Detective Damien Drake series Box Set 2

by Patrick Logan

  “I knew you could,” the man said warmly.

  Behind him, he heard Hanna enter the room and close the door.

  “But you’re not going to get it,” Drake said suddenly. Dr. Kruk’s smile never faltered. “You’re not going to get it unless you convince me that you’ve got something on the mayor that I can use. Something good. Otherwise, you can rot in here for all I care… and you’ll never see or hear about Chase ever again.”

  Dr. Mark Kruk licked his lips and slowly enfolded his fingers.

  “I knew this was about the mayor,” he said, his smile never faltering. “Trust me, Drake, I think you’re gonna like what I have.”

  Drake shook his head.

  “Not good enough,” he shot back. “You tell me what you have, and I’ll decide if it’s worth it.”

  Dr. Kruk sighed.

  “Drake, last time you came here looking for advice, for my help to catch a killer, I told you what I knew,” the man said calmly. “Did my insight help? Did you catch the man you were looking for?”

  Drake’s cheek twitched as he recalled his conversation with Ray Reynolds at the man’s family farm, the bodies of the members of the Church of Liberation lying all around them.

  “Yes… yes, I suspect that I did help,” Kruk said absently. “And yet now you want to question my integrity, my honesty. Is this because in your past, you—”

  Drake leaned forward and slammed his fist down hard on the table. Hanna gasped, and Dr. Kruk recoiled.

  “Don’t you fucking psychoanalyze me, Kruk. Don’t you do it.”

  Something flashed over the man’s face then, something that turned his eyes dark. Drake had seen this look before, this wild expression. He’d seen it when Marcus Slasinsky had held a syringe to Chase’s throat.

  Then, as quickly as it appeared, it was gone again.

  “Fine, fine,” Dr. Kruk said. “Trust me, or don’t trust me. But I won’t give you what you want before you give me what I need.”

  Drake cursed. Talking to the man was incredibly frustrating.

  “What could you possibly have on him, anyway? On the mayor? I know you treated his son, but I don’t think you got anything from him. I bet you were a shit psychiatrist and didn’t get nothing.”

  Dr. Kruk chuckled.

  “That won’t work with me, Drake; you can’t goad me with insults. I will tell you this about me, however: back when I had my practice, I was very much into improving my craft. And the person I most like to learn from? Why, that would be myself, of course.”

  “You’re a self-righteous—”

  Drake stopped himself.

  Learn from myself…

  “You… you recorded yourself, didn’t you?” Drake said, finally cluing in to what Kruk was saying. “You recorded your sessions.”

  The man turned his hands over as if to say, you got me.

  Drake considered this for a moment, recalling what had happened after he’d apprehended Dr. Kruk at the butterfly gardens.

  They’d collected everything of interest from the doctor’s office and home in case there ever was a trial. They’d even managed to hack into his computer and clone the hard drive.

  Drake couldn’t remember finding any recordings of patient sessions and said as much.

  “Oh, I’m not surprised,” Kruk replied. “I keep all of my very important things, like video recordings, in a special place.”

  “A storage locker? We called them all, ran your name… nothin’.”

  “Why would I use my name?”

  “What then? Marcus? Is it under Marcus Slasinsky? ‘Cuz we looked for that name, too.”

  As soon as he said Marcus, Hanna approached him from behind and put her hand on the back of his arm.

  “No, not him,” Dr. Kruk said with an air of boredom. “But I’ve had to be many people over the years, given what I went through as a child. I had to be many people with many names. I have three lockers in New York City, Drake. In one of these lockers, I keep the recordings of all my sessions. Now, normally these are privileged, but I can tell that you are desperate. And I have something really special, something Thomas Smith gave. Something that—trust me—will make you very happy.”

  Now it was Drake’s turn to look at Hanna, who shrugged.

  He had never been great at telling when people were lying; that had been Chase’s department. But for what it was worth, he thought that in this case, Dr. Kruk was telling the truth, that he had something that Drake could use. But he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that he could just be projecting, that he was just so desperate that he was seeing something that wasn’t there.

