“The note gives Beth a motive to kill her dad, no one else. Reed is doing his best to maintain her illness as a suicide attempt from depression. You blew that theory out of the water. Coop supervised the search of Beth’s locker with Cleo Nolan and is on his way to pick up Detective Young. There’s a fundraiser for CO Locke. It will be interesting to see the dynamics.”
“Thanks, Zach.” Martin blew out a wistful breath.
“Get some rest.” Zach patted his arm.
Tuesday, July 15th
Jamie shook his mumbling and tossing friend. "Martin, you need to go sleep in a real bed. We’ll call if something changes."
Martin didn't protest the PA's request. Keys jangled in his pocket—Elizabeth’s keys. His truck was in her driveway. The thought of a warm shower and sleeping in Elizabeth's bed soothed him.
The Horizon garage rose ten floors beside the hospital. The elevator transported him to physician parking, where the key fob would locate her white Audi. Headlights flashed on his third press of the fob.
When Martin sat halfway in the driver's seat and reached below to press the electric seat button, a familiar metallic sound shifted his brain to alert. A pressure plate tripped beneath him. He held and released a deep cleansing breath. Any movement could trigger the explosive.
He slid his hand along his belt and tapped a button on his phone. The unobstructed view of the hypnotic starry sky from the roofless tenth floor would be beautiful if the device beneath him didn't threaten to blow him to dust if his team couldn't render it harmless.
Ford, Mike, Noah, and Tighe were sorting through evidence in the hotel conference room. Suddenly, the place sounded like a hive of bees were invading as their phones vibrated and flashed. Mike read the screen in disbelief. ALERT: MARTIN BAILEY IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE. The next line gave a set of coordinates.
The group rose in unison and joined the rest of the team in the hotel lobby. Mike held his phone to his ear while he delegated orders. "Archie came off the ICU detail and grabbed Seth Brady as backup; they’re headed to the coordinates. The signal is coming from the garage."
Mike instructed, "Julian, Ford, and Noah, start heading there. The rest of us will hold our position until we receive more information from you."
Archie shined the beam of his flashlight in an arc. "Martin left the ICU ten minutes ago. We’ll start on the top floor and move down one level at a time. Whatever you do, keep your eyes out for anything unusual and don't touch anything." Ambulance sirens rang in the distance.
Seth opened the flashlight application on his phone. Rows of cars and trucks were parked within white lines, with oil stains marking the pavement. Three rows down, he spotted him.
The space beside him was empty. The door was open, and his left foot was planted on the pavement. His black briefcase contrasted against the door. "Stop. I triggered a pressure plate. Notify base," Martin spoke in a level, determined voice.
Archie called back before tapping his com. "Boss, help is on the way. Raptor, he’s on the tenth floor, north side, third row of the garage. He's in the driver's seat of a white Audi A4. Beneath him is a pressure plate."
"Son of a bitch. All right, I'll notify all necessary law enforcement. Don't let anyone on that floor who isn't rescue personnel. Smooth is two minutes out."
Julian, Ford, and Noah pulled up to the garage as Mike's emergency page came over. "Noah, come with me. Ford set up incident command. Tell hospital security to seal off every exit and entry into the garage. They also need to secure all entries and exits into the hospital except through the ER. All incoming need to be checked. Anyone exiting needs to be held."
Julian had the most bomb disposal experience. With Noah, he hit the stairs at a run. "Martin, speak to me?"
"Tapped the key fob, opened the door, sat and click. No movement since."
"Seth, Archie clear the area. Noah, get Zach up here fast with our bomb kit.Mon frère, I'm coming. You hurt?" Julian began a slow crawl to the car.
"Not yet. What do you see?" His tone was flat and calm.
The beam of Julian’s flashlight illuminated the area under the seat. "Hmm. We've got a pressure release device. Probable C-4. Aluminum casing, wrapped up tight. I need to open it up."
"Don't rush. I have all the time in the world." Martin’s sarcasm was biting.
Zach slithered in beside Julian, dressed in a cumbersome bomb suit. "Julian, get a suit on. Martin, we will manage this."
"I hope you aren't just saying that to take over my new job when I blow up."
Julian, now wearing a protective suit, began to remove the housing on the device. "Martin, I'm going to slip a wire into the interceptor holes. We've got a lot of diversionary shock tube, some det cord, and a blasting cap. Plus a secondary mechanism. This isn't an internet bomb. The secondary shows skill. The bomber has their heart set on blowing us to bits.Ça va?" He asked his friend how he was doing.
"Très bien, Jule." A fine sweat saturated Martin's forehead.
"Your French is getting better. I'm improvising a pin." Julian slid a stick of metal into place. "All right, man, we’re going to release the weight."
"Get out of here—I'm the weight. Just let it take me if it blows." Martin took a breath. "Jule, Ian has my letter. I need you to make sure Lola Wyatt and Elizabeth are taken care of."
