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The squeal in his voice was gone. Neddie had a straightup normal voice and there was something in his hand. Conklin and I saw it at the same time. It was a syringe, and Neddie had positioned the needle so that it pricked Lawrence’s neck.
One minute we had been trying to disarm a suspect with a set of keys. Now we had a hostage situation that couldn’t be more unstable. This had to be handled with competence and grace, or people were going to die.
I used my soothing hostage-negotiator tone. “Neddie. Tell me what you want so we can keep everyone safe.”
Neddie angled for a more comfortable position on his bed made of Lawrence’s body and the garbage pile. I could see the dimple in Lawrence’s neck where the needle penetrated flesh. Blood beaded up on his skin.
If Neddie pushed the plunger on the syringe, Lawrence would become paralyzed, and if he couldn’t breathe, he would die. We were only a short sprint from the hospital, but as I understood the effect of sux, we might as well be on Mars.
“Neddie,” I said. “Tell me what you want.”
“I’m working on it,” he said. “But while I figure that out, put your guns down on the floor. If you call for help, if you let anyone through either door, my friend Larry is a corpse. I guarantee it.”
CHAPTER 84
I WAS STILL stunned by the changes in Neddie. His high-pitched, singsongy speech was gone. When he fixed his eyes on mine, I saw cool resolve. He was cornered and he was willing to kill. He might also be willing to die.
Ten feet away from where I stood, Lawrence breathed loudly and stretched his neck minutely in an attempt to move it away from the needle.
Neddie adjusted his position correspondingly, pressing down on Lawrence with his full weight, sending the needle in deeper.
I said, “I think I understand what you want, Neddie. No guns. No one comes in and no one leaves. What’s on your mind?”
He said, “I’ve killed eight people. Larry is lined up to be number nine, but here’s the thing. I don’t like odd numbers. If I kill him, I’ve got to kill one of you. I admit that would be hard to do. So here’s the deal.
“Take your guns out with your fingertips and kick them over to me. I’ll leave and lock the door behind me. Anyone comes after me, I’ll shoot. After I’m clear of this shithole, you’ll never see me again.”
“We can’t do that,” I said. “It’s got to be our way. Put down the needle, Neddie. Live to see another day.”
“Oh, Lady Cop, do you really think I’ll just give up and let you put me away? I’ve been locked up for my whole life. Isn’t that enough?”
We were in a freaking standoff from hell. Adrenaline had red-lined my heart rate. I was fully aware that Neddie could pump Larry full of sux before I got my gun out my holster.
I said in the calmest tone I could muster, “I hear you, Neddie, and here’s my counteroffer. Let Larry go. My partner and I will work with the DA and tell your side of the story. The abuse you’ve suffered. The extenuating circumstances that brought you to this point. He’ll listen to us.”
Neddie remained in a crouch only yards in front of me. It wasn’t going well for Larry. He whimpered and said, “Neddie, man, I never did anything to you.”
Neddie said, “Shut up, Larry.” It looked to me that he was weighing his options. I was weighing mine. Could I dive onto him? Knock the needle out of his hand?
I was gauging the distance when Neddie spoke.
“If I give up,” he said, “you have to tell the media in your own words. Make sure they understand that I’m a genius who fooled everyone. You have to make it clear that in your professional opinion, Edward Lamborghini is one of the most brilliant serial killers—of this century. Do that. Give me your word.”
I didn’t trust him, but I needed him to trust me.
I said, “Okay, Neddie. That’s a deal I can live with. You have my word. Now slowly toss the needle down.”
A dreamy smile came over his face. What was this psycho thinking? He locked his eyes on mine. And— no! He pushed the plunger.
At the same time I heard the shot.
Conklin!
Neddie shouted and the needle jumped out of his hand. He gagged, rolled off Lawrence and the mound of garbage bags, and lay still.
Conklin went to Lawrence, who clasped the side of his neck and gasped, “He … stabbed me.”
I grabbed the keys off the floor and jammed one after the other into the lock in the basement door. On the third try the key twisted easily and the door creaked open. I ran into the cavernous and well-traveled basement corridor
