Wolfman is Back

by Dwayne Clayden

  “It was the same for me. Remember when I came to police HQ for the suspect having a seizure?”

  Brad smiled. “How could I forget.”

  “My partners had chewed me out for not taking control of scenes,” Maggie said. “I was determined to show them I could do it. But you were there and quite a distraction.”

  “That worked out, I think.”

  “You think!”

  “Four years later, you’re here.”

  “True,” Maggie said. “Tell me about your new job.”

  Brad told her about working with Devlin and what he’d be doing. “My first case is tracking down Jeter Wolfe.”

  “He’s escaped?”

  “Yup, from maximum security,” Brad said. “They think he got out in a laundry cart.”

  “How did he fit?” Maggie asked.

  “He must have taken up the whole cart,” Brad said. “I’d hate to be the guy pushing the cart. Anyway, he’s out.”

  “He was in jail in Edmonton,” Maggie said. “Will he come here?”

  “During the trial, he threatened everyone responsible for his conviction. We’re certain he’s heading here. He may already be here.”

  “You’ve kinda jumped right back into the action. Just like old times.”

  “Once we get Wolfe, it will settle down,” Brad said.

  “Do you believe that?”

  Brad grinned. “No.”

  Maggie stood and kissed Brad. “I worked all night. I’m going to bed. What time do you need to be at work?”

  “I should shower, and then head into work.”

  Maggie smiled. “No way! I was going to take a shower, too. I’ll race you.”

  Chapter Six

  Wednesday Morning

  Brad had been at the office, making a list of places Wolfe might hide and people he’d contact, when he got the call. A body at a rundown hotel in the southeast could mean a lot of things. Overdose, suicide, or murder. He didn’t want to get ahead of the facts, but a death in the area they thought Wolfe was hiding seemed like a bit of a coincidence.

  When Brad arrived at the scene, Devlin and another guy, with the distinct look of a cop, were standing outside the motel room.

  “This is Don Griffin—homicide,” Devlin said, nodding at the guy. He motioned toward Brad. “Brad Coulter.”

  Griffin extended his hand. “Coulter.”

  Brad took the hand. Griffin had a firm grip. Brad sized up Griffin. They stood eye to eye and had the same build. Griffin’s eyes, almost gray, were always moving, as if expecting some threat to appear suddenly. He had the look of someone who had seen it all and had become numb.

  “What do we know?” Brad asked.

  “Dead hooker—young, blonde, abused, and beaten,” Griffin said.

  Brad nodded. “Who found her?”

  “Cleaning lady,” Griffin said. “This one was her last room for the day. She opened the door, used a wooden chock to prop it open, grabbed a basket of cleaning supplies, then entered the room. Scared the shit out of her. She was hysterical. EMS took her to the hospital.”

  “I don’t suppose there’re any cameras here.” Brad glanced around.

  Griffin laughed. “Are you kidding? Lucky there’re lightbulbs. The room was bugged though. It’s crawling with them. You should tuck your pant legs into your socks.”

  “That’s good, real good,” Brad said, cringing. “Do we have anything to work with?”

  “The manager says a big guy checked in late last night,” Griffin said. “Wanted the end room and paid cash. He left about two hours later driving an old, dark, four-door sedan. Maybe a Pontiac Parisienne. When the cleaning lady found the body before noon, he put two and two together—and let me tell you, that wasn’t easy for him.”

  “Did you show the manager Wolfe’s photo?” Brad asked.

  Devlin nodded. “It was Wolfe.”

  “Jeez,” Brad said. “Can I take a look?”

  “Sure,” Griffin said.

  Brad followed Griffin and Devlin to the crime scene. They stopped at the doorway. Griffin stepped back, allowing Brad access. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust from the sunny outdoors to the dimly lit room. It was a typical low-end motel room that could be rented by the hour—small, with barely enough space for a bed. It smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat, and a musty, old-room scent. Then there was the odor of shit. He turned his head and took a deep breath of outside air. As bad as death scenes were, bowels releases added additional foulness to the air.

