DEAD MAN'S JUSTICE - A Place of Evil (Stone & McLeish Thriller Series of Stories Book 2)

by Gregory Stenson

  ‘Hi Elea...’ he didn’t get a chance even to finish saying her name.

  ‘Have you seen the TV reports? Have you? They’re saying they’re all going to be killed; they’re calling him the ‘Rainbow Killer’. I can’t take much more Brad, where is she? I’m going crazy.’

  Finch and Tariq, who were sitting nearby, could hear the terror stricken panic in Eleanor’s voice. Most of the time they could do their job, tracking down criminals, arresting murderers and stay pretty distant from the effects on the victims and the people involved, but when it was someone they knew, and they could see the consequences first hand, it was hard to watch.

  ‘No, I haven’t seen it, I’ve heard about it but, Eleanor, we’ll find her, I promise you. The first girl’s just been found alive, did you hear?’

  She didn’t answer immediately, she was crying too much to speak. ‘Yes, I did, I saw it on CNN, I just hope that...anyway, what are you doing about finding our little girl Brad?’ The question tugged at his heart, maybe he wasn’t doing enough, he thought.

  ‘Look, we have a few leads honey; we’re getting close, stay by the phone okay? I’d bring you up here but...’ Finch was shaking his head. ‘...we’re in and out of the office. Can’t Helen, your sister come and stop with you?’ Stone didn’t know what else to say, he’d never been in this situation before and realized how hard it must be for Eleanor at home on her own just waiting by the phone.

  ‘She’s on her way, should be here in an hour or so.’

  ‘Okay that’s great, I’ll call you soon okay?’

  Eleanor rang off, still sobbing uncontrollably.

  There were no solid leads; and they were no closer than they were three hours ago.

  Stone snapped.

  ‘Guys don’t we have anything? No suspects at all? There must be someone who’s good for this?’

  People shuffled in their chairs, Finch desperately wanted to say there was, ‘Perhaps when Ramirez gets through checking the scene where Tamika was found he’ll have something, maybe he’ll be able to talk to her at the hospital.’ Finch knew he was clutching at straws.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Tariq. He’d been feverishly scouring databases and recent incidents and crimes and he came across the release of an ex-con who was out on the streets again. The M.O. was hauntingly similar to the way the girl’s had disappeared one by one. ‘‘Bad’ Billy Thompson,’ he said.

  Finch almost spilt his coffee, ‘What about him Tariq?’

  Stone wanted to know also, ‘Who the hell’s that?’

  ‘‘Bad’ Billy Thompson, put down for twenty to life for the abduction and murder of four young girls in 1995, been out on parole for two weeks. Served fifteen years, been a good boy inside and must have persuaded the board that he was a reformed man.’

  ‘Before my time, maybe Gruffnick knows about him?’

  ‘Gruffnick?’ Stone wondered.

  ‘You haven’t seen him on a bad day yet Stone.’

  Stone nodded and said ‘Oh,’ realizing who Finch was referring to.

  ‘What do we have on him?’ asked Finch.

  Tariq scrolled down the page on his computer and read off Billy Thompson’s last known address. The same details were also scrolling on his iPad which he had synced in.

  ‘What are we waiting for Finch?’ said Stone, anxious to check the guy out.

  ‘Tell me a bit more about his M.O.’ Finch said to Tariq.

  ‘Okay. He abducted four girls between March and June 1995. They were all between twelve and fifteen years old. He stalked a local school and picked them off one by one as they were on their way home.’

  ‘What did he do to them Tariq?’ asked Stone.

  ‘I err don't think you want...’

  ‘Tell me.’

  Tariq shot a glance over to Finch, he was reluctant to disclose the information to a non police officer.

  ‘Tell him Tariq, you’ve gone too far now.’

  ‘They were all raped and...strangled. They found all the girls boarded up in a room in the back of his apartment, apart from one, she was found wandering around the street, they think she must have escaped somehow. She was the only one to survive. He’s a violent pedophile, if it’s him, we need to close him down.’

  Stone stood up and went across to the window. The room went deathly quiet. He turned back with a determined look on his face.

