“Who is he?” Nick moved in for examination.
“The account is under the name of Claire Grimes. The post reads, ‘Matthew striking it up at the bowling alley.” Dwight turned to Nick. “That’s the kid. Matthew Grimes.”
“That has to be his mother. Run both names and get a location ASAP!”
With a feverish pace, Dwight keyed in the names and waited for the massive brain behind the NGI database to spit out a location. “Claire Grimes lives at 3259 NW 1
st
Street, Owings Mills,” Dwight said.
“That’s not far, twenty minutes, tops.” McKinnon picked up his radio again and made the call.
“Do we have a phone number? Anything we can do to warn the mother?” Kate asked.
Dwight continued to type on the keyboard. “Here. This is her cell phone.” He turned the monitor toward her.
Kate immediately dialed it, her heart pounding with anticipation. She prayed they weren’t too late. The line rang. One, two, three times. “God damn it. Voicemail.” She ended the call. “Captain, how close are your units?”
“They’ll be there in three minutes.”
“Good. Tell them not to approach the home, but try to get a visual inside.”
“What? Why?”
“Because Stroud will kill the kid. We need a coordinated approach.”
“Agreed,” Nick replied. “We burst in there with guns blazing, he won’t hesitate to take out the boy. We have no choice but to assume he’s already there.”
“And what if he’s not there?” McKinnon asked.
“Then we’ll get the family someplace safe and be ready for him.”
TWENTY-TWO
A
shock wave
jetted down his spine as he stood watch outside the boy’s home. It was that customary tingling and bolt of energy that came when the time was near. But he had to be sure the boy was there—and alone. He’d taken cover behind a tall, wide shrub between the home and a neighboring house. He double-checked his gun was at the ready.
Another survey of the immediate area confirmed no bystanders and no cops, but how long he had, Stroud couldn’t be sure and so a decision must be made. He stepped out from behind the shrub and began making his way toward the home. A light in the front window burned with a soft white hue that spilled through the slats of the closed shutters.
He was next to the garage now, hiding behind the stone column. If only he could see through the garage window for a car, but the windows were too high. Even if he could manage a peek inside, the garage was dark and it would be difficult to see a car anyway. When he believed it was safe to continue, Stroud moved toward the front of the home and stood near the porch steps. A deck spanned the entire length of the front of the home and he could approach from the far right side, remaining obscured from view of the front window and anyone who might be approaching from the street. He leaned toward the window, listening. Only a low, muffled sound emerged and sounded like a television.
He had but one chance and the time had come to take it. If the parents were home, he’d simply make up an excuse and leave. If they weren’t, then he’d take his shot. Stroud stepped toward the front door and knocked with three firm thumps of his knuckles.
The faint sound of footsteps approaching made Stroud’s pulse rise. He swallowed hard and hardened his stance, ready to push his way inside. But the door didn’t open. The steps ceased to make any further sounds. Something was going awry. It occurred to him that if the boy was alone, he might not be willing to open the door to a stranger. The door had a peephole and he might have already gotten a look and opted to pretend no one was home. If that was the case, it would all but confirm that the parents weren’t home. A much easier, and much more desirable scenario.
Stroud waited a moment longer, then turned and stepped down from the porch. He walked around the side where he would not be spotted and waited for the kid to make a choice. He hoped a call to the police wasn’t in the program. The kid was thirteen; smart enough to know what to do in a situation such as this. Then again, this was a safe neighborhood and the chances the kid would know Stroud was on the loose was slim. Last anyone reported was that he was still in Virginia.
The question now was, how to get inside. Now that he felt comfortable with the certainty that the parents weren’t home, he would need to find a way in. Time was still critical and the cops could show up if the boy made the call. However, Stroud had no intentions of taking this kid anywhere. It was an unavoidable deviation from his initial plans. He would do what needed to be done without delay because he knew his chances of getting away clean this time were slim and none. It didn’t matter now. Stroud had nothing to lose by getting caught.
Stroud began to walk toward the back of the home where a red cedar gate hung between wooden posts of a picket fence that could be scaled, but with some difficulty. A certain level of physical fitness was required when endeavoring to capture pre-teens and young teenagers. He tried the latch, but a long bar hung across it. It wasn’t going to be that easy. The fence was short, maybe only five feet in height and Stroud was five feet nine.