  A single bulb in the middle of the ceiling did little to light the room. The victim was naked, face down at the end of the bed. Her upper body on the bed, her knees touching the floor. Her head turned to the left beyond the normal range. Her arms were secured behind her back with wide gray tape. There was a strip of tape over her mouth. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets. From this angle, she looked a bit like Annie, the girl Wolfe had repeatedly raped two years ago.

  Just out of jail and Wolfe was starting where he left off. Damn. Brad stepped outside and joined Griffin and Devlin. Devlin puffed on a cigarette.

  “How the hell does he escape from maximum security?” Brad asked. “This is bullshit.”

  Griffin nodded. “I’ll stay with Ident. Nothing here for you two.”

  “Sure,” Devlin said.

  “I’ve been working on a list of places Wolfe might hide and people he’d contact,” Brad said. “We can work on that today.”

  Sergeant Sturgeon from Ident came to the door. “Hey, Coulter, congratulations on moving to the dark side, the detective bureau.” He pointed at the room. “It’s going to take most of the day to process this scene. I’ll catch up to you guys tomorrow morning. Your office?”

  Brad couldn’t shake off the feeling that this was only the beginning.

  Chapter Seven

  Thursday Morning

  Brad had grabbed a small meeting room to work in. He leaned back in a chair, drank coffee, and stared at the wall where he’d put everything he could think of about Wolfe.

  Wolfe had come west with Felix Keaton, a big wig in the Hamilton Bandidos Motorcycle Club who took over as president of the Gypsy Jokers. Wolfe did all of Keaton’s dirty work—torture and murder. Wolfe’s perversion with young teens was well documented. In Hamilton, charges were laid but didn’t go to court. The victims didn’t show. That was until Brad and Devlin put him away two years ago with Annie’s testimony.

  Pickens was the only one left from the Gypsy Jokers’ leadership that Wolfe had associated with, and Pickens already told Brad he’d have nothing to do with Wolfe. Not that Brad believed the lying pile of shit.

  The list of people Wolfe would seek out was very small. The places he could hide, staggering. Wolfe wasn’t stupid. Still, if Wolfe wanted to blend in, the southeast was the place.

  Devlin entered, grabbed a chair, and glanced at the wall. “Not a lot of possible contacts—that’s it?”

  “What about his cellmates?” Brad asked. “One already talked. Maybe others are willing to make a deal. Especially those released in the last six months.”

  “I’ll work on that,” Devlin said.

  Brad sighed. “How does a guy that big, that ugly, and that mean stay hidden?”

  “You know how it is. No one is going to rat out Wolfman. I stopped into the drug unit on my way here. They’ve been all over the southeast. They got a few leads, but either Wolfman had never been there, or he was gone. They’ll keep pounding the pavement.”

  “What’s his play? When he escaped, I was sure he’d go after Jenni Blighe.”

  “We were late getting her protection because we were notified late,” Devlin said. “He might have gone there earlier.”

  Brad nodded. “Sure, but if he did, why didn’t he attack? Not that I want him to, but if she was his target, he had a few days right after he escaped to get her.”

  “What does she think about the protection?” Devlin asked.

  “At first she said she didn’t need protection. But I think she
was glad we pushed it. Wolfe really shook her up with his threats at his trial.”

  “Has her protection reported anything suspicious?”

  Brad shook his head. “Nada. They’re outside her house when she’s home and they follow her to work and back or whenever she goes out.”

  “What about Annie?” Devlin asked.

  “She’s secure,” Brad said.

  “How do you—”

  Brad shook his head. “Need to know. But trust me, she is good. I guess we should hit the streets tonight.”

  The door opened. Sturgeon and Griffin strode in and grabbed chairs.

  “Missed you at the autopsy, Coulter,” Sturgeon said.

  “I got tied up on stuff here.”

