Slow Burn

Chapter Thirty-four

Kate hadn't quite absorbed the news yet. The man who tried to kill her was dead, and his accomplice was in custody. And here she sat diligently answering her e-mail as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

She would probably fall apart tonight when she was all alone. Dylan could very well be on his way back to Boston by then. She felt an instant rush of panic and became angry with herself. Why should she be upset? She'd always known he was going to leave. No surprise there. And she would get through it just like everything else in her life that had been painful.

But Dylan wouldn't go until tomorrow, she decided. He'd drive her back to Silver Springs, spend the night with her, and early the next morning while she was sound asleep, he'd leave.

She knew he cared about her. It had taken a considerable amount of coaxing just to get him to leave her alone to work on her computer while he went to the crime scene with Nate. He'd even suggested she go with him.

She realized she wasn't going to get any work done if she continued to think about Dylan. He'd only just left, and she was already missing him.

She forced herself to go back to work. She'd answered several more e-mails before she was interrupted by Anderson's assistant. He timidly knocked on the door and stepped inside.

"Miss MacKenna, there's a phone call for you on line one. The gentleman wouldn't give me his name, but he insisted he was a friend."

Who would be calling her at the law office? The only people who knew where she was had her cell phone number.

"Should I tell him you're unavailable?"

"No, I'll take the call," she said.

Terrance picked up the phone from the credenza and placed it on the corner of the table. "Would you like me to help you with anything? Get you anything?"

"No, but thank you for asking."

"If you need me, I'll be in the library. Just push the intercom button."

She thanked him again, and as he was pulling the door closed, she answered the phone.

"Is this Kate MacKenna?" a man asked.

She didn't recognize the caller. The voice was pleasant, though.

"Yes, it is," she said. "And who is this?"

"I don't think it's a good idea to give you my name. I want to help you," he said. "And I mean you no harm. I have information for you," he rushed on. "Will you please listen to what I have to say?"

"Yes," she replied cautiously. "I'll listen, but first, please tell me why it isn't a good idea to tell me your name."

"I'm wanted by the police," he answered. He hurried to add, "I've never killed anyone… at least on purpose." He laughed, and then he snorted. "Just kidding… really, I've never killed anyone."

Kate didn't know what to make of him, but the call was begin - ning to unnerve her. She glanced around. She was alone, and the conference room door was closed.

Before she could ask him why he was a wanted man, he continued. "The authorities don't know my real name, and I would prefer they never find out. Will you promise to remain calm? I want to help you, and in order to do that, you have to be able to hear what I have to say. You can't become hysterical."

"Of course I'll remain calm," she told him. "Just tell me who you are." She could hear the apprehension in her own voice.

He laughed. "Nice try. I won't be giving you my name. But I'll tell you what I will do; I'll give you the name the police call me."

"And what's that?"

"The Florist."

Kate nearly dropped the phone. Her immediate response was disbelief. "That's not funny… I don't believe… why would…"

"Now, you promised to stay calm…"

Kate looked at the closed door again, willing it to open and Terrance-anyone-to walk in so she could signal him. Maybe someone could trace the call.

"This is a twisted prank," she said.

"It is not a prank," he insisted. "I'd never prank you. I am called the Florist, and I do want to help you."

"Help me? If you are who you say you are, your bombs have nearly killed me twice." She pressed the intercom button hoping that someone would hear the conversation, but the phone would not allow her to access the intercom as long as she was on the line.

"I didn't try to kill you," he said, exasperated. "I only made the explosives."

"This is crazy," she said.

"You need to hear what I have to say." He didn't sound crazy. He sounded reasonable. Was he going to offer her an apology?

"I'll listen. Start explaining."

"I like blowing things up."

Okay, so he was crazy after all. She thought she should say something in response. "Do you want to tell me why?" If she could keep him on the line, she might be able to summon help.

"Why isn't relevant," he said. "I've made quite a nice income. I bought a big-screen TV with surround sound last month. You wouldn't believe how it makes the Nature Channel come alive… but I digress. Truth is, I enjoy the extra income, and it allows me to do something I love doing."

"Blowing things up."

"I like building explosives, and in the past I never let anyone else near them. Until recently. A friend of a friend of a friend… you know how it goes. I was lured by the money, and I was hoodwinked. I was told the explosives would be used in the desert. There was a lot of talk about caves and underground facilities. Oh, yes, I was spun an elaborate lie, and I believed it. I was extremely naive and greedy.

"I took the money and went back to my day job. I didn't think another thing about it until I opened the newspaper and saw a photo of an explosion at a gallery. It made the national news. I recognized my work right away. I was outraged because I had been hoodwinked, and after I read the article about how you had narrowly escaped death, I was scared, and I felt really bad for you." He snorted again. "Really, I did… heh, heh… I thought about sending you flowers.

"I tried to get hold of my contact, but he had disappeared. Then I read about another explosion that destroyed a building and nearly killed you again. I knew then that you were the target."

She heard him take a deep breath and let out a long sigh.

"This is a dangerous business."

He was just now figuring that out? "Yes," she said.

"I've decided to quit."

"You're calling me to tell me you're retiring?" she asked suspiciously.

He didn't answer the question. "There's a gentleman who has been pursuing me for several years now. His name is Sutherland, and he works for ATF. I would appreciate it if you would call him and tell him to go home."

"Because you're retiring."

"Yes."

This was the most bizarre conversation she had ever had. "I think you should tell him. I'm sure he would love to meet you, even if only by phone."

"Oh, we have met, several times, in fact. He just doesn't know it."

She bet Sutherland was going to love hearing that. She spotted her purse on a chair next to the window. Her cell phone was in it. If she could get it, she might be able to contact someone.

She needed to keep him talking.

"May I ask a question?" she asked as she stood up and moved the phone to the end of the table as far as the cord would allow so she could reach for her purse.

"Certainly. If I can answer it, I will, and no, I'm not really a florist. If you could see my garden, you'd-"

"That's not the question I was going to ask. I was told that you always put your explosives in baskets. I was curious to know why."

"That's a common misconception. I don't put them in baskets. They are the baskets. It's quite intricate work. I like to think of myself as a virtuoso. The Beethoven of bang, if you will." He chuckled.

"Why did you really call me?"

"I need to get serious now," he said as he stopped his laugh with a sigh. "I want to save your life."

"How do you plan to do that?"

"By giving you important information. The first explosion tore out a hill."

"Yes." She grabbed the purse handle and pulled it to her.

"You walked away and barely suffered a scratch. Do you know the statistical odds for that?" He didn't wait for an answer. "The second explosive took down a building, and you survived that as well. That's phenomenal, just phenomenal."

"Yes," she said again. Where was this leading? She fished to the bottom of the purse for her phone.

"The odds are becoming positively astronomical. I'm quite worried about you. You just can't survive another one."

"Another one?"

"Yes. You see, I made three."

"What?" She stopped. "What did you say?"

"There's one more bomb out there, and you need to listen carefully…"

Kate was concentrating so intently on what the bomber was saying, she didn't hear the door open behind her.