A Killer Plot (2010)

Chapter 16

There’s always a period of curious fear between the first sweet-smelling breeze and the time when the rain comes cracking down.

—DON DELILLO

Olivia waited for Chief Rawlings in Bert’s office. After turning Max’s condo over to the pair of officers responding to the 911 call, Bert had retreated to the only restroom, unscrewing the cap to a flask as he slipped inside. His secretary paced around the front sidewalk, her lips moving double-time as she enthusiastically shared the news of Max Warfield’s death into her headset phone. Meanwhile, her unattended office phone rang with such noisy insistence that Olivia felt like knocking on the restroom door and demanding Bert share the contents of his flask.

Instead, she sat in the chair facing Bert’s impressive mahogany desk, stroking the back of Haviland’s head and trying to ignore the ringing phone. She fixed her gaze on a promotional poster showing a sunset over the Ocean Vista condos. Staring at the green palmetto fronds, which had been painted into a slight curl in order to give the feeling they were being caressed by a gentle sea breeze beneath a mango- and raspberry-colored sky, Olivia tried to still her agitated mind.

Several thoughts vied for attention and Olivia began to record each one in her notebook. She became so engrossed that she didn’t hear Rawlings enter the office. “Ms. Limoges.” He spoke softly, trying not to startle her.

Arresting the motion of her pen, she looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Chief. I didn’t come here today expecting to find Max Warfield’s body. I know it seems like I’ve done my best to insert myself into your investigation ...”

“Then what were your expectations? Why were you here?” Rawlings took a seat in Bert’s chair, instantly asserting his position of authority.

Olivia felt it was the chief’s prerogative to treat her with professional formality considering the circumstances. “Honestly, I believed Max Warfield knew more about the previous murders than he pretended. I simply couldn’t get the phone call he placed at The Boot Top out of my mind. Max has played second fiddle to Dean for a long time. It seemed logical that a man his age and status might grow tired of being treated like a servant. I felt strongly that he must be involved at some level.”

“Mr. Warfield’s alibis were airtight for both murders,” the chief argued. “Trust me, I checked and rechecked his movements, as he fit the suspect bill quite nicely. We’ve also been monitoring his financial statements very closely. There hasn’t been a suspicious dime deposited to his accounts. On paper, Mr. Warfield is clean. And before you start pointing a finger at Blake Talbot as your next suspect of choice, allow me to inform you that we’ve had a tail on him all day. He never came near this location.”

Olivia nodded in approval. “That’s good, because someone seems intent on bringing down Talbot Fine Properties and Blake is now the new face of the company.” She held up her notebook. “And even though I don’t know the identity of Max Warfield’s killer, I can tell you that he did not write all three haiku.”

Rawlings shook his head slightly. “Today’s poem is clearly amateurish, yet the writer still got his point across. ‘The summer air chokes,’ just as he choked the life out of his victim.”

“And the dog collar implies Max was someone’s pet. He followed orders. If the killer obeyed another’s command, then he’s not willing to any longer.” Olivia touched the place on Haviland’s neck where the blue collar used to rest and the poodle looked up at her with inquisitive eyes.

“I’ve called in some help,” Rawlings said. “Officers from the New Bern Police Department are on the way. They’re going to go over every inch of that crime scene with some of my best men, leaving me available to attend tonight’s meeting. The question is, will I be free to concentrate on identifying the killer or will you be conducting a personal investigation from the podium?”

Duly reprimanded, Olivia met the chief’s cold gaze. “Haviland has the killer’s scent down now and he can identify him! Trust me, the Captain earned perfect scores in all of his tracking courses. He has more training than your entire K-9 unit combined. Just let me have his collar back. The killer touched it.” When Rawlings didn’t answer, Olivia continued. “I don’t know what this guy’s stake is in this housing development and I still don’t understand why he felt the need to threaten me. The Confederate cemetery is certain to be preserved—I’ve made sure the majority of the board will vote for the revisions to the proposal. But the housing project will be approved and that must be the killer’s ultimate goal”

“Unless this isn’t about Cottage Cove or the park or the graveyards at all.” The chief scratched his chin thoughtfully. “What questions have you been asking that we haven’t?” Rawlings wanted to know. “I want to see every word you’ve got written in that notebook. We’re running out of time, Ms. Limoges. I cannot allow there to be a fourth victim.”

