***
It was another difficult case. The mutilated bodies of several young girls were turning up on the streets of Philadelphia, causing terror to grip the city. The media had pushed the idea of a serial killer on the loose, but John did not agree with that theory.
One day after arresting a junkie for the murder of a cashier during a convenience store robbery, John got the break he needed. The shooter had offered a clue to the deaths of the girls in exchange for a break on his case.
He informed John of a new gang that moved into the area and how they were the ones killing the little girls. John, of course, had already known of the gang but questioned their involvement. John had heard they sold illegal drugs and committed robberies.
However, the shooter mentioned something that caught John’s attention. “But you don’t know everything about them. To join the gang, they must first draw innocent blood.”
He went on to describe the only way to join this gang was to find a random victim. He explained how they chose young girls for the shock value. They would kill them in the most gruesome way imaginable, and then leave the bodies in parks and parking lots. The thing that struck a nerve with John was how they kept something from each victim, as proof of their kill.
The other detectives working the case believed the junkie was making everything up to help himself, but John had a gut feeling there was more to his story.
Hell, there are no other clues in the cases, so what do we have to lose. Besides, I don’t want another murdered girl found.
With this new information, John began to look at the cases from an entirely new perspective. He pressured some of his informants to give him the scoop on this new gang, but they did not want to talk out of fear of ending up like the victims. John finally got the break he was waiting for when a woman came forward with information on the killings.
Louisa and her two sons arrived in Philadelphia from Costa Rica five years ago. She lost her oldest son when he joined the neighborhood gang and died in a shooting two years earlier. She told John she was willing to do anything to protect her youngest son, Reggie from meeting the same fate.
Her story matched the one the junkie had told, so John knew she was telling the truth. She told John the gang was trying to recruit her youngest son, and he was running out of time, as you did not say no to them for very long. This information was the break John needed to crack the case wide open.
John knew it would be dangerous for Reggie and Louisa. If there were even the slightest slip-up, the gang would kill them without giving it a second thought.
John convinced Louisa to have Reggie wear a wire to one of their gatherings, where he hoped the gang members would order Reggie to kill a young girl as part his initiation into the gang. He also hoped they would talk about all the previous murders committed. After hours of planning and preparation, the night finally arrived.
John nervous were on the edge, as he placed the wires on Reggie. He also wondered if he was doing the right thing by sending this young man into the gang’s home turf.
“Are you sure you know what to do?” John asked as he attached the last of the wires.
“Yes, sir, I need to remember not to draw too much attention to myself and once the bust goes down, get out of there.” John could tell Reggie was scared, but he had to respect his courage.
As the time grew closer, John prayed things would go smoothly, and no one got hurt.
***
It was an unusually warm night for October. The air was thick, which only added to the discomfort and tension, as everyone took their positions. Louisa was forced to stay at the station, much to her dismay. She had begged John to let her go along, but he knew if things began to go bad, she would only endanger her son.
John went over the plan again with Reggie then he took his position and waited.
The group had already gathered, and John could see they were feeling cocky and pleased with themselves. It angered him the way they went on about how they were free to do whatever they wanted, and there was no one to stop them.
“Enjoy yourselves, for now, you assholes,” John whispered.
Reggie joined the group, welcomed with shouts and slaps on the back. Everything was going as planned until one of them stopped to look at Reggie as if questioning his sudden attendance.
Of course, this put John on higher alert, but when the gang member began to laugh and slapped Reggie on the shoulder, John knew it would be safe to continue.
Once the group had finished welcoming Reggie, a tall, slender man climbed on top of a dumpster and called the group to attention. John assumed this was the leader, and as he began to speak, John held his breath.
“Santo has passed the test of brotherhood and would like to present his trophy!” He pointed to a man standing off to the side by himself.
John watched as a small, thin man stepped forward holding something in his outstretched hand. He walked to a makeshift table in the center of the group, stopped, and placed the object on the table.
The man stepped back and began to speak, his words causing John’s blood run cold in his veins. “I have taken innocent blood, and I offer this as proof!” He looked up at the leader and let loose with a war cry that caused all of the hidden officers to shudder. John strained to see the object and was certain it was the missing barrette with little, jeweled butterflies from the last victim.
John’s mind was distracted by the image of the dead body of a young girl lying on the autopsy table when suddenly he found his attention drawn back to the group below. They had begun to laugh as they circled the table. Then in a show of gang pride and solidarity, they laid the keepsakes taken from their victims around the one Santo had presented to the group moments before.
John would later learn how each member had put their mark on the item taken from their victim, as proof of their membership in the gang.
There was no logic in the choice of items, as most had no value other than what it symbolized to each member. There were sunglasses, wristwatches, a red high heel pump, but the most sickening of all was the ones from the little girls.
In the dim light, John saw a pink ribbon, a beaded necklace, one purple ballerina slipper. He also noticed a small stuffed teddy bear, a little plastic horse, and a child’s denim jacket with jeweled hearts on the back. The sight of the last objects let John know this was who he had been looking; however, what they did next surprised and disgusted John.
