Depraved Difference (A Detective Shakespeare Mystery, Book #1)
Page 12
Eunice lay against her door, her ear pressed to the cold wood, hoping to hear someone, anyone, pass by. She had remained sitting on her couch for the longest time after her attacker abruptly left. In excruciating pain from her broken hip, she eventually managed to reach the nearby phone, only to find it remained dead, the endeavor expending all the energy she had. She yelled for help until hoarse from the effort. Hours later she decided she had to at least get near the door; she would worry about working up the courage to open it to strangers later. It took almost two hours to drag herself by her hands, across the floor to the doorway. She nearly passed out several times, but was determined not to be found by her son dead in two days when he was due to visit her. She managed to get within reach of the door, but the knob proved too high.
It was hours more before she heard two people talking. She recognized the voices as a neighbor couple, Paul and Joanne Russell, who lived across the hall. She banged on the door with the last of her strength. The talking stopped then she heard a knock on the door. “Mrs. Henry, are you okay?”
“No, please call an ambulance and the police,” she cried at the door. “I've been attacked!” She heard them try the door and push against it. Dragging herself out of the way, they managed to open it and enter the apartment.
“Oh my God!” Joanne exclaimed. “Call nine-one-one!” Paul was already on his cell phone and within minutes police arrived, followed shortly by paramedics.
Eldridge sprinted toward the hospital lobby. It wasn’t until the next morning the connection was made with his case. An elderly lady, one Eunice Henry, had been attacked, and the officer who had taken her statement had mentioned in the locker room about the attacker showing a video on a cell phone. Someone familiar with his case had made the connection and contacted him. Arriving in the lobby, he found the protective detail of four officers he had ordered milling about. He flashed his shield, bringing the group not quite to attention, but at least to a respectable at ease. He flipped open a file folder and handed them the suspect’s photo.
“This is him. The last time he was in a hospital, the damned thing blew up, so let's keep an eye out.” He pointed to an officer. “You are?”
“Haynes, sir.”
“Haynes, I want you in the security booth. Get copies of this photo made and have them handed out to every employee in the building.” Haynes rushed off to fulfill his assignment as Eldridge motioned the others to follow him to the elevators. The crowded elevator prevented him from continuing the briefing until they exited. He pointed at two officers as he strode toward Eunice’s room. “I want you two to do a room by room search, every room, including bathrooms, janitor’s closets, everything, and make sure this floor is clear, then I want you at opposite ends of this corridor, go!” The men rushed off as the remaining officer struggled to keep up with Eldridge's rapid pace. When they arrived he stationed her outside the door.
Entering the private room, he saw Eunice Henry comforted by a middle-aged, balding man. He looked up and protectively placed himself between Eldridge and the frail looking woman. “Who are you?”
Eldridge flashed his badge. “I'm Detective Eldridge, Homicide. You are?”
“Jonathan Henry, I'm her son. What's going on?”
“Sir, ma'am, here's the situation. Your attacker is involved in over ten murders in the past week. He's killing everyone he's been able to identify off of a video of a subway attack last year that resulted in the death of one Patricia Arnette. You were there, Mrs. Henry.”
“You saw that happen?” asked Jonathan. “No wonder you’ve been terrified to go out!”
She nodded and smiled at her son. “Yes, I was there and I did nothing. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was too terrified to do anything.”
“Mother, you're over eighty years old, what could you have done?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I still have my voice, and I didn't use it.”
Jonathan turned to Eldridge. “You said he's killing people from a video, do you mean the one that was all over the news last year that those two morons made?”
“Yes, he used advanced computer software to pull faces from the video. We believe him to be quite adept at computers and this is how he managed to track everyone down who was on that train. We're still piecing it together, it's early on. I can tell you there are only three people still alive who were on that tape. One is the killer himself, the other a reporter that he has been sending videos of the killings to, and you, Mrs. Henry.”
“Aynslee Kai on channel nine?” asked Jonathan, the slight rise in his voice betraying a piqued curiosity. His mother slapped his wrist. Jonathan blushed.
“Yes, I believe that your mother will be his next target as he always sends a video of the murder to Miss Kai before moving on to the next person. Since he didn't succeed the first time with you, ma'am, we expect him to try again.”
“Oh, I don't think he'll be coming for me, dear,” said Eunice shaking her head.
“Why is that?”
“There's a flaw in your logic, young man. It wasn’t that he didn't succeed in killing me. It was that he changed his mind.”
“What?” Eldridge wasn’t sure he understood her correctly. “Please explain.”
“I spoke to him. I knew I was going to die so I asked him if there was anything he wanted me to tell the girl.”
“You did what?” Jonathan stared at his mother, searching for words. “What were you—why did—how could—wait a minute!” He turned back to Eldridge. “He knew the girl on the subway?”
“Yes, we believe he was her half-brother.”
“Aaah, I figured either sister or girlfriend,” said Eunice. “He said that he wanted me to tell her that he wished he had gotten a chance to know her better and that he wished he had helped her.”
“And what did you say?” asked Eldridge.
“I said I would tell her.”
“And then what happened.”
“He walked out of the apartment.”
Eldridge processed this new information. If he changed his mind, then he won't be killing her, which means there will be no video. “There's not going to be a video!” he muttered as he turned on his heel and raced from the room, reaching for his cell phone.