“Of course. Please, take it.” Olivia placed the notebook on the desk and wisely remained silent as Rawlings read.

The pair remained quiet for the better part of twenty minutes. Haviland contentedly napped in a corner and Olivia slowly developed an urge for a dose of caffeine. As though sensing her need, Rawlings put down the notebook and wearily rubbed his temples.

“I could use some coffee to help me think.” Rising, he returned her notebook. “You’ve got an observant eye, Ms. Limoges.” He offered the compliment with reluctance.

“But I can see that I haven’t written anything to help you solve this mess.” Olivia was disappointed. “Perhaps I could ask Mr. Long’s assistant to brew us a pot of coffee. She seems to have extra time on her hands.”

Rawlings nodded absently and then reached out to stop her. “One thing: How did you plan to worm information out of Mr. Warfield? He didn’t exactly strike me as a man who would freely share his feelings with a stranger.”

Olivia colored slightly. “Well, it was my intention to flirt with him a little and then invite him to the restaurant for a celebratory meal following tonight’s meeting. I wanted to see his reaction when I brought up the amendment to the proposal. I thought I could also get him to tell me how he felt about Blake Talbot, his new boss.”

“And you thought he’d have a crystal-clear look on his face or a quaver to his voice or he’d spill his guts and BAM!” He clapped his hands together, causing Haviland’s head to snap off his forelegs in alarm. “You’d know he had something to hide? Just like that? Perhaps you stashed a recorder in your purse? Because he was sure to confess all his sins to you right then and there, right?”

Surprised by the chief’s venom, Olivia backed away a step. As she retreated, her hip jarred the sharp metal corner of the chair arm and she winced, the pain inflaming her anger. “He killed a friend of mine and then he came after Haviland! Yes, I could have stayed at home and read about your progress in the Gazette, but I wasn’t willing to be quite that passive! This man is running around my town doing whatever he likes to whomever he chooses, and I—”

“Oyster Bay is not yours, no matter how many buildings you own,” Rawlings growled. “You are a citizen and it is my duty to keep citizens such as yourself safe! What if Max Warfield had had something to hide? He could have hurt you, Olivia!”

As he spoke her name, Rawlings grabbed her by the shoulders. His eyes were lit with a mixture of fear and longing and his fingertips pressed into her flesh as though he might pull her roughly against his chest.

Olivia, torn between indignation and a surge of inexplicable desire, wanted him to do just that, but the chief didn’t have the chance to act as he was interrupted by the appearance of Bert Long.

“I ... excuse me,” Bert stammered and Rawlings released his hold of Olivia’s shoulders. “My secretary has made some coffee and put out some food. It’s not much, but I figured you might be here awhile.”

Embarrassed to be caught nearly in the chief’s arms, Olivia gave Bert a hard look. “Got any more of what was in that flask?”

Now it was Bert’s turn to act discomfited. “Ah ... no. Sorry. I’ve never seen a dead body before and I needed a little something to help me settle down. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Well, we’re in Oyster Bay, so perhaps you’ll grow more accustomed to seeing corpses. They seem to be piling up around here.” Olivia glanced at Rawlings. “I assume we’re done for the moment and that I can give my official statement tomorrow, being as there’s not much time until the meeting?”

Rawlings nodded, his expression alternating between concern and irritation. Seeing him struggle to maintain a neutral look, Olivia was again reminded of the weight resting on the man’s shoulders. She took a single step toward him. “Haviland could stop this man before he gets a chance to enact that final haiku,” she said softly. “If the killer doesn’t show tonight, then we’re of no use to you and I vow to stay out of your way, but if he does, and Haviland can zero in on his scent, then at least you’ll know exactly who to pursue. Just give us a chance. I know the collar is evidence. I won’t handle it at all. I just need to open the bag and let Haviland smell it before the meeting starts. What’s the harm in that?” When the chief didn’t immediately agree, she broke eye contact. “Come on, Captain.”

