The Birth of Innocence

7/30/2019 The Birth of Innocence.

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The Birth of Innocence--- Completed Chapters.

Chapter 1

The first call concerningHillside Acres came in at 8:43 A.M. It was a parent saying that

her daughter had left her inhaler in the car, and upon reaching the daycare to return it, the doorswere shut and locked. Lakeisha dispatched a patrol car to the daycare, and then went back to her

morning routine of a coffee as black as her skin, and an onion bagel. She could hear Angelsradio coming in from the open door, and it was playing her kind of music. It only took a few

moments, and the deep base-line had her shaking her hips back and forth in her chair like shewas on the dance floor.

She took a bite of the bagel, and chewed with all the speed of an Emergency Dispatcher

on dutyor what her husband fondly referred to as inhaling. When a call could come in at any

second, it was best not to have a mouthful of food and try to respond.

So far the morning had been slow, as usual, except for a memo from third-shift aboutsome chemicals going missing from a plant two counties over. It was mandatory for plants to

notify authorities when any chemical contained in explosives went missing, but since they were

less than fifty miles from a strip-mine, it wasnt an uncommon memo for her. The chemicals

always ended up in the back of someones pickup truck, and they either forgot about it, orthey

tried selling it on the internet and got caught.

The next call came in at 9:03 A.M. from a man saying that he was at the same daycare as

the first woman, and the doors were still locked. She told the man an officer was on his way, and

to please wait for him. After hanging up, she had just tried to take a sip of her molten-coffee

when her headset shrieked in her ears.

Dispatch, this is Officer Gumb. Come in? crackled a loud voice through the old

speakers.

Lakeisha set her coffee down and quickly licked her lips to get the searing liquid off. She

had no idea why Gumb still referred to her as Dispatch when all the other officers freely called

her Keisha over the radio. He was just old and too set in his ways to change, she supposed. Unit66, this is Dispatch, go ahead.

Dispatch, this daycare is locked up tight. Im going to try the rear exit and see if I can

get in from there.

Affirmative, Unit 66, proceed with caution. Lakeisha responded rapidly. She switched

channels and called for any available units in the area to go to Gumbs location for backup. A


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daycare closed at nine in the morning? Something about that didnt sound right at all, she

thought as she dialed the number.Hillside acres, Lakeisha mouthed with a grimace. The phone

continued to ring, and on the twelfth time she hung up.

Dispatch, this is Officer Gumb, please come in, the mans older voice popped loudly

with static in her ears once again. He sounded winded, as if he had ran back to the patrol car.

Lakeisha hated hearing that sound in all the officers because she knew it meant something was

wrong, and it meant her day was about to get that much lot longer.

Officer Gumb, this is Dispatch, go ahead.

Lakeisha, weve got a problem here. He said quickly into the radio, The back doorwas standing wide-open when I came around the building, so I walked in to see what was going

on, but the place is completely empty and all the lights are off! Theres no sign of a struggle, but

there aint a kid in sight! the officers voice cracked with excitement.

Lakeisha looked up just as her computer screen showed five calls to the police station at

once. She had barely connected with the first one when another six calls came in to the station.What is going on here? She thought in horror as she listened to another parent telling her about a

different daycare that was locked up in exactly the same way. At 9:14 the first hostage reports

came in from the city, and only moments laterall of Hell broke loose in the station around her.

A cigarette burned low in the flimsy, gold, ash-tray it was tilted into, slowly disappearing

like a snake when shedding its skin. He lifted it from the tray, breaking off the pillar of ash thathad been building at its front, and rolled it gently between his fingersblowing lightly on the

glowing ember and causing it to brighten enough to reflect his ice-blue eyes in the darkness. The

children were still whimpering, but at least they had stopped crying for the most part. The sound

hurt his head almost as much as the bright sunlight outside burned his sensitive eyes on the rideover.

The darkness around him shuddered and fled when the screen of his laptop came to life.

There were several camera angles showing the outside of the daycare on the screen, giving him

an unaltered view of where the police would soon be stationed. The city around them buzzedloudly with the sound of traffic, and he could feel irritation swelling inside him at the noise. No,

he needed to calm down. If he lost control now then everything would be ruined. The game

would be ruined. A smile flashed across his face then vanished just as quickly, but taking his

irritation with it. Soon the game would begin, and the loud noise outside would cease.

Mario walked into the room and looked down at him, making a point to keep from

making eye contact. Two hundred and fourteen, he said quickly. Ray and Henry are almostfinished barricading all the exits, and then theyll start with the carpet.

Good, he thought with a mental grin. Two hundred and fourteen children should be

enough leverage to get what he needed. The board was set and his pawns were ready, now it was

time to make the first move. His hand slipped into his designer, lamb-skin, jacket, and pulled outa disposable cell-phone. He dialed the number and waited. The phone rang once twice then

in the third ring, it clicked, and he heard the dispatchers voice.


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This is the Charlotte police department, a womans voice said with authority in his ear,

Officer Lakeisha speaking, how may I help you?

Ah, yes Officer Lakeisha. How are you? he asked her calmly. Probably eating a

bagel right now, he thought with a small smile. He knew nearly every officers morning routineat the Charlotte Police Department, and he had really hoped that it would be Lakeisha who took

his call rather than the loud woman she worked with.

Im sorry? Lakeisha said hesitantly. She was obviously more used to people shrieking

at her rather than polite conversation.

Why, its only ten in the morning, he responded lazily, absently fingering the lining of

his jacket. What could you possibly have to be sorry for so early?

Sir, this is a state-police line, she said, her voice becoming frosty, Unless you have a

problem, Im going to have to ask you to disconnect.

Oh, but I do have a problem, he said, savoring her silence on the line, You see, I

currently have two hundred and fourteen children locked in a daycare in the city. They are myhostages, you see, and each of them is within the blast-radius of ninety pounds of C-4. Surelyyou fine gentlemen at the Charlotte police department have been notified of certain chemicals

going missing last night?

The line was dead silent for several long seconds before Lakeisha could choke out a

response. A squeaky yes was all she could manage before her throat closed up on her. Her

mind was reeling over what she just heard. She couldnt have heard him right. Two-hundred andFourteen children? This had to be some sort of sick jokebut a part of her knew that it wasnt.No one who was sane would joke about something like this, and that only left one other

alternative

Now that I have your undivided attention, I have several instructions that I will need you

to carry out, he said, savoring every second of her silence. He could feel her fear through thephone line, distracting him from his purpose at hand. Her breathing had become heavy and

labored, and she was and dry-swallowing, trying desperately to get enough spit in her mouth so

she could speak. Do you have a pen?

Yes, Lakeisha said at last, her throat relaxing slightly, Go ahead.

A phone rang somewhere in a darkened room, hidden beneath dirty clothes and empty

coffee cups. A shadowy mass on the couch shifts slightly, disturbed by the noise. The sound wasmuffled by clothes, but persistent enough to wake him. After several moments, the sound ceased

and Detective Harris felt himself drifting back into his dream. He couldnt remember what it wasabout, but he knew that it had to be better than where he was. The phone started again, this time

completely sucking him out of his dream and throwing him back into the nightmare of his

reality.


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Son of a bitch, he groaned, his back making its usual morning protest to another night

on the couch. He knew it was time to use the bed again, but he just couldnt do it. Every time helooked in there, all he saw was her screaming at him while she threw clothes into a suitcase. He

shook his head, trying to clear the memory from his mind.

No, he thought to himself, its too early to go there today. Where the fuck is the phone?

The ringing stopped just as he threw the blanket off of his legs and slowly stood up. Each

of his joints popped like pine-knots in a fire as he rose and started the slow shuffle of a twenty-

four year old man first thing in the morning. Or was it already afternoon? Damn it, where did thetime go these days. After several moments of rifling through rumpled jeans and an empty pizza

box, he found his phone hiding next to one of his boots. The screen was still lit up, and he could

just barely make out nine missed calls.

Harris picked up the phone and looked to see who had been calling him; it was the

station. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and a chill work its way down hisspine.Ninetimes they already called him? What could be so important that they wouldnt just

pass it off to another detective? He dialed the station as he slowly made his way down thehallway and into the bathroom. He tried not to look at himself in the mirror, but a sidewardglance showed him all he needed to see. He was a tall man with short, shaggy, raven-black, hair

and little meat on his bones. A pink, jagged, scar was cut across his stomach, ending just beneath

his right Ilium. He had doe-brown eyes that wore the dark shadows of too many late nights, and

too much booze. Harris made a mental note to put the rest of the bottle of Jack Daniels in the

freezer before heading out later today

On the fourth ring he heard the line connect and his Captains gruff voice come through

the receiver. Hello?