  The problem was that his desperation was real. And Drake had nothing else to go on.

  “Let me guess, I give you something of Chase’s and you tell me where this locker is. That sound about right?”

  Dr. Kruk laughed, a grating sound that sent a shiver up Drake’s spine.

  “No, that’s not right, Drake. Close, but not quite. If you give me something of Chase’s, then I’ll take you to the locker. But I’m not going to tell you where it is. That would be… well, that would be foolish, wouldn’t it?”

  Chapter 54

  “You got a lock on the car?” Sergeant Yasiv asked.

  Detective Dunbar nodded and pointed at a red dot on the screen.

  “Looks like the two officers are hanging out around the projects. A little off-duty extra-curriculars, maybe. You care to tell me what this is about, Sarge?”

  Yasiv looked down at the man’s face.

  “Yeah, extra-curriculars, sure. Grab your stuff, let’s go for a ride. You could do with some time away from the computer.”

  Dunbar raised an inquisitive eyebrow but didn’t hesitate. He collected his service pistol and detective badge from his desk and clipped them onto his belt.

  On their way out of the station, a senior detective stopped them.

  “Hey, you see what the mayor said on the news today?”

  Yasiv shook his head. He didn’t have time for the news. Besides, he dealt with enough depressing stories during the day, he didn’t need to be bombarded by it on TV, too.

  But seeing that it was about the mayor…

  “What’d he say?” Yasiv asked, as he continued toward the door with Dunbar in tow.

  “Mayor Smith says he’s gonna miraculously cure all heroin addiction in the city. Looks like we’re getting plenty of overtime in the next month or so… until the man realizes that it would be easier to move the Statue of Liberty three feet to the left.”

  Yasiv frowned.

  “Yeah, looks like it,” he said as he left the station and made his way to his car.

  He pulled out of the 62nd precinct parking lot and headed toward Tremont. When they’d been on the road for about five minutes, he turned to Dunbar.

  “Open the glove box,” he instructed.

  Dunbar did as he was asked.

  “Now, take out the binder and look at the names.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dunbar start to flip through the front pages.

  “ANGUIS Holdings,” he read out loud. “This is the company that the Church of Liberation was funding? The one that Ray Reynolds worked for?”

  Yasiv nodded.

  “Yeah, but it’s more than that. They had ties to the sex trafficking ring and heroin smuggling. See there at the top? See those five names? They’re the ones in charge.”

  “Boris Brackovich, Steffani Loomis, Horatio Dupont, Mendes Corp., and Ken Smith… I’ve seen this list before, Hank. But the thing I don’t get is if Mayor Smith really is involved in smuggling heroin, what’s he doing on the news talking about how he’s gonna get rid of it? Doesn’t make sense.”

  Yasiv didn’t understand that either, but they had more pressing things to deal with.

  “Yeah, I don’t get it. But look at the other names, the long list; these are all people who donated to the Church of Liberation.”

  Dunbar flipped to the next sheet and scanned the page.

  “Yea
h, what about it? Am I supposed to see someone in particular?”

  Yasiv turned down 178th street.

  “Yeah, you should, because you work with some of them… a lot of them. Those people who donated, they’re cops, Dunbar. Not all, but most of them. And those highlighted in yellow are the ones who were killed. Including Simmons and Cuthbert.”

  He paused for a moment to let his words sink in.

  “What does that mean? I don’t get it, Hank.”

  Yasiv looked at the cell phone on the dash; they were closing in on the red dot.

  “I’m not sure, Dunbar, at least not one hundred percent. But I think we’re about to find out.”

  In the distance, he saw Officer Pontiac’s dark Taurus with the rear passenger door held together by what looked like duct tape and coat hangers.

  “That’s them,” he said quietly as he pulled over. After shutting off the ignition, Yasiv removed the gun from his holster and indicated for Dunbar to do the same.

  “What are we doing here, Hank?” Dunbar asked, eyes wide.

