Page 81 of Delusional

The man said, “Are you saying the cops never cause kids to be orphans?”

“No, I’m not saying that. Cops are human. They make mistakes. They use bad judgment. And they should face the consequences for that. That doesn’t mean they should be executed on the spot by someone who disagrees with the government.” I don’t know why I was bothering to try to argue this guy out of his beliefs.

He glanced over his shoulder a couple of times. Then he started edging away from me, still holding the remote out in front of him like he was pointing a pistol. The lump in my stomach told me what he was planning. I considered trying to dive to one side and drawing my own gun, but I had no idea what the bomb’s explosion might do to me, or to all the people inside all of these houses.

This asshole standing in front of me had none of those concerns. He didn’t care who got hurt or killed or what kind of damage he caused. But I could tell by the way he was moving he didn’t even know how far the explosion would reach.

The man sneered at me. “How does it feel when someone else has the power?”

“You’re right. You’re in control. Tell me what you want me to do.”

That seemed to catch him off guard, but I was sincere. I didn’t want to risk an explosion among all these houses.

He kept eye contact as he backed away. He said, “This one is for Pry.” His finger pulled the trigger of the remote.

I figured this was my last moment here on Earth. I heard the odd sound of ignition. I could feel heat around my face.

But it wasn’t the bomb that exploded.

It was the giant remote the man was holding that had burst into a ball of flames.

His screams brought me back to reality. I set the pack down on the ground and tried to slide it away from me on the icy grass. Then I sprang forward, taking off my jacket as I moved. The man had fallen down onto his knees as he batted furiously at the flames climbing quickly up his arm, spreading into his hair. The horrible stench of burned hair stuck in my nostrils.

I wrapped my jacket around the man’s head and shoulders, hoping to extinguish the flames. He lay down on the ground groaning as I looked at his disfigured face, singed hair, and burned extremities.

He tried to say something to me. I leaned down. All I could make out was “That bastard Tom. This is his idea of revenge.” Then the man passed out.

It was probably the best thing that could’ve happened to him.

CHAPTER 102

A NEIGHBOR HAD called 911 at the sight of the man on fire, and I waited until the suspect was safely loaded into an ambulance. The paramedics weren’t optimistic about the man’s recovery. I still didn’t know much about him, beyond roughly where he fit in the organization behind the Manhattan bombings. But he hadn’t given me his name before he quit speaking and then lost consciousness.

A young Yonkers patrolman happily gave me a ride back to the house where the chase had begun, where virtually the entirety of the local police department had arrived. As I made my way through the crowd toward the porch, I saw Maggie Chin sitting next to Thomas Owens. A couple of plainclothes Yonkers cops stood nearby.

A woman, whose stars on her shoulders and stripes on her sleeves indicated a long career with the Yonkers PD, marched up to me and asked, “Are you Michael Bennett?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Assistant Chief Marietta Williams. I’m curious what’s caused such a commotion in my pleasant town. And along those same lines, I’m curious why we didn’t get a heads-up call from you prior to your jog through our city.”

She was being professional while also giving me a couple of jabs. I liked her attitude. I could tell she was the kind of person who got things done.

“To answer your second question first, Chief, we didn’t know what we were going to find. I certainly didn’t think anyone was going to run from us. We were following leads and they led us up here,” I told her. “The two men we were investigating are part of a group that we believe is responsible for bombs that were recently set off in Manhattan.”

That seemed to catch the assistant chief by surprise. She let out a little whistle and said, “Your ATF partner deferred to you for any comment. I have to say I’m very impressed. That’s a big case with a lot of eyes on it.”

After I handed the assistant chief my business card and promised to give her an update when one was available, I climbed up onto the porch to talk to Maggie Chin.

I purposely didn’t acknowledge Thomas Owens. He was sitting sullenly right next to Maggie, but his back was straight and his head was still held high.

The first thing Maggie said to me was “What happened to your jacket? Aren’t you freezing out here?”

“My jacket was a casualty of the chase. It seems Mr. Owens here left a surprise for our suspect.” I cut my eyes over and saw a hint of a smile flicker across Owens’s face. “I had to use my jacket to put out the fire that consumed the suspect when he pulled the trigger to the remote.”

Without prompting, Owens said, “I told him to stop bullying me.” After a moment, he added, “Wish I could’ve seen it.”

Now I turned to Owens and said, “I know Agent Chin has read you your rights.”