Harris zipped his pants, not bothering with the top button, and pressed the phone between

his head and shoulder while he splashed cold water from the sink over his hands. Captain, itsHarris, he had time to get out before the receiver exploded in his ear. Between the curses andsputtering, he had no idea what had happened, but he was fairly certain he stepped into shit first

thing this morning. The only thing he could make out was for him to get his ass in there in the

next twenty minutes, or he would be delivering the pizza, instead ofordering it from now on.

He walked back into the dark living room and tried not to look around at the mess. Eversince Karen left, the place had gone to hell: clothes lying everywhere, trash piling up in the can,

and dishes from last week still in the sink. He sighed and picked up the half-empty bottle of Jack

Daniels from the coffee table, took a long swig, then shuffled into the kitchen and put it in the

empty freezer. He couldnt even remember the last time he went grocery shopping. It was before

she left, he knew that much. Harris didnt bother changing clothes before heading into thestation, instead opting with the quick spray of deodorant and putting on his black duster.

Hopefully the smell of leather would overpower him, but he really didnt care.

He made a quick stop on the way to the station for a cup of coffee, and nearly choked on

it when he arrived. Harris had never seen this many police officers at the station at once. Black-Suits and SWAT were everywhere. He pulled his 88 Lincoln into the parking space and kicked

open the heavy-metal door, careful not to have to rebound and sever his leg at the hip. He had


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heard that the doors were bulletproof from a fellow officer, and after having it catch his hand

once; he believed it. He passed three Black-Suits as he entered the building, then six more before

reaching his Captains office. Harris took a deep breath and wiped his brow, steeling himself

before opening the door to what he suspected was going to be an utter shit-storm of family curses

and flying furniture.

Ten minutes and a broken window later, Harris sat in Captain Wilcoxs office, shocked

silentby the mornings events. He already wished he had taken a bigger gulp of whiskey before

leaving. Do we have any idea who it is yet, Harris asked, watching the red slowly fade fromhis Captains cheeks. Jack Wilcox was a short, dumpy-sort of man, with a pear-shaped head, and

tufts of short, neon-yellow hair all over his scalp.In an odd sort of way, he resembles a pig,Harris had once mused while watching his captain in a meeting. He really hated to admit it, but

the man looked like a heart attack just waiting to happen.

Not yet, Wilcox grumbled, taking a drink of his coffee while he rubbed his temple,

FBI and Forensic are at the three daycares dusting for prints, but we havent gotten anything

back yet. No cameras in any of them, so no image either.

Who established first contact with him? Harris asked quietly.

Keisha, said the Captain, rising from his leather chair and waddling across the room.

Harris rose and stood next to him, staring out the faded-yellow blinds and into the dispatch room.He could only barely see Keisha, but her eyes were wide and she was shaking slightly. Shell be

alright, the captain said, trying to convince himself more than Harris.

Well what is it he said he wanted, Harris asked, pacing behind his chair. He didnt feel

like sitting anymore. He couldnt tell if it was the hangover, or fear, but his mouth had started

watering like he was about to throw up. He swallowed hard and the feeling slightly abated.

The bastard gave us the address of where he is, and a warning. If anyone tries to enter orexit, the bomb goes off. If communication from the building gets cut off for any reason, the

bomb goes off, his captain spat. His eye twitched faintly, then he continued, He also said that

he is wearing a device that for any reason, should his heart stop, the bomb will go off.

Harris felt like an ice-cube had just slid into his stomach, reigniting the urge to puke. Allhe could think of was how scarce the adhesive was on those round, little, white pads that monitor

a patients heart-rate in hospitals. If this guy was wearing one and sweated too much, the thing

could come off at any moment. Staving off a shudder, he tried not to think about it, and instead

focused on assimilating the information. The guy had a plan and wasnt just running on passionor fear. Well, that rules out snipers Harris said, trying to keep the conversation moving

forward.

No shit, Sherlock the Captain responded. He loved using that expression with hisdetectives because of the irony, but it grated against Harriss already raw nerves. He suppressed

the sudden urge to burp, and instantly regret it. His stomach and head felt like they had switchedplaces at some point in the night, and forgot to mention it to him when he woke. Making a

mental note to switch to white liquor, he tried to focus on the problem at hand. Weve got a

perimeter set up around the daycare, Wilcox continued, quickly riffling through a stack of

papers for the name, Tiny Tots. he said with a frown.


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If we know where he is, then why are we still here? Harris asked queasily. He needed

to get out of this small office or he felt like he was going to vomit.

Captain Wilcox stared at him for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly with thought.

That was the last thing he wanted, he began, He told both of us, by name, to wait here until he

called again.

Harris stopped pacing and turned to look at the old man. Did he say that this guy called

him out by name? He was so shocked, he could only look at Wilcox and respond with a dumb

sounding What?

You heard me right, his Captain responded, pulling two ragged-looking Dixie cups anda fourth of a pint of whisky out of the bottom drawer of his desk. He poured the pungent liquor

with a seasoned hand into the cheap cups, and lifted one up toward the Detective to take. Harris

was standing several feet away, but the strong, burning, smell of cheap whiskey flooded his nose

and caused his mouth to quickly fill with saliva. Hair of the dog. He quickly muttered,grabbing and throwing back the warm, piss-flavored, shot and cringing as a shudder worked its

way from his stomach to his spine.

The nausea that had plagued him all morning seemed to grow worse for a moment, and

then finally eased off enough for him to concentrate on what the captain had said. This guy had a

plan alright. He knew the officers who would be on duty when the calls came in, and he knewwho the Captain would call once it got out.I wonder if he knows about that, Harris thought,

subconsciously reaching up and running his fingers across his stomach. What did he say

exactly? Harris said, his adrenaline clearing his mind enough for him to focus.

Wilcox refilled his cup with the same brown liquor and grumbled, He gave instructions

for us to wait here till eleven, and then we would receive a call concerning where to go next.

Harris quickly gulped down the shot with barely a grimace at the awful taste, and he tooka moment to underline the mental note he made to only buy white liquor from now on. If this guy

took the time to note what officers were on duty, and who would be given this case, he must

have an end-game planned. You dont steal ninety pounds of C-4 unless you have a plan to use it,

he thought sourly. His brain still felt too foggy from the hangover. The phone on Wilcoxs desk

suddenly came to life with a shrill ring that echoed in Harriss head like the cry of a banshee.

What time ishe started before Captain Wilcox silenced him with a look. It was

Eleven already. Harris dry-swallowed once, and nodded at Wilcox. The Captain lifted the phoneoff the receiver, pushed a button putting the call on speaker phone, then set the receiver back

down in the cradle. There were several seconds of silence where all they could hear was his faint

breathing coming over the line, and then he spoke.

Captain Wilcox, and the great Detective Harris, I trust? his voice sounded metallic andcold over the speaker. Harris wasnt sure if it was the inexpensive phone, or just the way this

guys voice normally sounded, but it was giving him the creeps already. He could see why

Keisha was so broken-up from having a conversation with him.

Yeah, were here, Captain Wilcox responded quickly. Harris cut him off with a glance

and said, What can we do for you Mr.


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Patrick, the voice said, finishing Harriss question. You may call me Patrick. As for

what you can or cant do for me, that is still yet to be determined. For now though, let us see how

well you can follow instructions. There are two hundred and fourteen children here, and Im surethey are going to start getting hungry soon. In one hour, it will be twelve o clock, signaling

lunch time at the three schools located near my location; Jeffery Anderson Elementary, Michelle

Barkers School for the Gifted, and West Charlotte Junior High. I would like you to contact thesethree schools and have each of them make seventy-two bag lunches for the little tikes.

Wilcoxs brow was knitted for a moment as he did the math mentally. Harris gave him ascathing look and continued the conversation. We will get right on that, but what are your

demands to release the hostages? he said with what he hoped passed for confidence. The line

was silent for several long moments.

Detective Harris, said Patrick, his voice giving away an unmistakable grin on his face,

Do tell me, how have you been?

Im fine, Harris responded nervously, slightly put-out by Patricks question. Of all the

things that he could have said, that was the one that he didnt expect.

Fine, you say? Patrick asked mockingly, Seldom does a man call himselffine when

hes unable to sleep in his own bed. Wouldnt you agree, Detective?

Harris gaped at the phone, chewing on the words that he couldnt seem to get out. Howcould this man know something like that? He didnt have any friends besides Jack, and themajority ofhis family was either dead, or alienated by him. Have I touched a nerve, Detective?Patrick asked lazily. Harris was convinced now that it wasnt the speaker making his voice sound

metallic.

I didnt realize I had a fan-club, Harris responded, anger slowly boiling up at the

thought of someone invading his privacy.No, he thought to himself evenly; dont let your temperget the best of you. Stay on topic with him, and hope he makes a mistake.What do you want in

exchange for the children?

Youll find out soon enough, Patrick said, his voice dripping with amusement, for

now though, I believe you gentlemen have some lunches that need packing. Oh, and dont let

Wilcox near the meat, or else the children will starve. Despite his intense dislike forPatrick

already, Harris couldnt help the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a grin. His smile

didnt go unnoticed by the captain, who decided to respond in kind with a long middle finger.