  “We’re here because a friend asked for a favor,” Yasiv said as he stepped out of the car. “We’re here because Officers Pete Dalton and Michael Pontiac are on that list. We’re here because they are as crooked as the day is long, Dunbar. That’s what we’re doing here.”

  Chapter 55

  “He’s lying,” Hanna said. “If he had dirt on the mayor, real dirt, why would he just sit on it? Why wouldn’t he use it to avoid coming here in the first place?”

  She had a point.

  Marcus Slasinsky might be irrational and unfettered, but Dr. Mark Kruk was different. Drake recalled their conversations back in his office, how methodical, calm, and measured the man was.

  “I’m outta my depth, but I bet that Dr. Mark Kruk isn’t really here… isn’t really a patient at Oak Valley, I mean.”

  Hanna raised an eyebrow and then scratched the side of her head that was shaved.

  “Okay, Carl Jung, you’re going to have to explain that, because I’ve seen him here everyday for the better part of two years.”

  Drake took a moment to collect his thoughts.

  “What if—what if his mind is so compartmentalized that Marcus and Mark are effectively two different people. What if it was only Marcus Slasinsky who was arrested and sent here. What if Dr. Mark Kruk thinks himself a captive… or maybe he has even convinced himself that he works here, as a psychiatrist, I mean. Fuck, I dunno.”

  Hanna rocked her head from side to side.

  “This is some deep shit, Drake.”

  Drake ignored the comment and completed his train of thought, as foreign as it was.

  “Marcus didn’t record the sessions with his patients, that was Dr. Kruk. So, either Marcus doesn’t know about them or he simply doesn’t know how to use them… if there is something useful on them, of course.”

  “This sounds like an X-Files episode. But if what you’re saying is true—and that’s a colossal if—then why the fuck does Dr. Kruk want to sniff your ex-partner’s panties or chew on her pubes? According to your psychoanalysis, Marcus Slasinsky committed those crimes, kidnapped Chase, nearly killed her, etc.—not Dr. Kruk. And yet, it’s Dr. Kruk who’s demanding tokens. Why?”

  Drake thought back to when he’d mentioned Marcus’s name in front of Dr. Kruk and the way that his eyes had changed. Maybe Marcus and Mark weren’t completely separate, after all.

  Or maybe you’re just out of your league, Drake. Maybe you have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.

  He shrugged.

  “I don’t know… I don’t know, Hanna. I really don’t. But we’re wasting time here.”

  Hanna pursed her lips and peered over Drake’s shoulder. Through the small window in the metal door behind, they could both see Dr. Mark Kruk sitting silently, his eyes trained straight ahead, his hands again neatly folded.

  “You’re not seriously considering taking him out of here, are you?”

  It was a strange question, given their circumstances; like Dr. Kruk, Drake was also a patient here. Hanna was the one who held all the power.

  “I’ve got nothing else, Hanna. Either you help us get out of here and we hope that Dr. Jekyll in there has something we can use, or I go back to prison. You see these bruises?” Drake asked, indicating his face. “I can’t take another beating like that. If I go back to prison, I’ll be dead within a day.”

  Hanna’s phone rang, and she took it out of her pocket and stared at the screen. Then she thrust it in his direction.

  “Hey, what do you know? It’s for you.”

  Drake answered it.

  “Hello?”

  “Drake? It’s Stitts. I’m fifteen minutes out.”

  “And you have it? Something of hers? Something of Chase’s?”

  “Yeah, I got something. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Hold on a sec,” Drake said, pulling the phone away from his ear and covering the mouthpiece with his hand. “Well? The ball’s in your court, Hanna. Are you gonna help me or not?”

  Hanna scratched her head again and a strange smile appeared on her lips.

  “You know what they say,” she said. Drake expected her to continue, but when she didn’t, he just shook his head.

  “No, what do they say?”

  Hanna stepped forward and scanned her electronic keycard, unlocking the door to the cell in which Dr. Mark Kruk sat patiently.

  “In for a penny, in for a pound. In for a dollar, in for a ton.”

  Chapter 56

  Yasiv watched as Dunbar walked toward the Taurus, leading with his badge. His other hand was gripping the butt of his gun in his holster.