Stroud gripped the top of the fence posts, their pointed tips difficult to hold on to. But he pulled himself up with the strength of his arms while his sneakers slid against the smooth surface. He needed traction, but had none. His arms bore all the weight as he pulled on them to lift himself higher.
Just a little more
, he thought.
His waist reached the top and from there, he lurched over the edge, counterbalancing the rest of his weight before finally flipping over to the other side. The thud of his fall sounded loudly in his ears and he quickly got to his feet and pressed himself against the sidewall of the house. A moment passed while he waited for someone to come outside, but no one did.
Stroud dusted off his jeans and stepped with caution toward the rear entrance of the home. While he hadn’t heard the presence of a dog, there was no way to be sure one wasn’t in that back yard, but as he proceeded, no dog came running. He could have easily broken the dog’s neck in any case.
A sliding glass door extended the length of the covered patio in the rear yard. There would be no need to break the glass. Stroud knew how to lift the slider from its track to gain entry. Another handy-dandy trick he learned in prison.
The door was obscured by window coverings and now it would be all too easy to get his hands on the prize. Stroud approached and began to lift the far end of the glass door until the wheel raised a few inches. The lock would then disengage and pulling the door away would be no trouble. He did just that and slid the door back about a foot, enough for him to slip through.
As he emerged beyond the curtain, an unexpected surprise awaited him.
“Stop!” The boy held a large butcher knife in his hands. With wide eyes and a pale face full of fear, his voice cracked. “I already called the police. Get out of my house!”
“Well, aren’t you a smart one.” Stroud moved a step closer and removed his baseball cap. A sign that he wasn’t going anywhere.
“I told you! Leave!” His hands gripped the knife with such force that it turned his knuckles white and returned a red-hue to his cheeks.
“So, you called the cops, huh? I guess we ain’t got much time then.”
» » »
Kate refastened her vest and was again ready to apprehend Lyle Stroud. McKinnon’s team was only two minutes from the residence when the call came in from dispatch. The boy had called 911. Stroud was already there.
“Let’s head out, Reid.” Dwight walked past her in the corridor, already prepared to go.
She followed him, tugging on her vest to ensure it was secured. Her gun was holstered and she was ready to take Stroud down. And when they reached the lobby, Nick seemed ready to do the same. She feared what he might do, given his state of mind. Once he got something in his head, no one could convince him otherwise; not her and not Dwight. But she couldn’t think about that right now. Her first priority was to save Matthew Grimes and she hoped it wasn’t too late because if it was, there was no telling what would happen.
“We’re leaving.” Nick checked his weapon and secured it again before walking through the door.
He hopped into the driver’s seat of one of McKinnon’s patrol cars and Kate had a rare opportunity to sit next to him. She looked back at Dwight in the rear seat with inquiring eyes.
He nodded.
It seemed he might have wanted her there to keep Nick in check. She doubted she had that sort of sway over him.
Nick started the car and roared out of the parking lot, heading toward Stroud’s location. “Who’s the officer in charge on scene?”
Kate retrieved her cell phone and made the call. “Jackson. I’ll touch base now.” She got him on the line. “We’re on our way. Is your team set?” A silence while she waited for a reply. “Good. Hold your position until we arrive. The boy’s alone with Stroud. We need to take every precaution.” She ended the call. “They’re setting up a perimeter around the home. They’re on foot so as not to alert Stroud to their arrival and have eyes inside the living room, but haven’t placed the boy yet.”
“Okay.”
She watched as he kept his eyes glued to the road, never glancing at her or Dwight. This was a very bad sign. “Nick, I know what you’re feeling right now and I know what you want to do.”
He shot an abrupt glance at her. “I’m not going to do anything stupid. And I’m sure as hell not going to let you do anything stupid either. Not with six months left on your probation.”
She turned to Dwight for confirmation he was telling the truth, but it seemed neither were quite sure.
“With Baltimore PD in place, how do you want to approach this?” Dwight asked.
“Stroud’s going to know we’re there. I’m sure the kid told him he called 911 and so he’s going to be on the lookout. What I don’t know is what he plans on doing with him. Keep him as a hostage or shoot him to make a point.”