And by the way, I would like both of you to come to my location. I will be expecting to see you

in one hour.

The phone clicked and the line went dead. Son of a bitch! his Captain yelled, slammingthe receiver down to disconnect his side. That cocky, arrogant, bastard! Who does he think he

is, playing with kids lives like he is God or something?

Harris couldnt do anything but stare at the broken telephone, the completeness of the

situation sinking in around him. With hardly any effort, this man had effectively halted any

chance the police had of stopping him on their terms. As long as Patrick didnt make a mistake,


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they would have to be on the defensive during this entire exchange. Harris looked at Wilcox

solemnly, Right now he is.

Chapter 2

Forty-five minutes later, Wilcox and Harris stood outside Tiny Tots, surrounded by threelarge carts of brown-bag lunches, and over a hundred police personnel. Harris couldnt help butwish that just one of those bags had something stronger than a ham sandwich in it. The daycare

was sealed up so tight that there wasnt even a square inch of uncovered window from any side,

and from the sound of it, they were still barricading from within. What are they expecting us to

do, drive a truck in there? Harris thought acidly. One side of the front door had been left un-

barricaded, but there was a concrete wall in behind it so anyone trying to enter the building fromthat location would be bottle-necked by the passage. Harris hated to give Patrick credit, but he

had really thought this out.

Ten minutes, Harris thought quietly to himself, taking in his surroundings for the first

time since they had parked behind all the police barricades. People were lined up on the

sidewalks around the building, some with looks of fearand others of extreme anger. Harris

noticed a group of ashen-faced people set against the crowd, all wearing the same haunted, deadlook in their eyes.Ah those must be the parents, he realized with a numb shock. He couldnteven begin to imagine what they were all going through right now. He wasnt a father, but not so

long ago he had had the option of becoming one.

Dark clouds rolled across his eyes and he found himself swimming in the memory ofKaren, straddled on top of him, and staring into his eyes with nothing less than the passion fromthe deepest and darkest corners of love. She leans in close to him, breathing heavy on his neck

and whispers almost too softly for him to hear, l love you. Her body is so close to him that all he

can smell is her deep, intoxicating, scent. She kisses his neck, nibbling here and there as shemakes her way to his earlobe. She presses her warm body against his, and he buries his face into

her neck, breathing in the sweet aroma of crushed oranges and cinnamon. Panting heavily, she

whispers into his ear, make me a mother.

Theyll be alright, Wilcoxs gruff voice sounded beside him, sucking him out of his oh -

so-pleasant nightmare. He inhaled deeply, hoping to still be drenched in her sweet scent, but he

could smell nothing but fresh asphalt, and exhaust. Harris turned and looked at his captain,suddenly realizing just how out of shape the man had become. It was another warm day in the

city, but Wilcox looked like he had run here rather then drove in his air-conditioned Plymouth.

You know, Harris said with a sideways glance at his captain, I dont much care for him, but

he did have a point.

Whats that? Wilcox grumbled, glaring at the lunches with hungry eyes.


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You really do need to stay off the red meat. Harris said with a ha lf-grin. His captains

eyes grew wide, and his jaw slackened slightly.

You pompous, son of a

Wilcox! one of the officers near the giant swat van yelled, his eyes large and fearful.

Harris knew it meant only one thingPatrick was on the line.

Eight men crouched over a speaker phone in the SWAT van, sweat pouring down each ofthem in rivers, but none complaining. The van smelled of B.O and gunpowder, with just a hint of

leather thanks to Detective Harriss coat. Wilcox stood at the back of the van closest to the doors,

primarily for the benefit of the other officers. In the city heat, the man had obviously already

sweated off the majority of what little deodorant he put on this morning. Harris shoved his handsin his dusters silk-lined pockets, and listened to the raspy sound of breathing on the other end of

the line. Occasionally he would hear a child whimper or cry in the background.

Patrick, were here, Harris said coldly. He didnt know why, but something about thisman was getting under his skin worse than usual. The last time he had felt this creeped out was

when he spent six months hunting Shaw across the city.

Its nice to hear your voice again, Detective Harris. Patricks metallic voice rang outover the speaker. A small shudder worked its way down Harriss spine at the sound. Do you

have what I requested?

Yes, all the lunches are ready, Harris responded quickly, raising his eyes to meet

Wilcoxs. His captain twirled a finger through the air, signaling for Harris to keep him talking.

Jesusits not like Im still in the academy, Jack.

Good. Now listen carefully because I dont want any mistakes, and neither do you,Patrick started, his voice changing from carefree and lazy to icy and authoritative in an instant.

Three officers of your choosing will push the trollies to the front door, one at a time. No guns.

My men will take them from there. Do not attempt in any way to subvert me, Detective, or else I

will level the building.

Harris stared at the speaker for a moment, fuming over Patricks request. Alright, I willsee to it personally then. The detective said before he could stop himself. What the hell? Whydid you just agree to that?Oh, arent you quite the hero? Patrick said, his voice thawing into awide, audible, grin. A loud click sounded and the line went dead. Harris let out a deep breath he

didnt realize he had been holding, and looked up at an angry faced Wilcox.

What the hell are you doing? the captain shouted at him, obviously not caring about the

other six men waiting to get out of the truck. He said any three officers, notyou!

He called me out by name to be here, Jack, Harris said, squeezing his way past theother officers with all the dignity the enclosed space would allow, and prodded Wilcox to the

side so they could exit. The van was stifling and reeked of anxiety and B.O. He isnt going to

ruin his fun by killing me now.Hopefully.


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Oh, so you think you know what he wants, Wilcox said, his face growing redder by the

second as he walked behind Harris back toward the three carts. Yes, the detective responded

quietly, right now, he wants lunch.

Captain Wilcox scowled at him, but something behind his eyes softened . Was that

fear? Harris, the captain started uncomfortably, Weve been here before you know that.

Justjust be careful, alright?

Jack, I didnt know you were so sentimental, the detective said with a sly grin. His

response came in the shape of a shaking middle finger and he couldnt help but chuckle. Theman had a lot of faults about him, but he cared about his officers more than he let on. Harris took

his duster off and tossed it onto the Plymouths hood, and then removed his 9mm Berreta from

the holster around his waist and set it on his jacket. He kicked his leg up, putting his foot on the

tire of the car, and quickly un-holstered the small revolver strapped to his ankle. He gentlyplaced it next to his Beretta, then turned and set his hands on the trollies handlebar. He could see

a shadowy figure standing just to the side of the glass door.

If they make a move, hit the dirt, Harris, Wilcox said next to him. His mouth wasunusually dry and he tried to swallow, but couldnt. Harris nodded at him and slowly started towalk to the front door with the trolley. His entire body was shaking with adrenaline, and it was

causing his legs to feel like Jell-O. Harris kept his eyes focused on the door, ready to hit the

ground at the slightest sign of trouble. The figure next to the glass shifted slightly, and Harris felt

his heart jump into his throat. A dull clicksounded in front of him, and he immediately thoughtthat it was all over. The glass door suddenly swung open, and a hand motioned in the void for

him to push the trolley inside. He did as he was instructed, then slowly turned on his heel with

his hands in the air, and speedily walked back to the remaining two. Jesus, relax already, he

thought to himself angrily, if he wanted you dead then you wouldnt still be here.

He did the same process with the next trolley, and heard the crowd gasp and hold itsbreath as the door swung open once more. On the third trip, he felt an icy shiver work its way

down his spine. He looked up and saw that there was now a second figure standing in the black

void behind the glass. He could only just make out a pair of slim shoulders, and some darkclothing. Shit, is that him? Harris asked himself and felt his heart thunder against ribs

threateningly. When the door swung open a third time, a beam of light reflected off the glass,

briefly illuminating a bright trail through the darkness behind it. A pair of cold, icy-blue, eyessparked brilliantly in the light, and then disappeared into the void. Harris was abruptly

overwhelmed with the smell of cigarettes and expensive cologne.

Detective Harris, a metallic voice said from the darkness. Harris squinted his eyes andraised a hand to block the sun, but he still couldnt see in the building. He heard the voice exhale

gently, and once again, he was enveloped by the strong smell of menthol cigarettes. You dontlook so well, Detective.

Harris dry swallowed, then spoke with what he hoped passed as confidence, Yeah, it

must be this city heat.

The shadow shifted slightly, and Harris was certain that Patrick had just grinned at him.

Aye, the heat can do that to a man, Patricks taciturn voice continued. Ive watched you for


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some time now, Detective, and as you can see, this moment is very important to me. I wouldnt

waste it by shooting you, so please relax.