Father O'Neil rose from his knees, made the sign of the cross, bowed, and turned to see he wasn’t alone, a man in a pulled-up hoodie sat in the back row. He looked at O'Neil, rose, and walked toward the confessional. O'Neil hadn't expected to be taking confession at this moment, he had other duties to attend, but none more important. When he reached the booth, the man had already entered. Sitting down, O'Neil prepared himself then slid the panel open.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession and these are my sins.” The man paused. But this was no man. O'Neil recognized his voice from the first word. Jeremiah! His heart pounded, his mouth went dry.
“Please continue, my son.”
He heard a deep breath on the other side of the thin booth. “I have broken the fifth commandment.” Oh no, he did do what they said! “I have murdered my fellow man.”
“And what made you break God's commandment?”
“They did nothing to help my sister, they were sinners for not helping their fellow man.”
“And they are to be judged by God for their sins, not by us mere mortals.”
“But as instruments of God, shouldn't we do what we know He would want? They let her die and they should burn in hell for it!” Jeremiah's voice was getting louder, in the end almost hysterical. Fear gripped O'Neil. Choosing his words with care, he tried to calm him.
“And if God judges that they were indeed sinners that cannot be forgiven, then they will, my son, they will. You can rest easy that if God wills it, they will get a punishment far more harsh than anything you or I could ever mete out.”
He heard a sob from the other side. “They let her die, Father. They just stood there and watched as they killed her. I never had a chance to even get to know her.”
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sp; O'Neil desperately wanted to go to the other side of the booth and comfort the poor boy, but he knew he couldn’t, it would be a violation of the confessional. “I know, my son, it was a terrible tragedy. She was taken from us far too soon. And the men who did this will pay for their sins.”
“I was bringing her to meet you, Father. That day on the subway, I was bringing her to meet you!” His voice was almost maniacal. O'Neil's heart leapt in his throat. He had to figure out a way to defuse the tension.
“And it would have been an honor to meet her, my son.” His voice shook. “And one day I will, I will meet her in heaven amongst the angels.”
“Yes, you will meet her.” The sudden calm in the voice terrified O'Neil. “But first, I want you to forgive me for my sins.”
“I-I can't do that, my son, I don't think that you are truly sorry for what you have done. I cannot forgive you your sins unless you are truly sorry and won't commit them again.” He heard something knock against the wood of the confessional wall. “I can however counsel you. Please let me take you to the police, Jeremiah. Please let me help you end this so that no one else gets hurt, including yourself.”
“I don't care if anything happens to me. If I die, then I'll be with her, but only if you absolve me of my sins!”
O'Neil, shaking all over, gripped his rosary. “You know that I can't do that, Jeremiah. Only God can.”
A sigh came from the other side. “Very well.” He heard a loud popping sound followed by splintering wood, then a curious sensation from his stomach. He looked down and saw his black robe rapidly becoming wet. Reaching with his hand, he touched the liquid spreading from his stomach and was shocked to see it was red. As the adrenaline of the situation subsided, the pain took over. He felt himself getting weaker as the confessional door ripped open. Jeremiah stood looking down at him, his tear stained face betraying the horror of what he had done.
“I-I'm sorry, Father, I'm so sorry.” He knelt down beside O'Neil and put his hand over the wound.
O'Neil reached up with his hand and held it against Jeremiah's cheek. “I forgive you,” he whispered before blacking out.
Eldridge’s phone rang as he raced toward the television studios. He snapped it off his belt and flipped it open, putting it on speaker. “Eldridge.”
“Hello, Detective, Vinny here. I've confirmed the DNA from the subway vic, Patricia Arnette and our John Doe, presumably this Jeremiah Lansing, are related maternally.”
“Figured. I think there's little doubt John Doe and Jeremiah Lansing are one and the same.”
“Should have DNA results from the apartment any time now, that will confirm it for sure. We've also been going through the papers and computer found at the apartment, as well as the church computer. We've found extensive Internet searches and video surveillance of the subway system. It looks like he was able to hack the surveillance footage and track the people on the subway that day. As well, he had a copy of the witness list we think was stolen from the defense attorney's computer. Detective, this guy has been working on this for a year. He has surveillance, schedules, everything. This is well planned. It looks like he was just waiting for the final piece.”
“And what was that?”
“It looks like he needed a partner to get himself out of Rikers. We found several postings on known hacker boards putting out a challenge to get a prisoner out and someone took him up on it. Shakespeare is picking him up as we speak.”
“Shakespeare?”
“Yeah, didn't believe it myself. Hopefully he doesn't fu—”
“So this hacker got him out of Rikers?”
“Yes, from the timestamps on everything it looks like he just needed that final piece and then he began eliminating everyone in the order they were most likely to be able to flee. He killed Tammera Coverdale because she was leaving on a business trip, then Logan and Aaron as well as William “Lance” Hanson because their lifestyles were more transient. The cab driver, Mr. Jamar and Abby were pretty stable but moved around the city in their day-to-day activities. He knew Nathan Small and Eunice Henry hardly ever left their apartments, so he eliminated Denzel and Todd first.”
“And all that leaves is Miss Kai.”
“Yes, he seems to have singled her out, probably because he's using her to get publicity for what he's doing. We never see him on anything though and he never has a message attached, so what kind of publicity he's hoping for, I don't know.”
“He doesn't seem to have any fear, hell, he killed Small while under our protection. He may have expected we'd figure it out and then release the information, scaring the shit out of his next victims. I'm almost at the studio, I've gotta go.”
Eldridge flipped his phone closed and pulled up to the entrance behind a squad car already there, the officer leaning on the hood. Eldridge motioned to him and he walked over, leaning down to face him. “Make sure no one blocks the parking garage exit, we're going to be coming out of there fast.” The officer nodded and stepped back as Eldridge pulled the car into the building’s underground parking.