  ‘As I said, what are we waiting for?’

  ‘Bring your iPad Tariq, you got the address right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Let’s go.’

  The only useful bit of information that Officer Christine O’Hara could report to Ramirez when he reached the park where Tamika Achebe had been found was two separate eye witness accounts that say they saw a big black SUV driving away at speed, a little while before the lady dog walker called 911.

  CSI worked the area and found nothing that could help Ramirez in his investigation. There was a ten-foot long tire mark on the road which may or may not have been made by the SUV as it sped away, but Jones and Phelps told Ramirez that all it would give them was a possible make and model, and not the vehicle itself. Ramirez ordered the crime scene to be abandoned and asked Officer O’Hara to accompany him to the hospital where Tamika had been taken for assessment.

  This was the most difficult time in an investigation, Ramirez thought to himself, waiting for that first break, the first tangible lead that would take them to the next level, it may not hand the perpetrator to them on a plate, but put them just one step behind them. It had to come soon, at least there had been no further girls go missing since Laura Stone.

  That was some blessing.

  O’Hara was waiting for Ramirez at the main doors of the hospital, she was sheltering under the canopy from the icy wind which was a reminder that winter was a long way from over. Ramirez felt like a cigarette, it used to help him think straight, he’d solved many a case whilst taking a smoking break at the back of the precinct. If he thought it would solve this case he’d start the filthy habit up again, he thought.

  ‘Lead the way Officer,’ he said to O’Hara.

  O’Hara stepped into the lobby, showed the administrator behind the reception counter her badge, and asked where they could find a recent admission, a young girl called Tamika Achebe. She was told that she would have been taken to level ten, where a specialist team of female physicians, who tend to suspected sexual assaults, were situated. The middle aged lady had a kind face and a calm manner; she looked up from the admissions register and confirmed to O’Hara that that was the case, ‘Look out for Dr. Harper’s office,’ she said.

  They took the elevator up to the tenth floor and a chart on the wall directed them to turn left to the specialist unit. O’Hara led the way to a door marked ‘PRIVATE – Dr. HARPER – PRESS BELL FOR ATTENTION’

  O’Hara pressed the button on the side wall and stood back. Thirty seconds later a bouncy young nursing assistant opened the door and on seeing a uniformed Officer and what must obviously to her have looked like a Detective, asked them to follow her inside.

  Ramirez entered first being the senior officer and asked the assistant where he could find Tamika Achebe, and that they’d like to talk to the Doctor in charge. As Ramirez was finishing the sentence a good looking woman in her mid-thirties wearing a white coat and a stethoscope nestling around her neck, announced herself as Dr. Harper.

  ‘You’d better come into my office,’ she said to Ramirez.

  Ramirez and O’Hara followed the Doctor into her room, which had an examination bed along one wall and a desk with a computer monitor, a blood pressure machine and various papers and medical books, on the other. Her tenth floor office window looked out over the Manhattan skyline and Ramirez remarked how jealous he was of her view. Dr. Harper invited them both to sit down.

  Ramirez introduced himself and Officer O’Hara and got straight down to business. He crossed his legs and took out his notebook, but otherwise didn’t take his eyes off of the attractive Doctor.

  ‘T
hanks for seeing us Dr. Harper, I’m in charge of the investigation of the five missing school girls, well four now obviously, and apart from our crude observations that she had been drugged, is there anything else you can tell us to assist us with our enquiries?’

  ‘She’s alive, but physically she’s in a pretty bad way. Nothing life threatening, and her body will heal, but she’s been very seriously abused Detective, and I’m afraid mentally, she’ll be scarred for life.’

  Ramirez was wondering how many similar cases O’Hara had worked on, the details might be a bit harrowing for her, he thought, but good experience.

  ‘You okay O’Hara?’

  The female officer shuffled in her chair feeling embarrassment and awkwardness in equal measure, ‘I’m fine Sir.’

  ‘How d’ya mean Doctor?’ asked Ramirez.