Harris didnt know how to respond to this, so he simply replied with a dumb sounding

Oh? The hollow feeling of beingwatched crept over him, and he couldnt help but startwondering how long Patrick had been spying on him.If he has been watching me, Harris thought

slowly with dread then that means he must already know abouther. For some reason, he

couldnt bring himself to even think of her name when he knew those icy eyes were peering athim from behind the veil of darkness. Even though she had left him, he knew he would crumble

like ash if something ever happened to her.

Yes, Detective, the hollow voice continued from inside the shadowy-void, youre so

different from those who you choose to surround yourself with in every way. They are nothing

more than ants in comparison to you, Detective Harris. Ive read all about you in the papers andhow you caught the ever elusive, Casey Shawor the Charlotte Skinner, as he was branded. Oh

yes, you have great potential Detective

What the fuck, Harris thought with shock. His stomach was doing somersaults, and it wasnot settling with the liquor at all. His hand unconsciously reached up and his finger-tips tracedalong the jagged scar across his right side and pelvis. The memory of Shaw breathing heavily in

his face as he plunged the broken-off piece of copper pipe into his stomach engulfed him, and for

a moment he could smell nothing but iron as he remembered all the blood pouring down his

front. Someone far behind Harris slammed a car door, yanking him out of the memory and back

into the present. He didnt know how, but he knew that Patrick was watching his hand on hisstomach. Harris immediately dropped it back to his side, and took a deep breath. You are not

ready for this, he thought stonily to himself.

What is it going to take for you to release the children, Patrick? Harris said, far more

bravely then he felt. This man unnerved him without even trying. The figure shifted slightly in

the darkness and didnt respond. Harris thought he saw his chest rise, then fall with a sigh, Thetime is currently Twelve Fourteen, Detective. You have Forty-five minutes to notify all state

media outlets that they will be airing an online broadcast that will begin at one o clock. Theywill continue to air the broadcast, uninterrupted, for two hours. Here is the website, he said,tossing a crumpled ball of paper out the door, where it rolled into Harriss left boot.Is that

understood?

If we do this, you will release the children? Harris asked gently, rising from the ground

and stuffing the note into his pocket without looking at it. The less he touched it, the betterchance Forensics had of getting something useful from it. No way, he thought sourly, there is no

fucking way that is all he wants. There has to be more to this than just that.

At this moment, that is all I require, Detective, said Patrick smoothly. Harris could feel

those icy-blue eyes staring at him from the darkness, but he couldnt see them. Your timestartsPatrick continued, the shadow shifting again as he lifted his wrist up to see his watch,

Now.

Harris spun quickly on his heel and sprinted back to a pale-faced Wilcox, relaying the

information as quickly as possible while he re-holstered his weapons. Wilcox immediately


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turned and started barking orders at everyone around him. Harris took a deep, steadying breath

and closed his eyes.Here we go.

The Detective spun around with military efficiency and sprinted away, not wasting a

second of the time that Patrick had allowed him. The corners of his mouth twitched upwardsslightly in admiration. He turned and caught Mario staring at him. The young Hispanics cheeksreddened, and his eyes quickly refocused on his boots. Irritating child, thought Patrick savagely

as he walked past him, and out of line of sight from the door. He expected that his threat about

the heart monitor was keeping the snipers trigger fingers steady, but then there was no reason togive them the open opportunity either. He entered into the giant, hollowed-out, section of the

room reserved for the where the children could play, and quietly watched as the daycare workers

passed out the bag lunches to the children. They were trying their best to keep them all calm, and

quiet, and so far they had done a good job.

Patrick turned and walked along the wall toward the office where his laptop was set up,

and quickly sat down and shut off the light. His muscles relaxed, and he exhaled gently once thedarkness of the room incased him. He was having trouble being around all this light, but

hopefully soon that wouldnt matter anymore. His quickfingers dipped into the breast pocket of

his dress-shirt and removed a pack of cigarettes. He casually flicked one out, catching it between

his lips, and then produced a small book of matches from his coat pocket. The flash of fire light

illuminated his eyes as he drug the head of the match across the strike pad, savoring the bittersmell of burning sulfur and menthol. Something inside him stirred suddenly, as though he were

being watched, and his eyes flicked up and into the playroom.

All the children he saw were engrossed with eating their bag lunches, or trading pudding-

cups. No eyes seemed to be on him. He took a relaxing breath, and then he caught sight of a little

girl tucked away in the far corner. There was no lunch around her, and no brown bag as evidenceof having been given one. She was staring intently into the darkness of his room with eyes that

seemed to pierce through the shadows around him. Patricks eyes narrowed slightly as he took in

the little girls features. Her hair was a mousey-brown and hung in locks around her small, pink,cheeks. She wore a tiny blue dress with a white daisy pattern, and her knees were tucked up

against her chest with her arms wrapped around them in a death-lock. He felt something in his

chest uncoil slightly at the thought of her going hungry.

Patrick set his burning cigarette into the ashtray and stood, stepping out of the darkness

and into the florescent light of the playroom. The little girl raised her eyes and stared into his,unwavering, and completely void of fear. His breath caught in his chest at the intensity of her

gaze,but he couldnt look away. Patrickgradually started to walk toward her corner, and slowly

sat down beside her. He wanted to give her a chance to tell him no, instead of just barging intoher space. He couldnt stand the sound of children crying, especially one as tiny as her.Why

dont you have a lunch, little one? he asked her as gently as he could. Something behind the tiny

girls brilliant green eyes shifted, and she spoke with the authority and reason of someone who

had seen far too much of the world, far too early. They ran out before I could get one. Shespoke so quietly that he had to strain to hear her. A smallpangpopped in Patricks chest at the

thought of her hungry, and he suddenly felt anger flare up inside him. Who screwed up? Was it

his men with the count, or was it the police? Someone would pay for this soon.


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He clenched his jaw in frustration and quickly stood to his feet. The little girls piercing

stare never left his and he felt something inside him soften unexpectedly. What was it about her

big green eyes that he found so intimidating? Would you like to share my lunch with me? heasked her, offering his open hand. He honestly didnt expect that she would take it, since most

children tended to be mortally afraid of him. Patrick assumed it had something to do with the

same reason a horse can sense if the rider is fearful of it or notbut in this case, they could justtell that there was something that wasnt quite right about him. She stared at Patrick for a long

moment, looking him over, then unclasp her tiny hands and put one into his as she stood and

brushed the wrinkles from her dress. They slowly walked past his office and into the small,

make-shift kitchen.

Patrick quickly scooped the little girl up in his arms and set her down on the island in

front of the large, industrial, refrigerator. A shadow of a smile passed across her miniature face

when he lifted her, lighting up her bright green eyes like neon. He swore he heard the faintest of

giggles escape her when she whizzed through the air, but he wasnt sure. You sit there and I

will find us something to munch on, ok? Patrick said to her with a wide grin. He opened thedoor and cursed silently to himself when he spied a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka stashed

near the back.No, not now, he thought coldly, deal with that later when the little one has beenfed and is napping.Patrick didnt want to scare her, and he knew he would if he let his rage getthe best of him. So, little one, what would you like to eat? he asked, rummaging through the

endless shelves for something that looked palatable.

My name is Tobi, she said softly from behind him. He turned to face her and couldnt

help but smile. Well Miss. Tobi, what may I get for your lunch? We have a fine selection of

ham, cheese, and what appears to have been a pickle at one time. he said to her with a mock-

French accent and a small bow. She grinned at him again, and let loose a small giggle. His heart

caught in his throat at the joyous sound. It was like a choir of angels all singing at once.

Boss, the webcam is set up andRaymond started into the kitchen then hemomentarily paused, his eyes quickly darting between Patrick and Tobi. A wicked grin crept

onto his face, but he lowered his eyes and stood at attention. Good, go see that the rest of the

children are properly looked after. Patrick responded icily.

Yes, sir, Raymond said with a curt nod, and briskly walked out of the kitchen. Patricks

stony glare followed him out of the room, and he found himself wishing he had taken the time tomeet the men Mario recommended for this beforehand. The boy had vouched for all of them on

pain of his own hands, and Patrick was lead to believe they would be competent. Perhaps I needto reevaluate that assumption, he thought petulantly. Why are you so angry? a tiny, angelic,

voice says next to him. Patrick turned his head and stared into Tobis bright eyes, completely

breathless. Why do you think Im angry? he asked hergently. Tobi reached her miniscule

hands forward and took the parcel of ham and cheese from him, setting them on the counter next

to her. Because you are, She said simply, and then added with a hopeful spark in her eyes, is

there any Mayo?

Patrick could do nothing but stare wide-eyed at the small girl, his mind reeling in theshock of how she had just spoke to him. No one ever talked to him like thatwell, not anymore

at least. There was no fear behind her eyes, just a sort of mixed curiosity. Stop gaping at her and

find the damned bread, Patrick thought to himself, quickly scanning the room for a loaf. He


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spotted one on top of the microwave and grabbed it. You havent answered my question. Tobi

said, smoothing her dress out on her legs and absently picking at one of the little flowers. The

one regarding me being angry, or the one about the Mayo? He responded with a sly wink

She giggled behind him and said, You, silly!

