Vanished (18 page)

Too much loss in their lives, Jason Logan said last week in
Bible study. Folks cope better if they just don't acknowledge it.
He had shared almost nothing of his own loss. Did he know
that it was clearly etched on his face?

She would get through this afternoon-protected by
the state's Good Samaritan law-and then get out. A cushy
corporate job in Framingham and a high-rise condo would
be paradise after contending with the thugs on the streets and
the slugs in City Hall.

The most important thing was that Ben would be safe.
Enrolled at Brooks Academy, he would be with other bright kids. Kids with more on their minds than getting high or
proving their machismo.

Kaya was checking the plumber's blood pressure when she
heard Leah yell out, "I said spread 'em!"

Paul Wells had a big grin plastered on his face as Leah patted
him down.

"Leah, he's a cop," Kaya called.

"I told you so," Wells said, laughing.

Leah stepped aside to let him in. "Sorry, man"

He made his way across the room. "I see Logan deputized
Barbie. Sweet deal. Hope there's more where she came from."

"Is there something I can do for you, Officer?" Kaya asked.

Wells rocked on his heels. With more muscles than brains,
he'd probably been playing hero up and down University Avenue.
Hopefully he hadn't caused more trouble than he fixed.

"Yeah. Can you go over to South Spire?" he said. "Jamie
Walsh and me don't have the number of casualties you got here.
But we got a couple that have been pretty badly wounded."

"I've got my hands full. Jason-Sergeant Logan-said you'd
bring them here."

"One looks like a broken neck. We're scared crazy about
moving her. Poor kid's only about six-was on her bike with
her mother when the bomb blew."

"What's the status of her mother?"

"There're a couple bodies up by the Circle. She's one of 'em.
Pretty tough on a kid, being without her mother."

Kaya should be with Ben, if she knew where he was. Logan
had headed off for the clinic with Pappas. Why hadn't she sent
them to her house? That psycho Stone might been there now,
lying in wait for her. Maybe Ben had finally remembered their
disaster plan-go home.

Yet she was here, taking care of other people and their children when her own was missing. And she hadn't given Angelina another thought since leaving her with Alexis. At least the baby
was safely locked behind Donnelly's grates.

Not like this place. Grace offered little as an infirmary but
even less as a sanctuary. Leah McKellan might be twenty-six
years old and a lieutenant in the army reserve, but she looked
more like a veteran of information systems than the infantry.

Get a grip, Kaya told herself.

"Tell you what, Paul. I'll go over to South Spire if you'll run
by my house."

"Why would I do that?"

Kaya gave a brief account of the shooting and Stone's
threats.

Wells reacted with a long whistle. "I know that piece of trash.
Tweaker-wouldn't put anything past him. OK, sure."

"Here's my address." Kaya scrawled it on a napkin. "If you
see my son, bring him back here. Arrest him if you have to."

HE TOWERS ON THE NEXT BLOCK. When we get there,
you need to give me a few minutes to go inside, chat up
some folks." Logan slipped the M16 into his gym bag.

"I don't like this touchy-feely approach," Pappas said. "Not
one bit."

"We go in with guns out, either someone will start
shooting or most of the young male population will scatter
like rats. A quiet approach works best. You should take your
post out back, near the-"

"I know how to do a simple surveillance."

"Fine. Sorry. I'll call you if I catch up with Ben." Logan
had dug out ancient walkie-talkies from the basement, stuck
batteries in them, and almost danced with joy when they
actually worked. The range was limited, but they were better
than nothing.

Pappas split off a half block away so he could approach the
rear without being spotted.

The man moved like a cop, confident but watchful, taking
in new surroundings with a practiced turn of the head without
being obvious. Then again, Logan thought-wouldn't a terrorist
have the same qualities?

A skinny boy on a skateboard whizzed by.

Within half a minute, three young men broke away from
a small group on the corner. Too well trained to betray their
urgency, they moved in different directions.

No way Logan would get in the front door without
everyone in the complex being warned. And then he caught a
break. He spotted a kid in a Celtics shirt walking away from
the Tower with Elvin Sheffield-the kid they called Cannon.
Neither one spotted him as they crossed University and went
down Salton Street.

Logan hit the button on the walkie-talkie. "Pappas?"

No response.

After half a minute, Logan hailed him again. Nothing. They
should have tested the range of the devices before relying on
them. If he ran around back to get Pappas, he'd lose sight of
the two kids.

Logan turned onto Prospect Street, a block over from Salton.
Maybe he could get ahead of them. If they spotted him following,
they'd break into a full run. With his bum back, Logan would
never catch them. His sciatic nerve was a path of fire from his
lower back into his foot. No time for babying it now.

Logan went a block, stopped, and peered down the cross
street. There-a flash of that green shirt. He took off at a jog.
The mist was lower here, brushing the tops of the triple-deckers.
The sidewalks were deserted. People were either huddled inside
their houses or had moved up closer to the Circle.

He went one more block and then cut down the cross street.
Looked up and down Salton, found it deserted. He listened for
a few moments but heard no footsteps. He scanned the houses
on both sides of the street. No one moved in the windows, no
indication that anyone was home.

A shadow flashed in the alley. Logan ducked around one of
the triple-deckers, caught the runner coming out from between
the houses. Clutching a ten-dollar bill in his hand, the kid
couldn't be older than ten.

