The Ackerman Thrillers Boxset: 1-6

by Ethan Cross

  The look on Andrew’s face illustrated his feelings about the place. “It’s only temporary,” Marcus said.

  “It had better be.”

  “How’s the family holding up?”

  “About as you’d expect,” Andrew said. “But I don’t get it. Why didn’t we just let Schofield come to his family and grab him then? Why the ruse of a kidnapping?”

  “Because if Conlan has those women, they’ll be dead by tonight. We don’t have time for an interrogation. Conlan is extremely unstable and delusional. There’s no way to predict what he’ll do. We need Schofield to believe that his family’s lives are on the line. If we threaten to take away what he loves, he’ll give us Conlan.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I still don’t like it. Maggie or I should be going with you.”

  “We don’t have enough manpower. I’ll have Stupak with me, and we’ll need his help once we have a location on the women. Besides, I can handle Schofield.”

  Andrew’s phone dinged, and he glanced at the screen and shook his head.

  “What was that?” Marcus said.

  Andrew laughed. “Nothing. I’m just playing Scrabble online with Allen. He’s getting stir crazy in that bed. He’s not used to lying around.”

  “How’s the game going?”

  “Allen’s killing me. The Professor has a pretty impressive vocabulary. Maggie’s on her way to visit him now, and she wanted to stop in and check on that old man who she saved. You should go see Allen, too. You’ve got some time before the meeting with Schofield. The hospital is on the way.”

  “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

  “What happened to him wasn’t your fault. You know that, right? Nobody blames you. Least of all Allen.”

  Marcus said nothing. He just nodded and headed for the only closed door in the house. He knocked, and a voice on the other side told him to come in. When he opened the door, a little orange dog yapped at him. Eleanor Schofield sat on the yellow linoleum floor, playing Candyland with her son and youngest daughter. She was trying to smile and put on a good face for the kids, but he could see the sadness and pain behind her eyes.

  “Can I have a word?” Marcus said.

  She nodded and followed him into the living room where Andrew sat on the couch fiddling with his phone.

  He closed the door behind her and said, “I just wanted to thank you for your cooperation on this.”

  “I’m doing it for those missing women, not for you.” She gestured toward a lock that Andrew had installed on the outside of the door and said, “Are we prisoners here? You stuck us in a room with a lock and no windows.”

  “It’s for your own protection. Hopefully, this will all be over very soon.”

  “My husband’s not a monster.”

  “I never said that he was.”

  Marcus could see her eyes taking on a watery sheen. Her voice was hoarse and trembling. “I just can’t accept that it was all a lie. He’s a good man. I know he is. He’s sick, and he needs help.”

  “I don’t think your husband is a monster or evil. I used to think of men like him in those terms because it was easier to wrap my mind around. It’s difficult to accept that we all have darkness in our hearts. We’re all sinners and saints. Just to varying degrees. We’re all capable of inflicting pain and hatred on this world, and we’re all capable of showing compassion and love. I believe in evil, but I don’t think that it lives in your husband. He is sick, but I also can’t let him go on hurting people because of it.”

  Eleanor looked away and whispered, “I know.”

  “There’s something else that you should keep in mind. I believe that this plan is going to work only because of how strongly your husband loves you and your children. And no matter what happens, you should hang on to that.”

  111

  Vasques looked pale. All manner of tubes and bandages coiled around her sleeping form, and her eyes fluttered behind closed lids. Marcus had grown accustomed to her sweet floral scent, but rubbing alcohol and cleaning fluids had bleached that away. Its absence made her seem like less of the person he had known, as though a part of her had already died.

  A blond-haired man with pasty white features sat next to her bed, his hand folded around hers. The man wore a white button-down shirt. It was untucked and a black tie hung loosely around his neck. His eyes were bloodshot.

  The blond man glanced in Marcus’s direction but didn’t say a word. Still, Marcus noticed his breathing change as if he were angry at being disturbed. “Are you Vasques’s brother?” Marcus said.

  “No, I’m her partner. Special Agent LaPaglia.”

  “It’s good to meet you. I’m Special Agent Marcus Williams from the DOJ. Vasques and I were working this case together.” He stuck out his hand, but LaPaglia didn’t return the gesture. After a moment, Marcus’s hand fell back to his side. He asked, “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s stable. They think she’s out of the woods.” LaPaglia shook his head. “It’s your fault that this happened.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “It was your idea to use Belacourt to draw the others in. You should have taken him into custody like any other suspect and interrogated him. It’s your little game that caused this.”

  “Vasques isn’t the kind of woman that needs to be told what to do. It was her call on how to handle Belacourt. But if I’d have been there at the scene, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

  LaPaglia sprang from the hospital chair and shoved his hands against Marcus’s chest, pushing him back. “You saying that I didn’t have her back? Get out! You’re not welcome here.”

  Marcus raised his hands in surrender and backed toward the door. He knew better than to argue with someone whose vision had been clouded by grief and doubt and a lack of sleep. He turned to leave but then stopped himself. “LaPaglia, someone recently gave me some good advice that I’ll pass on to you. When she wakes up, tell her how you really feel.”

