* * *
That night on Garfield Street at the location where his daughter Christy was taken, Eli Walker had finally returned home, having spent most of the previous three days waiting hopefully for news at the police station. His clothes looked completely tattered and creased, with stain marks underneath the armpits as well as the occasional coffee drip stain that had landed on his red tie and white shirt. Eli trudged across his lawn almost like a drunk struggling to return home from the bar in the middle of the night. His mouth was dry and his stomach empty, candy bars and stale coffee were no good for any man let alone one in such a stressful situation and a man of his age. Caring not for the state of some of his plants and caring only for Christy, he gladly steamrolled over the bedding flowers in order to get to his doorway a few seconds faster. He hadn’t heard anything however on her whereabouts and was beginning to give up hope after hearing the phone call they received at 4am the previous night. He feared what Wayne would do to his beloved child and how he was powerless for once to stop it. There was a police car stationed just down the street keeping a watch on the surround. The street was eerily quiet and even his own home seemed foreign to him. No one had been in there for a few days, the house was near freezing and everything was cold to the touch. As he wandered into his study for the first time in a while he noticed the patio door was open, this gave Eli a cold chill for a moment as well as the fear that someone else might be in the house waiting for him. When he closed the door the breeze slammed it shut closing it much harder than he would have liked. Then Eli grabbed the photo he was seen coddling by Ellis the night she vanished from the mantelpiece above the fireplace and slumped down in one of his leather wing chairs. He brushed the picture for a brief moment with his fingers over the face of Christy at aged ten. Walker cradled the picture for several minutes before falling to sleep in his chair with a smile upon his face, perhaps dreaming of a happier and more innocent time during his life. One thing was for sure though, he would have to wake up and face his demons at some point, but at this moment he allowed himself a few hours of escape to muse on more cheerful memories.
Part Eight
Chapter I
It was Saturday the third of May, and seventy two hours since the vanishing of Christy Walker. With the appeals for her safe return becoming more and more widespread, there was a growing fear amongst the FBI and local police forces that she had either been taken out of the states of Maryland and Virginia, or that she may never be found until it was far too late. The investigators had few leads and one of the key persons of interest Wayne Peterson, was still also missing and presumed to be on the run. Many had believed that Wayne had fled the city amidst terror and panic of being flushed out and slandered through the press before proven guilty. He knew the public would not take kindly to him due to his violent past so he chose to remain hidden rather than tackle any potential suspicion head on. It will have badly damaged him though as he began to appear exceedingly guilty in many eyes. Wayne was holed up at the residence of one of his old cell mates and a trusted friend at that. Jeremy Redmond’s safe house was based on Keokee Street in Langley Park on the North East side. It was out of the way but still hardly secluded as it lay in a residential area of Langley Park. Jeremy had still neglected his housekeeping duties since Wayne’s previous visit when he was given a listening device which led to him capturing Walker on recording. The stray wires and many years of outdated radios and other items of worn down technology were still being stockpiled at that location rather than the county dump site. Much to Wayne’s annoyance as he found it impossible to move about as he kicked and cleared a walkway to the kitchen using his feet to clear away the rubbish.
“How anyone can live here is beyond me,” Wayne thought to himself as he filled the kettle with hot water from the anaemic tap that sometimes offered no water at all, while other times would unbearably flood the floor. He was in the middle of mixing the hot water that had just been brought to the boil with his instant noodles when Jeremy opened the front door, holding what looked like a laptop bag that was over his shoulder.
“Wow it’s bad out there,” said Jeremy as he lifted the strap from over his head and placed the bag down on the table.
“What do you mean bad?” ask Wayne,
“Your picture is starting to appear on all of the TV’s in the store windows. Police are looking for you badly, they think you have this girl, this is getting dangerous,” replied Jeremy as he peeled back the closed curtain and poked his head out onto the street. “I heard they were going door to door asking people for information and showing them pictures of you and the girl,”
“Where exactly?” Wayne wanted to know,
“Everywhere from Silver Spring to the East on Adelphi Road...Will only be a matter of time before they reach here. Maybe you should just turn yourself in? If you tell them you are innocent you can clear your name.”
“It’s nowhere near that easy! The public opinion will see me crucified like our Lord before there is even a shred of proof,” Wayne lifted his head from his bowl of instant noodles and with a concerned look and told Jeremy.
Jeremy was never the bravest of men and would often show it, as the faint sound of a news helicopter was heard flying overhead. He dived for the window once and again and began to peer outwards and up at the overcast sky.
“Will you relax?!” Wayne shouted, “They aren’t looking for you, they are looking for me!”
“Yes, but if I’m caught with you then it’s back to the big house for me, they said as a condition of my parole I am not to associate with other criminals or ex-cons. So there just happens to be one standing in front of me!” Jeremy yelled as he started to panic. He was sweating profusely and had a shortness of breath. Sitting down with his head in his hands Wayne realised that he may have overstayed his welcome. If he was indeed to continue hiding from the police, then to do so whilst putting one of his only friends at risk was something that he just couldn’t do.
