Johnny Revenge

by Remington Kane

  “I suppose,” Erica said, “and now other agents will make the grab.”

  “Yeah, he’ll never get across the Mexican border before he’s nabbed, that’s for sure. This also means I don’t have to feel bad about leaving you alone for a couple of days while I sort out my father’s problems.”

  “I won’t be alone, Troy will help out, but I guess Whitford is rerouting the members of the task force that were headed here.”

  A wide smile lit up Owens’ face as something occurred to him.

  “What’s made you so happy all of a sudden?” Erica asked.

  “I just realized I’ll be able to see Rhonda Wheeler while I’m back home. She quit her job and left Chicago. The last time I spoke to her on the phone, she was staying at her parents’ house in Falls Church.”

  “She’ll be happy to see you too, after all, you’re her hero.”

  “I’m just glad we found Rhonda before Max Raines did something more serious to her. I think he was building up his nerve to kill her. Even worse, he could have left her in that attic to die a slow death.”

  “Don’t be in a rush to get back. After all, it looks like things are winding down here,” Erica said.

  In the coming days, her assessment of the situation would prove to be wrong.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  KENLY, NORTH CAROLINA, 9:27 p.m.

  FBI Supervisory Agent Grant Whitford performed a press check on his weapon. When he had a visual confirmation that there was a round chambered, he gave the order to advance.

  Whitford, along with three other FBI agents and four members of the North Carolina State Highway Patrol were at a truck stop in search of Traveler. The cell phone belonging to John Revene was reactivated two hours earlier along Route I-95.

  The phone was tracked as it left the interstate and the signal had been in the same location for over twenty minutes. Whitford and the other agents arrived by helicopter and rendezvoused with the state highway patrol, whose group was comprised of a master trooper and three senior troopers.

  More than a dozen other agents were on the way, but Whitford made the call to approach Traveler with the men he had. Eight armed and well-trained men should be enough to take down a knife-wielding killer of prostitutes.

  The four troopers were sent into the truck stop first to clear the immediate area of civilians. The State Highway Patrol performed their task efficiently and evacuated the truck stop without incident. Whitford and the other federal agents joined them and formed a procession that went down the short corridor that led to the showers.

  There were nine doors in all, each containing a bathroom with a shower stall. The phone’s signal was emanating from the shower room at the end of the hallway.

  The sound of running water came from beyond the door as a trooper moved into position with a battering ram. Whitford held up three fingers and began counting down.

  The door to the shower room was blasted inward and a mad rush of agents and troopers flowed through the breach. With his gun poised to defend himself and those with him, Whitford issued orders to the man in the stall as another agent opened the shower door.

  “FBI! Show your hands and get down on the floor!”

  The man inside the shower had been in the process of washing his hair. When he opened his eyes in shock, he became blinded by shampoo.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Strong hands reached into the shower and dragged the man out. His wet, naked flesh made a slapping sound as it connected with the tile floor. Within moments, handcuffs were placed on his wrists.

  “Stand down, stand down!” Whitford said. “Damn it, he’s not our man.”

  The male suspect taken from the shower was not John Revene. He was a fifty-eight-year-old black truck driver named Curtis Dearborn.

  Whitford stared down at the cell phone they’d been tracking. It was on a wooden bench beside a fresh pile of clothes. Dearborn had secured a rubber band around it to hold the battery in place. Traveler had sent them in the wrong direction, which meant he might be in Sanguine at that very moment. Whitford took out his own phone and dialed Erica.

  * * *

  In New Hampshire, Erica was riding along with Troy Evans as they returned from dropping Owens at the airport for his flight back home. When she received Whitford’s message, it gave her a bad feeling.

  “Is this vehicle equipped with lights and a siren, Troy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Put them on and head toward Jude Rowland’s house. Traveler could be in the area.”

  “You got it,” Troy said, as Erica took out her phone to call the chief.

  * * *

  Chief Connors parked his SUV in front of the gate leading to Jude’s home. He’d been seething over his earlier confrontation with Erica all day and began drinking as soon as he left the station. He was borderline drunk when he made the decision to leave home and confront Jude.

  The Feds thought they were in charge, but damn it, Sanguine was his town. No one could tell him how to handle a suspect in a murder investigation. He was going to drag Joey Revene out of his mansion of a house and interrogate him until he broke.

  Glancing over at the officer he had stationed outside the house, Chief Connors saw that the man was gazing down at his phone screen.

  “Probably playing a damn game on the thing,” Connors mumbled to himself. When his own phone vibrated and he saw Erica’s name, the chief cursed and ignored the call.

  As he stepped out of his vehicle to approach the intercom on the gate, Connors realized he had to pee. Six beers will often have that effect. He walked across the road to use the portable toilet Jude had placed there. The chief had given in after it had snowed and told his people they could use it. No one was tramping through snow to relieve themselves in the woods when there was a dry toilet available.

  As the chief was entering the plastic box, a hooded figure slid out from beneath the patrol car. The cop inside the vehicle wasn’t staring down at his phone screen. His chin was on his chest because he’d been struck hard on the side of the head.

