“We have it in a bag in her room. Just have the officer ask for me, Doctor Wallace.”
“Thank you.” He hung up.
“Hmm.” He curled his mouth to one side in thought.
The cops must have told the staff at the hospital to keep quiet. If anyone from the media knew about the woman, the news would have been everywhere already.
He’d take it upon himself. The police weren’t telling the media enough about the women. So far, they had been keeping the branding and the lobotomies under wraps. He’d fix that. He dialed information and had them put him through to every television station and newspaper in the area.
While coughing and hacking, he informed each news outlet about the lingerie, the branding, the lobotomies, and the woman at the hospital. He stayed on the phone for over an hour. The press would run with the story. He clicked the volume up on his police scanner and went back to flipping the channels. He started to doze off to the daytime talk show that was on.
Chapter 29
Television crews and reporters engulfed the front of the police station—never a good sign. We parked the car in the structure and got out. A couple of back-entrance-savvy reporters rushed out at us as we walked toward the door.
A reporter jammed a microphone in my face. Not far behind the microphone was a television camera. “What can you tell us about the lobotomies?”
“No comment.”
“What about the woman who was found alive?”
I didn’t respond.
A Channel 6 microphone held by J.R. Steele blocked my path. “Lieutenant! Lieutenant! The media is calling this guy the Psycho Surgeon. Care to comment?”
Hank turned to me. “Psycho Surgeon?”
I shook my head and held out my palm toward the camera. “No comment.” I continued walking.
Steele followed me with the microphone. “Why has this killer singled you out?”
I stopped. “Singled me out?”
“We have a source that said that the lobotomized woman found last night had a message written on her to you.”
I shook my head and walked inside.
The ringing of telephones was filling the station. We made our way to the captain’s office. He was sitting at his desk, talking on the phone. He hung up when we walked in.
“Looks like we have a leak. Where did it come from?” I asked.
“Either the hospital or someone here at the station. It could be a combination of the two. Nothing we can do about it now except lay it all out for them. I have a press release scheduled in an hour.”
“One of the reporters called him the Psycho Surgeon,” Hank said.
Bostok pushed his chair back. “Great. So they gave him a name?”
“Not a very clever one,” I said. “Anyway, we found the place the drugs came from. We have a list of all employees from the last year. About to go through it now.”
Captain Bostok nodded. “Do it.”
Hank and I split the list of employees. He took his half to his desk, and I did likewise. I clicked away at the computer. One by one, I checked backgrounds and called each employee, past and present. Nobody I managed to speak with could think of anyone who might have committed a workplace theft. Most of my stack was gone when Hank burst into my office.
“Third guy I called is on his way in. Says he may have something.”
“What’s the something? When is he coming?”
“He mentioned a video. On his way now.”
“What’s the name?”
“Bob Cross.”
“Past or present employee?” I asked.
“Past. Looks like he quit a few months back.”
I nodded. “Let Cap know we got someone on the way in. See if he wants to sit in.”
Hank nodded and walked next door.
I plugged the guy’s name into the system. He was clean. His address was listed out in Carrollwood. I printed his sheet off.
Hank walked back in. “Cap says he has his hands full with the press but wants an update if we turn over anything during the interview.”
I finished looking into the rest of the employees in my stack. They all looked clean. Within an hour, we got the call that our potential witness was waiting. I popped into the lunch room to get my standard offerings and headed to the interview boxes. An officer from the front sat him down in box one. Hank waited for me outside the door, and we entered together. A thin man sat at the table. He was wearing an old T-shirt and khaki shorts. The front of his hairline receded. The rest of his hair was chin length. A beard covered his face. I looked at the weight on the sheet again. That guy was fifty pounds lighter than what was listed. I set the soda and candy in front of him.
“Mr. Cross, I’m Lieutenant Kane. This is Sergeant Rawlings. You have some information to tell us?”
We took seats across from him.
“Yeah, I have to say I was surprised to get a call.” He scooped the candy bar off the table and began unwrapping it.
“Surprised how?” I asked.
“Well, I’m pretty sure I have your smoking gun here.”
“We’re listening,” I said.
“I think I have the guy you are looking for on video.” He took a bite from the candy bar and chewed with his mouth open. He popped the soda and took a big gulp.
“On video doing what?” I asked.
“Stealing the drugs in question. Like I said—smoking gun.”
“Do you have the video here? Can we see it?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He removed his cell phone from his pocket and clicked a few buttons. He turned the phone so Hank and I could see the screen and then pressed Play. A video began. I recognized the inside of the Pet Med Plus warehouse.
The video looked to be filmed from behind a product rack. The man in frame stood in front of the bin where the Xylazine was kept. The man put some items from inside the bin into a bag and walked out the warehouse doors. The video stopped.
“His name is Chad Packard. He’s one of the delivery drivers.” He took another sip of soda.
I wrote down the name, which wasn’t one from my stack of employees. “How do you know that those were the drugs in question?” I asked.