I see you, Detective! Jeremiah sat across the street in a car he had borrowed from the church, watching Eldridge speak to the cop. He had left the webcam in Greedo's garage to find out who was investigating him, and he had to admit, was quite impressed by how the detective had almost caught him that night. His foresight had paid off however, and he had determined Eldridge's name and then a quick hack of the police computers had given him the rest of what he needed. He had been shocked when they had found his apartment, but it didn’t take him long to realize it was Father O’Neil who had most likely told them.
He felt terrible about killing the Father, he was the first person he had killed he had personally known, the rest all strangers. He had gone there intending to kill the Father, though. Not only had he figured out it must be him that told the police about where to find him, if the Father hadn't encouraged him to seek out his sister, she would still be alive today. And if he hadn't been bringing her to meet him, then she never would have been on that train. No matter how he looked at it, it was always Father O'Neil's fault. But he had doubts. In the confessional, hearing the Father's voice, a voice that had helped him for all these years, was hard. He was happy he didn't have to see the Father's face before killing him, but when he had opened the door to make sure he had hit him, his resolve had wavered. His momentary weakness disappeared as soon as Father O'Neil had said he had forgiven him. For all my sins. The actual words were unimportant. Jeremiah knew the intent of Father O'Neil's last words. They were in the confessional, and the priest had said he had forgiven him. He was dying so he just didn't have time to finish the ceremony. He would do that himself after this was all over. He would do his penance.
But first, he had to kill Aynslee Kai.
Eldridge ran up to Aynslee who was just stepping back into her office.
“Hayden, what's going on? Why all the excitement?”
“We found the old lady,” said Eldridge as he looked around, eyeing everyone with suspicion, especially the pimply geek looking through the plastic window of a nearby divider.
“But I never got a video,” said Aynslee as she leaned over her desk and checked her email to confirm.
“And you won't. He didn't kill her.”
“What?”
“He attacked her but it appears he had a moment of doubt and left her alive.”
“But that means—”
“There won't be another video. You are in immediate danger.”
Aynslee raised her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. “What do I do?”
“First we have to get you out of here. This place is too public, too exposed.”
“The police station?”
“No, we already know he can hack any of our systems. We'll go back to your apartment. It's a secure location, easily protected with limited access.” Aynslee nodded and threw her jacket on. Eldridge shook his head. “No, give me that,” he said. “And your sunglasses.” Aynslee handed them over, puzzled. Eldr
idge leaned out the office door. “She here yet?”
“She's coming up now,” said the officer standing outside. A few minutes later a woman walked into the office. She smiled at Eldridge and extended her hand.
“Officer Kordas, reporting as ordered, sir.”
Eldridge looked her up and down. She was about the same height and build as Aynslee with blonde hair tied up in a bun. “Let your hair down, please.” Kordas removed the clips holding her hair and shook out her long, blonde tresses. Eldridge looked at Aynslee who walked over and faced the officer.
“She's supposed to be me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Aynslee took the coat and glasses from Eldridge and handed them to Kordas. “Here, put these on.” Kordas donned the jacket and sunglasses. Eldridge and Aynslee stood back and looked at her, then at each other, smiling. “Perfect!”
“Almost,” said Eldridge. “Give her your purse.” Aynslee handed it over. “Now, she's perfect,” agreed Eldridge. “Okay, let's go.” The three were joined by two officers already in the hall. Eldridge trailed behind Aynslee, looking all around him for anyone acting suspicious. The problem was everyone was standing, gawking at them.
Perfection. Absolute perfection. Her hair was gorgeous, the way it swayed back and forth as she walked, the golden blonde she now wore the exact shade he remembered. The posture was perfect, her shoulders thrust back, made her breasts appear even bigger than they already were. Her long, perfect neckline gave no indication of any excess weight. She will have a perfect body, I just know it! She's just like her! His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of the life they would spend together. He felt a stirring in his loins he hadn't had in years. She will definitely do! He admired the sway of her hips, his eyes drifting to her perfectly shaped buttocks. He imagined grabbing on to her as they made love, screaming each other’s names in ecstasy, as they climaxed together, forever sealing their bond. I have to possess her. I just need to get her alone! He smiled to himself as his plan unfolded in his mind.
It won’t be long now.
Eldridge, Aynslee, Kordas and the other two officers climbed on an elevator one officer had run ahead and held. They descended toward the parking garage, and after a few stops where the officers blocked anyone else from getting on, they reached their destination. The two officers led the way, making sure it was clear. Eldridge held the back door of his car open for Aynslee and Kordas. “Okay, Miss Kai, I want you to lie down on the floor as best you can. You will need to keep out of sight until I tell you, it's going to be awhile, though.”
“Anything, let's just get the hell out of here, something doesn't feel right.”
Eldridge knew how she felt. Something definitely didn't feel right. Looking around the busy garage he couldn’t help but think any one of the vehicles might hold their killer. Getting in the driver's seat, he started the car and headed toward the exit.
There you are! Jeremiah watched as the detective's car pulled from the parking garage. The squad car at the entrance led the way, its lights flashing and siren wailing, a second squad car, also in the garage, pulled in behind the procession. And so did he. It didn't take long for him to lose them in traffic but he wasn’t worried. He eyed his laptop, a map displayed on it showed a red blip. He had already low-jacked the detective's car days ago at Greedo's house. She's not getting away from me, Detective!
Eldridge pulled the car in front of Aynslee’s apartment building and shut off the engine. He turned back to face Kordas, careful to not look down at Aynslee. “Get the keys out of her purse.” Kordas complied and Eldridge exited the car after the four officers in the accompanying vehicles had taken their positions outside the entrance. He tossed the keys to one. “You two secure the apartment.” The two officers ran into the building as Eldridge warily eyed each passing vehicle.
