listened for a moment. “We’re at a neighbor's. I wouldn’t have wanted to wait at my house anyway. That’s where—oh Cam, it’s awful. It’s like a nightmare happening all over again. Oh, thank you. I’ll be here.” She hung up. "Cam is coming over."

"I gathered.

Mallory looked like she was going to burst into tears and ran into the den.

Jeff stood in one of the offices of the city council chambers, across the promenade from the city hall building. The entire front of the triangular, ultramodern building was made of the same smoked glass as the city hall, and would make an excellent cover if the lights stayed off. He positioned the members of the Broome County Police SWAT so if Spencer showed himself, alone, at the window of the mayor’s office, one of the sharpshooters could get a shot at him.

He stared at the mayor’s office in the corner of the fourth floor facing him. Because the lights were on and it was getting dark, he could see into the room from where he stood. He’d instructed the men not to attempt a shot unless they could get a clear view of Spencer and he was, without any doubt, alone. He was suddenly thankful the mayor was bald and Anna blonde. Spencer should be easy to identify. They probably wouldn’t get a clean shot, but they needed to be ready.

Anna felt a little better. They’d all eaten roast beef sandwiches the psychologist suggested Betty send up some time ago. At least Mark had accepted the food, and looked better, too. He probably hadn’t eaten a square meal in days.

Mayor Stanton whispered to her, "I saw policemen with high-powered rifles moving among the shadows below. It would be a good idea for us to stay away from the windows.”

Her stomach pitched when she heard his comment. "I don’t want to get shot, but I don't want Mark to get shot, either."

Exhausted, Anna stretched out on the couch against the end wall and tried to close her eyes and rest, even for a few moments. It was approaching midnight and she’d only slept a few hours in two days. But it was impossible for her to relax with the police out there pointing guns at the building.

She opened her eyes and glanced around. The mayor sat on the carpet with his back propped against the end of the L-shaped sofa. Mark was sitting in the desk chair, methodically taking apart the mayor’s stapler. He jumped about a foot when the phone buzzer broke the stillness of the room. When he picked it up, Jeff could be heard on the speakerphone.

“Mark, I'll get right to the point. I’ve been talking to your former employer. He says you were a good worker and he’d be willing to take you back on. He can’t guarantee he could keep you on all winter. However, he thinks he can swing part-time at least. He’s also contacted a man he knows in the small appliance business, who said if you’d be willing to take some training there, he’ll give you some of the overflow from his shop to work on at home. All of that sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

Mark grinned in relief. “It does to me, too, sir. Thank you.”

“If you come out now, you realize you’ll still be arrested for kidnapping and other charges, and you’ll have to stand trial. I think we could get you a minimum sentence if you give yourself up. Your job would be waiting for you when you get out.”

Mark’s grin faded. “What about my family while I’m in prison? No. I want you to guarantee I won’t be arrested when I leave here.”

“Your family will be taken care of. I’m sorry, son. We can’t do as you ask. If I told you we wouldn’t arrest you, I’d be lying to you. I don’t work that way. Everything I tell you is honest and upfront.”

“Then I’m not coming out.” Mark slammed his thumb down on the speaker button.

Anna’s heart was heavy. When she’d seen Mark smile, she’d thought the ordeal was over, but from hearing the conversation, she knew Jeff couldn’t let Mark go free. She crept over to the desk where Mark was sitting, his forehead in one hand, the other hand opening and closing spasmodically on the handle of the gun.

Skirting the weapon, she sat on the edge of the desk facing him. “Are you okay, Mark?”

He didn’t raise his head. "They found me a job. Still, I’ll have to go to prison first.”

“They don’t have any choice in what to do there. It's the law.”

“Maybe they don’t think so, but if they want to get me out of here, they’ll bend a few rules. I’ve got my family to consider. I need this job now, not later.”

“They’ll be all right until you get out of prison. Better that than to be shot and never be able to provide for them again.”

“You don’t know how I feel. You have a job.”

“I didn’t for a long time, so I do know how you feel. And besides, it’s not the kind of job I really want. It’s a stopgap until I find something better. When I started looking, I hoped to be able to find a job in social services. I’ve always wanted a career helping elderly people. I’ve been doing volunteer work for them since I was sixteen."

Mayor Stanton looked up. “They wouldn’t consider your volunteer work toward any experience?”

“No.” Anna twisted around to look at him. “I guess the almighty degree is what they consider most important, not how easily you get along with elderly people.”

“You can get the education, can’t you?”

“Not on the salary I make. If I could get the job first and then work toward the degree, I could swing it, but I can’t get the job.”

He pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe I could do something. Once we get out of here.”

“If we
ever
get out of here,” Mark sneered, jumping off the desk to pace in front of it.

“Mark, you have to give yourself up. You have no choice.” Anna knelt on top of the desk and tried to catch his attention as he went by.

“I can wait for them to guarantee they won’t arrest me.”

