The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel

by Torbert, R. J. ;

  “You were the one who got William Lance to leave town, not to mention offer the bail to get Patty released. It was you who purposely called off security at the mansion, and it was you who got Simpson to agree to be a player in this, including lunch with Rachelle. You kept all of this to yourself.”

  “No,” Cronin answered. “Simpson was threatened by me to be a part of this. Rachelle wanted to help, but I told her she couldn’t speak to anyone about it. I made her change her number and knew O’Connor would find a way to get her number once the tweets started coming out on Twitter.”

  Paul moved closer to his desk as he asked, “And why the use of the Ghost Face photo applications?”

  Cronin looked at Paul and said, “Because the only uncertainty I had was just how involved you were, Paul. Your judgment was clouded from the minute Rachelle’s life was in danger, and I was going to draw you, Madison, or Phil out by getting Patty released on bail and leaving antagonizing messages and photos on the Internet.”

  Bud spoke up, asking, “Yet you kept Paul on the case with me?”

  “Yes,” Cronin said. “First of all, I didn’t know how much you knew and were hiding and if Paul was the vigilante. I knew he wouldn’t hurt you or Rachelle, so yes I kept him on the case. The vigilante killer was imperative to the kidnapping and the murder case.”

  “Why,” Bud continued, “did you not want us to see the sketch Lindsey drew?”

  Cronin replied, “What was the point? Lindsey identified him already to me. I needed this to play out, and by not showing you, I still controlled the moves. I felt strongly about not having other opinions cloud my judgment. I was going to live or die with my decisions. Assistant District Attorney Ashley would have received the envelope and been in charge of an arrest if something had happened to me.”

  With that, the detective lieutenant pulled out the envelope he had received that morning from Officer Lynagh and opened it up to see a perfect sketch of Jason “Jack” O’Connor.

  “What about him?” Paul asked.

  “He’s going away for the rest of his life,” Cronin answered. “The FBI and Sherman have been extremely cooperative and will continue to be. The three men that you guys took care of at the Wilkerson house were cronies of O’Connor and did special projects for him. It’s likely they killed Phil Smith and stashed the money somewhere. He just couldn’t resist when he found out about the cash. He had no idea the vigilante Ghost Face would be a factor in the case and in reality destroy any opportunity he or they had in getting away. Anyway, guys, I have a meeting with Assistant District Attorney Ashley in five minutes. Good job. We will be moving back to Yaphank next week, then I will be taking a week off.”

  “Does that mean class is dismissed?” Bud asked with a smile. Cronin looked at both of his detectives and said, “Is that a sarcastic or respectful comment?”

  “Well,” Bud said, “I guess it’s a little of both, Professor.”

  Paul said, “We are going to have dinner tomorrow night with everyone at Z Pita to celebrate the end of this. Would you like to join us?”

  “No,” the boss replied. “You guys enjoy; you don’t need me around. I will be with the police commissioner, District Attorney Steinberg, and Ashley at Cavenaugh’s having a few beers and burgers. Get your paperwork in order, guys.”

  Bud and Paul walked over to their desks, and Bud told Paul he would be back, that he had something to do. As he walked out of the building, Internal Affairs officer Steve Rubelli walked in to Cronin’s office.

  “Now what?” the detective lieutenant asked.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Rubelli said. “You guys destroy a house and kill three guys last night, and you ask me that question. I’m not even going to go there. It’s Bud Johnson, your detective. First he shoots Kyle Winters in the groin, then he shoots O’Connor in the ass. Anything to say? Or does he just have a sick sense of humor?”

  Cronin replied, “He probably saved their lives by injuring them.”

  Rubelli spoke again, saying, “O’Connor claims that Johnson made the comment, 'I always wanted to shoot you in the ass.’”

  Cronin stood up and said, “I didn’t hear him say that. I was too busy trying to prevent more killings of innocent people and fellow cops.”

  Cronin stared at Rubelli, hoping he would get the message. The IA detective thought about Cronin’s words and said, “I agree with you. Enjoy Disney World.”