Haviland trotted out of the office ahead of his mistress, obviously ready to leave. Olivia said a short good-bye to Bert and then turned back at Rawlings once more. “This town needs us, Chief. All of us. If I can bring about a conclusion, no matter how clumsily, then I will.”

Olivia expected a small crowd to congregate at the town hall—somewhere around forty people. Their meetings typically attracted a dozen or so regular attendees, but with Dean Talbot’s death, she expected several members of the press to be on hand to record Blake’s reaction to the board’s vote. She then added a dozen nosy townspeople to her mental list, knowing that Dixie would have talked up the evening as a potential source of colorful entertainment.

At five minutes to seven Olivia parked in the mayor’s reserved space. “Well, his Honor should be inside by now,” she informed Haviland defensively. “And he’s filled with so much hot air that he should be able to float right into the building with minimal physical exertion.”

Haviland just looked at her.

“Honestly, Captain, I didn’t think this meeting would draw such a turnout. There must be something else going on in the square. A local band or a dramatic performance by that awful theater troupe. Look, there isn’t an available parking space within sight.” She gazed up at the sky, which had clouded over during the dinner hour. The darkness was deeper than usual and the ocean breeze carried a slight chill. Olivia grabbed an umbrella from the back seat of the Rover. “It’s going to pour,” she told Haviland “You’ll be glad we parked where we did in an hour.”

Steeling herself against the uncertainty waiting within, Olivia opened the hall’s front door. She was surprised to hear noise echoing from inside the meeting room which was at the far end of the building’s main corridor. There was the expected murmur of adult conversation, but it was louder than she’d ever heard before, swelling into the hall like the buzzing of a thousand hives. These sounds were punctuated by the shrill giggles of a gaggle of preteen girls. The atmosphere permeating the building was electric. Haviland raised his snout, sniffing out the feelings of excitement and nervous anticipation flowing out of the meeting room like a pungent perfume.

As Olivia crossed the threshold, it took her a moment to adjust her eyes to the sight before her. Clusters of young girls holding signs, magazines, and digital cameras filled every imaginable space toward the back of the room.

A child Olivia judged to be about eight years old approached her and asked, “Is there, like, a limo parked out front?”

“Not at the moment.” Olivia studied the child. She wore a striped tank top over a white T-shirt, a pair of denim shorts, and rows of multicolored yarn bracelets on both arms. “Why are all of you here?” She gestured at the fidgety, boisterous girls surrounding them.

The girl in front of her held up a copy of Seventeen magazine. Olivia recognized the cover model right away. It was Heidi St. Claire. “Everybody is waiting for her to show up. I saw her new movie this weekend, like, three times. She is so pretty and such an awesome dancer! I am so going to make my mom buy me some of the Heidi St. Claire clothes when they come out too.”

“I see,” was all Olivia could manage.

Ignoring the follow-up questions from the girl’s companions, Olivia pushed her way through a knot of parents who were only attending the meeting to indulge the whims of their daughters. After reaching the other side of the room, she noticed that the first five or six rows of seats were occupied by the residents of Oyster Bay actually interested in the outcome of the evening’s vote. Assorted members of the media were scattered around the room as well. This was to be Blake’s first official action as the new face of Talbot Properties and the restless reporters were eager to put their best spin on the small-town Planning Board meeting.

Olivia finally reached the table positioned on a raised dais at the front of the room. This was the reserved seating for the board members. She dropped her purse and umbrella onto the floor, put her hands on her hips, and surveyed the audience. The majority of the crowd behaved as though they were at a social gathering. Raised voices and hearty laughter boomed from wall to wall. Those who had gathered to hear how the board would vote appeared to be growing more and more irritated at the feistiness of the Heidi St. Claire fan club.

Someone waved from one of the front rows and Olivia recognized Laurel’s sheen of blond hair. The Bayside Book Writers were seated together. Harris gave Olivia a hesitant thumbs-up while Millay saluted her. Having spoken to all three of them after leaving the Ocean Vista condos, Olivia knew her friends were prepared to spend the next hour observing the townsfolk seated around them. Haviland glanced at the audience a few times and then darted over to Grumpy and began to sniff his boots.

“Ain’t no bacon stuffed down my socks, good buddy,” Grumpy said and patted Haviland on the head. “Though I reckon my shoes smell like a kitchen, hm?”