Suddenly the group grew quiet. Then as though part of a demonic ritual, one by one they began to retell the story of their kill. John felt a chill in the air as the others chanted, “Death to the innocent; their blood makes us strong.” There was laughter, as each shared his story of the terror and pain inflicted on their victims, and with the telling of each story; the chanting grew louder until it reached a fevered pitch.
John could not believe his eyes, Damn, what sort of gang is this?
He had seen horrific things before, but this was by far the worst. When he had heard enough, John made the signal for the waiting officers to swoop in, and make the arrests.
The Prosecuting Attorney was thrilled to have the evidence linking each gang member to their personal victim, and with the testimony from Reggie and Louisa; he was confident of solid convictions.
The arrests made John a celebrity in the media across the country. They called him a Super Cop and reported how he had saved the city from evil. In an interview, the reporter asked John how he was able to solve the case.
Feeling pleased with the outcome, John offered his view to the news reporter. “All criminals will become sloppy over time, and by just following the evidence, any crime will be solved. I’ve always found criminals are not as smart as they believe they are and will eventually make a mistake. I also know there is no crime you cannot solve by following the evidence.”
Unfortunately, this statement caused an unexpected outcome, which John would come to regret. It had made him the next opponent chos
en for The Game.
***
“Super Cop; my ass,” John growled, lifting his glass in a toast to himself. “You’re sitting in a bar, drunk off your ass, and feeling sorry for yourself.”
His mind wandered back to the telephone call. What does that asshole want from me, and what was it he called himself - Erebus. What kind of name is that? John shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Then he poured the last of the whiskey into his glass and drank it down in one swallow.
That Erebus is a real piece of work. Shit, he seems to know everything before I do! All, I know, is I need to stop him before someone else dies, but how? Damn it, I need to figure out what his next move will be! There has to be something I’m missing; some clue I keep overlooking.
He lifted the bottle again, making sure it was empty, and then he set it back down on the table. He had to admit to himself he was disappointed but also knew he did not need anymore to drink at this time. “Hey Leo, would you call me that cab now? I need to get home.”
“Sure thing, John. Can I get you something while you wait?” Leo finished drawing a draft beer, and in one smooth motion, slid it down to a customer at the end of the bar.
John looked up through bleary eyes, “Yeah, some coffee would be great!”
Chapter 18
Time to Play
The next morning, John woke with his head pounding, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, “Damn, I’ve overslept!”
He quickly got out of bed and jumped into the shower. As he stood under the warm water trying to clear his mind, a voice kept whispering in his head. Come on, John, it’s time to play The Game. You need to catch up because you don’t want to let them down.
John finished his shower and as he got dressed, felt frustration churning in the pit of his stomach again. Why is Erebus able to get under my skin? I know better than to let this crap get to me. Shit, I need to pull myself together and stop him before someone else dies. If this nutcase wants me to start playing his game, then that’s just what I am going to do! He grabbed a cup of coffee and walked to his office to call a cab for a ride back to the bar to pick up his car.
His head was pounding so hard he nearly missed his car keys sitting on the table by the front door. “What the hell, how did these get here?”
John knew he had not driven home, so how did his keys end up on the table. He remembered asking Leo to call him a cab then getting up to walk over to the bar for some coffee while he waited, and then nothing…
Crap, what happened next? When he reached for his keys, he saw a note tucked under them.
John, I figured you would need your car in the morning. I hope you do not mind, but I drove it home for you. It’s in the driveway, and I locked your front door before I left. I hope you’re feeling better, Leo.
John looked out the window and sure enough, his car was in the driveway. “Well, at least, I don’t need to call a cab. That was nice of Leo. I’ll have to thank him later.” John crumpled the note and put it in his pocket.
Realizing he better leave the Everett case alone, for now, John decided to begin looking into the murder of Frank Campos by his partner, and the circumstances leading up to it.
He looked up the phone number and address of Frank’s housekeeper and then called to see if she would meet with him. She was reluctant at first but agreed to meet him for coffee at a small cafe in her neighborhood later that morning.
***
“Thank you for meeting with me again.” John had questioned Rosella earlier and had found her to be a very pleasant woman. She had told him she knew nothing and was shocked to learn George had murdered Frank.
“I don’t know what more I can tell you, Detective. It was such a terrible thing. Frank was like a son to me, and I miss him terribly,” Rosella wiped the tears from her eyes.
“I was hoping maybe I could learn more about their friendship, and what may have pushed George to kill Frank. If there is anything you can tell me to clear this whole thing up, I will be most appreciative,” John smiled then handed Rosella a napkin.
She took the napkin from him and dried her face, “Thank you, sir.”
“Please call me, John.” He hated to see the look of pain on her face, but he needed to know if this case was another move set up by the caller.