  The cop had been staring at the phone when he’d lowered the window to toss out the dregs of a cup of coffee. That was when his attacker struck and rendered him unconscious. As the lights of the chief’s approaching vehicle had illuminated a nearby bend in the road, the attacker dropped to the ground and slid beneath the car. If Connors weren’t so intoxicated, he might have realized that his officer’s posture was slumped.

  Inside the patrol car, the phone’s screen darkened as it timed out. Meanwhile, the officer’s assailant was climbing into Connors’ unit. The hooded figure backed the SUV away from the gate and kept going until the unit was a hundred yards away. Then, the vehicle was placed in drive and the gas pedal mashed to the floor.

  Chief Connors, alerted by the squeal of tires, opened the door on the portable toilet and watched as his own police unit sped toward him. He stepped from the john only to be rammed back inside it by the impact of the vehicle. Connors’ head hit the hard plastic at the rear of the box with enough force to break through it, and the jagged edges of the crack sliced into his throat.

  One of the lacerations was serious and could have led to the chief bleeding to death. That became a non-issue after the toilet hit the ground with the rear of the chief’s skull enduring most of the impact.

  The vehicle pushed the toilet along at a high rate of speed while leaving a red streak in its wake. After the toilet slid away and over to the other side of the road, the SUV swerved, jumped the curb, and hit a tree. The chief’s murderer leapt from behind the wheel and took off on foot. If anyone had been close enough, they would have heard the perpetrator’s quiet laughter.

  * * *

  Jude was at his gate a short time later with the dogs at his side. His cameras had filmed the attack on the chief. He was wearing only a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve gray T-shirt. In his haste, he had neglected to cover himself with a jacket.

  He could see the damaged toilet and Connors�
� SUV in the distance but stopped to check on the unconscious cop first. The man was bleeding from a wound at his temple that had been caused by a rock. He would live.

  When Jude and his dogs followed the trail of red to the damaged toilet, he knew without looking that the chief hadn’t survived, not when brain matter and clumps of hair were discernable along with the blood.

  Jude opened up the toilet and looked anyway. The chief was visible from the neck down as his throat was pinched between the gap in the plastic backing of the toilet. What was left of his head remained mercifully hidden from view.

  The toilet’s contents covered the chief’s body and the reek of urine and feces overpowered the coppery odor of the blood.

  Jude left the toilet and returned to the cop just as the man’s eyelids began fluttering. Jude was about to take out his phone to call for an ambulance when there came the sound of a siren. It heralded the arrival of a vehicle traveling at high speed that had flashing lights.

  Erica was on the scene.

  Jude gave her a puzzled look when she ordered him to place his hands in the air. Jude did so, while giving a verbal command for the dogs to sit. They obeyed, and Erica approached with her gun drawn. She studied the scene as she’d been trained to do and tried to record as many details as possible. After noticing the coffee the cop had spilled on the ground prior to being struck, she stared into Jude’s eyes.

  “What’s happened here?” she asked Jude, while frisking him. All he had on him was a wallet, keys, a cell phone, and the pocket knife he always carried.

  “Someone killed Chief Connors, and this cop needs an ambulance.”

  “I want you to put the dogs away. I’ll escort you, but not until we get backup here.”

  Jude nodded his understanding as Erica spoke to Evans.

  “Stay here with Rowland while I check on the chief and call this in, and Troy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stay alert. The perp may still be on the scene.”

  “I understand,” Troy said, and he was looking at Jude as he said it.

  Erica called the station and reported the situation to the police dispatcher as she closed in on Connors’ location. She’d seen enough scenes of death to know without looking that the chief hadn’t survived. Despite that, she looked inside the toilet. There was always the chance that the assailant was hiding inside the toppled box or that another victim was involved.

  When she returned to the gate, the officer was conscious but suffering from a concussion. Troy stayed with the man while Erica moved Jude and the dogs behind the gate.

  The first patrol car arrived on scene four minutes later. Eight minutes after that, most of the town’s police force was there, including an off-duty Linda Perkins.

  As the scene was being handled by Deputy Chief Dix, Erica and Troy walked with Jude back to the house with two officers. Erica watched as Jude secured the dogs inside the rear porch while Troy and the cops searched the home for an intruder. With that done, the cops took positions outside the house, as Jude escorted the federal agents to his office. Once there, he played back the video showing the attacks.

  The first thing they watched was the assault on the cop inside the patrol car. As it played, Erica heard Jude whisper the words, “That could have been Linda.”

  When they viewed the attack on the chief and witnessed the impact of the vehicle, Erica jumped in sympathy, as she imagined what it must have felt like.

  The murderer’s face was hidden beneath the deep folds of the hood, while the oversized jacket billowed on the figure like a poncho. Erica realized she couldn’t be certain if the attacker was male or female.

  “Do you have something you can download this onto, Jude? I’ll need to see video from all the other cameras as well.”

  “I have flash drives, but it’s also in cloud storage. I gave the cops the password when they searched my house. The warrant demanded it.”