Grumpy’s work boots reminded Olivia of the tracks in the sand near the lighthouse keeper’s cottage. She turned back to the townsfolk again but could only see the feet of those seated in the first row.

Even if Rawlings brings me the collar, will Haviland be able pick up the scent in this crush? Olivia’s worries were interrupted by the arrival of Mayor Guthrie, who was flanked by two policemen. Walking behind that trio were a man and a woman wearing sunglasses. Olivia only caught a glimpse of the pair before the room exploded in a chorus of high-pitched screams and the cops quickly leapt in front of their charges.

Haviland, disturbed by the yelling and shrieking, retreated behind the table. Olivia took her seat and pulled the poodle against her, crooning into his ear. It seemed to take ages before the mayor appeared behind the podium and Blake Talbot and Heidi St. Claire settled into a set of reserved seats in the front row. As the burly policemen took up their positions at the end of each aisle, holding out stiff hands to stop the further encroachment of the hysterical young girls, a third made his way to Olivia’s side. Wordlessly, he handed her a paper grocery bag and then joined his fellow officers.

Olivia peered inside. Haviland’s collar rested inside a sealed plastic bag.

“Attention, please!” Mayor Guthrie shouted into the microphone. “Girls, please! Quiet down! Stop screaming! PLEASE!”

Somehow, the decibel level dropped enough for the mayor to speak without hollering. His cheeks were already flushed with heat and self-importance.

“I understand that many of you are excited by our special guests.” The mayor beamed and Olivia was impressed by his tact. Clearly, Heidi St. Claire was the star attraction, but by using the word “guests,” he made certain to include Blake Talbot as one of Oyster Bay’s honored visitors. “Miss St. Claire has graciously informed me that she is willing to sign autographs after our meeting is adjourned.” Here, Guthrie had to pause while the girls went wild again. “So if you’d care to wait outside while we conduct our business ... ?”

“No way! It’s totally raining!” one of the older girls argued.

Olivia looked toward the row of windows lining the outer wall. Indeed, a steady rain had begun to fall, leaving slashes of water against the glass.

“It’s blowin’ sideways,” Grumpy stated. “Lightnin’ will be comin’ along shortly.” He smiled at his wife, who had nabbed an aisle seat in the third row. “Guess Dixie was right about there bein’ fireworks tonight.”

Seeing that none of the girls or their parents intended to wait in the hallway or on the building’s covered portico, the mayor called the meeting to order. As he made a few incidental announcements, Olivia’s gaze repeatedly swept over the crowd. She saw many familiar faces, including Wheeler from Bagels ‘n’ Beans, Annie from the B&B, and surprisingly, Officer Cook dressed in plainclothes. The young lawman was leaning against the wall, chewing on a plastic straw. He looked utterly bored, but Olivia could see that his eyes never stopped roving.

“Good boy,” Olivia murmured and Haviland’s ears perked up. “I was talking about Cook. I would never use such a simple adjective to describe you, Captain.” She smiled as the poodle licked her palm and turned her eyes forward again.

Finally, Guthrie yielded the mike to Ed Campbell, the chair of the Planning Board. The loan manager was all smiles as he quickly reviewed the minutes from the previous meeting. Wasting as little time as possible, he reiterated the Talbot Fine Properties proposal to build the community of Cottage Cove and then called for a vote. Unlike the previous meeting, the Planning Board didn’t have to open the floor for public opinion, so Olivia rose and announced, “I would like to suggest a revision to this proposal. One that would preserve the Confederate cemetery.”

Ed Campbell had been anticipating the suggestion, yet he still frowned as he surrendered the podium.

Olivia succinctly explained how the majority of the board was in favor of the housing development, as long as the graveyard was protected and more storm drains and green space were added. She watched Blake Talbot as she spoke, but it was difficult to tell what he felt without being able to see his eyes. However, when she suggested relocating the putting green, the muscles in his jaw tensed and his lips compressed into a tight line. He was clearly unhappy about the counterproposal. Heidi, who had removed her sunglasses upon sitting, put her hand on her boyfriend’s and gave it a supportive squeeze.