  ‘She was raped, several times over, and sodomized. Stupid to say but thank God she was drugged, but the physical damage remains the same. Whichever animal did this to her...excuse me Detective, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen such callous abuse of a young girl, he needs finding before he can exact the same vile abuse on someone else.’ Doctor Harper tried to compose herself before she continued. ‘She would have been a virgin before the attack and now, well, let’s just hope she can still have children sometime in the future, when the mental scars have healed.’

  ‘I see, we’ll get the bastard who did it, we’re doing all we can. DNA Doctor?’

  ‘Yes, we have the attacker’s DNA. But very little else I’m afraid. The strange this is, there are no other injuries apart from those inflicted sexually. Usually someone committing a sexually-violent act would harm the person in other ways. It looks like we’re dealing with a pedophile, through and through.’

  ‘Thank you Doctor. Is she conscious? I know it’s difficult but she may well be able to tell us something that would lead us to the man who did it.’

  ‘I’m sorry detective, it’s far too early, she hasn’t fully recovered from the effects of the barbiturates yet, give it another few hours and...’

  ‘It may be too late then Doctor, you’ll let me know the second we can talk to her? It wouldn't be me; I’d ask O’Hara here if she could...’

  ‘As I said, give it a couple of hours and I’ll call you, okay?’

  Officer O’Hara had just realized why Ramirez had asked her to go along with him to the hospital.

  ‘As soon as you possibly can, it might save lives.’

  Ramirez stood up to leave and shook hands and thanked the Doctor, on the way out he saw a young girl lying on a bed in a treatment room through a window. Her eyes were closed, she was still unconscious. She had tubes in her mouth and nose and her mother was sitting beside her holding her hand. Ramirez stared hard at the suffering inflicted by the beast who was out there somewhere. He then turned to the Doctor and said, ‘She’s alive. Thanks again Doctor.’

  The bouncy assistant jumped up from her desk and showed them out of the special unit.

  Ramirez and O’Hara headed for the elevator. Neither of them said a word for some time.

  Chapter 58

  Fifty yards around the corner from ‘Bad’ Billy Thompson’s old apartment, two detectives, six armed SWAT officers, Jones and Phelps, the CSI guys, and Stone, were sitting in a blacked out Ops van listening to Detective Finch. He was giving blow by blow instructions for the operation ahead to enter Thompson’s apartment. Stone had been given a bullet-proof vest and told to stay out of the way some yards back until they had gained entry and given the all clear inside.

  ‘Turn all cell phones and two-way radios off now,’ ordered Finch. Everyone fumbled around and held down the off buttons and waited for the screens to go dark before returning them to their pockets and belt holders. Stone had to switch two phones off.

  Finch addressed the six SWAT officers and instructed them to lead off first. ‘Jack, it’s over to you guys, announce yourselves as police officers and then get us in, if he’s there, try to keep him alive. Jones and Phelps, stay well behind me and Tariq. Stone, remember what I told you okay?’ Stone nodded. ‘Okay, head out.’

  The street was quiet for late afternoon and after the driver had taken the van right outside the entrance, the SWAT team jumped out of the back of the van like racehorses out of their traps. The lobby of the run down tenement building was dark and smelly. The sound of kids crying and music blasting out from every other apartment gave then cover till they got to the second floor.

  Jack, the lead SWAT guy, took up his spot at the side of the door and waved the other guys to get into place. The team moved swiftly and silently into position like a choreographed dance. Six Heckler & Koch MP9 sub-machine guns were trained on the door and no one stood a chance of getting past them. Finch and the others were crouching half-way down the flight of stairs, waiting for the all clear. Jones handed out a pair of skin-tight surgical gloves to everyone.

  Jack held up his hand to signal the start of the operation. He called out and knocked on the door at the same time.

  ‘Billy Thompson...this is the police, open up.’ Ten seconds passed; there was no response from inside the apartment. He repeated the call. ‘This is the last time Thompson, this is the police, open the door, NOW.’ Again he allowed ten seconds to pass and counted down on his fingers for all the team to see. He mouthed, THREE, TWO, ONE. ‘GO,’ he shouted.

  The front door was old and almost bare of any paint whatsoever, the Yale was scratched and loose and the jamb around the lock looked as if it had been busted and repaired a thousand times. The SWAT guy who’d been standing on the other side of the door to Jack took a step back and kicked in the door, the door flew open and the team danced again like clockwork into the apartment and did what they do best.

