Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
“It’s damned quiet.” Vivian shivered as she stared out the window of her SUV. They had parked across the street, near the new Magic City News building.
She could only imagine how Worth felt. Fear for his life had banished her worries over having her past revealed. She would just have to live with it.
Worth could die . . . They had no idea what kind of challenge waited for them inside that five-story building. Whatever it was, it could very well be capable of bringing down the century-old brick-and-limestone structure. So far Devoted Fan hadn’t made a single claim he hadn’t backed up.
“Birmingham PD, Pierce, and the team are only three blocks away if we need them,” McBride reminded her.
Yeah, and emergency personnel were close by as well.
In case of a fire or explosion or whatever the hell came next.
The memory of Martin Fincher’s dead wife made her shudder again.
The chief tech from the forensics unit had called McBride five minutes ago to pass along preliminary details.
They had found Mrs. Fincher’s organs preserved in spice-filled jars in the closet of their bedroom.
If, as the tech suspected, a quasi-Egyptian mummification method had been used, the body would have been cleansed, rubbed in salt, and then filled with spices. Instead of wrapping her with cloth, it appeared he had varnished her. Original, but truly sick.
The guy definitely had done his research. That went hand in hand with what they had learned about his occupation, an aerospace engineer retired from NASA. If the certificates and plaques hanging in his house were any indication, a brilliant engineer.
An APB had been put out on Martin Fincher and his vintage blue Volvo wagon, the same vehicle he’d had since before his son was born.
He had probably researched just the kind of car to buy to keep his child safe.
The Finchers had been in their early forties before having their first and only child.
Losing him certainly would have pushed them toward the edge Martin had eventually fallen over, perhaps with the death of his wife.
“Grace.”
She snapped out of the disturbing thoughts. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“Let’s get in there and find out what the hell we’re up against.”
They had two hours, but there was no way to know what obstacles might stand between them and rescuing Worth.
Scanning the building’s dark windows, she emerged from her SUV and then pushed the door shut.
She reached into the back seat for her gear.
She had brought along flashlights, a box-cutter-style knife, screwdrivers, a pry bar, scissors, and a hammer, just in case—all stuffed into a backpack.
The trip to Sloss Furnaces had taught her a lesson about being prepared.
“We’ll start with the top floor.” McBride met her at the front of the vehicle and took the bag. “Work our way down.”
“You’re the boss.”
His gaze met hers in the moonlight. “I’m not so sure trusting me that much is a good thing, Grace.”
Maybe not, but it was too late. She already did. She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
“Don’t give yourself so much credit, McBride,” she argued, lied actually. “Worth told us all to follow your orders. I’m just doing my job.”
That one corner of McBride’s mouth kicked up, telling her that she wasn’t fooling him one bit.
“Let’s get this done.”
He crossed the street, his attention on the front entrance.
She stayed a couple of steps behind, monitoring left and right to ensure nothing unexpected got the jump on them.
Birmingham PD’s SWAT unit had scouts prowling the alleys and side streets.
They all knew that Fincher would be here somewhere.
She took a last look around. Lots of places to hide.
A slow walk around the building revealed that Worth wasn’t hanging from the rooftop or any of the windows. Since there was no roof access, they could assume he wasn’t up there.
Pierce had suggested the use of wireless communications since they were going inside without any backup, but McBride had declined.
What was the point? If anyone else entered the premises, the game was over.
So far no one had died, but they couldn’t take the risk.
Martin Fincher was not playing with a full deck, which provided the ammo Pierce needed to push for a compromise.
Vivian was to check in every half hour or Pierce would send in a tactical team.
McBride didn’t like it, but he had left it at that.
The Magic City News CEO had been rousted from bed for the necessary keys.
The man had insisted on staying close to the scene with Birmingham PD.
Vivian couldn’t blame him, he was responsible for the building.
Considering the ongoing war with the Preservation Committee, he was probably hoping it would blow so he wouldn’t have to fight them anymore.
“I guess we won’t be needing the keys,” McBride commented as he opened the door.