I wonder if he knows about Max yet, Olivia wondered.

According to protocol, Ed had to call a vote on the original proposal, but all the members voted nay except for him. Shrugging with exaggerated resignation, he asked for a second vote to support Cottage Cove as long as a representative from Talbot Fine Properties agreed to the changes. None of the board members took advantage of their opportunity to voice an opinion on the proposal except Marlene, who raised her objections over the destruction of what she described as an irreplaceable ecosystem.

“Despite how people-friendly the new park would be,” she remarked with quiet passion, “it cannot replicate the environment currently inhabited by dozens of plant and animal species!”

By now, the audience had grown tired of the topic at hand. The girls began to twitter with increasing volume over the staccato of the driving rain. Mayor Guthrie shot nervous smiles in Blake Talbot’s direction while Ed Campbell stuck out his freckled forearm and tapped on the surface of his watch, rudely signaling for Marlene to wrap things up.

Ignoring him, she began to list the names of the bird species that used the current park as their nesting grounds.

Olivia continued to scan the faces of those before her. As her eyes came to rest on Heidi St. Claire, the starlet glanced to her right and her expression of polite boredom instantly transformed to one of shock. Her mouth fell open and her eyes grew round and dark with distress.

In a blink, Heidi had her face under control, her dull gaze once again resting on the American flag. Her training as an actress served her well, but Olivia’s sharp eyes didn’t miss how the young woman was lacing her fingers together so tightly that her hands trembled with the effort.

Who scared you? Olivia leaned her body forward. She could feel her heart swelling as the blood rushed through her body. It was as though every part of her being was suddenly aware of the killer’s presence in the room.

And then, she saw him. He was a man she knew by name, a man she’d spoken to, a man she’d smiled at, and he was easing his way out of the room along the side wall. Obviously, he hadn’t wanted Heidi to see him, but she had.

I don’t understand, she thought wildly. Why would Heidi recognize him?

As Marlene continued to point out the flaws of the new park from the perspective of a snapping turtle, Olivia dialed Harris’s cell phone number. She willed him to meet her eyes as she held her own phone to her ear and tried not to slide her gaze to the left, where the murderer’s retreat had been temporarily blocked by a trio of girls holding poster board banners reading, “WE ❤ HEIDI!!!”

Harris noticed Olivia and reached into his jeans pocket for his phone.

“Olivia?” he whispered.

“Can you find out if Heidi St. Claire is the actress’s real name? Right now?” Olivia murmured, pivoting away from the audience and the inquisitive arch of Grumpy’s eyebrows.

“You should ask one of her fans after the meeting. I bet they could tell you her favorite color, bra size, and blood type. Why are you asking me?” Harris clearly thought Olivia was losing her mind.

“Don’t you have one of those phones that connects to the Internet? I need to know before I order Haviland to track down and attack Camden’s murderer.”

Harris didn’t reply, but Olivia saw him swallow hard and then nod. Hanging up on Olivia, he leaned against Millay and spoke into her ear. Paling, she shot Olivia a sharp look of alarm and grabbed the phone from Harris’s hand.

Olivia struggled to feign an interest in Marlene’s monologue, but the words buzzed around her head like circling flies. She looked out the nearest window, where the outline of the closest building was obscured by the heavy rainfall. Thunder growled over the ocean and a single branch of lightning sparked in the charcoal sky.

Just as she was about to check on the killer’s position again, her phone vibrated in her hand and words surfaced in the silver window. Harris had sent her a text message but Olivia had no idea how to retrieve the thing. She frantically pushed menu buttons and then forced herself to stop and inhale a deep breath. As the sound of the rain seemed to penetrate the room, Olivia located her in-box and read Harris’s message.

Atlas Kraus is Heidi’s father, the message read.

Atlas Kraus was the killer and he was in this room. Not only that, but his next victim was most likely in the front row and Cook was eyeing Olivia suspiciously. Yet where was Rawlings?

Olivia decided to act. She reached into the brown grocery sack and, not caring how much noise she made, pried open the evidence bag. Placing the collar beneath Haviland’s nose, she whispered a command in his ear. “Haviland. Smell.” As soon as he obeyed, Olivia pushed back her chair and snapped her fingers, causing Haviland to prepare himself to track the scent. Marlene stopped speaking, but Olivia gave her a sheepish smile and pointed at the poodle, as though he were to blame for their rude and abrupt departure.