"Where'd they go?" Logan said.

He shrugged, face impassive. "Nobody here but me and the
roaches."

Logan lifted the kid by his elbows. "Now!"

He swore, then said, "Down Cutter. But don't say I said."

Cutter was the cross street he had congratulated himself for
sneaking across.

He went an extra block down Prospect, racing at the limit of
his ability to endure pain. When he came onto Cutter, the boys
were less than half a block away.

"Police! Stop right there."
"

The two of them froze momentarily, then raced away.

I said stop!" Logan shot off a round into the pavement.

Ben grabbed Cannon's shirt, yanked him to a stop. They
both raised their hands.

"Stay there. Keep those hands up," Logan said.

Cannon's head jerked to the side. With a startled look, he fell
like a sack of grain. Ben let out a strangled yelp and began to
run. Even from a hundred feet away, Logan saw the blood gush
from Cannon's throat.

He ran to the kid, jamming the walkie-talkie as he went.
"Pappas, come on, man. I need backup."

The walkie-talkie sparked. "Where the devil are you,
Logan?"

The sight of a knife through Cannon's throat robbed Logan
of a reply.

The kid was dead before he hit the pavement. Ben Murdoch
raced away in mortal fear. Chase him? Or try to find the killer?
Logan couldn't leave Cannon like this-young eyes empty, lifeblood pooling under his head.

He ran into the nearest house, startling an elderly woman
who huddled in her living room. "Police business," he yelled
and ripped a sheet off the first bed he saw.

Back out on the street, he covered the body. The sheet
soaked up the blood, the angry crimson proclaiming another
kid cut down too early.

Logan surveyed the area, going down one alley after another,
checking yards and sheds for hiding places. The killer was gone,
as was Ben Murdoch. He went back to the Sheffield boy's body.
He shook his cell phone, willing it to work so he could call the
medical examiner and start the wheels of justice turning.

Footsteps pounded behind him. Logan whirled around, ready
to shoot. It was Pappas-running down Cutter Street, M16
pressed against his bad arm to keep his injured shoulder stable.

"Where have you been?" Logan said.

"Is this Murdoch? Or the other guy?"

"Elvin Sheffield. I asked you a question, Pappas."

"Piece of garbage walkie-talkies. I waited for your signalfinally went into the Tower on my own. The boys weren't there,
but a little girl told me she'd been trying to call the cops. Obviously she'd been coached-said she overhead people talking,
something about a knapsack that might have another bomb."

"Another bomb? Where is it?"

"Don't know. I pressed her-"

"You what!"

"We didn't have time for milk and cookies, Logan. I didn't
beat her-just used my teacher voice. She got hysterical, told me
her brother and his friend were going to get the knapsack. She
was about to tell me the location when her brother's pals came
in. Fools thought I was messing with her."

"And you escaped alive?"

"I flashed my credentials, which only made matters worse."

"Nice move, Pappas. Like dangling raw meat in front of
tigers."

"Even the M16 didn't faze these boys, not with the firepower
they packed. We reached a stalemate, guns trained on each
other while they whisked her out of there."

"Where did they take her?"

"No clue. You'd have to go through every apartment in that
place, and even then you likely wouldn't find her."

"We've got to track down Ben Murdoch, then."

Pappas rubbed his face. Dark circles ringed his eyes. Aging
under the stress of the day? Or was this a different tension
eating the man-the strain of maintaining a ruse? Was this
whole account about the little girl even true, or just some fabrication to explain his absence at the same time Elvin Sheffield
was murdered?

Logan had been an idiot to take the guy's credentials at face
value. Then again, they were only planning to walk the bike
path-not manage the aftermath of an attack.

"Where would he go?" Pappas said. "Some friend's?"

"You screwed this up royally, Pappas. You should've stayed
put outside, waited for me to call for you. That was the plan.
These kids would've trusted me." Logan slipped the safety off
his gun and jammed it to Pappas's head. "Question is, can I
trust you?"

Pappas didn't blink. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Let's just say I'm still tripping over too many coincidences."

"I pledge allegiance to the flag and to the country for which
it stands. Is that what you need to hear, Logan?"

"The timing of your visit-an hour before the bomb blowsis a bit cute for my taste. Now you disappear, and a kid ends up
dead. I had the plan, but where were you?"

"You listen to me, you pea-minded, muscle-bound sorry
excuse for a cop. I've had all I can take of your accusations and
your attitude-and your pulling rank-your scurrying left and
right like some lame-brained chicken with its fool head chopped
off-your running this show like it was your little toy circus and
not a national security crisis. I'm telling you this, Logan: when
this all shakes out, DC's gonna skin you inside out and hang
you out to dry. And when they're done with you, I'll pick your
bones clean and then grind 'em under my heel. You got that,
boy? Because that's my plan, and you'd better remember it."

Logan burst out laughing.

"What the-"

He holstered his weapon. "Only a fed could spew such
stinkin' garbage."

Pappas shook his head, then laughed with him. "Well, then.
Glad that's settled."

"Yeah, man. Me, too." Logan clapped him on his good
shoulder. "Let's go see a boy about a bomb."

EN WATCHED THE LIFE SPURT OUT OF CANNON.