  Sturgeon laughed. “You’ve hated autopsies since you were in recruit training. I heard you upchucked your breakfast before they’d made the first cut.”

  “It’s the mix of biological and chemical smells I can’t take. You’re saying you enjoy autopsies?”

  “You will too, when I solve your case.”

  “You’ve got something big?”

  Sturgeon shook his head. “No, but if I did—”

  “Jerk.”

  “What do you have? Anything?” Devlin asked.

  “Not much you don’t already know,” Sturgeon said. “Cause of death was a broken neck. That’s not as easy to do as they show on TV.”

  “But that wouldn’t be an issue for Wolfe,” Brad said.

  “That’s true,” Sturgeon replied. “She’d been violently raped several times. The medical examiner thinks she was dead when the anal rape occurred. We’re going to have to wait for testing on the sperm. She had cigarette burns and bite marks over her thighs and breasts.”

  “That’s Wolfe,” Brad said. “It’s consistent with what he did to Annie and Sissy.”

  “The room was covered in fingerprints, and miscellaneous body fluids,” Sturgeon said. “I don’t think the room had been cleaned this century. We’ll do our best on the prints, but don’t hold your breath.”

  “So, nothing that points conclusively to Wolfe,” Brad said.

  “Looks that way.” Sturgeon stood. “I’ll keep working on it. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

  “Right, thanks,” Brad said.

  After Sturgeon left, they were quiet. Each man was deep in thought.

  When Brad was playing university football and he looked back for a pass, he would sometimes get a sudden feeling of doom or a sense of darkness a split second before he was blindsided. He was getting that same feeling of impending doom now.

  Wolfe might not be coming after Blighe and Annie. Maybe he knew they’d be protected. Instead, he’s going after other women the cops couldn’t predict. If he didn’t have a pattern, he’d be near impossible to catch. My gut tells me that Wolfe is more vindictive than careful.

  Devlin broke the silence. “I don’t think there’s much we can do during the day. We should hit the streets at about 8 P.M. I’ll go out with the narcotics guys and roust the dealers. Find out if they’ve seen or heard Wolfe is around.”

  “I’ll take the bars and pubs,” Griffin said. “Wolf’s typical hangouts.”

  “Alone?” Brad asked.

  “You worried about me?” Griffin blew Brad a kiss. “And we’ve just met.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Brad said. “As tough as we all are, we wouldn’t stand a chance against Wolfe.”

  “I would if I shot him,” Griffin said.

  Devlin chuckled. “I’m okay with that.”

  “Come on guys,” Brad urged. “Trust me. Don’t go near him alone. Not even with a partner. If you spot him, call in everything we’ve got. Understoodd?”

  Griffin crossed his arms, but nodded. “Roger that.”

  “What are you going to do?” Devlin asked.

  “I’m going to check on the protection of Annie and Jenni Blighe,” Brad said.

  Griffin stood. “Let’s meet here tomorrow morning. If I don’t shoot Wolfe tonight.”

  Chapter Eight

  Thursday Afternoon

  Brad leaned against his car and scrutinized the neighborhood. The older homes screamed husband, wife, and two to four kids. Houses in good repair, lawns cut, and large, mature trees providing shade. There were bikes and toys left unattended. Most of these people left their doors open and had never experienced theft. On this side of the street, several apartment complexes interrupted the tranquil neighborhood. Not that they were noisy or an eyesore, they just stood out in contrast to the bungalows. The street was quiet with little traffic, except at the end of the day when workers came home, or students were finished classes. Brad chose this building for Annie. Twenty-four-hour security and the latest in security locks. It was close to Mount Royal College, in Briscoe’s district, and less than fifteen minutes from Brad’s house.

  Brad hadn’t been waiting long when Briscoe arrived and strolled over.

  “Nice day,” Brad said.

  “A nice day is when I’m at home with the boys,” Briscoe said. “This is just another frickin’ workday.”