She hadn’t distanced herself from the podium by more than ten feet when she heard Ed Campbell grab the microphone with an anxious laugh. “You’ve raised several valid points, Marlene, but I think it’s time to vote now, don’t you?” Without waiting for an answer, Ed joked, “Ms. Limoges? Could you cast your vote before you run off?”

Making sure to meet Officer Cook’s alert gaze, Olivia called an “aye” over her shoulder and then continued toward the opposite end of the room, following Haviland’s lead. To her relief, she noticed Cook circling around the back. Together, they’d corner their quarry.

As soon as Olivia reached the end of the first row, she bent over and cupped her hands, directing her voice at her poodle. “Haviland!” Pointing up the aisle, she commanded, “Find and attack!”

At the same moment Olivia was delivering her orders, Ed Campbell had announced the acceptance of the Cottage Cove proposal and was striding forward to shake hands with Blake Talbot. Ed then handed over the portable microphone and invited Blake to say a few words. Blake rose and took Heidi’s hand. As the power couple turned to face the audience, it was as though a switch had been flipped. The girls recommenced their shrieks and squeals of devotion and surged forward, their camera flashes glittering like stars.

In the raucous confusion, the killer slipped from the room. A flash of black fur passed through the doorway immediately afterward. Haviland was in pursuit.

Olivia was not the least bit gentle as she shoved aside one crazed girl after another in a desperate attempt to see where her dog had gone. When she burst out of the room and into the hallway, she slammed right into Cook.

“Where is he?” she yelled.

Cook didn’t pause to talk and Olivia ran with him until they reached an intersecting corridor. “I radioed the chief. Every exit’s covered. This guy’s going nowhere.”

“I meant Haviland!” Olivia shouted. It was one thing for the poodle to confront the killer in a packed room with armed policemen nearby and quite another for Haviland to assail the man in some darkened room, or worse, outside in the blinding rain. “He could get hurt.”

Jerking open an office door, Cook stepped inside and swept the room with his flashlight. A voice crackled through his radio. “He’s not running,” Cook declared with a satisfied smirk. “Stupid bastard. We’ve got him now.”

Olivia ran to the windows overlooking the square and peered outside. She saw nothing but the shadows of tree trunks and the rain-blurred foliage.

“He won’t run because his agenda isn’t complete,” Olivia said as she pushed by Cook. “His fourth victim is back in that room.” She yanked on the knob of the next door. It was locked. “I think he wanted to make sure none of those little girls got hurt, but he’s not going to leave until he’s done what he came here to do.”

“But then he’s definitely gonna get caught,” Cook insisted smugly.

Olivia grabbed the policeman’s arm. “That’s why he’s so dangerous! He doesn’t care! He’s going to see this thing through no matter what!” She pulled on another door and called, “Haviland! HAVILAND!”

“Olivia! We’ll help you find him!” Several running feet stopped short behind her. Laurel, Harris, and Millay had arrived.

“Leave this to the police, folks,” Cook commanded, but the writers ignored him and quickly decided to search for Haviland in pairs. Her lips quivering as she spoke, Laurel bravely volunteered to accompany Olivia.

Olivia had never wanted to hug another human being as much as she wanted to embrace Laurel at that moment. She could see the stark terror in her friend’s eyes, yet Laurel grabbed Olivia by the hand and started toward the men’s restroom as though she were a warrior preparing to walk into an enemy ambush.

After a pause, Cook charged ahead of the two women. “The chief will skin me alive if I let anything happen to you, Ms. Limoges,” he remonstrated sharply and ducked into the bathroom.

By the time they’d checked the bathrooms, the crowd was clearly moving out of the building to the location where Heidi agreed to sign autographs. Ushered down the hallway by their parents and a pair of officers, the actress’s fans milled forward, their unhindered enthusiasm roaring down the hall like the waters of a flash flood.

Cook shouted a warning into his radio and Olivia couldn’t help but wonder where he’d been hiding the device. Then, despite the fact that she rarely picked up her pace beyond a brisk walk, Olivia ran.