Patrick walked back around the island and placed the bread next to her, marveling that itwas almost as bigas she was. Her eyes looked almost too big for her face, and it was then that

Patrick realized she had very little meat on her bones. Another pang of sorrow popped in his

chest, but was quickly replaced by a burning fury that someone had let such a sweet little girl go

hungry. There it is again, She whispered softly, staring into his icy-blue eyes. Patrick quickly

turned and started rummaging through the refrigerator for a jar of mayonnaise to keep her from

looking at him. Such a perceptive child, he thought with admiration as he grabbed a jar of Dukes

and set it on the counter next to the bread. He turned back to face her, and felt his heart leap into

his throat. Tobi was holding a knife longer than her arm, and it was pointed directly at his chest.

For the Mayo, She said simply, flipping it gracefully through her petite fingers so the

handle was facing him. She raised her tiny eyebrows and extended the knife, waiting for him totake it.Dear God, how old is this child? Its as if she was a grown woman in a childs body,

Patrick thought humbly, gently taking the knife from her hand. How old are you, little one?

I asked a question first! she said and stuck her lip out pouting. Patrick couldnt help but

laugh at the little girls face all scrunched up in mock protest. She suddenly looked very much

her age. He lifted his hands up in defeat and sighed with a wry smile. Ok, you win. You wanted

to know why Im angry? he asked seriously. Tobi nodded enthusiastically at him and hecontinued, Im upset because it looks like you havent been eating as well as you should. When

was your last meal, little one?

For the first time, she looked away from him, and a bright flush appeared in her pale little

cheeks.Is she blushing at me? God, she cant be more than five or six, and she is already thatself-conscious? Six. She whispered almost inaudibly, answering his silent question. When did

you last have a meal, Tobi? he asked herwhile spreading a generous layer of mayonnaise across

a piece of bread. She blushed again at his question, and he was sure that if any more blood went

to her cheeks, they would pop. My turn! She said, reaching over and taking the knife fromhim, then sticking her other arm up to the shoulder in the bag with the bread, trying to fish out

two pieces. Patrick wasnt sure if she meant it was her turn for a question, orher turn for making

a sandwich, but it was so cute sounding he smiled all the same.Hungry little devil, he thought

amused.

Whats your name? she asked him, turning her eyes onto the slice of bread and

concentrating intently while she scraped mayo across the porous surface. Patrick watched herwith apprehension for a moment, then set down the soon-to-be sandwich, and opened the

package of ham. Patrick. He said quietly, not wanting to distract her while she was holding theknife. Her emerald eyes flicked up and caught his for the briefest moment, and then she looked

back down and finished spreading mayo across the bread. Patrick, she whispered softly, testingout how his name felt on her tongue. A ghost of a smile passed across her face, and she set the

bread down on her leg as she grabbed a square of cheese and started un-wrapping it.


15/61

My turn, He said, imitating her pout and making her giggle again. God, that sound was

magical. You know my question. He said as he layered several pieces of ham onto hersandwich. Her big eyes flicked back to his and she held out her hand expectantly, waiting for

him to pass her the ham. Patrick grinned at her as he took a small piece of ham between his index

finger and thumb and held it out to her. She put her tiny hand on his to hold it steady while she

leaned forward and took the meat from him with her teeth, then quickly chewed and swallowedit. She beamed at him and said, Just now!

Patrick grinned wolfishly, and started to laugh, causing her to giggle so much, the mayo-

covered bread almost slipped off her leg. Tobi caught it with hands far more dexterous that any

six year old should have, and looked back at him, waiting patiently for the ham. He passed herthe package and picked up a square of cheese, slowly unwrapping it while waiting for her next

question. Why are you making us stay here? she said finally, just as they both finished making

the sandwiches. He looked down at her and felt something deep in his chest stir. There are

people bad people and they need tobe punished.

She stared into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity to him, then at last spoke. What

did they do that was worse than what youre doing? Patrick could do nothing but stare back atthe tiny child in awe. There was truth hiding behind her emerald eyes and Patrick could feel it as

her words washed over him. He didnt trust himself to speak, so he gave her a lop-sided grin andheld out the sandwich for her to take. Tobi looked at it and grinned back, then held out the oneshe made to him. What? He thought dumbly, thinking maybe she wanted mustard or ketchup.

Her eyes stared piercingly into his, and finally he realized that she had made that sandwich for

him. He took it from her as she took his and shoved a huge corner of the sandwich into her

mouth, barely chewing before she swallowed.

He was completely speechless as he stared down at the ham sandwich, noticing a tiny

fingerprint in mayonnaise on the crust. Patrick smiled and felt a hot tear slide down his cheek.

She took another ravenous bite and looked up at him, her small brow furrowing when sherealized he hadnt taken a bite yet. Is it not good? she asked gloomily. Patrick felt his heartbreak in those four words, and he leaned forward and took a giant bite, squirting mayo out the

back and down his hand. Tobi shoved her hands over her mouth and started giggling wildly.

Patrick couldnt help but start laughing with her, as he licked the salty condiment from his hand.She extended her sandwich up to him, offering him a bite, and he took a very small one off thecorner, and then offered her one of his. She took another giant bite and grinned up at him with a

mouthful of sandwich.

Boss? Mario said from the kitchen doorway, careful not to meet Patricks eyes when he

turned to face him. What? Patrick snapped, annoyed at being interrupted. Its ten till one, sir.

Just letting you know. Mario said, and quietly exited. Patrick took a deep breath, and forced a

calm upon himself. He looked down to see Tobis large eyes focused on him. Her brow crinkled

again and he saw something behind her eyes change. What was that? Was that pity? He

thought to himself with shock. Youre too nice to be mad all the time. She said simply, taking

another bite of her sandwich. Patrick grinned at her again, and handed her the rest of the

sandwich she made for him. Here, little one, you finish this for me. I have to go talk to some

real important people.


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She beamed up at him and hopped off the counter-top, causing Patricks heart to jump

into his throat. Careful! he said cautiously. Tobi looked at his sandwich and then back up at

him. One more bite! she said, holding it up to him. He smiled and bent down, taking a smallnibble off the crust. What kid ate the crusts anyways? She giggled again; filling the small kitchen

with the angelic melody, then took his hand and walked him back into his office. Are the people

youre going to talk to nice like you? she asked him earnestly as he sat down in the chair andflicked on his laptop. The cigarette he had left here earlier was burnt down to the filter, and

smelled of melted plastic.

Nice? he said, looking back at her as she chewed another enormous bite. Her tiny

cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunks and it made him smile. Im not sure if they are nice, hesaid slowly, remembering the Detectives inquisitive brown eyes, and him sprinting back to thebarricades to relay the information from earlier. A small, wicked, grin split across his face. But

they are more like me than they realize.

Chapter 3

Harris sat in the passenger side of Wilcoxs Plymouth with the door open, idly fingering

the stitching on his leather duster and waiting for Patrick to make his next call. Ten minutes tillone. It had only taken twenty minutes for Wilcox to convince the news broadcasters to do as

Patrick requested, but then another half-hour to get the Mayor and Senators onboard with the

idea. They were terrified of what the man would say when it was broadcast across the state, butHarris failed to see the logic behind this. The broadcast would be going out across the web as

well, significantly dwarfing the population of just North Carolina. What is it that he is so

desperate to say, that its worth the lives of two-hundred children, he thought to himself numbly.

He is so intent to be heard, but what moves him to feel this way?

Memories flash across his eyes, spiraling him out of the present, and suddenly he findshimself staring into the face of his one love; Karen. Her beautiful, chestnut-colored, hair is

ragged looking, and her make-up is blotchy from the tears streaming down her cheeks. She has a

suitcase in one of her hands, and she reaches out with the other, holding his apartment key. Hergentle voice is all he can hear as she says the last thing he ever heard from her lips; you never

listened to me before but maybe you will now. I love you with all my heart, Daniel, but I cantbe with you anymore. Im sorry, and with one last fleeting look, she walked out of his apartment,

and out of his life for good.

Jesus, you look like steam-rolled shit! Wilcox said, leaning down and resting his

weight on the open door, causing the car to tip precariously. The movement drew Harris out ofthe nightmare he was reliving, and with an inaudible gasp, he looked around, trying desperately

to remember where he was. Oh yeah, the daycare. Shit, you have to focus, Harris. She is gone,

just deal with it and move on, he thought wearily, wiping the sweat off of his brow. He knew that

somewhere deep inside, he didnt want to let hergo, and that was why he kept torturing himself


17/61

with these memories. Regardless of all the pain he had felt since she left, he still loved her more

than the day and night. You are my sunrise, and my sunset, he thought bitterly, remembering

what she had always told him.