  *

  Allen’s hospital room was the same as Marcus remembered. The same antiseptic smell filled the air. Same shades of blue, same furniture, same machines beeping and whirring. But the mood was different. When he had been here before, there’d been a somber aura smothering everything and that had colored his memories of the place. But now Allen was sitting up and laughing along with his wife and Maggie. He still had the tubes connected to his arms and running into his nose and the doctors still weren’t sure if he would walk again, but at least he was smiling and the color had returned to his cheeks.

  Allen leaned over a rolling tray full of food that he was shoveling into his mouth as though he hadn’t eaten in a week. “This food tastes like you cooked it, Loren,” Allen said to his wife. “The meat has the tenderness of shoe leather, and I think someone spat in my mashed potatoes.”

  “If you know what’s good for you, old man, you’ll shut your mouth,” Loren replied. “I have power of attorney. I can tell the docs to turn these machines off and let you wither.”

  “Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made for kissing, lady, not for such contempt,” Allen said, quoting Shakespeare.

  Marcus stepped into the room and joined the conversation. “In general, those who have nothing to say contrive to spend the longest time in doing it.”

  Loren laughed and gave Marcus a big hug. “Sounds like that guy knew you, Allen.”

  Allen gave a dirty look to both of them. “That was James Russell Lowell, an American poet. And I believe he died in the 1890s, so I never had the pleasure. You’ve been saving that one up for just such a moment. Haven’t you, kid?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marcus replied with a grin. “Where are the kids?”

  “Down in the cafeteria. And if you wouldn’t mind, ladies, I have something that I need to discuss with Marcus in private.”

  Maggie stood up from a recliner beside Allen’s bed, and Loren grabbed her purse. On the way out, Loren patted Marcus on the shoulder and said, “Just smile and nod. T
hat’s what I do.” Then she stuck her tongue out at Allen. Marcus could see the older man suppressing a grin.

  Once they were gone, Marcus said, “So what’s up?”

  “I need to talk to you about Ackerman for a moment.”

  “We’ll get him, Allen. He’s getting bolder. He’ll make a mistake, and I’ll be there when he does.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I just wanted to …” Allen sighed. “There’s something that I should have told you a long time ago. And I’m sorry.”

  Marcus squeezed his hand. “Thank you, but it’s okay. I know the connection between the two of us.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, Ackerman hinted at it, and I confronted the Director. He told me that Ackerman’s father killed my parents.”

  Allen closed his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, my boy, I’m afraid that’s only scratching the surface.”

  Day Seven – December 21 Afternoon

  112

  Mr. O’Malley’s room matched Allen’s, except that O’Malley’s had two beds instead of one. The door was open and Maggie could see O’Malley carefully gathering his things. Bandages covered his face and hands. She could see the red, irritated skin around his eyes and mouth. His lips were cracked and bloody. But, all things considered, he was lucky to be alive.

  She knocked on the door, and he turned toward her. His eyes were angry at first, and she couldn’t fault him for the emotion. But the anger quickly drained away, and he forced a smile onto his cracked lips. When he spoke, his thick Irish brogue came out in a hoarse crackling like the crunching of dried leaves. “Miss Maggie, I hoped that I would get a chance to thank you properly for saving my life. When you checked on me in the ambulance, I was a bit out of sorts.”

  She smiled. “I would expect that you were, but there’s no reason to thank me.”

  “Oh, now, don’t give me a line about just my job or all in a day’s work. I’d be dead now if it weren’t for you. And not only that, but your quick reaction allowed me to escape with only second-degree burns. A miracle, in my opinion. Saving a man’s life is not a small thing where I come from. It’s a debt that can never be repaid.”

  “I just wish that I would have caught the man that did this to you.”

  “Aye, I still don’t understand why he attacked me like that. I had always sensed a bit of tension because I was so close to his kids. Maybe a little jealousy at our relationship, but nothing that would warrant something like this.”

  “Is there anything that does warrant setting another man on fire?”

  “I suppose not. Speaking of Schofield’s family, has there been any word from them? While I’ve been lying here that’s been my biggest concern.”

  Maggie knew that Marcus wouldn’t like her giving away any information about the family, but she truly felt for O’Malley. He was just a warm-hearted neighbor whose kindness had earned him a body covered in burns and a near-death experience. He deserved to know. But still, she hesitated. “I’m sorry. I haven’t heard anything.”

  His face fell. Up to that point, he had seemed downright jovial for a man in his position, but now he seemed on the verge of tears. His voice cracked a bit as he said, “If you hear anything, please let me know. I don’t think that I’ll be able to sleep a wink until those kids are home safe. I had a daughter at one time, but she died before I could be blessed with grandchildren. But I think of Alison, Melanie, and Benjamin like they were my own kin, and I’ve been worried sick about them.”

  Her heart went out to him. He had been through enough, and he should be able to rest and recuperate in peace. “Mr. O’Malley, what I’m about to tell you is just between us. For their own safety, you can’t tell anyone about this.”

  His eyes lit up, and he took a hurried step forward. “Do you know where they are?”