Anticipation sent goose bumps scattering across Vivian’s skin. Time to face the last challenge. After this it would be over, Fincher had insisted. All they had to do was make the hero thing happen one more time.
Her attention settled on McBride. He could do it.
Whatever the challenge, he could handle it.
She didn’t know all the details about his career, but the one thing she knew for certain was that the Bureau had been wrong to allow such a talented agent to get away.
Inside, Vivian paused while he took care of the lights. For security and insurance purposes, the building’s utilities remained active. She checked her weapon, and then they climbed the few steps to the lobby. The building’s two elevators were at the top of those steps.
“You want the stairs or the elevator?” She was fine with either one.
McBride hefted the backpack onto his shoulder. “I’ll take the stairs.”
Vivian hit the elevator’s call button as he walked away.
When he was out of sight, she turned back to the elevator, but the call button hadn’t lit up as it should have.
She pressed it again and waited just in case the problem was only a faulty light.
The stairwell door closing behind McBride echoed in the deserted lobby.
She rested her right hand on the butt of her weapon as she waited another minute for the elevator to respond.
She pressed the button a third time. What was wrong with this thing?
Still no light and no bump and slide sound in the shaft.
Okay, that was it. She wasn’t waiting any longer. Taking separate routes to ensure Fincher didn’t come down one way while they went up another had been a good plan, but time was wasting.
Watching for the slightest movement anywhere in the lobby, she took the same route as McBride.
The idea that Fincher could be in here somewhere watching his cracked plan play out had her just the slightest bit unnerved.
So far there was every indication that this man didn’t actually want to hurt anyone, but he was a nutcase—his motivation and goal could change any time without notice.
Once she was in the stairwell, McBride’s footsteps overhead allowed her to breathe again. She hustled to catch up. It wouldn’t have been possible if he hadn’t heard her and slowed the pace of his climb to wait for her.
“Elevator isn’t functioning,” she said between gasps for air. She hadn’t worked out in five days, and her body was revolting against the abrupt extra exertion.
“Could be a safety precaution in case of a break-in,” he offered.
Possibly. If vandals broke in, there was no reason to make their work easier. But then it could be Fincher’s doing.
“Top floor,” he announced as they arrived on five.
Slowly, methodically, they searched each floor, turning on lights as they went. Every office. Every closet. Every single window. That the rooms were empty helped speed up the process. A quick call to Pierce to report nothing at all as they reached the second floor met his “every half hour” demand.
The room on the second floor where the printing press had once produced the city’s news still housed equipment that required additional time.
Then there was the shipping area. Any place Worth might be hidden had to be examined.
They didn’t bother calling his name since the rest of the victims had been sedated. He likely had been as well.
They found zilch.
No planted explosives. No fire traps. No Worth.
The elevators were the same on each floor, nonfunctioning. Opening the doors manually had proven impossible.
“How much time do we have left?” McBride asked.
She checked her cell. “One hour twenty minutes.”
“He’s gotta be here. The door was open. The clues add up.” McBride walked around the lobby as they started back at square one. They surveyed the area, double-checked every nook and cranny.
“We’ll have to call in again soon, or Pierce will be sending in the troops.” She wasn’t anywhere near ready to give up, even if they did have nothing so far. Keeping Pierce and Birmingham PD out of here was essential. They didn’t want Fincher making good on his promise.
McBride stopped in the middle of the lobby, dropped the backpack, and bracketed his hands on his hips.
“If we don’t find him first, he’s to take a fall,” he said, repeating the threat in the email.
“He’s not hanging by a thread anywhere outside.
Not in the stairwell. Not from any of the ceilings.
” His gaze landed on hers. “He has to be in one of those elevator shafts.”
“That’s why the elevators aren’t working,” she agreed.
“Back to the top.” He grabbed the backpack and rushed toward the stairwell door.
By the time they reached five again, she was glad he was carrying the backpack. Her heart was racing. Her adrenaline was pumping hard, preparing her to face difficulty.
At the elevators on the top floor, McBride dug out the pry bar and dropped the bag onto the floor. “Make sure no one sneaks up on us, Grace.”