“They won’t do that. I know Jeff. He has high principles. He’s been honest with you from the start, and will continue to be. He’s laid it right on the line. You have to turn yourself in.”

“I—I can’t.” His voice broke as he seemed to force the words out.

“Mark, think of Stephanie.”

“I am.” He stopped and faced her, nervous. His anger seemed to be on a hair trigger. “She’s all I’m thinking about.” He sank onto the edge of the desk again.

“No, you’re not. Not really. Think about what it would be like for her to lose the man she loves in a shootout, or at the hands of a SWAT sharpshooter.” Anna slid off the desk and gripped him by the arm. “I lost my husband. I’ve been through it, Mark. It’s hell. Believe me. The worst thing you can do to her is to deprive her of yourself. It’s far worse than living in a broken down apartment, or going on welfare, or eating macaroni five nights a week.” She shook him. “It is. Don’t do it to her.”

His head sank into his hands and he broke down, sobbing. Anna reached up and put her arms around his neck, letting him cry on her shoulder. Sobs racked his gaunt frame in violent jerks, and she hugged him in sympathy.

Mayor Stanton stood next to them, his hands jammed into his trouser pockets, his eyes sorrowful. “I’d be willing,” he said, “to sign some sort of deposition asking for leniency. You didn’t harm anyone, and I know now you never would have.”

“I’ll sign one, too. And I’ll go to court with you as a witness. I’m sure the court will be as lenient as possible.”

Mark nodded and pulled away from her. “Okay,” he whispered, hanging his head. “I’ll go. Call Detective Thomas.”

Anna dialed the internal number of the data processing room with shaking fingers. Jeff answered immediately.

“Mark is giving himself up,” she said, her voice solemn. “We’re coming out.”

“Thank God.” Jeff sighed in relief. “I’ll see you in a minute.” He stood behind the desk for a few moments, one hand rubbing his eyes, and then headed for the door. Carruthers was coming down the hall from the office where Mrs. Stanton and Mrs. Spencer sat, talking quietly. Jeff started to grin and motion for him to join him when Carruther’s head jerked, then his body suddenly froze.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jeff saw Mark Spencer open the door of the mayor’s office in slow motion and then step out. In three long bounds, Carruthers was at the glass corner of the reception area in attack stance, both hands around his pistol as he leveled it to fire.

In horror, Jeff saw the pistol raised at Mark, and leapt in a flying tackle for Carruther’s gun hand. The gun cracked, fire visible in the dim corridor, and the plate glass shattered in a thousand pieces. Jeff and Carruthers hit the floor together. Mark flew backward from the impact of the bullet and his gun went skittering across the floor.

  “You son of a bitch!” Jeff screamed at the bewildered Carruthers. “He was giving himself up!” Scrambling to his feet, Jeff ran through the mass of splintered glass. Mark lay motionless in a pool of blood, three feet from the office door.

“Oh my God.” Anna rushed over and knelt by Mark’s body.

Jeff motioned to another startled patrolman who'd run in to see what was happening. “Get the ambulance. It’s on stand-by downstairs.”

Anna began pulling away shredded clothing to see Mark’s wounds. Blood-soaked scraps of fabric came away in her fingers, staining them crimson. The injury was in the abdominal area, on the right side. She pressed her palm there, trying to stanch the bleeding. Jeff thrust a handkerchief into her hand, and she used it to help apply pressure.

Stephanie ran into the room, Mrs. Stanton behind her. “Oh no,” she whispered, falling to her knees beside Mark. “Mark, honey. Can you hear me?" She looked up at Anna. "Is he dead?”

“No,” Anna assured her. “Ambulance attendants are on their way up.”

The elevator doors opened, and three EMTS pushed a stretcher out the door and through the gaping opening to the cluster of people around Mark.

One carried a medical bag. “Stand back,” he ordered as he opened his bag and bent over Mark, his eyes taking in the wound at a glance. The EMT listened to Mark’s heart and checked his blood pressure as his assistant took over applying pressure to the wound. Together they made up a makeshift bandage, and lifted him to the stretcher, raising it so one EMT could keep pressing on the bandage as they made their way back to the elevator. “We’ll take him straight to General.”

“Will he be all right?” Stephanie asked through her tears.

“I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell. They’ll probably have to operate to remove the bullet and we won’t know if any life-threatening organs are involved until then. His chances are about fifty-fifty. I’d say.”

“I’m his wife. May I go with him?”

“Sure. Hurry, though. He needs all the time he can get.”

“A patrolman will go, too,” Jeff said. He pointed to the young cop who called for the ambulance, and he followed the EMTs to the elevator.

Jeff looked around. Mayor Stanton was standing by the window with his wife in his arms. Anna, her shoulders slumped, was staring at her hands. Blood coated them all the way to her elbows, with more splotches on her white blouse. He stepped to her side. “Let’s find you a restroom so you can wash up.”