  With that he did an Elvis and left the building.

  Bud got in his car and called Officer Lynagh to find out what was happening with Healey at the hospital and Lindsey. The officer told Bud that the young girl fell asleep at the hospital and they took her home.

  “I need a favor,” Bud told Lynagh.

  As Detective Johnson pulled on to Cliff Street, he stopped on the side of the road near the security building where Allan had worked and died.

  “Rest in peace, Allan. We will miss you.” He called Deborah to tell her the case was over and hoped she didn’t mind he was speaking with her.

  “You really are funny,” she answered. “We will be at the house tomorrow.”

  “Good,” he said. “You can have dinner with us tomorrow if you would like.”

  As he sat on the side of the road, Lynagh drove up with his cruiser, with Simpson in the back. It was evident that the officer had picked up Simpson and brought him to Bud. Lynagh walked up to Bud’s car as Bud sat in the backseat with Simpson alone.

  “So what are your plans, Robert Simpson?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Simpson answered. “This is the fifth time Lynagh has brought me somewhere. I’m going to sue your department. Cronin threatened my life, my whole being, to flush these guys out. I didn’t want any part of this, and he put me in the middle of it against my will. He even told me evidence might get mixed up and a jury would find it hard to believe I wasn’t involved. I will have his career.”

  Bud slapped his face as Lynagh turned his back to them. Bud said, “This is what I’m telling you is going to happen. I’m not going to let you ruin a good cop’s career. Me I don’t care about. When asked, you are going to say you willingly participated in this to bring the kidnappers to justice. If you say anything else, I will see to it that your life is fucked up forever. I have a lot of friends inside and outside of the jail. Think about what I am saying. I will have no problem putting a bullet in your ass as well as screwing the rest of your life up. Do you understand me?” Simpson was in shock and was silent as Bud spoke again. “Do I have to slap you again?”

  “No,” Simpson replied. “I understand.”

  Bud gently patted the side of his face and said, “Good boy. Now I’m going to have Officer Lynagh over there take you back to the Lance Mansion so you can finish packing up the rest of your things so you are out 100 percent by tomorrow, and I don’t want to see you again unless Deborah calls you.”

  With that, Bud walked over to Lynagh sitting in his vehicle, and they switched places again so Lynagh could take him back to the mansion.

  Bud drove back to the precinct to find Paul still working on his paperwork. He saw Assistant District Attorney Ashley speaking with Cronin and wished he could hear what they were talking about. Inside the room, Ashley was privately telling Detective Lieutenant Cronin interpretation of the laws and what he expected during the trials of Jack O’Connor and Madison Robinson.

  “Green for the Robinson trial,” Cronin said. “He is sensitive to public outcry and sympathy.”

  “He still has to follow the law, Kevin,” Ashley replied.

  “Yes,” Cronin replied, “but maybe he will remember that laws are made by the people, and people are often wrong.”

  Paul got up from his desk to go check in on Rachelle and then Healey at the hospital.

  “Later,” Bud said.

  As soon as Paul left for Mather Hospital, Bud called to speak to Lindsey to see how she was doing. Once Paul arrived at the hospital,
he was told Officer Healey would recover within the next seven to ten days. He was lucky that many of the pellets had hit his vest, but he had been caught in the spray of fire in the shoulder, arm, and leg. Paul was thinking how lucky Lynagh actually was because he wasn’t hit at all lying on the floor. During his visit, Healey told him Lindsey had been sending messages to him at the hospital.

  “Looks like you have a friend for life,” Paul replied.

  “Looks like I do,” the officer replied.

  After seeing Officer Healey, Paul walked into O’Connor’s room and stared at the agent under arrest for a couple of minutes. Without saying a word, he pulled out photos that he had been carrying with him. He said, “Take a look at these. These are the photos of people and families you ruined.” O’Connor moved his head and looked at the photos without saying a word.

  “Why do you think I care?” O’Connor replied.