Why the hell am I leaning? Harris said suddenly, glancing over at Wilcox bewildered.

His eyes darted to where Wilcox was resting his weight on the door. Oh, he said simply, tryingto keep from grinning. Alright, you son of a bitch, Wilcox started shouting, pointing at

Harriss chest. I been listening to your shit all morning, and Im sick and tired ofHarris cuthim off by twirling his finger through the air, mimicking him from earlier. Wilcox stared at him

dumbfounded for a moment, and then continued shouting with renewed vigor. Harriss was

trying frantically not to laugh, and failing miserably. Wilcoxs face was getting redder and redder

by the second, only holding second to the colorful use of his language.

On second thought, I dont think its the job that keeps his blood pressure so high; Harristhought bemused, maybe I have something to do with it? His eyes clouded over once more as he

remembered what the captain had snapped him out of when he walked over. Karen. Wilcox

stopped shouting and looked at him with pity.

You alright, Harris? Jack asked, sluggishly waddling around the car, and torturing thesuspension still further by sitting in the driver side. Harris gave him a quick nod, and took

another steadying breath. How much longer? he asked, turning to face the captain. He still hasabout five minutes, give or take. Intel came back on the website he gave you for the broadcast.

Wilcox said, playing on Harriss curiosity. Many things could be said about the captain, but he

knew how to motivate his men. He hadnt kept his job for the past twenty years by riding on

sheer dumb-luck.

Yeah? What did you find out? Harris asked, his interest piqued by the captains words.Wilcox gave him a sideways glance, and took a small sip of his coffee. Not much, but it was

created by a kid named Mario Santiago. Pulling records on him right now, should be here in the

next five minutes or so. Hopefully so will the building, Harris blurted out without thinking.Wilcox gave him a wry smile and grunted in approval. One of the rookie officers on the scene

ran up to the car and stopped, his eyes nervously flicking quickly between Harris and Wilcox inamazement. Great, another fan, Harris thought acidly. His reputation for catching Shaw had put

him in the spotlight a few years ago, but it had all but faded by now, except with the rookies.

According to Wilcox, he was a legend at the academy.

Sir? the young officer said, trying to catch Harriss eye. God, either say it or shut up

already. Spit it out, would ya? Wilcox snapped at the young recruit, startling him so muchthat Harris was afraid the boy would wet his pants. Yes sir! The suspect is on the line and is

requesting to speak with Detective Harris! Wonderful, Harris thought coldly as he stood from

the seat and slammed the car door. Quit slamming my God damned door! Wilcox roared athim from behind the wheel, continuing until Harris was out of earshot and in the swat van. Thank

God, it had time to air out. He sat down on one of the bench seats and lifted the receiver off the

cradle, hit a small button on the side turning speaker phone on, then rested it back down in the

groove.

This is Detective Harris.


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The line was dead for several long moments, and then he heard Patrick exhale slowly. He

could almost smell the stench of menthol cigarettes from here. Detective, how are you?

Im nursing a hangover in a hot SWAT van that reeks of BO, and talking to a fuckinglunatic who decided he would get his jollies today by taking two hundred kids hostage. To be

honest, Id call this a banner evening. Detective? Patrick said icily. Im here, and Im fine,

Patrick, now what is it that I can do for you?

Take caution in your tone, Detective, said Patrick, his voice deathly quiet. Shit, relax

Harris. Keep him calm and keep him talking. Focus. Im sorry, Patrick, this heat is driving me

crazy. What can I do for you? he said as cheerfully as he could muster. The line was quite forseveral long moments, then Patrick began to speak again, Apology accepted, Detective. Perhaps

you wouldnt be so hot, had you not been sitting in that god-awful car with your jacket on. It is

over ninety degrees, after all.

What? He was watching him the entire time? How? They had scoped the building a

hundred times now and there was nowhere to look out fromunless shit. Harris slowly inched

forward and peeked his head out of the van, quickly scanning the top of the daycare and thepower poles near it. There! He could only just make it out, but there was a small blinking redlight at the top of one of the poles. Cameras. That was how he was keeping an eye on them.Is

that how he knew about me sleeping on the couch as well, Harris thought uncomfortably. Am I

boring you, Detective?

No, I was justWhat? Trying not to vomit at the idea of you watching me in my home?

Just taking my coat off like you suggested. Slippery, Detective, Patrick said cautiously, I

needed to speak with you before the broadcast aired to remind you of the rules. Im sure therewill be far more people here when it goes out, and I feel compelled to remind you againnoone enters and no one leaves this building without my say so. There are no exceptions to the rule,

and failure to comply will result in a penalty. Penalty? Are we playing a game, Patrick?

Harris asked calmly. Patricks cold metallic laughter echoed off the insides of the van, chilling

Harris to the bone. God, he sounded even creepier when he laughed.

Why yes, Detective, I believe we are. The Game starts in three minutes. Be prepared,

he breathed over the line, the humor in his voice gone and replaced with malice and contempt.

Harris turned to exit the van, but stopped just as Patrick continued, Oh, and Detective?

Yes, Patrick?

Youre still wearing your jacket. He said simply, and then the line went dead.

Patrick was leaned against the door-frame, his arms gently crossed in front of him and acigarette burning between his middle and ring finger. His frozen-blue eyes watched Mario on the

laptop, following each keystroke fixedly as he set the video up to broadcast in one minutes time.They had already filmed it the day before, and this was the finished product; four minutes and

eleven seconds of Patrick telling the world of The Game that they would all be privy to. He tooka long draw from the cigarette, savoring the minty flavor of the tobacco, and exhaled through his

nose. Now? he asked tightly. Almost, just another second, Mario responded, then with a


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quick look up at Patricks face, added Sir! Patrick clicked his tongue impatiently, and he felt

the oh-so-familiar surge of anger in his stomach blossom, heating his blood instantly.

Ready! Mario said quickly, turning to face him. Finally, let The Game begin.Do it,Patrick exhaled, and Mario pressed the enter button on the keyboard. Once the prerecorded video

started playing on the screen, Patrick finally felt himself finally begin to relax. Everything was

going picture-perfect, so far. He took another long draw from his cigarette and let his empty hand

fall to his side as he watched himself speak on the video. He couldnt wait to see which Senatorwould be first. A tiny hand pressed into his and he looked down, startled by the touch. Two

brilliant, emerald-like, eyes stared back at him, obscured only by locks of mousy-brown hair and

a dazzling little smile that made his heart leap. Patrick felt something shift in his chest when helooked down at Tobi, and he couldnt resist smiling back at her, giving her little hand a gentle

squeeze.

Good evening, America, Im sure you are all wondering just what it is I am doing,

interrupting your previously

Finished eating already, little one? he asked her quietly, kneeling down so his icy-blueeyes were level with hers. She nodded enthusiastically at him, and her eyes flicked to thecomputer screen with interest. Patrick followed her gaze and noticed Mario was keeping his face

fixed resolutely on the screen as well, pretending not to hear the conversation going on next to

him.Hum smart boy, Patrick thought wickedly. He turned back to face Tobi, and said with a

wide grin, Your turn. The little girls eyes lit up and she beamed back at him, melting his heart.

What are you watching? she asked him inquisitively.

The rules to The Game are simple enough to follow

Its a Game were all going to play, Patrick said back at her, smiling devilishly and

making her pale little cheeks blush. Is it a fun game? Tobi asked, trying frantically to hide her

excitement, but failing. Yes, yes it is. He replied simply, unable to take his eyes off of hers.She is so innocent and curious. Its like watching a tiny angel discover the world around her,he thought softly, watching her expression as she focused on the video. His brow furrowed

slightly as he considered taking her into the other room until it was doneafter all, what he had

to say was fairly intense, and he didnt want to frighten the poor girl.

and when the two hours are up and no Senators remain alive, I will release everychild, unharmed. Should the two hours run out and there remains even onestill standing well,unfortunately I will have to end this game with a rather loudbang

Tobis eyes widened slightly, and she looked up at him, her face expressionless. Patrickfelt his breath catch in his chest and his heart started thundering wildly against his ribs. Oh, no.

She said nothing for a long pause, and then finally whispered sadly, Lets hope it doesnt cometo that. Mario looked across at the little girl, his face a twisted expression of wonder and

despair. He was just as taken with the tiny angel as Patrick was, it seemed.

The two hours start now, America. Let us see ifthese people who call themselves ourleaders care about us as much as they say they do. Let us see if they truly have our best interest

at heart. Blame me and call me a monster if you wish, but in two hours we will see just who the

monsters really are in this world. You will hear back from me soon. Good luck.


