Helpless

Chapter 75

Tom watched Jill drag the forty-gallon plastic trash barrel to the curb. She completed her mission with calm efficiency. Tomorrow was trash day. Oak Street was dotted with lots of green plastic barrels set out in front of lots of curbs. Their barrel looked full of trash. But the bags within it were stuffed full of newspaper. They looked puffy and full. Tom made certain nothing heavy was lodged inside those bags. Nothing that could become a projectile when he triggered the device.

Jill returned unhurriedly to the house. For the next several minutes she would be out of Tom’s sight. But he wasn’t worried. Jill knew what needed to be done. Tom looked out the window again. The street was still quiet.

Was the storm even coming?

Better to be prepared than to be a sitting target, he thought.

Tom called Rainy and told her that he’d call her back later. Something had come up, he said. It was a brief exchange, but it had to be done. Nobody else would be calling him. That was important, too. His phone was now part of the trigger mechanism.

Jill reappeared in the driveway. She was wheeling her red Schwinn World S bike alongside her. She leaned the bike up against the stone wall that abutted the driveway and disappeared from his view again. That was her signal to Tom that everything was in place.

Tom snatched the cordless phone from the kitchen. Next, he grabbed Jill’s nylon backpack, which he’d stuffed with needed supplies. He descended the basement stairs, slipped out the back door, and worked his way around to the side of the house. Jill was waiting for him there.

The mountain bike was there, leaning up against the house. Jill had retrieved it from the shed after she grabbed her Schwinn.

Tom looked the bike over. It appeared to be in decent condition. The bike had belonged to Kelly’s boyfriend, Alfonso. The same Alfonso who had used Kelly’s house as a storage locker and got arrested for DWI.

The mountain bike had more gears than most riders had the skill to use. Hydroformed aluminum frame. Cold-forged dropouts. The front shock was an open bath damper type, which was fine by him so long as the oil levels in each leg were adequate to lube the other sliding parts. The tires were Bontrager, and the wheels Shimano. Quality parts as well. He inspected the shifters and derailleur. Those were fine, too.

Jill came over and stood beside her father.

“You’re going to stay on the move for fifteen minutes.” Tom said it as an instruction, but Jill understood that it was also a question.

“Yes.”

“You know where we’re going to meet.”

“I do.”

“You’ll do exactly what I told you to do.”

Jill nodded. “I will.”

Tom raised his head like a bloodhound catching a fresh scent. “Okay, then. Ride.”

“What if nothing happens? What if they don’t come?” she asked.

“Then we’ll go get ourselves a bite to eat,” Tom said.

Jill nodded. She got on her bike and coasted down to the end of the driveway. Tom inched himself to the edge of the house. He needed to have a clear view of the street. Jill turned left and began to pedal away from the house. The street was quiet. No cars. No noise.

It didn’t stay quiet for long. Tom heard the police car sirens well before he saw the flashing strobe lights. Five police cars turned onto Oak Street. Three state police cruisers were in the mix as well. All the police cars had their lights flashing and sirens blaring.

And they were headed straight for Jill.

“Hurry, baby. Pedal faster.”

Tom noticed Jill pick up her pace and pedal faster. Her legs were pumping. He had wanted her to be a good hundred yards away from the house before he made the call. The police cars didn’t slow as they passed Jill. They kept right on driving.

“Keep going. That’s it, Jilly-bean,” Tom whispered to himself.

Next, Tom checked in both directions on Oak Street for any pedestrians or coming motorists. All was clear. Jill was at a safe distance. The line of approaching police cars was some fifty yards from the house.

Tom knew he was about to commit a crime. Several of them, in fact. But the situation had left him no alternative. If the police arrested him, he’d be charged and convicted for Lindsey’s murder. He’d spend the rest of his life in jail for a crime he didn’t commit. Jill would be vulnerable. Perhaps the next victim of Lindsey’s killer.

Tom’s other option was to evade capture. Take Jill to a safe house. His military contacts and network could keep close watch over her. And while she was secure, he’d be free to track down Lindsey’s real killer and bring him to justice. Tom had no intention of running forever. Once Jill was safe and Lindsey’s killer behind bars, he’d gladly pay for the crimes he committed. All of them. Including his role in the drugs he’d smuggled out of Germany.

Using the portable house phone, Tom dialed his cell phone number. His cell phone was buried at the bottom of the trash barrel, but the call went through with no problem. Electricity passed through the wires of his cell phone’s ringer mechanism, which Tom had rigged earlier to the flash trigger of a disposable camera. The electric circuit of the camera’s flash detonated the bomb.

A jet of fire erupted two hundred feet into the air, streaking skyward in a thick column of flames approximately the diameter of the trash barrel. The explosion rattled windows in some houses. Shattered them in others. Car alarms made an orchestral shriek that rose above the siren noise. A powerful shock wave lifted the wheels of the approaching police cars off the ground, before gravity resettled them with an unforgiving crunch.

The police cars swerved off the road. Their wheels skidded against the pavement as they gripped for traction. They came to a stop in odd angles on sidewalks and lawns. The street was completely clear of traffic. But Tom wasn’t headed for the street. He was headed for the woods.

Distract and evade.

It was time for him to leave.