  “I know you don’t,” Paul replied, “but I keep my promises. Once you are in your jail cell, I will do everything I can to make sure these photos and more are hanging on your walls.”

  The agent started laughing and said, “Good luck with that. Even prisoners have rights.”

  As Paul started to leave, O’Connor said, “Your friend shot me in the ass.”

  “Sorry,” Paul answered. “I’m sorry. No, wait, I’m not. I want to see you live and have years in prison looking at the images of families that you ruined on your walls. I don’t want you thinking about anything else the rest of your life,” he said as the door shut.

  Paul left the hospital and drove to Prospect Street to check on Rachelle. She answered the door and greeted him warmly.

  “Rachelle,” Paul said, “I know it’s difficult, but I will be here to help and advise you through this if you need it. One thing is for certain, Madison will be away for a bit, but if you need me, I will be here.”

  Rachelle hugged him, thanked him, and shed a few tears. She told him the whole Newsday, Twitter thing would be placed on hold and that she would be returning to Z Pita while thinking about her future. Paul told her they would be at the restaurant the next night with a few people, including Deborah Lance, and it would be nice if she was there. She thanked him again but told him she needed time to think about how she was going to help Madison for a while.

  Before he left, Paul had to ask, “Rachelle, why did you agree to take the calls, make the calls, have lunch with Simpson, and let Cronin take over your Twitter account?”

  She looked at him directly in the eyes and said, “To prove your innocence, but mostly because I believe in you.” Paul was touched by her words and hugged her very tightly before leaving.

  Bud walked outside of the precinct at 8:30pm for it had taken him the entire day and evening to file his paperwork on the case. It was starting to get dark as he looked up at the stars. “Thank you, I guess I need to make good on my promise that no other innocent person died since my last talk with you. I know I have a ways to go, especially with my language, but a promise is a promise. I will speak to you more and I will work hard on what I say. I hope you don’t mind that I ask Lindsey questions here and there. She has more faith than anyone I know and it had to be someone like you to make a special girl like that. The only thing is have mercy for her future husband. OK, that’s it for now. Peace and thank you.”

  Saturday, July 8 One Week Later

  Bud and Paul were requested to stop by the Wilkerson house from the family and as they walked in the house which was still in disarray from the gun fire, Lindsey told them to come in the den. Inside was the mother of the puppies that Lindsey had talked to Officer Healey about.

  “They are too young to give away now,” Lindsey told them, “but in two to three weeks, I want to give one to you Bud, you Paul and Officer Healey.” The detectives were very touched by her gesture and they whispered to each other for a few seconds then Paul spoke.

  “Lindsey, we are very honored that you would want to give these to us but if it’s OK with you, we know someone who would not only appreciate them but will need company for a while. It’s Rachelle and she will be alone because of everything that has happened. Is it OK with you if Bud and I give ours to her to take care of?” Lindsey thought for a moment and said, “They are yours, you do what you want as long as she gives them a good home.” They hugged her and spoke with her parents for a few minutes before going to Rachelle’s house to give her the news.

  Rachelle was touched by the gesture and hugged them both and told them how much she liked the attorney Bud set up with her for Madison. After about fifteen minutes with her, they got in the car and as they drove to the precinct, Bud looked at Paul in the passenger seat, “I owe you.”

  “Paul replied, “I’m your partner.”

  “No,” Bud said. “I handcuffed you and was having you picked up. You responded by saving my life, Dugan’s life and quite possibly Lynagh’s life by backing him up while he wouldn’t move from the floor. I really owe you.”

  “Well,” Paul said, “since you insist,” he took out an envelope and gave it to Bud. “Don’t open it ’til dinner tonight. You have a chance to make things even.” He put the envelope in Bud’s shirt pocket. As Bud kept turning his head in disbelief at Paul, “You were prepared for this?”

  “Yes,” Paul said as they both started to laugh. “One more thing,” Paul added, “don’t think I didn’t notice that you knew Kellie Martin was in Life Goes On. Bud looked down with a smile, then over at Paul.

  “You got me my partner, but you have to admit, she was adorable in that show.”