“That’d be a suicide mission,” Dwight replied.
“He may have no intentions of going back to prison,” Kate began. “I think we make our presence known and get him to start negotiating.”
“We’d have to have something to offer him and there’s no chance the DA will offer him any sort of deal. Not after the bodies he’s left in his wake. I refuse to accept Colton Talbot’s killer will get life in prison instead of the death penalty on account of the DA allowed him to strike a deal to save someone else’s kid.”
There it was. Kate knew what he wanted to do. While she wanted nothing more than to see Stroud dead, unless it was self-defense, Nick would lose everything if he was the one to pull the trigger.
He’d been so concerned about her probation that he didn’t seem to consider his own shaky status since receiving the Letter of Censure. Campbell wouldn’t abide by another episode of questionable field behavior from his top resident agent.
“This is the street.” Nick killed the lights on the vehicle and made the turn. He coasted along, slowing as they approached. Two houses down, Nick pulled to a stop and cut the engine. He radioed Jackson. “We’re on scene.”
Kate spotted Officer Jackson emerge from the neighboring home and make his approach. He made his way toward Nick’s side and leaned in through the open window. “What now, Boss? I’ve got three men in position. Front and sides. No one in the rear. We gonna do this or what?”
“Has Stroud made an appearance? Peeked through the window? Anything?”
“No, and from what we can tell, there seems to be very little movement inside.”
“Are we sure he’s still there?” Kate asked.
“It’s possible he got out ahead of us, but we’re on standby until we get the word.”
Nick began to open the door. “You go around back. We’ll stand at the front and announce ourselves. I’m not going to be busting down any doors and force Stroud into panic mode.”
They came out of the vehicle and Nick drew his weapon. “Let’s do this.”
Jackson pressed on his earpiece. “Standby.” He ran ahead and toward the back of the house.
The others had weapons drawn and quickly made their way toward the Grimes’ front door. Dwight and Kate flanked Nick as they stepped onto the porch, at the ready.
Nick leaned in, trying to listen for voices inside. He turned to Dwight and shook his head. “FBI. Open up.”
They had their guns pointed at the door, ready to fire, but no one opened it.
“FBI. Lyle Stroud, we know you’re in there. We’ve got half a dozen officers out here waiting for you. It’s over. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”
Kate’s nerves stood on end as footsteps approached. She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like more than one person. That would mean they weren’t too late.
The handle turned and the door began to creak open just an inch.
“Looks like you finally found me. Took you long enough. Now take care because I have a gun to this boy’s head and I know you don’t want him to get hurt.” He continued to open the door until he revealed himself and Matthew Grimes. “I did have to disarm him, so apologies for his appearance.”
The boy’s stomach had been slashed and blood seeped through his torn t-shirt.
“Don’t worry, though, it’s not a deep cut. He’s one tough little dude. Came at me with a knife.”
“Please, help me.” Matthew’s voice was small and childlike.
“Drop your weapon, Stroud. There’s no getting away this time.” Nick raised his gun to the man’s forehead.
Stroud began to step back, dragging the boy along with him. “Well, at least I got to have a bit of fun with him.” He kissed Matthew’s cheek.
Nick pushed inside and released the safety on his gun, heading straight for Stroud.
“I don’t think you want to get any closer than that, agent. I got bullets in here. You want me to prove it?”
“Scarborough, hold back.” Dwight moved in next to him. “Put your weapon down and let the boy go. You know what’ll happen if you don’t.”
“You gonna shoot me? You think I give a shit about that? Let’s see, what are my options here?” Stroud looked at the boy again. “Rid the world of this little shit, or let him live and go back to prison until they execute me, which will be at least ten years.”
“Put your gun down!” Kate aimed her weapon at his heart.
“Oh, you gonna chime in now, missy?” He studied her for a moment. “Aren’t you a pretty one?” He turned to Nick. “Must be hard for you to concentrate at work with a partner like her. Damn.” He leered at Kate again. “Bet you’re a real wildcat in the sack.”
“Let the boy go or I’ll shoot you myself.” Kate released the safety of her own weapon.
“Stand down, agent.” Nick appeared at the end of his rope. “This is your last chance, Stroud. Drop your weapon and let the boy go. I won’t ask again.”