“After he walked out, I went to see what he took. It was a couple vials of Xylazine. I’m not sure about the other two the sergeant here mentioned, but I’m positive about that one.”
“And you’re sure it is this Packard guy?” I asked.
“A hundred percent.”
“We’ll need that video,” I said.
“Sure, whatever.” He slid the back off his cell phone and popped out the small memory card. He let out a couple coughs into his shoulder and set the card on the table in front of him.
“How did you acquire this video?” Hank asked.
He raised his eyebrows. “I recorded it.”
“Why?”
“Well, here’s the thing.” He squinted. “My medical bills were starting to pile up.” He paused.
We sat in silence.
“Short version, I’m dying of cancer and don’t want to leave my wife with a pile of debt.”
“So this was going to help that how?” I asked.
“I don’t know, I thought maybe I could… I don’t know.”
“Extort him for stealing?” Hank asked.
Cross shrugged. “I’m in a tight spot. I can’t work anymore because of my illness. Our money is running low. I guess I just figured if I could get a few hundred bucks or so out of the guy, it may help at home. Not really one of my finer moments or brightest ideas, I guess.”
“Did you get any money out of this guy?” I asked.
“No. Here’s the kicker in your case, though. Before I could even attempt to get any money out of the guy, he quit at Pet Med Plus to start a taxi business.”
I had a question bubbling. It was bothering me. “So, why didn’t you come forward earlier?”
“I would have if I would have known what was going on. I don’t watch the news or read the papers. W
hat do I care about what’s going on in the world? I just want to spend some time with my wife before I go. We have one rule: nothing depressing. That means no news, basically. The world’s problems will still be there after I’m gone, or so my wife says.”
Cross rattled his fingers across the top of the desk.
I glanced at his left hand—no ring. No tan line from a ring. No indentation from a wedding ring. It normally wouldn’t be a big deal. Wearing a wedding band could be hazardous on countless jobs. The problem was he was unemployed and just gave us a yarn about his wife.
“Your wife doesn’t mind that you don’t wear a wedding ring?”
He rubbed at his finger. “Technically, we’re still divorced. We’re actually getting remarried next Tuesday. When she found out about the illness a few months back, we reconciled, and I moved back in. It’s funny how death can bring two people back together. We have known each other since we were kids.”
I nodded.
“Can you give us a minute, Mr. Cross?” Hank asked.
“Yeah, sure.”
Hank stood and motioned for me to follow him out. I grabbed the memory card with the video on it and followed Hank. I closed the door behind me.
“What do you think?” Hank asked.
“It’s too good. Was this Packard guy on your list?” I asked.
“Yeah. Didn’t see anything of concern, though.”
“Come on.” I walked toward my office. Hank followed.
I sat at my desk and plugged Chad Packard into the computer. He showed up right away. He was local. I rattled off his information to Hank, “White male, forty-two, hair brown, eyes brown. Height, five foot ten, weight one seventy-five.”
Hank leaned against my doorway. “Do you think it’s the guy on the video?” he asked.
“Hard to tell.”
“I don’t remember seeing any priors,” Hank said.
I shook my head, “None.” I scrolled down the screen to double-check. I ran through his DMV record. He only had a minivan registered.
I clicked the button to print off the sheet with his information.
I let out a breath. “This just seems fishy.”
“What seems fishy?”
“The guy in the box. He brought the case to us on a silver platter. It’s too perfect. When was the last time someone walked in with a case gift wrapped?”
Hank shrugged. “Never.”
I nodded. “Exactly. I’m not sold on the dying-husband love story, either. Let’s go run it by the captain and see what he thinks.”
“Works for me,” Hank said.
We went next door to Bostok’s office. I gave the captain’s door a knock and walked in.
He gave us his attention. “Well?”
I gave it to him in short bursts. “The guy has a video and a story. Video is from the warehouse of Pet Med Plus. It shows a guy named Chad Packard putting drugs from a bin in question into a bag and then leaving. Claims that Packard quit to start a taxi business.”
“Do we know that for sure?”
“I checked DMV records—just a minivan under his name. The cab could be registered through a business, though,” I said.
I handed the captain the memory card with the video. “This is the video here.”
“Why does he have the theft on video? Did he work security there or something?”
“His plan was to blackmail the guy,” Hank said.
The captain shook his head. “Because that’s always a good idea. What do you think, Kane?”
“Too perfect, and I don’t get a good feeling from the guy.”
“Explain.”
“I think he might be full of shit, but in case he isn’t, we need to get the warrants for this Packard set and get out there. The place is just a couple minutes away.”
“I’ll get tech to make us some copies of this and get on the phone for the warrants. What do you want to do about the star witness?” Captain Bostok asked.
I thought for a second. Something about Cross was really rubbing me the wrong way. The more I thought about him, the more other things started bothering me. He hadn’t come forward with the information on his own. The case was everywhere. You couldn’t miss it, no matter how hard you tried. The fact that he planned on blackmailing a coworker spoke about his character. He worked at the place the drugs came from. This guy could have just been trying to steer us in the wrong direction. However, we wouldn’t be able to hold him just because I had a feeling.
