Page 79 of Delusional

Then, without another word, Ellis Warrenton punched him right in the face.

Owens tumbled off his feet and landed on his butt. He shook his head, mainly out of shock and surprise, then reached up and ran his hand under his nose to see if it was bleeding. It was, but only a trickle. He hadn’t been hit in the face since he was in middle school and told Toby Hench the actual circumference of the Earth, contradicting the unintelligent lump who had claimed it was only five thousand miles around.

He looked up at Ellis, who appeared to be trembling with anger. Both of his hands were still clenched in fists. Owens decided it was safer to stay on the ground.

Just then a blue Chevy Impala pulled up behind Pry’s pickup truck in the street. That caught everyone’s attention.

CHAPTER 98

IT HADN’T BEEN hard to find Woodland Avenue in Yonkers and the house where Spencer Owens had sent the money order to his brother. During most of the drive over, I had considered worst-case scenarios. What if Thomas Owens was no longer at the house? That was the question that haunted me. We didn’t have any other significant leads.

I was already considering what we could do in that case. Put out a media release? On the other hand, as far as I knew, the media might still be claiming that I’d beaten up a man in Queens. If I was listed as the contact, all the questions at any sort of briefing might end up being about my Internal Affairs investigation, which was technically still ongoing. Or was it? No one in IA had come to talk to me yet. In any case, my involvement in that situation muddied the waters. If we released anything, it would probably have to come from the ATF with Maggie as the contact.

I’d been thinking of ways to get Owens’s name and face into the media when Maggie said, “Should be on this block.”

I looked up and noticed some movement ahead, near where Maggie indicated the house should be located. As we got closer, I saw two men in the front yard of an older home. I blurted out, “Is that Tom Owens on the ground?”

“I think so. Who’s the other dude?” Maggie pulled in directly behind an older pickup truck. Someone with long blond hair slipped inside from the porch as we parked.

I took a moment to assess the scene as I opened the door to Maggie’s car. It looked like we’d interrupted a confrontation between the two men in the front yard. I didn’t see any weapons in anyone’s hands, but from experience, I turned my body as I climbed out of the Impala so that my right hip—the one with my gun on it—was facing away from the men. I kept a nervous eye on the house as well.

Maggie walked around to the curb, and we stood on the edge of the lawn, observing the two men for a moment, until the man on his feet turned his head and noticed us.

The man on the ground also turned his head. I could see it was definitely our man, Thomas Owens. I stepped onto the lawn.

The man who was standing grabbed a canvas book bag and something else off the ground. He tucked the bag under his right arm like a football, then sprinted away through the front yard.

Maggie said, “I have Owens.”

I looked at our suspect as he got up off the ground. I was confident Maggie could handle him. And I knew she had enough sense to keep her head on a swivel. We’d both seen the person go inside earlier. I needed to stop the other guy. As I jogged out of the front yard, I turned my head and saw Maggie tackle Owens.

Now I was in an honest-to-goodness foot chase in Yonkers.

CHAPTER 99

I CAUGHT A glimpse of the man I was chasing. He turned to the right, down an easement behind a row of single-story houses. The sky was a dirty gray with clouds hanging low. The cold air burned my lungs as I tried to close the distance between us. The only solace I had was that this guy didn’t seem like he was dressed to hide outside. At least not for very long.

Once I made it onto the easement, I could see ahead for at least ten houses. There was no one visible in any direction. That meant this idiot had turned in between two houses. I ran to a cluster of smaller houses and turned to my right. Then I slid to a stop in the icy, dead grass. The canvas book bag the man had been carrying was lying on the ground. I looked in every direction and saw no one. I went down on one knee and picked it up, handling it gingerly. I didn’t think it was dangerous, given the casual way the man had carried it. Just as I was about to unsnap the bag and open the flap to look inside, the man I’d been chasing stepped back into view.

At first I thought he was holding a toy pistol. It was blue and snazzy like a fake space weapon. Then I realized it was some sort of remote control, like for a radio-controlled car. As he sort of pointed it at me, I wondered what he was up to.

The man said, “You’re holding a bomb. A powerful bomb. If I pull the trigger on this remote, it’ll spread you all over the yards of these houses.”

My insides turned to ice. I’d seen too many examples of what an explosion did to the human body. At this moment, those images were not serving me well at all. I started to say something.

The man shut me up. “I don’t want to hear any of your lies. I know who you are and who you work for.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“You’re Detective Michael Bennett. NYPD.”

I nodded my head. “I stand corrected. You know exactly who I am. That means you know what could happen to you if this bomb goes off.”

“Probably about the same thing that would happen to me anyway. You cops are always harassing guys like me. You never want to cut us any slack. Why should we cut you any slack?”

“Have we ever met?”

The man didn’t answer. He was clearly nervous. His eyes kept shifting from side to side and he twisted around to look behind him about every twenty seconds. I could see the remote in his hand jiggling from nerves.