“All clear,” came the call over the radio. He opened the rear door and helped Kordas from the vehicle, unable to avoid looking at Aynslee who lay grimacing on the floor, in obvious discomfort. She gave a weak smile. He didn’t acknowledge her, instead slammed the door shut and swiftly escorted Kordas toward the building entrance. His eyes continually scanned their surroundings as his hand, placed firmly on the small of her back, urged her toward the elevator. Once in the safety of the apartment, Eldridge breathed a little easier and turned to Kordas and the other two officers. “Okay, I want you two in the hall, keep your eyes open for anything suspicious. This guy has no fear so don't get cocky.” He turned to Kordas. “And you might as well get comfortable. Make sure you don't answer the phone.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Frank from the lab should be here any minute to wire up some surveillance gear so we can get some eyes and ears on the place. This is all last minute, we were expecting more time.”
“It's all good,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Hopefully he'll take the bait and we can get him.”
Eldridge placed his hand on her shoulder and looked directly in her eyes. “Don't take this lightly. He's killed over ten people already. He will find a way to get to you and you need to be ready.”
He watched her pale slightly and gulp. Her feeble, “Yes, sir,” confirmation the message had made it through.
Eldridge left the apartment, made sure both officers were in position, then waited for the elevator. When the doors opened he ran almost headlong into Frank. “Oh, hey, Detective. Sorry it took me so long to get here, I needed to get approval and then get everything together and—”
Eldridge raised his hand. “Fine. Just wire the place, I don't want anything happening to another uniform.”
“Will do, I'll be in and out in a few minutes, everything's wireless and we're not really trying to hide anything so it should be quick.”
Eldridge looked at Frank. “Something bothering you, you seem kinda jumpy tonight?”
Frank blushed. “Well, it's my first time out of the lab since, well, you know, since I was shot, so I'm kinda shittin' my pants right now.”
Eldridge laughed and slapped him on his back. “Get your work done, then get out of here, you'll be okay. Where are you guys going to be set up?”
“We've got a delivery truck across the street.”
Eldridge nodded. “Okay, scram, get it done,” he said, motioning Frank toward the door as he climbed aboard the elevator and pulled out his cell phone. Now for the final part of the plan.
Jeremiah watched from outside, his car tucked in amongst a long row of parked cars. He had seen a police tech arrive a few minutes ago and the van that dropped him off park only three spots ahead. As he listened to the police dispatch frequency in the background, something caught his attention. He turned up the volume and listened.
“—required immediately at the station, repeat, Detective Eldridge is required immediately at the station. Over.” He watched as the officer at the door acknowledged the call on his radio then triggered it again to call his partner upstairs. A couple of minutes later he watched Eldridge exit the building, talk to the officer briefly, then climb in his car and pull away.
Big mistake, Detective. Jeremiah's fingers flew over the keyboard as he put his plan into motion.
When Shakespeare knocked on the door he wasn’t sure what to expect. What he got wasn’t it, but did seem to fit with the yard’s unkempt look in an otherwise pristine middle-class neighborhood. A short, morbidly obese woman with a surly expression, stained shirt and spandex pants answered the door. “Whatdaya want?” she yelled. “Ya better not be one of them Jehovah's Witnesses!”
Pulling out his badge, Shakespeare held it up with the warrant. “Detective Shakespeare, Homicide. I have a warrant to search the premises.” He stepped across the threshold, handed her the warrant and motioned the other officers with him to proceed.
“What the hell is this?” she asked as she looked at the piece of paper he had handed her.
“I'm looking for someone who identifies himself as Elf Lord Six-Six-Six on the Internet.” Shakespeare looked around at the mess inside. Disgusting.
&
nbsp; “The Internet? I don't have no time for that crap!” She tossed the warrant back at Shakespeare. “You've got the wrong house, fatso!”
Shakespeare bit his tongue. I'm fat? Look in a mirror, lady. If you can find one big enough. “Does anyone else live here?”
“Yeah, my good for nothin' son lives in the basement. Maybe he's this Shelf Lord or whatever the hell you called him.” She turned her head and raised both hands to her mouth. “Winston! Get your lazy ass up here, now!”
Shakespeare cringed at the shrill voice. Poor Winston! He heard an, “Awww, Mom!” come from down a set of stairs to his right. He motioned to two officers and they rushed down.
“Move away from the computer!” he heard one yell as he followed them down at a much slower pace.
“Hey, what's goin' on here?” he heard someone cry as he reached the bottom. He turned the corner and couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Stacks of pizza boxes, Diet Pepsi cans, crumpled candy bar wrappers and chip bags were strewn everywhere, and tucked in amongst the garbage, a very impressive computer setup with eight flat panels and at least half a dozen computers within sight, and God knows how many hidden behind the mess. He smiled as he saw the fat, bearded geek with long hair, barely tucked back in a ponytail, the hair-tie about to fall out. Talk about stereotypes.
“Are you Elf Lord?”
“Who wants to know?” said the kid with false bravado, the desk he gripped with one hand the only thing keeping him standing.
“I'm Detective Shakespeare, Homicide.”
“H-Homicide?” The look of fear on Winston's face let Shakespeare know interrogation wasn’t going to be a problem. “Hey, I didn't do anything!”
“Someone at this location, and I'm guessing it wasn’t your mother, hacked into the Rikers Island computer system and freed a prisoner earlier this week.”
