The 6th Target

stopped at the Walgreens, dropped off laundry at Fanta dry cleaners, scurried for the Caltrain.

Rich and I were both dangerously sleep deprived, so when a man matching Tenning's description crossed Townsend, no coffee in hand, I couldn't be sure if he was our guy – or if I just wanted him to be our guy. Really, really badly.

'In the gray Windbreaker, black umbrella,' I said.

A light changed to green, and the stream of traffic obscured our view long enough for the suspect to disappear in the crush of pedestrians on the far side of the street. I thought maybe he'd slipped down the Blakely Arms' back alley.

'Yeah. Yeah. I think so,' Conklin said.

I called Chi, told him we were about to make our move. We let a couple of minutes pass – then Conklin and I put up our collars and made for the front entrance of the Blakely Arms.

We rode an elevator to the fifth floor. Then I used Portia Fox's key to unlock her front door without opening it.

I drew my gun.

When Chi and McNeil arrived, Conklin breached the door to Fox's apartment. The four of us stepped inside and checked each of the outer rooms before approaching Tenning's private space.

I put my ear to the flimsy door, heard a drawer closing, shoes falling one after the other onto the uncarpeted floor.

I nodded to Conklin, and he knocked on Tenning's door.

'SFPD, Mr. Tenning. We have a warrant for your arrest.'

'Get the hell out of here,' an angry voice called back. 'You don't have a warrant. I know my rights.'

'Mr. Tenning, you parked your car in a fire zone, remember? August fifteenth of last year. You failed to appear in court.'

'You want to arrest me for that?'

'Open up, Mr. Tenning.'

The doorknob turned, and the door whined open. Tenning's look of annoyance changed to anger as he saw our guns pointed at his chest.

He slammed the door in our faces.

'Kick it in,' I said.

Conklin kicked twice beside the knob assembly, and the door splintered, swung wide open.

We took cover on both sides of the door frame, but not before I saw Tenning standing ten feet away, bracing his back against the wall.

He was holding his Colt.38 in both hands, pointing it at us.

'You're not taking me in,' he said. 'I'm too tired, and I'm just not up for it.'

Chapter 105

MY HEART RATE ROCKETED. Sweat ran down the inside of my shirt. I pivoted on my right foot so that I was standing square in the doorway.

I held my stance, legs apart, my Glock trained on Tenning. Even though I was wearing a vest, he could cap me with a head shot. And the paper-thin plasterboard walls wouldn't protect my team.

'Drop your weapon, asshole!' I shouted. 'I'm one second away from drilling a hole through your heart.'

'Four armed cops on a traffic warrant? That's a laugh! You think I'm stupid?'

'You are stupid, Tenning, if you want to die over a fifty- dollar ticket.'

Tenning's eyes flicked from my weapon to the three other muzzles that were aimed at him. He muttered, 'What a pain in the ass.'

Then his gun thudded to the floor.

Instantly we swarmed into the small room. A chair tipped over, and a desktop crashed to the ground.

I kicked Tenning's gun toward the door as Conklin spun him around. He threw him against the wall and cuffed him.

'You're under arrest for failure to appear,' Conklin said, panting, 'and for interfering with a police officer.'

I read Tenning his rights. My voice was hoarse from the stress and the realization of what I'd just done.

'Good work, everyone,' I said, feeling almost faint.

'You okay, Lindsay?' McNeil asked, putting a beefy hand on my shoulder.

'Yeah. Thanks, Cappy,' I said, thinking how this arrest could have turned into a bloodbath – and still all we had on Tenning was a traffic violation.

I looked around his rented room, a ten-by-twelve box with a single bed, small pine dresser, two file cabinets that had once formed the base of his desk. The wide plank that had served as the desktop was on the floor, along with a computer and sheaves of scattered paper.

Something else had been dislodged during the fracas. A pipe had rolled out from under the bed.

It was about an inch and a half in diameter, eighteen inches long, with a ball joint screwed onto one end.

A two-part construction that looked like a club.

I stooped down to examine it closely.

There was a fine brown stain in the threads where the ball joint screwed onto the pipe. I drew Conklin's attention, and he stooped down beside me. Our eyes met for a second.

'Looks like this was used as a bludgeon,' Conklin said.

Chapter 106

WE WERE IN INTERVIEW ROOM NUMBER TWO, the smaller of the interrogation rooms at the squad. Tenning sat at the table, facing the mirrored window. I sat across from him.

He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. He had his elbows on the table. His face was turned down so that the overhead light made a starburst pattern on his balding scalp.

He wasn't talking because he'd asked for a lawyer.

It would take about fifteen minutes for his request to filter down to the public defender's office. Then another fifteen minutes before some attorney would come up and find his or her client in our interrogation room.

Meanwhile, nothing Tenning said could be used against him.

'We got our warrant to search your premises,' I told him. 'That pipe contraption you used to kill Irene Wolkowski and Ben Wyatt? It's at the lab now. We'll have results before your PD shows up.'

Tenning smirked. 'So leave me the hell alone until he gets here, okay? Leave me alone with my thoughts.'

'But I'm interested in your thoughts,' I said to Tenning. 'All those statistics on the papers I saw in your apartment. What's that about?'

'I'm writing a book, and I'd like to get back to it, actually.'

Conklin came into the room carrying a battery-operated radio. Richie slammed the door hard, then turned on the radio. Loud static came through the speakers. He fiddled with the dials, turned the volume up.

He said to Tenning, 'It's tough getting reception in here. I'd really like to know when the rain's going to let up.'

I saw the alarm in Tenning's eyes as the static climbed to an electronic squeal. He watched Conklin thumb the radio dial, starting to sweat now.

'Hey,' Tenning finally said, 'could you turn that thing off?'

'In a minute, in a minute,' Conklin said. He dialed up the volume, set the radio down on the table. 'Can I get you some coffee, Garry? It's not Starbucks, but it's got all the caffeine you could ask for.'