  “Why was the chief here this late?”

  “I don’t know,” Jude said, as he eyed Troy Carson. “Can I speak to you alone, Agent Novac?”

  Erica stared at Jude for a moment, then she spoke to Troy.

  “Wait for me in the living room; I’ll be right there.”

  “Sure,” Troy said.

  When he was gone, Jude released a heavy sigh.

  “I have something to confess.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Johnny, my brother, I’ve been in contact with him.”

  “I know that, Jude. We found the hidden compartment on the back porch.”

  Jude’s usually stoic face expressed surprise, then concern.

  “I guess I’m in trouble.”

  “You might be charged with obstruction of justice, but maybe that can go away if you help us capture your brother.”

  Jude pointed toward the front of the house. “Do you think that was Johnny?”

  “That’s a strong possibility.”

  Jude, still seated in his desk chair, placed his head in his hands.

  “Is my brother a serial killer?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “You think so?”

  “I have doubts about everything involved in this case. I also believe someone is manipulating events.”

  “Who would do that, and why?”

  “For one thing, they may want to frame you for murder, who that someone is I haven’t yet figured out, but I will.”

  Jude looked up at Erica with pleading eyes. “I haven’t killed anyone.”

  Erica pointed at him. “What’s that stain on your shirt?”

  Jude looked down at his T-shirt, then gestured at a cup on his desk. “Oh, I spilled coffee on myself when I heard the sound of that toilet being dragged. It was an awful sound, even as far away as it was.”

  “I’m sure it was,” Erica said. She recalled the video of the attack on the officer seated in his patrol car. The cop had poured cold coffee out the window right before getting hit with a rock. After that, his assailant lowered themself to the ground to crawl from sight beneath the patrol car. Erica was willing to bet that the person who killed the Chief had a similar stain on their clothing.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” Jude asked her.

  She smiled. “No reason.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  SANGUINE, NEW HAMPSHIRE

  Deputy Chief of Police Shawn Dix held out a seat for Erica to take. She thanked him and settled beside Troy Carson. They were in Chief Connors’ office the morning following his murder. Dix still appeared shaken by the loss of his long-time friend.

  “I suppose what happened last night ties into your case, Agent Novac?”

  “It seems likely, and please, call me Erica.”

  Dix picked up a laptop from the desk and handed it to her.

  “That was the chief’s. I’m sure your people will want to examine it.”

  “Thank you, and I’d appreciate your help in dealing with his wife; she’ll feel better about talking to me if a friend is around.”

  “Alice is devastated, and the girls are on their way home, but we’ve been unable to get in touch with Zach.”

  “There may be a reason for that,” Erica said, as she turned to Troy. “Let Dix see the report that came in this morning.”

  Troy reached inside a leather case that was at his feet and removed a computer tablet. After bringing up the relevant file he passed it over to the deputy chief.

  “That’s a comparison of Zach Connors’ recent whereabouts with the dates and locations of the Wildcard murders,” Erica said. “As you can see, the similarities go beyond coincidence.”

  The file Dix was reading revealed that Chief Connors’ son had been within an hour’s drive of each of the six Wildcard slayings on the day the victims were murdered. In the case of Angela Shaffer of Fort Collins, Colorado, who was stalked and terrorized before being killed, evidence showed that Zach had been in the area for days.

  The chief’s son, a long-haul trucker with his own rig, had delivered fre
ight to warehouses near each of the crime scenes. It looked as if he’d worked off a list of people who’d left negative reviews of Jude Rowland’s books. When he found himself near one of them, Zach Connors used the opportunity to track them down and kill them.

  Dix shook his head in disbelief. “This… I know the boy. Zach would never do something like this.”

  “He’s not a boy anymore, and how often have you seen him in the last five years?” Erica asked.

  Dix closed his eyes as he answered. “Once or twice, tops. Still, I find it hard to believe Zach Connors would do something like this, and why would he?”

  “He could have been attempting to frame Jude Rowland for murder. People have told me there’s no love lost between those two.”

  “I could maybe buy that theory, but then, why kill so many, and in such odd ways?”

  “I’ll ask him that when I find him. There’s an APB out on him and his truck.”

  “Poor Alice,” Dix said. “First her husband is murdered and now her son is wanted for killing six people.”

  “The count might be as high as eight. A woman he was once accused of assaulting, Keri Jones, was murdered not too long ago. The police on the case cleared him, but maybe he deserves a second look. Zach Connors also stayed at a motel in Florida near the spot where the call girl Tessa White was killed.”

  Dix hung his head. “This is a nightmare.”

  * * *

  Erica sent Troy off to FBI headquarters in Boston where the computer lab would dissect the chief’s laptop. If Connors’ murder wasn’t connected to the Wildcard case, a clue to his killer might be found in his laptop.

  While Troy was gone, Erica decided to have a talk with Simon DeVeaux. DeVeaux had the day off from his duties at the hotel. He lived in a trailer park on the edge of town which was bordered by forest land at its rear.