Winston’s sun starved complexion turned greyer, his eyes darted to the floor. “That wasn’t me.”
“Really.” Shakespeare moved closer to the boy and glared at him. “Talk now and we may go easy on you,” he growled.
And growling was all it took to open the floodgates. “Okay, it was me but I didn't do it for me I did it for Lonewolf. He contacted me over the net on one of the boards, it was just a bet, it was just a bet, no one was supposed to get hurt, he said he was just going to get himself arrested for fun and then I would get him released.” Winston had spilled his guts so hastily he was out of breath by the time he finished.
“And what did you get out of this?”
“Nothing, there was no money, I swear, it was just a bet.”
“Just a bet. So you're telling me that two people died just so you could have bragging rights?”
“Two people died?” This sent Winston to the floor. Shakespeare leaned over and slapped him on the face a few times. Winston came to and looked around confused before remembering where he was. “Oh shit, I had nothing to do with it, no one was supposed to get hurt!”
“Have you ever met this, what did you call him, Lone Wolf?”
“Lonewolf-Two-Zero-Four-Eight. No, I never met him, only online in a chat-room.” Winston’s adrenaline fueled rapid-fire response reminded Shakespeare of a meth addict.
“So you don't know who he is, never met him before?”
“No,” said Winston. Shakespeare turned and looked at all the equipment. “But I can find him.”
“What?” Shakespeare spun around. “What do you mean you can find him?”
“Well, if he's jacked in I mean. Let me show you.” He darted toward one of several keyboards. An officer snared him by the collar, halting the large bulk from reaching the keys.
Shakespeare waved him off. “Okay, Elf Lord, let's see if you can find our killer.”
Winston paled further and typed feverishly, desperate to save his neck. In under three minutes he stood in triumph, pointing at a screen. “There!” Shakespeare looked. It showed a map with a red circle covering about a block.
“What's this?”
“That's where he's jacked in, dude.”
“How do you know?”
“I know, dude. This is him. He's tapped some yokel's unsecured Wi-Fi and is using it for access.” Shakespeare's puzzled expression elicited a smirk. “You cops aren't too bright, are you?”
“Downtown!” said Shakespeare, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb. He pulled out his phone and called Eldridge but it went to voicemail. He looked again at the screen, the red circle covering the same block where Aynslee Kai's apartment was. As he pulled himself up the stairs he called dispatch.
Trace rubbed her eyes, yawned, then looked back at the screen. An overly cautious ADA, concerned about privacy laws, had delayed her from gaining access to the security footage from the subway. She had eventually prevailed, but had still lost over a day, a day she prayed wouldn’t cost this poor girl her life. The great thing about technology was that digital footage was much easier to go through, so she was making quick progress. She was already watching footage of Chelsie walking onto the subway platform and waving goodbye to the walking wall that was Denis.
“Ok, switch to the subway.”
Mario, the lackey assigned to her by the Transit Authority, hit a few keys on the keyboard, and the view switched to the subway car. “Just give me a moment to synch up the time codes.”
Trace didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, but didn’t let on. “Ok.”
A few seconds later the view leapt ahead, and she saw Chelsie stepping through the doors and onto the car, sitting in an empty seat near the front. She appeared to be listening to music, her head leaning against the window. At the next stop people shuffled on and off, but she remained, joined by a man reading a newspaper.
“That’s odd,” muttered Trace.
“What?”
Trace pointed at the screen. “There’s a couple of completely empty seats. Why’d he sit with her?”
“Umm, hot chick?” suggested Mario.
Trace glanced at him then back at the footage.
Possible.
A few more stops went by when they watched as Chelsie rose, and exited the subway. Trace looked at the stop. “That’s one stop before her normal stop!” Trace leaned back in her chair. “Why would she get off one stop early?”
Mario shrugged his shoulders. “Running an errand? Meeting someone?”
Trace snapped her fingers. “Show me the platform footage.”
Mario tapped a few keys and within moments they were watching her exit the subway, rushing toward the stairs, looking over her shoulder frequently.
“Looks like she thinks she’s being followed.”
Thanks, but I’ll be the detective here.
“Perhaps.” But he was right. She was definitely looking behind her. But for what?
“Let’s roll it back to the train, see if she spoke to anyone.”
“I didn’t see anything,” said Mario as he tapped away at the keyboard.
“Can you zoom in on her while she’s seated?” A few more taps and the footage, now very grainy, showed her sitting against the window, soon joined by the man. As she got up, Trace pointed. “Slow that down!”
Mario complied. “Why? What do you see?”
“Watch.”
Chelsie slowly rose. The man swung his legs into the aisle, and Chelsie squeezed by. The man’s upper body distinctly lifted off the back of his seat, and leaned toward her. As she cleared the seat, he leaned back into a proper position, but Chelsie’s head had rapidly turned toward the man, then back again, and her pace quickened. Had he said something, or touched her somehow?
“Let’s follow him.”
Mario let the tape play forward, and at the next stop they watched as he rose from the seat, and walked directly under the camera as he disembarked, giving them a clear shot of his face.
“What the hell is he doing there?”
“Who?”
Trace ignored him. It can’t be! “Zoom in on his face and enhance it as best you can.”
And it scared the hell out of her.
She flipped open her phone and made a call her wildest nightmares couldn’t conjure. “Dispatch, I need the current location of Vincent Fantino, Crime Scene Unit.”