“I’d like to put Donner on him if that’s okay. Just a gut feeling.”
The captain nodded. Hank and I left his office.
I called Donner.
Chapter 30
We got word on the warrants within twenty minutes. The video had persuaded the powers that be to sign off on an arrest and a search warrant. We put the wheels in motion. Timmons sent out a page to the members of our SWAT team out on patrol. The address was just outside the city but still within the TPD’s jurisdiction. It was a ten-minute drive from the station. We wouldn’t need to contact any local departments.
We assembled in the station’s parking structure. The SWAT guys dressed in their gear. We had six SWAT members plus Jones, Hank, and me. We put on our lapel mics and ear radios. Each of us put on body armor and snugged the straps tight. We didn’t know who we were dealing with, and our protocol was to be prepared for the worst possible situation.
SWAT would take three cars, and Hank and I would take an unmarked cruiser. Jones would drive himself in another.
Sergeant Collison was our SWAT-team lead. He was in his forties and just a touch smaller than me. Short gray hair covered his head. He sported a goatee manicured to perfection. It looked fake. He spread a map out on the trunk of our unmarked cruiser and laid out the plan. We’d park at the east corner and approach the residence. The neighboring house would give us cover until we were right upon the property in question. His team would take the lead and get the door. Hank, Jones, and I were to follow when they had cleared the room—simple but effective. We left the station.
The lights flashed, and sirens wailed as we drove through the city. Four blocks away, we went silent and killed the red-and-blues. The neighborhood was middle class. Single-story bungalows built in the forties lined the sides of the street. Big oaks and palm trees filled the yards. We pulled up where Collison had instructed and killed the motor.
Collison went around and performed a mic check. His men took their weapons from their cars. He instructed one of his men to bring the door ram. I drew the Glock 22 from my shoulder holster. Hank and Jones did the same. We took up the rear and stayed low as we followed SWAT around the tree line toward the house.
Collison stopped and looked back. “We got a taxi—Crown Vic,” he said.
I saw the yellow of the cab parked in the driveway. It was the same make and model from the airport videos. Our witness might have been telling the truth after all. The tension rose. We stayed single file as we approached the house, a brown single story with a white fence around its small front porch. Outside the porch was a four-foot pygmy palm and flower garden. The yellow taxi cab and a minivan sat parked in the driveway. A neighbor across the street and one house up stopped watering her flowers in the front yard to watch us. Collison and three members of the SWAT team climbed the steps up to the porch. They took the sides of the front door. The other two went to the back of the house. Hank, Jones, and I stayed at ground level.
Collison looked at us. “Ready?”
I gave him a nod.
Collison banged his fist on the door. “Search warrant, Tampa Police!” He looked at his men ready at the door with the ram. The front door opened before they could break it in. I saw a kid standing at the doorway. Collison grabbed the boy and pulled him outside. The other three officers went in, one after the other. The sound of a dog barking echoed from inside the house. We heard Collison’s men yelling for someone to get on the floor. In just a matter of seconds, the all clear call came through our earpieces. We climbed the front ste
ps and entered the house. Collison sat the boy down on the living-room couch.
We proceeded through the living room and found everyone in the kitchen. A man and woman were facedown on the tile floor. Black zip-tie handcuffs held their arms behind their backs. The man demanded an explanation. The woman cried out for her son in the next room.
I walked over and knelt next to the man’s head. “Are you Chad Packard?”
“Yeah, what the hell is this?”
I pulled the warrants from my pocket of my shirt and showed it to him. “We have a warrant to search the property and a warrant for your arrest.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
“The theft of narcotics.”
“I didn’t steal any narcotics.”
I read him his rights and lifted him to his feet.
As I pulled him up, he grunted then looked at his wife, still on the ground. “Deb, I didn’t do anything.”
Hank and I escorted him out of the house and over to the back of my unmarked cruiser. I pushed down on the top of his head and sat him down inside.
I looked at Hank. “Can you sit on him for a second? I have to go talk to Jones.”
“Yeah, I got him.”
I walked back to the house. Jones stood on the front porch.
“You want to run the search on the house? Try to hunt down the drugs, but keep an eye out for anything that looks suspicious. Find me something on lobotomies. Search every tool in that garage. If you spot anything, stop and wait for forensics.”
He nodded. “I got it.”
“We’re going to take him back to the station and get started.”
“I’ll give you a call as soon as I’m through. What should I tell the wife?”
“Let her know where we’re taking him.”
“No problem.”
I thanked Collison and the team and made my way back to the car.
Mr. Packard demanded an explanation from the backseat on the ride back to the station. He pleaded his innocence.
I tried to tune him out. We’d find out soon enough.
We brought him into the station and parked him in the first interrogation box. Hank headed into the observation room to watch him, and I went to tell the captain we had him in the building. I saw the major sitting across from Captain Bostok in his office through the window. I gave the door a knock and stuck my head in.
Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) Page 14