  As he moved, Yasiv made his way around the other side of the car, but unlike the detective, he stayed low and against the wall; out of sight.

  When Dunbar made it to within six feet of the rear window, the driver side door opened and a man with a brush cut wearing aviator sunglasses stepped out.

  He had a pistol in one hand.

  “Wait,” Dunbar said, holding his detective shield up even higher. “I’m a detective, I’m one of you guys.”

  The man eyed him suspiciously. During this interaction, Yasiv continued to sneak around the other side of the car.

  “What do you want?” the man asked, not lowering his gun.

  “I was in the neighborhood, and saw the car… I recognized it from the parking lot, the door is all messed up. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

  The man pulled his sunglasses down and squinted at Dunbar.

  “Did she send you? Is that what this is?”

  “Uh, she? No—no one sent me,” Dunbar replied. “Seriously, I was just in the neighborhood. Is everything okay?”

  “It will be if you take your hand off your gun.”

  Sensing that the situation was about to escalate, Yasiv picked up the pace.

  “Okay, okay, calm down. I’m a detective, one of the good guys,” Dunbar said as he raised his free hand and continued to display his detective shield in the other.

  “Yeah, well I’m not,” Yasiv heard the man mutter. “Drop the shield and place both hands on top of your head.”

  Dunbar’s eyes went wide.

  “W-what?”

  “You heard me,” the man spat back.

  Yasiv crouched low and reached for the passenger door handle.

  As Dunbar continued to protest, Yasiv pulled the door wide.

  The fat police officer in the car was so surprised that he gasped but didn’t move. Yasiv aimed his gun at the man’s burgeoning belly and indicated with his finger to keep quiet. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to try anything stupid, he glanced in the backseat next. A scared looking black boy with bruises all over his face, including a swollen right eye, stared back.

  “I told you they’d come for us, Dalton. I fuckin’ told you,” the first officer shouted. “But you can tell her and Palmer that we got their stuff back. It’s all good now, all good gravy.”

  The fat off
icer—Officer Dalton—opened his mouth, but when Yasiv flashed the gun, he closed it again. The sergeant reached out and grabbed the man by the collar and started to pull him from the car. It was hard going given the man’s size, but he eventually managed. Then he spun Dalton around, wrapped one arm around his shoulders, and aimed the gun just to the right of his head.

  “Dalton? Get out—” Officer Pontiac turned and when he saw Yasiv, his brow lifted. “What the fuck?”

  Dunbar lunged and managed to close almost the entire distance between them before Pontiac turned back.

  A shot rang out. It was only a single report, but it echoed off the high apartment buildings all around them, which made it sound like a ball bearing dropped in a tin sink.

  Dalton tensed, but Yasiv gripped him even tighter.

  He couldn’t do anything now; if he let go of Dalton to help Dunbar, the man would shoot him in the back.

  Thankfully, the bullet didn’t appear to slow Dunbar’s forward progress. His body went airborne and his shoulder struck Pontiac in the sternum, sending them both toppling backward.

  Someone grunted, or maybe it was both of them, and then they hit the ground hard. Yasiv saw Officer Pontiac’s head bounce off the pavement before his legs went slack.

  “Dunbar!” Yasiv shouted.

  Dalton started to struggle then, and Yasiv drove his knee into the man’s hamstring. The big fella toppled forward and Yasiv went with him, shoving his face up against the now closed passenger door. Without hesitating, Yasiv holstered his gun and managed to cuff Dalton before he even realized what was happening.

  Then he ran to Detective Dunbar.

  The man was lying on top of the unconscious officer, breathing heavily.

  “Dunbar? You okay?” Yasiv asked, gently pulling the man’s shoulder.

  That’s when he saw the blood.

  “No,” he cursed.

  With both hands, Yasiv managed to roll Dunbar onto his back. There was blood in the man’s dark hair.

  “Dunbar!”

  Dunbar’s eyes fluttered and then they opened and Yasiv breathed a sigh of relief.