“I’ll leave...” Wayne told Jeremy standing over him and placing his hand gently on his shoulder reassuring him. “You have been a good friend through all of this for as long as I have known you, for that I am thankful.”
“That sounds like a ‘goodbye forever’ sort of thing,” Jeremy told him as he lifted his head up. Wayne simply smiled and commenced in gathering what little he had brought with him in the way of clothes and gear into his black duffel bag that he managed to rescue from when Harry O’Neill had trashed his home and many of his possessions.
“Here...Take this,” said Jeremy, he started routing around in one of his drawers by his workbench.
“I can’t be seen carrying a gun,” Wayne said, fearing that’s what was about to be handed to him, when in fact Jeremy retrieved a small gold chain with a cross on the end, and dangled it between his fingers.
“Here...They gave us two that day on chapel remember, one each,” said Jeremy as he handed Wayne the cross. He started to caress it much like he did with his previous one before it was ripped from around his neck. Barely containing the emotion and not wanting to break down in front of his friend he shared a hug with Jeremy before storing the golden cross in his inside coat pocket for safe keeping. Jeremy showed Wayne out through the back entrance to his home which led to a small pathway where he could easily leave the residential area unseen. With the police doing sweeps of neighbourhoods hoping to gather information, this was the safest way for him to exit. The timing was perfect, as Wayne left there was a banging on Jeremy’s front door. Peering out from behind the pulled curtain for a third time he saw two policemen standing in his entranceway.
“Excuse me sir, surprise parole visit,” one of the officers claimed, they pushed past Jeremy on their way inside the premises. It was obvious that they weren’t checking for any illegal substances or violations as they ignored most of the rubbish and clutter that rested on nearly every single worktop. The officers glanced in each room quickly before heading back outside. Not even offering Jeremy any courtesy as they left it
was clear they were searching for one thing and that was Wayne. Someone somewhere will have recommended a search of Jeremy’s home. Plainly due to the two facts that the police were struggling to come up with new leads in the thick of the ever growing pressure from the public, while also Jeremy will have been listed as a known associate, because they spent several years incarcerated together in Brockbridge. Wayne was long gone however, with his tattered duffel bag over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled fully down to cover his distinctive tattoos. The hood of his dark brown coat flung over his head to hide his face, he headed South following the Anacostia River directly back into the heart of Washington D.C. where the danger lies.
Chapter II
Meanwhile, across town in his car, Ryan was heading to meet with an old friend, Doctor Claire Daniels. She had spent a reduced time with the police force in recent weeks conceivably pending her possible retirement. Claire had never been short of money in life and perhaps wanted to rest in her late fifties. Her house was much larger than any one Ryan could dream of affording in Forest Hills. As Ryan was leaving the downtown area along Connecticut Avenue North West, he abandoned the looming colossal towers where thousands would go to earn a living each day, instead exchanging them for a rather more pleasant view of high-rise condo buildings all constructed in a row. Each composed with a different style of brick so one would stand out from the other. Lush gardens were created at the front of each for that extra added decoration, when you gazed upwards from the street and tilted your head backwards it was almost as if the buildings acted as columns to help hold up the clear blue morning sky. Ryan’s car made a right turn onto Davenport Street where Claire’s place of residence was it would be a tight fit for anything hoping to come in the opposite direction as parked cars were scattered to either sides of the narrow street. The main thought going through the detectives head was, ‘where was Harry O’Neill,’ he had been completely unreachable for the previous three days and no one on the force had seen or heard from him since the first day the kidnapping had taken place. If no one else would find this suspicious and investigation worthy then Ryan would. He was travelling to visit the good doctor to tell her everything, they were old friends and she at one time cared for Harry, and it was only fair that she know the kind of man who he truly was on the inside. After all, she had invested her own time and effort into finding out why he was acting out all those months ago. Her investigation didn’t nearly uncover the truths that Ryan’s managed to unearth however. It was obvious to him that Harry had the girl and he was making some sort of play towards Walker, although that would be one thing he kept to himself at this very moment in time. Exposing him now before he knew where they were could put Christy in harm’s way, if she wasn’t already lying dead somewhere, in which case Ryan was already too late. Heading further down Davenport Street the cars on either side of the roads were replaced with wide driveways and wealthy looking detached housing. Being a clear day and roughly twenty degrees outside he lowered his window and turned off the radio, he had heard enough news stories for one day. Instead the detective could hear the sound of children playing in streets under the shades of the dense elm trees, the faint sound of birds chirping above the noise of his engine. All as he felt the calm warming breeze brush through his thinning hairline that morning. He pulled his car into the driveway of Claire’s house and could smell the freshly cut grass. Trimmed to within a few millimetres all the way across the garden which stretched fifteen yards in both directions, with the stone path leading to the doorway, carving the front garden in twain as Ryan approached. He knocked twice on the door and rang the bell. Expecting to be greeted by a housekeeper or day maid, he was surprised when Claire herself answered the door.
