Deadly Heat

Nikki half-turned to the helipad and called out, “Detective Hinesburg.”


Below, the silhouette near the helicopter spun her way. In the dim light, Heat could

barely make out Sharon Hinesburg’s arms coming up in a combat stance, but then,

back-lit by the window of the helicopter, Heat saw her pointing locked hands toward

the rooftop of the modular building and sweeping them frantically back and forth. “

Hold your fire, Detective,” she shouted. “I’ve got Glen Windsor in custody. Get

over here and cover him while I get him down.”

Hinesburg repositioned the fire safety ladder Heat had used, carrying it to the

front of the building where they could take advantage of more ambient light from

across the river. From the rooftop, Nikki trained a bright Mag-Tac LED in Glen

Windsor’s eyes to glare him out as he descended to Hinesburg. Both detectives held

weapons on him. “Kiss the deck again,” said Heat when he reached the bottom. Nikki

waited for the other detective to cuff his hands behind his back before she

descended.

“How the fuck?” asked Rainbow, twisting his head to the side.

“Rule one of an ambush,” said Heat. “Show up first.”

“But how did you know?” asked Hinesburg. “I didn’t know.”

Heat didn’t have time for the list of things Hinesburg didn’t know—that would be

coming, and soon—so she kept it brief. “Salena Kaye sounded drugged on that call.

Tortured, too, it turns out. She even tried to give me a signal by mixing up Dunkin

’ Donuts with Starbucks. Those raised my suspicion.

“But then I got the DMV hit on the minivan you have registered in Connecticut,”

she said to Rainbow. “The silver minivan. Same color and model seen taking Salena

Kaye away when I chased her. But you didn’t rescue her, did you, Glen? You’d been

stalking me and kidnapped her. What did you do, chloroform her?”

“Chloroform,” he said. “They always go quietly.”

And then Heat made it all formal. “Glen Windsor, you are under arrest for the

murders of Roy Conklin, Maxine Berkowitz, Douglas Sandmann, and Joseph Flynn.” With

a glance to the helicopter, she added, “And Salena Kaye.”

His only response was to ask if he could get up now. Heat had more to accomplish and

said no.

“Want me to get my car?” asked Hinesburg.

“No. I want you to give me your gun.”

Sharon chuckled nervously. “Excuse m—?” In a quick, unexpected move, Heat jerked

the Smith & Wesson from her hand and slipped it in her jacket pocket. She held on to

her Sig Sauer, covering both of them now.

“Nikki… What was that for?”

Heat popped her Mag on again and shined it down on Windsor so there’d be some light

without blinding her. “This will help them spot us. I texted for backup while you

moved the ladder. I’d like you on the ground, Sharon.”

“What is going on here?”

In the new light, Nikki could see the widening of her eyes. And the fear. Heat said,

“Glen beat you to it.”

“To what? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You came to kill Salena Kaye before she could give up the terror plot. Or you came

to kill me. Or both.”

“I… Wha… Seriously?”

“I knew you would listen to the recording of Salena’s phone call. It’s how you

knew to come here. But just in case, I left the pad on my desk with the time and

place of our meeting.”

“You baited me?”

“It’s only bait if you take it. Right, Glen?”

“Fuck yourself.”

Hinesburg said, “This is nuts. I came here to back you up.”

“Sure, you did. Very proactive of you for a change, Sharon.”

“OK, know what I think? You need to stop. It’s one thing not to like me, but—”

“This isn’t because I don’t like you.”

“Then why?”

“It’s because you’re the mole.” Hinesburg’s mouth opened to protest some more,

but nothing came out. Nikki leveled her gaze at her and said, “I saw you on video

at the Coney Crest, Sharon. Salena’s hideout.”