Police Officer Kordas, Janet to her friends, eyed the apartment, disappointed. Not what I expected. One bedroom, a cramped kitchen, but a decent sized living area. Either this reporter wasn’t that successful, or liked to live frugally. Recent success? There was evidence of a lot of new purchases including a large Panasonic plasma, sitting on its stand but not yet hooked up. She wasn’t much into TV, especially the news, which may explain why she had never heard of this reporter they were protecting, but this night was going to be awfully boring without a television to distract her. She wandered into the bedroom and began to poke through the drawers before the cameras arrived. At least you’re in here, and not out in the hall. With only two years on the force, she knew she was chosen for this assignment for one reason. Blonde with big tits. Oh well, maybe the girls will get me noticed for the right reason if I help catch this guy. She opened a dresser drawer. Ooh, these are nice! She reached in to feel what appeared to be the reporter’s lingerie store when there was a knock at the door.
She slammed the dresser door shut, as if caught with her hand in the silk cookie jar, and quickly made her way to the entrance, her guilty heart pounding in her chest. She knew it had to be the lab tech, Frank “something”, what with two of her buddies in the hallway. She opened the door, expecting dweeb central and was pleasantly surprised at how cute he was.
“Hi, you must be Frank,” she said, extending her hand.
He was carrying several cases and stuck his hand out, the case it was already carrying almost falling to the floor as his eyes dropped from her face to her chest and back up. “Uh, sorry, I, ah, well, ah.”
Dweeb it is. Oh well. “Let me give you a hand with that,” she said, taking the case instead.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling awkwardly. “I’ll just need a few minutes and I’ll be out of your hair.”
She followed him into the living area and placed the case on the floor. “Anything I can do to help?”
He flipped open one of the cases then looked at her, shaking his head. “No, thanks, I’m faster when I work alone.”
She sat down, one foot on the floor, the other up on the couch, her knee in the air, her pose a little provocative. Why not have a little fun? Frank looked at her for a moment, and dropped one of the cameras. He looked back at the case, and went about placing cameras and other equipment throughout the apartment, careful to never look in her direction. He came out of the bedroom and closed the cases.
“All done, I guess I'll be outta here,” he said, continuing to avoid looking at her.
Now to close the deal. She got up off the couch and stepped closer, smiling. “Would you mind hooking up the TV for me? It's gonna be incredibly boring if I have to sit here all night with no entertainment.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. “Aahh, I don't know, I'm not supposed to touch any of her stuff.”
She could tell he just needed a little more convincing. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Brata, Frank Brata.”
“Oooh!” she gushed. “Aren't you the guy who got shot in the chest the other night!”
He smiled shyly and looked at the floor. “Yeah, that was me.”
She stepped forward and placed her hand gently on his chest, a slight pout pursed her lips. “Do your ribs still hurt?”
“Yeah, they're still pretty tender.” Taking a step back, he looked over at the TV. “You know, I guess there's no harm in hooking this up, it'll just take me a few minutes.”
Schoolgirl act works every time! She watched as he busied himself hooking up cables and within minutes he was true to his word.
“You’re all set!” he said, grabbing his cases.
She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Frankie!” He blushed as he scurried for the door. She chuckled to herself as she sat down and flicked on the TV.
Once he’s been on a few dates, he could be a heartbreaker,
Jeremiah pulled up to the parking garage entrance to Aynslee Kai’s apartment building and swiped the parking pass he had cloned weeks before. The garage door rose, and he drove in, parking as close to the elevators as he could. He had planned this for some time. It was relatively easy to hack the condo's computer system and find an apartment above Aynslee's undergoing renovation and therefore empty. He climbed out of the car and looked about for any of the protective detail he had seen earlier. Finding the garage empty, he removed a large duffel bag from the trunk, entered the elevator and hit the button for the twelfth floor. This is too easy! He rocked back and forth on his heels as he watched the numbers count up, bypassing all of the police there to stop him. The light flashed on the ninth floor, the floor that he knew his target lived on, and his heart skipped a beat as his imagination had him thinking it was about to stop. The tenth floor lit and he exhaled.
On the twelfth floor, the doors opened and he poked his head out, looking in both directions. Again he was alone. He quickly headed toward the vacant apartment, and opened it with the key he had made a copy of by breaking into the super’s apartment two weeks before.
Secure in the apartment three floors directly above his target, he threw the duffel bag in front of the balcony doors and opened it, removing a climbing harness and a length of rope. Donning the harness, he fastened the ropes to the balcony’s steel frame, then attached them to his harness. His heart pounded. He had only done this in an indoor rock-climbing park previously, never twelve stories in the air. He stepped over the balcony railing and placed his feet on the edge. Pushing off, he let some rope slip through his carabineer and he dropped like a stone, his poor technique leaving his legs swinging under the balcony of the floor below him. He let some more rope out and dropped to the tenth floor balcony railing. Seeing someone watching TV inside, he immediately let himself drop some more and purposefully overshot the ninth floor. Dangling precariously in between the eighth and ninth floor balconies, he reached up and steadied himself on the underside of Aynslee's balcony. He took a moment to catch his breath, then slowly pulled himself back up to where he had a view of the apartment from the bottom of the balcony railing.
Holy shit!
Janet checked the TiVo to see what a television celebrity taped when she thought she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. She threw the remote down and grabbed her gun, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Something moved! She was sure of it. Something had definitely moved out there. Walking to the windows occupying the entire outside wall, she peered out to see what had drawn her attention, but all she saw was the city skyline. Must have been a reflection on one of the buildings across the street. Turning, she sat back down on the couch and placed her weapon on the table in front of her, cursing herself for her paranoia. She kept eyeing the balcony. But I’m sure I saw something. She stood up, deciding to check the bedroom.