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The broadcast cut off and Patrick held his breath, listening to the sweet silence all around

him. The calm before the storm, he thought idly, wondering what the good Detective was doingright now.My best guess would be taking a very long swig of something in a brown-paper bag,

he mused silently. Mario took a shaky breath next to him, his pupils dilated with the fear and

adrenaline coursing through him like wildfire. Tobis hand squeezed his and Patrick looked

down at her, silently praying that the girl didnt start crying. He didnt think he would be able tobear such a noise coming from her sweet lips, but instead, he found himself facing a flushed girl

with a large, mysterious, smile spread across her face. She looked like she was quite enjoying the

moment. Ive never played a game before, Tobi said shyly, This sounds like fun!

Patrick felt the familiarpang in his chest at her words, and then offered her his brightest

one-thousand megawatt smile. I hope so, little one I hope so.

Time was at a stand-still outside the daycare, with no one moving, and no one speaking.Everyone was trying to assimilate what they had just seen. Harris and Wilcox sat in the back of

one of the SWAT vans, watching the broadcast over and over, each too numb to speak. After thesecond playback, Wilcox hit a button and it started all over again. The camera was placed infront of a window with the shades drawn, obscuring the person speaking in dark shadows. Harris

knew who was speaking though; he was sure would never forget that cold, metallic-like, voice

until the day he died.

Good evening, America. Im sure you are all wondering just what it is I am doing,interrupting your previously programmed show, but I thought we could instead spend the day

playing a game of sorts. You see, I intend for this game to be a wake-up call for you, America,

and to remind you just who it is that you are allowing to run your lives, and your country. The

rules to The Game are simple enough to follow. There are currently one hundred Senators inthis country, and all of them have sinned day-in, and day-out, from the very first day they came

into office. They give us lies in the form of promises, and despair in the form of hope. They are

the figure-heads who determine where the wealth goes, and it always seems to wind up back in

their own pockets. They have rigged the game, America, and now it is time for them to pay the

price.

In two hours, ninety pounds of C-4 explosive will detonate at my current location; a small

daycare located in center-city Charlotte, ending the lives of over two-hundred children, and

anyone else caught in the blast-radius. No one is allowed in or out of the building, but should it

happen, the bomb will detonate automatically. Also, for those of you out there with itchy trigger

fingers, Im currently wearing a device that monitors my heartbeat, and should it stop for anyreason, the bomb will detonate. The only way to avoid this imminent catastrophe is for every

Senator in the US to publicly commit suicide, through use of a gun only, on either live television,

or via webcast. Heart or head makes no difference to me, but it must be done publically, or else

unfortunately, it will not count.

When the two hours are up, andno Senators remain alive, I will release every child,unharmed, and then surrender myself to the authorities. Should the two hours end and there


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remains a Senator still standing well, unfortunately I will have to finish this game with arather loud bang. The two hours start now, America. Let us see if these people who call

themselves our leaders care about us as much as they say they do. Let us see if they truly have

our best interest at heart. Blame me and call me a monster if you wish, but in two hours we will

see just who the monsters really are in this world. You will hear back from me soon. Good luck.

Harris could do nothing but stare at the monitor. Fuck. FUCK! No, no, nothis cant behappening. This has got to be some sort of joke, he thought desperately, though he knew he was

fooling himself. Patrick wasnt the sort of man to pull a hoax like this. Wilcoxs mouth wasopening and closing, like a fish out of water, frantically trying to find his bearing in the current

situation. Harris knew it would only be moments before everything went to Hell around him, and

as quickly as he could, he snatched the Beretta from his holster, and sprinted out of the vantoward the daycare door. He made it just in time before a mother, hysterical from just watching

the video, hurdled the caution tape, and knocked over several left-over construction cones while

she took off at full speed toward the door. Harris cocked the pistol and lined the sights up

directly with her forehead.

Freeze! he roared, silently praying that some part of the woman was still sane enough

to hear him. Tears were streaming down her face when she stopped, only feet away from where

Harris stood, his gun drawn and his finger gently digging into the trigger. Please, dont make meshoot you, lady, he prayed silently. A man came up behind her, and Harris shifted slightly so thathe was now in the sights. Instead of trying to get past him, though, he placed his hands on the

squalling womansshoulders and turned her toward him. Its ok, Mia, calm down. Everything

will be alright, youll see, the man coaxed her, slowly leading heraway from the door as she

sobbed heavily into his shoulder. Harris didnt holster his weapon until they crossed back underthe yellow caution tape, both of his eyes nervously flicking back and forth across the crowd for

signs of any others trying to get to the door.

Jesus, that was close, he thought with a shudder. His back and chest were covered in a

cold sweat despite the wet, Carolina-summer, heat around him, and his heart felt like it was

about to jump out of his throat. Harriss stomach was flipping over and over, and he was sure he

would either vomit, or faint, if it continued much longer. He took a deep breath and tried to

steady his shaking legs. A small clicksounded behind him as the door unlocked, and his entirebody froze in terror. The choking scent of menthol cigarettes enveloped him, and he instantly

knew who was standing behind him, the door cracked just enough for him to be heard.

That was a veryclose call, Detective, Patrick sneered, obviously enjoying the show.Harris heard him take a deep breath behind him, and bluish-smoke suddenly clouded around his

sides.Jesusmenthol cigarettes, and that musky fucking cologne! Im going to wind up needingtherapy so I dont strangle every smoker I see, after this. Then something occurred to him.Hang

on he was waiting at this door too, instead of being holed up in his Fortress of Solitude! That

must mean Oh, dont start pretending that you werent a little nervous too, Patrick. Harris

said quietly, turning his head just enough so Patrick could see that he was smiling. Dont get

any ideas, Detective, Patrick said icily, the atmosphere around him becoming artic. Whoa, hesounds pissed. Nice going on keeping him calm, Harris. I will blow this place to Hell and back,

and not think twice about doing it.


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Ok, I believe you, Patrick, Harris said gently, just calm down. Neither one of us wants

that to happen.

Oh, but I do, Patrick said with a hollow laugh, I really want to do this, Detective, but

unfortunately, even I must abide by the rules. What? Maybe he isnt the one in charge here

after all?

What sort of game are you trying to play, Patrick? These kids and their parents have

done nothing to you to deserve this.

They are the means to an end, Detective. I dont expect you to understand this, but in

two hours, I will have awoken everyone to the crimes that are being committed by the ones who

pretend to look after us. Patricks voice was backto its usual cold and metallic, but just under

the surface, Harris could hear him struggling to contain his unbridled fury. It sounded all too

familiar to him, but he didnt really want to think about that right now. He needed to find a way

to either stop Patrick, or stop the bomb. How long do you think before the first one goes?

Patrick asked him gently, as though discussing the weather.

Harris took another deep breath, wrinkling his nose at the heavy stench of tobacco, and

tilted his head to the side so he could only just make out Patricks silhouette in the darkness. Theshadowy figure tensed marginally when he caught Harriss eye, but he didnt move away. Lets

hope it doesnt take more than two hours. Harris conceded, and then started walking back to

where Wilcox was barking orders near the SWAT van.

Chapter 4

Harris! Wilcox shouted, his beady eyes focusing on the glass door with apprehension,

What the hell was that about? The detective grabbed Jacks arm and led him around the side of

the van so they werent in view of the door, or telephone-pole. Hes serious, Jack, Harris said

nervously, he isnt just some nut. He will really do it if he doesnt get what he wants. Wilcoxnodded heavily, and took a deep breath, Hes had us on the back foot since the start, Harris, butweve got two hours to get ahead. Wilcox stuck his head around the van and shouted, Leslie,

Dr. Markinson, get over here!

Harris recognized the names, having worked with both individuals for the past six years.

Leslie worked in Forensics, and was the best fingerprint-lifter Harris had ever seen, while Dr.Markinson worked with Handwriting Analysis and General Psychology, often helping the station

when they needed a profile made of a suspect. Harris hadnt seen Markinson since the case with

Shaw, and to be honest, he wasnt exactly looking forward to it. The doctor had a bad habit oftrying to get him on the couch every time he saw him, and Harris hated it. Leslie came bounding

around the side of the van, her bright blonde ponytail flapping back and forth as she bounced on

the balls of her feet. She was a bubbly, energetic, woman who started at the station only three


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months after Harris did. Sir! she said sharply, saluting Wilcox. Her eyes flicked to Harris and

her cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Dr. Markinson came around the side of the bus and smiled politely at them. Jack,

Detective Harris, how have you been? he asked with genuine curiosity. He was a man in his latefifties with salt and pepper colored hair, and a small, black, goatee. Harris suspected he was the

sort of man who dyed his beard in secret, but pretended it was natural when asked. Jack and

Harris shook the doctors hand, and suddenly Wilcox was launching into explanation. We haveto get ahead of this guy and we need ideas. Come on, people! Wilcox said, staring at each of

them expectantly. Think! What do we know so far?