Laurel easily kept stride with her, and together, the two women burst out the double doors onto the portico a few yards ahead of the first group of fans. A dozen policemen were gathered around the perimeter of the porch, their shoulders taut, jaws clenched, and hands on holsters in preparation to draw their weapons.

“Did a black poodle come out here?” Olivia asked the nearest officer.

“No, ma’am,” the man replied, looking past her toward the doors.

Olivia followed his gaze as the girls began to stream out into the open air. “Then the killer’s still inside!” she shouted at him. Seeing he did not plan to respond, Olivia ran to Cook. “Haviland didn’t come out. That means—”

“We need to go back in!” Cook immediately parted the crowd, his lips pressed against the radio’s speaker.

“Stay here!” Olivia told Laurel and followed in Cook’s wake.

Elbowing through the departing crowd, Cook approached a fellow officer and spoke hurriedly to him. Olivia couldn’t hear their exchange but interrupted anyway. “He’s got to be after Blake or Heidi. We need to get them out of here!”

The second officer jerked his head toward the meeting room. “Chief said to keep them in the meeting room until these civilians had cleared the building.”

“Where is Rawlings?” Olivia demanded as the remnants of the audience walked past them.

The officer shrugged, but he looked worried. “He hasn’t responded to our calls. Must have turned off his radio for some reason.”

As they stood there, the last stragglers exited the building and the cops decided to join the ranks of those guarding the young celebrities. They never got the chance to re-enter the meeting room, however, for Heidi St. Claire strode into the hallway, brushing aside Mayor Guthrie’s protests. “I promised to sign autographs!” she declared in a haughty tone she seemed to have acquired since Olivia first listened to her speak at The Boot Top.

“Come on, Heidi. Who cares if you blow off these hick kids?” Blake’s tone was petulant. He pushed his sunglasses onto his forehead and grabbed his girlfriend by the arm. “Look, something’s happened to Max. He didn’t show tonight and he never even bothered to call. Finding out why he blew me off is more important than what you promised the peasants.” When she didn’t respond, Blake glanced nervously around the hall and then leaned over to whisper in Heidi’s ear.

She scowled and shook him off. “No way am I going out the back! I gave my word to those fans and I plan to keep it!” She pulled away from him and walked more purposely up the hall.

Suddenly, one of the closed office doors flew open as Heidi passed by. A man emerged from the doorway and raised a gun, taking aim at Blake Talbot’s chest. The primed policemen reached for their weapons but were seconds too late. Instinctively, Olivia reached out for Heidi, as though to pull her to safety.

The next few seconds passed as though everyone in that hallway were moving underwater.

Olivia saw the mouths of the lawmen part as they prepared to shout orders. She watched Blake’s eyes widen in surprise and fear. As she had not yet turned, Heidi didn’t know what was happening behind her back and had time only to experience confusion.

Cook raised his weapon and squared his shoulders. “Don’t do it, man! I’ll fire before you can get your shot off.”

Olivia caught a movement in the darkness behind Atlas Kraus. Finally, her heart began to beat again. She allowed her lungs to exhale. All would be well. For there was Chief Rawlings standing in Atlas Kraus’s shadow. Rawlings didn’t move, didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on the killer. Poised to attack, he waited.

Staring at him in wonder, Olivia realized Rawlings must have snuck, crouched and catlike, through an adjoining office to emerge at the killer’s back.

Heidi swiveled, saw the armed man in the doorway, and screamed. Atlas glanced at her, wounded by her reaction. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m not going to let this scumbag bring you down.” He then turned to face Blake again, but in the moment he’d broken eye contact with his target, two policemen had stepped in front of the civilian, creating a human shield.

“Back off!” Atlas gestured angrily with his gun, his lips curled into an animal-like snarl. “I’ll shoot through you to get to him. I swear I will.”

Olivia watched the muscles in his right arm constrict as he made to pull the trigger.

But Atlas never got the shot off, for as the threat was leaving his mouth and the tendons in his forearm were tightening, Rawlings was raising his nightstick into the air. In a swift, powerful stroke, the police chief brought it down on the killer’s head.

The crack echoed down the hall.