  “Aren’t you a ray of sunshine. Do you need a hug?”

  “Don’t know what you’re so happy about with Wolfe on the loose. You can’t hide it from me—you’re worried.”

  “Of course I’m worried.” Brad straightened. “He’s already struck once. He’ll do it again if we don’t find him.”

  Briscoe nodded toward the apartment building. “There’s no way he can find Annie here. You and I are the only ones who know.”

  “And the security detail,” Brad said.

  “You hired them. If you don’t trust them, that’s on you.”

  “No. They’re good. Let’s check things out.” Brad headed up the sidewalk. At the door they were met by a security guard. He recognized Brad and Briscoe.

  “Good afternoon. What brings you two out?”

  “Just checking in,” Brad said. “Have you seen anything suspicious?”

  The guard shook his head. “Nope. This is a very quiet neighborhood.”

  “Good.” Brad reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a photo. “Have you seen this guy around here?”

  The guard took the photo. “Nope, haven’t seen him. He’s big.”

  “He is,” Briscoe said. “If you see him, call 911 right away.”

  The guard handed the photo back. “Who is he?”

  “The meanest SOB you’ll ever meet.” Brad held the man’s gaze. “Call us. Don’t do anything on your own if you see him.”

  “Sure.”

  “We’re going up to the apartment,” Brad said.

  “She’s not here.”

  “I know,” Brad said.

  They got off the elevator and headed to her apartment. Once inside, he checked that the windows were locked. He checked the doorframe to see if anyone had tried to force it open, but it was in pristine condition.

  Briscoe wandered over to his side. “Looks good to me.”

  Brad nodded. “How often do you have cops driving by?”

  “They try to come here every hour. That’s not always possible when it’s busy.”

  “Do they have Wolfe’s photo?”

  “You bet,” Briscoe said. “Briefed them myself.”

  “Did you tell them who’s here?”

  “Come on, really?” Briscoe shook his head. “I ain’t that stupid. They think it’s a big wig politician. I told them Wolfe has been making threats. They’re good with that.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything. Just thinking out loud.”

  “You were just spouting off. There was no thinking involved.”

  Brad smiled. “Thanks for everything you do. I need to check on Blighe and her detail. Can you talk to Annie’s detail when she comes home from college?”

  “You bet.” Briscoe rested his hand on Brad’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”

  “I wish I believed that.”

  Chapter Nine

  Friday Morning

  The ni
ght before, Wolfe had dumped the car in an underground parking lot downtown. Then he began looking for a replacement. He found a newer Chevrolet Impala. It would fit better in her neighborhood. He planned to change cars every day in case someone reported him to the cops. They’d be a day late looking for a car he’d already dumped.

  Wolfe drove from a shithole of a motel toward the northwest. It was funny the things you missed in jail. For him, it was hotdogs. He stopped at a 7-Eleven in her neighborhood and bought two hot dogs and a large coffee. He drove a few blocks and parked down the street from her house. He munched the hotdogs, enjoying every bite. As much as he liked the dogs, he liked the thought of time with Blighe better. Even half an hour. But he wanted more time, much more time. He’d had plenty of time in jail to work out his plan, his fantasy, and he’d need hours with her. Just thinking about it caused a stirring in his groin.

  Her car was parked outside, in front of the attached garage.

  Maybe in the warmer weather she didn’t bother putting the car in the garage. He’d file that away in case he needed it later.

  The front door opened and the kids raced to the car. She came out, locked the door, and walked to the car. She wore a loose, untucked blouse and jeans. That’s different. Maybe Fridays were casual days at work. That’s not to say the tight jeans over her butt weren’t worth watching. She got the kids settled in the back seat and walked around to the driver’s side. She backed the car out of the driveway. He saw her for a brief moment as she drove past.

  Wolfe started the car, about to follow her, but a gray Crown Victoria pulled away from the curb and followed. As they passed him, they didn’t look in his direction.