He is fucking psychotic? He thought sourly. That isnt helping, Harris, come on.Concentrate. What do we know for sure? He has a problem with authority. Harris muttered

irritably. Good! What else? Dr. Markinson shifted uneasily, and said, He has a great deal of

misplaced rage, but I dont see how it connects to the children yet. If we can find his home,

perhaps I can give a better idea of what were dealing with?

An idea suddenly occurred to Harris. Jack, how did he get all those kids here? Hecouldnt have just walked them all here down the street. Wilcoxs eyes widened in surprise.

Youre right; he would have needed a school bus, or some kind of truck to get them all here at

once.

The four of them spun around and started looking up and down the crowded streets for

something Patrick could have brought all the children here in. There! Harris said, pointing at

three panel trucks parked next to each other a few hundred feet away. Wilcox bit his bottom lipand let forth a shrill whistle. All the officers around them turned to face the captain, and Wilcox

didnt waste any time with explanations. He ordered a team of officers over to search the trucks,

and sent Leslie and her team with them to lookfor any fingerprints they could find. Well run

the plate numbers and see what come back, Wilcox breathed just loud enough for Harris to hear.

Captain Wilcox, a Black-Suit called to them, briskly walking over. His blacksunglasses hid his expression, but his jaw was tense and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Arethey paid to look that pissed, or is just him? Harris thought dryly. Wilcox raised his eyes at the

Black-Suit, waiting for him to continue. Senator Adams will be arriving via helicopter in fifteen

minutes. He told me to notify you so you could make the appropriate accommodations. Which

are? Harris blurted out. The Black-Suit turned slowly to face him but didnt respond. Shit, thisis just what I needed, Wilcox sputtered angrily, Not only do I have a psycho in there

threatening the lives of two hundred kids, but now Im supposed to protect a Senator when the

entire city wants him dead?

Im just doing my job, sir. Black-Suit responded, his voice slightly tinged withsympathy.Hum, well it looks like those guys do have a heart after all. I swear, I thought theyhad to have it removed when entering the FBIfor security reasons, of course. Wilcox lifted hisbear-claw of a hand, and started massaging his temple. Harris, do me a favor and get thesepeople back five-hundred feet. I doubt theyre going to argue with someone who nearly shot oneof them earlier. Harris scowled at Jack and returned the long fingered gesture, but then gave

him a curt nod and walked away. He hated working with the general public, but he could see

Wilcoxs point; the parents and people standing on the sidewalks eyed him with unease every


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time he turned to face them. Well, I suppose moving them back will at least discourage anyone

else from trying to make a break for the door, he thought hopefully.

Sandra, he said quietly to a female officer who was standing several feet away, andtalking adamantly on the radio. She turned to see who said her name, and upon seeing it was

Harris, immediately blushed a bright red.Jeez, what is her problem? Am I interrupting? heasked gently. Oh, noI was just, erm nothing, she said flustered, What can I do for you

Detective Harris? All these people, he said, waving his hand at the still-growing crowd, needto move back five-hundred feet. Can you gather the other officers and give me a hand, please?I would love to give you a hand, she said, catching his eye and blushing furiously, I mean

ermmm, meant, I would like tothat is, I mean Harris took pity on her and gave her a small

smile. Preferably before the bomb goes off, Sandra.

Sandra gave him a mortified look and quickly nodded her head at him, not trustingherself to speak. She spun on her heel and quickly started barking orders at the officers around

her, sounding so much like Wilcox that Harris couldnt help but grin. The smile on his face

disappeared as bitter-sweet memories of Karen came back to him, making his heart ache deep in

his chest. She used to order him around in a similar fashion when she was trying to be sexy, andit made him laugh every time.Damn itfocus on the problem at hand, Harris! He squinted

back to the daycare and started wondering what Patrick was planning next.

Patrick sat in his office with the lights off, obscured by the inky shadows and the thick

smoke from his cigarette. Shortly after speaking with the Detective, he felt one of the migrainesthat had plagued him ever since he was a child coming on. He knew it was from exposing

himself to this much light, but it couldnt be helped. His nimble fingers slipped silently into hispocket and produced a small bottle of aspirin. He twisted the cap and tossed two down his throat,

dry-swallowing them, and then taking a long draw from his cigarette. The tobacco burned hislungs, but he instantly felt himself calm. His tongue flicked out of his mouth and licked his lips,

relishing the cool, minty, flavor of the menthol.

He looked out the door and saw that most of the children were either napping, or being

read to by the daycare workers. The fear was all but gone from their eyes, as they had becomeaccustomed to their situation. Good, everyone is finally starting to calm down out there, he

thought relaxingly. He looked around and spotted Tobi, curled up in her corner with his jacket

draped around her like a blanket, her head resting on a large stuffed teddy-bear. He grinned at

her from the shadows, and marveled at how beautiful the tiny girl was. He knew that his jacketwould have her scent on it when she returned it, and he couldnt wait. While its quiet, dont youhave some business to attend to? Emotion flared behind his eyes and he quickly stood from the

chair, his head-ache forgotten.

Mario, he said quietly, yet his voice seemed to carry as though he had yelled it. Mariosyoung face suddenly came running around the side of the door, and stopped just before he ran

into Patrick. He flushed horribly for a moment, and then said, Sir? Gather the men and theworkers in the kitchen. We need to talk, Yes sir! Mario responded nervously. The boy could

tell something was wrong,but he wasnt about to argue with him. He had already seen whathappened to those who disagreed with Patrick once before, and he was not about to go down that


25/61

road. Patrick quickly walked into the kitchen and opened a cabinet under the sink, his eyes

darting back and forth probingly.No no, that wont work. Ah, here we go, he thought with agrin, lifting a flat, iron, griddle from the cabinet and setting it on the stove. He rotated the knob

on the panel to high, and waited patiently as the burner kicked to life. Heat washed over his face

and he smiled. Yes, this should do nicely.

It took only a few moments to gather them all in the kitchen, but by the time they did, the

griddle was roaring hot and ready to go. His men stood against one wall, all standing at attention,and the workers stood against the other. Many of the women were eyeing him and the griddle

nervously, but none of them said anything. Patrick relished in the uncomfortable silence for

several long moments before he spoke. We have a problem, ladies and gentlemenbut first, I

would like to know who is in charge here? he asked gently, a shadow of a smile brushing

against his lips. A giant, blonde-haired, idiot who was with Patricks men said, Uh, wouldnt

that be you, sir? Oh dear God, maybe I should kill him just for the sake of the gene-pool, Patrick

thought irritably.

Iam, a young woman with flaming-red hair said, taking a small step forward. She was

breathing rapidly and sweat beaded her furrowed brow. You manage this daycare? Patrickasked sweetly, giving her a smile that didnt quite meet his eyes. She nodded once, and stared

pointedly into his chest, obviously not wanting to make eye contact. Patrick quickly walked tothe refrigerator and removed the half-empty bottle of vodka. He set it on the island in the middleof the room and turned to face the young woman. Her body tensed suddenly, and her eyes grew

wide. Is this yours? he asked her, his voice deathly quiet. She didnt respond, but instead stared

at the bottle in horror. Yes, she said quietly, then launched into a nervous explanation,

sometimes after the children leave, me and the girls have a few drinks before heading home

for the evening.

Patrick slowly turned to face the other five women standing next to her, acknowledging

that none of them made a point to meet his eyes. Is this true? he asked. No one moved at first,and then several of the women nodded. His eyes focused on a young, blonde, girl who wasstanding at the end of the line, quietly sobbing. Patrick walked over and stopped when he stood

directly in front of her. He lifted his hand to her chin and felt her suddenly tense beneath his

touch. He tilted her chin back so she was looking in his eyes, only inches away from his face,and she flushed a pale pink. Is this true? he whispered softly in her ear. Her throat double-

clutched and she just managed to whimper out a weak Yes., before breaking into more

uncontrollable sobs. He pulled her to his chest, and gently began caressing her hair, quietly

whispering in her ear and soothing her. Its ok, hush now, he said quietly to her, listening as

her sobs subsided. You may go back to tending the children, he said, giving her a small smile.

She gazed into his icy-blue eyes for a moment, and then nodded, anxious to get away from him.

As for the rest of you, stay put. He said sternly, his fluid-like emotions tipping him

back into a sea of rage. The smell of the hot stove was quickly flooding the kitchen, and even hismen were now eyeing the pan with discomfort, trying to figure out what he planned to do with it.

Patrick turned to face the red-haired woman again, and asked her what her name was.

Katherine, she said, stopping herself before she said her surname. Well, Katherine, Im going

to give you a choice on how you would like to pay for your sins today, Patrick said, walkingback around the island and opening a drawer. He removed a heavy-metal cleaver from the

drawer and set it silently down on the counter in front of him. Come, he commanded. Her eyes


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were wide and filled with fear as she stared at the cleaver, unable to move. Now, he whispered

icily. Katherine fearfully met his gaze, and quietl

Documents

The Birth of Innocence