Jeremiah was pissed. Staring down the barrel of a gun had at first scared the shit out of him, but when he focused on who was holding the gun, it had turned to anger. This was not Aynslee Kai. The woman did bear a striking resemblance to her, but it definitely wasn’t her. Well done, Detective! He had to admit a begrudging respect for this man who had managed to find him sooner than he had expected, and had now delayed him achieving his final goal. He gripped the edge of the balcony, frozen in place, until she finally left the window and put her gun down. He let out the breath he was holding, and took stock of his situation. He couldn’t stay, he had to move. Up wasn’t an option with her staring out the window, and he didn’t have enough rope for down.
Then came his break. She suddenly stood up, and left the room. He furiously pulled on the Jumar ascender, reaching the next floor before she returned. He continued his ascent, and soon grasp
ed the bottom of the twelfth floor balcony and pulled himself to safety, tumbling over the railing and onto his back, his muscles screaming in agony. He lay for a moment, gasping, then slammed his fists on the concrete, willing himself to his feet. He scrambled out of the harness and raced from the apartment. He ran to the elevator, hit the down button, then sprinted toward the stairwell at the other end of the hall.
Janet checked the windows again, and, satisfied they were still secure, headed back into the living area. But something still bothered her. She was sure she had seen something. Her weapon still drawn, she approached the door to the balcony. Looking carefully, all she saw were the city lights spread out across the entire view. Then she saw it. Some lights twinkled. She turned the lock for the balcony door and slid it open. Peering up and around to make sure the balcony was clear, she inched toward the railing and looked over at the ground below. Something hit her arm. She jumped back and spun her weapon around but saw nothing. Suddenly it jumped out at her as clear as if it were daytime. Ropes! She rushed to the railing and leaned over backward, pointing her weapon up. The ropes dangled above her but she couldn’t tell what floor they came from. Rushing back into the apartment, she snatched the radio from the table.
“He's here!”
Janet's call sent everyone in the surveillance van into a panic. Immediately a call went out for backup as they scrambled to find out what she was talking about, none of them having seen anything. “Get in that apartment!” yelled Frank over the radio. He watched Kordas run to the door and open it for the officers stationed in the hallway. A moment later her voice came over the radio.
“There's ropes hanging outside the balcony! It looks like he rappelled from above!”
This new information had them rolling back the living room footage that included a view of the balcony. “There!” said Frank, pointing at the screen. For a brief instance they saw somebody drop from above then a few minutes later climb back up. Frank looked at the time index and got on the radio. “He began climbing up less than five minutes ago, he's gotta still be in the building!” They pored over the footage, desperately trying to find any sign of their suspect.
“This is Calvin in the lobby, there's an elevator coming down from the twelfth floor, it could be him, over.”
Jeremiah flew down the stairwell, taking the steps two and three at a time. He knew if they were on to him, the elevators would be suicide. He suspected his little diversion would keep the officer in the lobby occupied, but would it be long enough? Leaping over the stairs he rapidly made his way down, and in less than a minute, passed the ninth floor where he was sure most of the officers were stationed. He knew if he were chased it would most likely be from above, but with one cop in the lobby, and one outside, he could still be intercepted.
Police Officer Calvin pressed the buttons to call elevators both up and down. The second elevator door opened, its up indicator lit. He reached in and sent it to the top floor, then pressed the up button again and waited, his weapon drawn and pointing at the door. The elevator stopped on the third floor then resumed its descent. “Elevator stopped on the third floor, he may have got off there, over,” radioed Calvin. His partner raced in from outside and drew his weapon as well. Calvin's heart pounded as the chime sounded and the doors opened. They were met with a scream and barking as a young woman holding a lapdog in her arms covered her face. Calvin reached in and pulled her from the elevator as his partner entered, confirming it was empty. “Was anyone else on this elevator with you, ma'am?”
“N-no,” she stammered. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“What floor did you get on at?”
“What?”
“What floor!”
“The third, the third floor!”
“Did anyone get off at that floor?”
“No, it was empty when I got on.”
Calvin frowned and got on his radio. “Suspect was not in the elevator, repeat, suspect was not in the elevator. We're going to check the stairwells, you two stay where you are, he may make another attempt, over.”
“Where's the stairwell?” he asked the still frightened woman. She pointed a shaking finger to the other side of the lobby. Turning to his partner, he said, “Okay, you cover the entrance, I'll check the stairwell.” Running toward the lobby’s far end he tore open the door and listened for footsteps. Nothing.
Jeremiah heard the door above him open as he entered the parking garage. Wasting no time, he ran to his strategically parked car, jumped in and turned the key he had left in the ignition. The engine roared to life and he floored it, heading to the exit.
Calvin listened intently for any sound but heard nothing at first, then a door clicked shut below him, the pneumatic hinge having finished its job. With weapon drawn, he rushed down the two flights of steps and cautiously opened the door. Peering out, he saw no one, and triggered his radio. “He might be in the parking garage, over.” He stepped into the garage and spun around with his weapon and flashlight held out in front of him. A squealing of tires to his right sent him running toward the garage exit. Grabbing his radio, he yelled, “Stop anything coming out of the parking garage!”
Officer Parker heard the call come in but it was too late. He had already gone inside to join his partner in the parking garage when the call came in about the car. Sprinting outside he saw nothing, the perpetual traffic of the busy New York streets providing ample cover for any car that may have just exited the parking garage. His radio crackled. “Be advised, Homicide has reason to believe your suspect is in the vicinity, over.”
Gee, ya think? “Roger that dispatch, suspect has already fled the vicinity, over.” He watched as his partner rushed from the entrance to the parking garage and looked over at him. He shrugged his shoulders, raising both hands, palms upward.