  Finch could hear their heavy footfalls through the rooms, doors were being burst open. Four shouts of ‘CLEAR’ were heard signifying that there were four rooms in the place. A SWAT guy poked his head out of the front door and said, ‘All clear Sir,’ and Finch led the rest inside.

  The rooms were furnished like something out of a 1980’s catalogue, the plastic covered couch and Formica topped coffee table had long since lost their color and Finch wasn’t sure whether he was walking on a worn out carpet or fancy patterned floorboards.

  Tariq looked around and found an open bottle of milk and a half eaten pizza on a small dining table in the middle of the kitchen, the pizza slices were still in the open cardboard delivery box, ‘If someone does lives here, they left in a hurry,’ he said.

  Finch agreed, he picked up a newspaper from the coffee table looking for the date, it was today’s New York Times. ‘He’s here somewhere,’ he said.

  ‘Why do you say that?’ said Stone. He walked over to look and saw the newspaper.

  From a back room - which had a dirty old mattress without any sheets on a soiled divan for a bed, a pile of empty beer cans and rubbish strewn all around the room - came a shout, ‘Sir? You’re gonna need to see this.’ Jack was looking at the wall in the bedroom and some of the other officers were reading what was pinned to it. They stepped back when Finch and Stone entered the room.

  Finch automatically covered his mouth as he entered the room, the stench of urine and stale beer pervaded the air. When he saw the faded and now sepia colored newspaper clippings, which must have been there since 1995, he dropped his hand and forgot about the foul smell in the room.

  ‘That’s our boy, ‘Bad’ Billy Thompson,’ said Tariq who went up closer for a better look. ‘The guy’s a freak, he took such a perverted and twisted ego trip out of his sadistic handiwork that he pasted the girls on the wall one by one as he popped them off. Look.’

  Finch gave him a dirty look as if to remind him that Stone was with them on the raid, ‘Sorry Sir,’ he mouthed.

  In a line across the wall, the faces of four angelic looking schoolgirls, smiling and full of the joys of life, were staring back at them spookily.

  ‘Three were found dead in this very apartment,’ said Tariq reading fr
om his iPad. ‘Susan Epstein, Carol Meyer and Mary Peterson, they all went to the same school.’

  Stone had seen enough, he’d hoped they would find Thompson himself, or something to give them a lead, he couldn't stop thinking about Laura and wanted to leave.

  Finch noticed him skulking away out of the bedroom, ‘You okay Stone?’

  ‘No. He’s not here, the bastard’s got them somewhere, I know it, I need to...’ He was interrupted by another shout to Finch.

  ‘Finch?’ Tariq was searching around; he saw that the power light to an old computer on a side table was still on. Out of curiosity he flicked the switch on to fire up the screen and there was a web page still open, it was a CNN report of the five girls that were missing. ‘Thompson must have been in the apartment very recently,’ he said. Finch had arrived and saw the report for himself. Stone looked over his shoulder. When he saw the photos of Tameka, Sofia, Jessica and Neesha from the CNN article, a feeling of dread came over him. Finch scrolled down the page and there was a photo of his daughter Laura. Thompson had saved the photos to his desktop as well.

  Stone collapsed.

  ‘Get him outside, now, get him some air,’ ordered Finch.

  Two of the SWAT team lifted Stone’s arms onto their shoulders and escorted him back to the van. Finch was having second thoughts about the decision to allow Stone to accompany them on the raid.

  ‘This could be something or it may be nothing, Finch began. ‘I want this place searched from top to bottom, I also want two officers by the entrance, in hiding, watching for if the bastard comes back to the apartment. Now get to work.’

  Ramirez was going frantic. Five times he’d tried to call Finch and then Stone on their cell phones but got nothing. He called the precinct and screamed at a poor woman who took the call on the switchboard and asked where the hell Detective Finch was. She put him through to the duty sergeant who told him that Finch was out on a raid on an ex-con’s house, he told Ramirez about the possible link with the missing girls.