“Look who it is, after all these weeks you don’t call,” she said sarcastically as she greeted Ryan with open arms and invited him inside promptly.
“Sorry,” he replied, as he wiped his feet on the welcome mat just inside the porch way, “I have had a lot on my mind, which is what brings me here.”
Claire could see that Ryan was bothered by something, as the pair walked in and she offered him a seat on the couch in her drawing room.
“Out with it,” Claire told him authoritatively,
“It’s about Harry,” he replied, “It may be hard to believe and to hear, I know you’ve always been fond of him.”
Claire then took a seat, she looked concerned about the potentially shattering news she was about to hear, about a man she always treated like as a younger brother. Ryan proceeded to carefully tell her everything, he spilt all he knew about Harry and Eli Walker, which included playing Claire the recording of the two of them he kept in his pocket. She was stunned at she was hearing as the two discussed the situation for nearly two hours. Claire found it hard to fathom that Harry was behind the ‘Jane’ murder nearly twenty years earlier, but she trusted Ryan, letting him know that she believed him about everything. The proof was right there for all to hear on the tape. Ryan also told Claire of Wayne’s innocence in the Christy Walker disappearance, he failed to mention who he thought was behind it, but she gave Ryan a look as if to say that deep down she knew what he was getting at. She understood exactly what Ryan was trying to say, she placed her hand on Ryan’s next to her on the couch.
“This explains the gambling debts being cleared by Walker, why he was acting so strangely recently, he was being used by Walker because he wanted Peterson dead for thinking he was coming after him. This must mean that Walker still has something on Harry, something that he could have potentially abducted that poor girl for,” Claire said as she slumped back on the sofa almost due to the weight of what she had just been told. Ryan couldn’t stay for very much longer as he knew that the girl’s fate could all depend on him finding her.
“Harry must have lost his mind! He surely knows he won’t be able to get away with this!” Claire began shouting; she stood up and stepped towards her bay window that lit the room from the now partly clear skies above. “What do we do?” she then asked,
“Nothing,” Ryan replied,
“Nothing?!” she shouted, “How can we just do nothing?”
“Any inclination that we know and Harry might get cornered and do something rash, make him think he is still in control of the situation. We have both seen in the past how unstable he is when backed into a corner that he cannot get out of,” Ryan told Claire as he reached for his jacket and picked up the recording from the coffee table preparing to leave.
“That’s not your call to make when a girl’s life is at risk and we are the only ones who know why,” said Claire,
“I’m making it my call, twenty years ago I should have seen what was going on. Now I do and it falls on me to stop him, I will not fail that girl the way I have failed so many others in my life in the past,” claimed Ryan as he made possibly a life or death decision about the missing teenage girl. Claire acknowledged that she understood his reasoning and understood the situation. It was far from ‘by the book’ but she could keep it quiet in order to go along with Ryan’s plan of action, in order to get her back safe from harm. As Ryan was leaving he realised he was her only hope, the FBI and the police tried but couldn’t even track down Wayne Peterson, he was the only one who knew Harry and how he would act. Ryan realised that when you push a man close to edge you see how far he is truly willing to fall.
Chapter III
The clock struck noon across the slowly failing watch of Wayne Peterson on May the third; he had arrived by bus from Langley Park back in the tussling city centre. Having just purchased a bottle of water at a nearby 7-Eleven it wasn’t the nicest refresher with the fridge being left open by another customer it seems. Also nothing no matter how refreshing could wash the taste of emptiness from out of Wayne’s mind. Being back in the city filled him with fear, it wasn’t very often he walked on foot around downtown, his aura wasn’t the friendliest and some would deliberately cross the street upon seeing him coming. With his hood still up he was beginning to sweat, as he walked along he
pulled back the hood just in time to see the reflection of his face coated across every screen of a television store like a wanted man. A young blonde woman who was pushing a pram stopped to examine the TV’s just when Wayne’s face appeared on the screen once again, next to the muted news reader sat behind his desk. She carefully turned to the right and saw Wayne looking right at her and her baby in a non-threatening way. This was enough for her to suddenly look down and slink away pushing the pram. The woman deliberately avoided any eye contact as she brushed passed. Wayne knew she had recognized her, his innocent smile however would not be enough to prevent her from alerting the police after she had gone. He raised the hood of his coat again realising it was almost a losing battle he was fighting, he turned and glimpsed back to see the woman on her cell phone looking directly at him. When she noticed him staring she immediately threw her gaze down to the ground as she dialled 911. It was time for Wayne to leave, with checkpoints along all the highways and roads out of town he was trapped in Washington D.C. with no means of escape or survival. His time was running out before he would be caught, it was a miracle named Jeremy as to why he lasted this long on the run. He began a slow jog away from 17th Street as he could hear the woman screaming for the police because he was leaving. Others began to turn their heads and stare at Wayne, with all the press coverage and the rolling appeals across most of the channels it was impossible to escape the image of his face, this was obvious as more and more strangers began to point and recognize him. He rounded the corner onto L Street and started walking casually again hoping to avoid further suspicion.
The Sins of a District Page 18