Aynslee waited for the automatic garage door opener to finish its job. It had been over an hour, and she was in more pain than she ever remembered being in, making the garage door’s interminable descent seem even longer than it was. She heard the motor stop and Hayden turned around, looking over the seat at her. “Okay, it's safe now.” He got out of the car and opened the back door.
“It's about time, I thought we’d never get here!” Aynslee had lost all feeling in her legs and her side ached. She took Hayden’s hand and he helped pull her out. She took a tentative step but collapsed, her legs numb. He caught her and helped her toward the door. “Thanks.” She winced as her feet began to tingle. “Oh my God, that hurts.”
“What?”
“I'm just starting to get some feeling back in my feet,” she said as she tried to walk, leaning heavily on Hayden. “God, I hate that feeling!” He helped her into the house and placed her on a couch in his living room. “Thanks,” she said gratefully as she gingerly placed her feet on the floor. Grimacing through the pain, she wiggled her toes and tried moving her feet around. Slowly the tingling spread upward and eventually subsided as her circulation was restored. Now only the pain in her side remained. She began stretching to try and work it out as she looked at her surroundings. It wasn’t at all what she expected. It was clearly a carefully restored older home, the furnishings and accessories matching the period. “This is a beautiful house you have, Detective.” Her stomach grumbled. Hayden smiled. “You heard that?”
“I think the neighbors did too.”
“Yeah, I guess I'm pretty hungry.”
“Okay, I'll go fix us something, you wait here. The remote's on the table.” He headed toward the kitchen as she turned on the TV. She feigned interest for a couple of minutes then decided to take the opportunity to pursue her latest hobby, detectives named Hayden. Walking down the hallway she found him busy in the kitchen arranging various cold meats and cheeses on a tray. “Feeling better?” he asked.
“Yeah, still pretty stiff but I can walk again.” Looking around she saw a quite modern kitchen that ran contrary to the remainder of the house. An antique kitchen table and chairs sitting atop an ornate oval rug at the opposite end fro
m the cupboards was illuminated by an elaborate antique lamp hanging above. She watched as Hayden deftly sliced a tomato. “You're pretty handy in the kitchen.”
“Well, I'm not a fan of processed foods. I guess as a kid I just learned to like the taste of fresh ingredients, so it was either learn to cook for myself or accept the blandness of boxed food.”
“Oh, you wouldn't like my fridge then. The freezer is just a stack of microwaveable food and the fridge is leftover takeout and condiments.”
He finished quickly and carried the tray to the kitchen table. “Grab the buns, please?” Aynslee flashed to another pair of buns she'd like to grab, but picked up the basket on the counter instead. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Red wine if you've got it. I could really use a glass.” Or three.
“Of course,” said Hayden as he walked back to the counter. Removing a cork from an already opened bottle, he poured a glass. Returning with her wine and a glass of water for himself, he sat down and motioned to the tray. “Bon appétit!”
Aynslee smiled and assembled a sandwich, ravenous with hunger. When the flurry of activity ended, Hayden began preparing his own as she waited politely for him to finish.
“Please, go ahead, I know how hungry you must be.”
“Thanks.” She took a huge bite, and had eaten half of her sandwich before he finished making his. She took a sip of wine and wiped her mouth with a napkin from the tray. “I'm sorry, I must disgust you, but I haven't eaten since lunch and that was only soup and a salad.”
“No need to apologize, it's always a pleasure to see someone enjoy a meal you've prepared.” He took a large bite of the ham and Swiss sandwich he had prepared for himself.
After devouring the rest of her sandwich, Aynslee sat back and sipped the wine. She looked over at Hayden and realized it was the first time in a week she felt truly safe. She smiled at him.
He finished chewing his food and swallowed. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “Do you think your little ruse worked?”
He nodded. “Yes, it came in over the scanner that he was at your apartment just as we got here.”
Aynslee shivered. “Is everybody okay, that cop who's pretending to be me? Is she okay?”
“Yes, no one got hurt but unfortunately he got away.”
Her anxiety returned. “There's no way he could know we're here, is there?”
“I don't see how. We were twenty minutes away when he was sighted at your building. Nobody knows you're here so we should be fine.” He watched as she took a long drink of her wine, draining the glass. “Another?”
“Please.” He retrieved the bottle, poured another glass and sat down. They continued in silence for a few minutes as he finished his sandwich and she enjoyed the relaxing feeling of the wine as it spread through her system.
“Can I get you anything else?”
Aynslee yawned. “No, I'm stuffed, thanks.”
“Well, would you like to go to bed now, or relax in the living room? Your choice.”
She did feel sleepy and knew she could fall asleep right now, but she wanted to have as much awake time with Hayden as possible. “Let's go in the living room for a while, I'd like to unwind a little before going to bed.”
He nodded and cleared the table. She got up to help him but he waved her off. “No, I'll take care of it. You go see if there's something interesting to watch on TV.”
She smiled appreciatively and headed from the kitchen, enjoying the sounds of Hayden cleaning up, humming as he did so. She walked toward the living room then felt strange, as if the wine had hit her harder than she expected. She stumbled into the wall as the world spun around her. What's going on? Holding herself up with the wall, she knew something was definitely wrong. This isn't the wine, I've been drugged! Panic overwhelmed her as she slid to the floor, losing control of her legs, wondering how she would warn Hayden. She looked down the hall toward the kitchen and saw Hayden step into the hallway. “He's here,” she slurred, looking up at him as he knelt down in front of her.
TWELVE