  Paul nodded as he spoke again. “The moral of the story, it’s simple, good never get’s old.”

  “I like that,” Bud said. “Good never gets old.”

  “Can I trademark that?”

  “Good luck,” Paul replied.

  Dinner at Z Pita was bittersweet. Joey Z put a table together for Paul, Bud, Sherry, Lynagh, Chapman, Lindsey, her parents and Deborah. They were missing Rachelle as well as Healey and Dugan to injury as well as Detective Lieutenant Cronin who was at Cavenaugh’s in Blue Point on the south shore of Long Island. It was a dinner of thanks as well as a dinner of toasts and they were all treated to a special conversation between Lindsey and Bud. As she grabbed her fork to eat, Bud said, “You are left-handed?”

  The young girl smiled and said, “Yes I am.”

  “And how rare is that?”

  Lindsey replied, “A two percent probability.”

  Bud threw his arms up in the air. “I got you! It’s more like ten to fifteen percent probability. Yay! Got you!” Lindsey just stared at him and replied, “Are you finished? Both my parents are right handed which makes it a two percent probability I would be left handed. And as for the ten to fifteen percent of the population that are left handed there are more boys than girls that are southpaws.”

  “OK,” Bud said, “I won’t ask where the term southpaw comes from.”

  “Actually,” Lindsey said.

  “Oh God,” Bud said. As everyone was laughing Lindsey continued, “The baseball diamond was usually developed to protect the batters from the late afternoon sun so the pitcher faced west and that meant if he was left-handed, he was known as a southpaw.”

  “Would you do me a favor?” Bud asked. “Make sure you invite me to your wedding. I would really love to meet the lucky man.” Lindsey just gave him a face as the table continued to laugh. Paul spoke up.

  “OK Bud, open the envelope, read it and tell me if you want to make things up to me.” Bud took the envelope out, opened it up and read it. Bud’s reaction had everyone puzzled while Paul was laughing.

  “No! Don’t do this to me! Please! You are so cruel!” He kept shaking his head. “OK, OK. I have no choice. Three weeks from tonight everyone make yourselves available at Danfords. Healey and Dugan will be out of the hospital and I’m sure Rachelle will be back. Everyone promise?” They all couldn’t wait to see what it was so they all
agreed.

  When Deborah got home, her father was waiting for her to show her a note, it said in letters cut out from magazines. Here is your money minus $300,000 to help in the defense of Madison Robinson. I hope you don’t mind. Your discretion would be appreciated. William Lance thought it was the least he could accept considering Madison saved his daughter’s life.

  Sunday, July 9

  Al Simmons got home to his apartment after a long day with Madison Robinson. It didn’t matter it was a Sunday. He dropped his briefcase on his desk and noticed a package on his chair with a note on it cut out from magazines. “Here in this package is $300,000 dollars toward the defense of Madison. Use it well, do your best, work hard and be discreet.”

  Three Weeks Later Epilogue July 30

  District Attorney Steinberg made good on his word to John Ashley and Kevin Cronin to have Judge Green handle the trial. Normally this is not normal protocol but he did pull enough strings. Al Simmons was working hard preparing for Madison’s defense and he had won over the respect of Detective Powers and Johnson during these past few weeks.

  The Attorney believed strongly that with the notoriety of the case and the public outcry for Madison to be treated with sympathy rather than anger was something he would take advantage of. He sat down with Rachelle and explained to her patiently the argument he was going to make. He explained to her that Madison would definitely go to jail, for the last thing the police department could ever condone is a vigilante running the streets. He studied the penal code and found section 125.25 subdivision 1A which states,

  There is an affirmative defense, when the defendant acted under the influence of extreme emotional disturbance for which there was a reasonable explanation or excuse. The reasonableness of which is to be determined from the viewpoint of a person in the defendants situation under the circumstances as the defendant believed them to be. Nothing contained in this paragraph shall constitute the defense to a prosecution for or preclude a conviction of manslaughter in the 1st degree or any other crime.