“Okay, I will, but only if you call me, Rosella.” She folded the napkin and placed it on the table in front of her. “I don’t know what more I can tell you, but for my dear, sweet Frank, I’ll do my best.”
“I was hoping you might elaborate more on their personal relationship. Had they been arguing before the shooting? It doesn't make any sense for Frank to embezzle money from the company, and then make it appear as though George was doing it, does it? Frank had a controlling interest in the company, and from everything we found; Frank wasn’t having any money problems.” John did not want to upset her, but he had to know.
Rosella sat up straight and squared her shoulders. “Frank would never do anything like that. He was a good and honest man, and he loved George like a brother. Even after... oh my, I should not say anything. It’s not my place.” She suddenly realized she might have said too much.
John perked up, “After what? Please Rosella, anything, you know, might help to solve this mystery.”
John knew he was treading on dangerous ground with her, but he had to know the truth, so he pushed onward.
Rosella drew in a breath then continued, “George was angry about Frank marrying Sheila. He had always felt Frank stole her from him, but Frank didn’t take Sheila. She never wanted George in the first place. She only wanted money and power, and she knew Frank had more of each than George ever did. She was an evil woman with an ugly heart, and I was glad when she left,” Rosella reached for the napkin and wiped more tears from her eyes.
“She only used George to get to Frank. Her target from the beginning was Frank and his money. Then when he wanted to start a family, she decided it was time to cash in, and move on. Frank was heartbroken. He never even dated after the divorce. He simply kept himself busy with working long hours and building the business. George became unbearable after Shelia left, and he blamed Frank for her leaving. George thought Shelia would go to him after the divorce, but she laughed at him. She told him how she had never wanted to be with him, and the thought of it made her sick,” Rosella paused as she fought to hold back the anger and tears.
“After that, Frank would go into work late each day and leave early; bringing most of his work home. Frank had told me once he believed all they needed was some space between them, and after some time, maybe they could rekindle their friendship. Frank wanted that...”
Her voice trailed off becoming softer. “But that will never happen now.” The tears streamed down her cheeks, as she reached for the napkin again.
John saw the pain clearly etched on her face. He felt sorry for forcing her to relive the terrible memory, but he had no choice. “I’m sorry to upset you, but any information, you have for me, will help to solve this. Was Frank angry at George about anything? Did they ever fight over money?”
“No, he was not angry with George, and they never argued about money around me. Frank refused to discuss that with George in front of me. Whenever George would begin to get angry, Frank would ask him to leave. He would not put up with that sort of thing in his home. Frank is... I mean, Frank was a polite man. He was a kind and generous man as well.” Rosella lowered her head, accepting for the first time he was not coming back.
She then spoke in a quiet but strained voice, “When I had some serious health problems, Frank took care of everything. He was not the type to flaunt his wealth, as he was comfortable with himself and never worried what people thought of him. I remember when they wrote the article on him in that computer magazine. All the attention embarrassed him, but I knew he deserved it, and I was very proud of him. Frank was the brains of the company, but George never wanted to admit it. George
was jealous when the article only gave him a few lines. He stormed into Frank’s apartment the day the article came out, yelling how he was not getting the recognition he deserved. George made it clear the days of Frank hogging all the attention and pushing him aside were over. He then looked at Frank and stated in a threatening tone it was going to stop, once and for all. Poor Frank had no idea how to respond. He had no control over what they wrote in the article. All, he knew was the reporter interviewed both of them and took several photos. Frank had no idea the article would be, so one-sided,” Rosella wiped the tears from her eyes again.
“So, all the hostility came from George? If George was the angry one, why would Frank frame him for embezzlement? If anything, it seems it would have been the other way around.” This statement was said more to himself than to Rosella.
Suddenly a voice chimed in the back of his mind. They were pieces in the game, and easy to manipulate.
Rosella took the napkin, blew her nose, and then put it in her pocket. “I thought the same thing. Frank would never do anything like that. My goodness, he never even tried to hurt his ex-wife when she left him. Frank merely gave her all the money she wanted and stepped aside. His divorce lawyer had said he was foolish to give her everything she asked for, but Frank would not hear anything of it. He said she needed it more than he did, and maybe it would make her happy. He had always believed she was merely unhappy with the marriage, but I always assumed she would find a new man to get her hooks into once she had spent it all. She never deserved to be married to Frank; he was too good for her.” The look in Rosella’s eyes clearly showed her disdain for Frank’s ex-wife.
“It sounds as if he was a good man. It’s hard to believe someone of that caliber died at the hands of his lifelong friend over the jealousy of a woman; it truly is a shame. I want to thank you for taking the time to meet with me again because it’s important to discover the real reason for Frank’s death. How are you doing; have you found another job?” John tried not to sound disappointed in her answers as she did not have anything new to add to the investigation.
Next Move, You're Dead - Book 1 of the Next Move, You're Dead Trilogy Page 9
