Page 10 of Delusional

“That’s a pretty sharp take, Brian,” I said. We had seen ups and downs as a family. Especially Brian. He’d made some poor decisions in the past and paid the price with a stint in prison. But it looked like he’d straightened out his life, and I wasn’t worried about him like I used to be. “I was thinking about YouTube already. Even in training they use videos from YouTube to make a point. That’s something we’ll take a little more seriously.”

I was impressed by both of my very intelligent children. “It sounds like I could put you both on the payroll at the PD.”

Their smiles told me that they weren’t too old to get praise from their dad. No one ever is.

CHAPTER 11

TOM OWENS SAT with the other members of the group in the living room of their Airbnb in Yonkers. The place was a little old, but it clearly had once been an impressive house. The hardwood floors and the bricks around the fireplace made the flat-screen TV echo a little bit as they watched the fifth newscast of the day.

Owens felt a twinge of an odd emotion, perhaps jealousy, when Pry plopped down on the couch next to Kimmy.

The giant man said, “News again? Can’t we put on ESPN for a little while?” He nonchalantly slipped his arm around Kimmy’s shoulders. She scooted a little farther away but didn’t move his arm.

Ellis said, “Shut up, Pry. This is why we’re here together. We need to celebrate Tom and his brilliant device. The best way to do that is to watch these reporters blab about what a tragedy it was and speculate about who could have committed such a terrible act.” He flashed his trademark smile. Not a single tooth was anything but perfectly straight.

Pry said, “Are we gonna send another email through a couple of different servers again, saying how we stand against the government?”

Ellis gave a heavy sigh and said, “Jesus Christ, Pry. For the last time, we are not standing against the government. We’re standing against tyranny. Against oppression. Against how tech companies control us. How banks make it impossible to get ahead in life. How cops are tools of tyrants.”

Kimmy said in a quiet voice, “That cop who died when her car exploded wasn’t necessarily a tool of tyrants. She was married. She had kids. And what about the clerk who was caught by our bomb? We should consider them too.”

Ellis seemed flustered by the pushback. “You think anyone would pay attention if we only destroyed dumpsters or placed bombs in empty buildings? Every revolution has collateral damage. I’m not saying the cop was collateral damage. I’m saying all the shit they said on TV makes it seem like a tragedy. Who knows what she did in the course of her workday.” He shook his head, then turned to Owens and said, “I believe Tom here can make people sit up and listen. We’ve already seen he’s a genius. He hacked the security system for the city office in about one minute flat. We got no limitations now. Do we, Tom?”

Owens said, “It worked out today. But we’ve got to make a much broader statement if we want to get the entire country’s attention. We can do something even greater than Ted Kaczynski did.”

Ellis said, “We’re here to help you. Tell us what you need.”

“The supplies we got from the Army arsenal will go a long way toward me making more powerful bombs.”

Ellis said, “Could they blow apart something really strong?”

“Like what?”

“Maybe a really big safe.”

Owens said, “Why would you want to open a big safe?”

Ellis smiled. He ran his hand through his styled hair. He casually said, “Just curious. What would you use a big device for?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m looking at a couple of big targets. But for now we can use the device I’ve already finished. There’s a tech company called Virtual Spaces. They have an office in Midtown Manhattan. It’s the kind of company that other tech companies monitor. We could teach a really good lesson if we hit them next.”

CHAPTER 12

I WOKE UP without the benefit of an alarm. It wasn’t uncommon when beginning a new case. There was always so much to do that my mind raced, often leaving me lucky to even get to sleep the night before a busy day.

But today I was up and out of the bedroom before sunrise. And I didn’t even wake Mary Catherine.

To my surprise, my son Brian was also already up and making pancakes for the younger kids.

“What’s got you moving so early?” I asked.

“I know Juliana’s busy helping Rob Trilling’s roommates. I figure I can do my share one day a week. Besides, I can’t drive the kids to school today. I have to be in the office early. So at least this way I contributed something.”

Even though he was eighteen and looked like an adult, I couldn’t help reaching out and ruffling Brian’s hair with my hand. He was a great young man.

Thanks to my acute work anxiety, I found myself beating the traffic in uptown Manhattan and making it to the office a few minutes after seven in the morning. I grabbed the parking spot I liked under the elevated train tracks right in front of our unmarked building, a regular office building where the Manhattan North Homicide unit inhabited one floor. It was a dream location for me. It was still on the Upper West Side and not a terrible commute for me most days.

I took the elevator up to our floor, expecting a very quiet office. The only person I anticipated running into at this hour was Walter Jackson, our criminal intelligence analyst, who tended to get in early so he could keep his flow of information moving seamlessly to all the detectives in our squad. I knew Trilling had left for Montana the night before. Usually, he’s the only real early bird in the office besides Walter.