  “Yes, we have them in a safe location.”

  “Oh, praise the Lord, you get to be my savior for the second time in as many days.” His face took on a pensive look. “Do you think there’s any chance that I could pay them a visit? I’m sure that poor Eleanor is feeling guilty about what her husband did to me. She may not seem so on the outside, but she’s delicate. I want her to know that I hold no ill will. And at a time like this, those kids could really use some stability. Something to show them that their world hasn’t been turned completely upside down.”

  “I don’t think that would be possible.”

  “You’ve already done so much for me. I truly hate to ask for more, but I can guarantee you that it would be very much appreciated by us all. I know that I could help them to get through this terrible and dark time.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t—”

  “Please, I’d be happy to wear a blindfold so that I won’t know where you’re keeping them. I’d do anything. Please, just a half an hour could make a world of difference.”

  Maggie crossed her arms and looked deep into the old man’s eyes. The area of skin surrounding them was red and cracked, and she suspected that the bandages covered blisters and sores. O’Malley and the Schofield children had been through so much pain due to no fault of their own. And it couldn’t really hurt for her to try and bring a little light into that world.

  “Hold on a minute.” She pulled out her phone and texted Marcus.

  I told Mr. O’Malley that the Schofields are safe. He wants to see them.

  She waited a few seconds, and then the reply came back.

  What the hell were you thinking?

  She growled deep in her throat, and her fingers flew over the virtual keyboard.

  Dammit, Marcus. He’s been through a lot. They all have. I’m not asking. I’m telling.

  She waited a long moment for his reply. I don’t like it, but you always do what you want anyway. Just make it quick.

  “Are you cleared to leave?” she said to O’Malley.

  He grinned like a child at Christmas. “The doctor met with me a half-hour ago. I was waiting for an old friend to pick me up, but I’ll just call on the way and let him know that I won’t be needing a ride.”

  Realizing how much of a sucker she was, she said, “Okay, but you can’t stay long.”

  113

  Ackerman watched as Maggie exited the elevator and headed toward the Kia Rio parked nearby. She had a man with her who was all covered in bandages as though he was the Invisible Man. But it didn’t really matter. Her guest was of little concern to him, whoever he was.

  The killer’s heart was racing now, and he felt almost giddy with excitement. They stood on a precipice at the edge of great revelation and enlightenment. Events that he had been planning for nearly a year were about to be set in motion, and Maggie was an integral part of that equation.

  In his own way, he had warned Marcus that this would happen. He had said that in order to control another person, one needed to threaten or take away what they loved. And Maggie was one of the few things in the world that Marcus loved.

  Which meant that Ackerman would have to take her away.

  He smiled as her car pulled past him and down the ramp. Then he slipped his own vehicle into gear and slid into traffic behind her.

  114

  For the meeting, Marcus had wanted a location where Schofield would be completely exposed and unable to escape. Somewhere public and accessible but still isolated. As he pulled down Columbus Drive and parked in view of Buckingham Fountain, he knew that he had made the right decision.

  Nestled in the heart of Grant Park in downtown Chicago, Buckingham Fountain was one of the most famous landmarks in the city and the world’s largest illuminated fountain. Normally, one and a half million gallons of water filled the wedding-cake-style fountain, but every year in mid-October it was shut down and the water replaced with festival lights. With the blizzard in full force, there were no tourists piling from double-decker buses or snapping pictures of the landmark. The fountain had been completely abandoned, giving Marcus an unobstructed view of the entire area. He could see only one man in the distance standing at the rende
zvous spot.

  “Are you ready for this?” Marcus said to his passenger.

  Stupak nodded, but the detective’s stare didn’t leave the man near the fountain. Marcus had instructed Stupak not to wear his suit, so the cop had come dressed in an elegant black button-down shirt tucked into designer khakis. Marcus wore a black zip-up hoodie and jeans and wondered if Stupak owned a simple sweatshirt.

  “Stupak, you keep your mouth shut and follow my lead or you stay in the car. Do we understand each other?”

  “Maybe we should have called in backup units to surround the area.”

  “We don’t have time for that. This guy’s smart and wealthy. We bring him in, he’ll lawyer up instantly, and we’ll get nothing out of him.”

  “What if he has friends up there waiting for us? It could be an ambush.”

  “He wouldn’t risk his family. Besides, according to Schofield’s wife, Conlan wanted to sacrifice them and so Schofield isn’t drinking the Kool-Aid anymore. Who else could he get to back him up?”

  “I just don’t like it.”

  “We’re trying to trick a multiple murderer into helping us save the lives of a couple women that are going to be sacrificed to the devil within a few hours if we don’t find them. What’s to like about it?”

  As Marcus pulled open his door, the cold wind assaulted him. He pulled his hood up over his Yankees cap and looked toward the city, but all he could see in the distance were vague outlines of buildings whose details were obscured in a white mist. The snow was falling so fast and hard that it made the city look like it was shrouded by a blanket of fog. There was a steady stream of traffic flowing on Columbus, but he still felt strangely isolated. It was as if some supernatural force had shaken a snow globe and made the millions of other people in the city disappear.