Cold Justice

by Rayven T. Hill

  Jake looked at him. “Boo.”

  Ugly spun away, across the driveway and around the side of the building.

  Jake turned back to the nerd. “What’s your name?”

  His voice quivered. “Jimmy.” It sounded like a question.

  “Well, Jimmy, it’s nice to meet you. My name’s Jake, and I’m not here to hurt you.”

  Jimmy looked as if he didn’t know whether to believe him.

  “Stand up, Jimmy.”

  Jimmy stood obediently, cowering back.

  Jake cornered him between the garage and the fence. “You’re Tommy’s friend, right?”

  Jimmy nodded meekly.

  “Did you talk to him yesterday?”

  Another nod.

  “What about yesterday evening?”

  “He wasn’t around.”

  “Where was he?”

  “He said he had a job to do.”

  “What kind of job?”

  Jimmy shrugged.

  “Did he say who hired him?”

  Another shrug.

  Jake grabbed Jimmy by the jacket, pushed him back firmly and repeated, “Did he say who hired him?”

  Jimmy looked around nervously. “I can’t say anything. He’ll kill me.”

  Jimmy’s breath shot out as Jake pushed a little harder. “And I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

  Jimmy licked his dried lips. “You... You wouldn’t do that?”

  Jake heaved and Jimmy’s feet came off the ground about twelve inches. “How do you know?”

  Jimmy wiggled, and whined, “Put me down.”

  Jake did. Jimmy fell into a heap, landing back on his elbows. Jake knelt beside him and pushed him to the pavement. “Who hired him?”

  “He... He just said he had an errand to do for his uncle.”

  “What kind of errand?”

  “He... He said he had to pick up a package. I don’t know what kind of package. Maybe some drugs. I don’t know. Honest.”

  “Who’s his uncle?”

  “I don’t know his name.”

  Jake studied him briefly, and holding him firmly with his left hand, he tightened his right into a massive fist. He showed it to Jimmy. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll break your nose.”

  Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut, turned his head, and brought his hands up as if to ward off the blow. “Please,” he pleaded. “Don’t hurt me. I don’t know his name. I swear. If I knew, I would tell you.”

  Jake released his grip and stood up. “Get out of here,” he said.

  Jimmy’s eyes shot open. He stared in disbelief for a moment, and then scrambled to his feet and scurried away.

  Jake watched him run and then dug his iPhone out of the holder and called Annie’s number.

  No answer.

  He let it ring a few times, frowned at the phone, and tried another number.

  “Hello?”

  “Chrissy, it’s Jake. Have you talked to Annie today?”

  “Not today.”

  “She’s not answering her phone and I’m getting a little worried. Can you tell her to call me if you see her?”

  “Sure.”

  “And Chrissy, can you watch Matty for awhile in case neither one of us comes home in time?”

  “Absolutely, no problem. I’ll watch for him.”

  They hung up and Jake dropped his phone back in the holder.

  Matty knew if he came home from school and no one was around, he should go next door. Chrissy was always there at that time, and she would watch him.

  He knew Annie had gone to see Philip Blackley a couple of hours ago, and perhaps she was still there, but he didn’t know why she wouldn’t be answering her phone.

  But right now, he had to find out who Tommy Salamander’s uncle is.

  Chapter 52

  Friday, August 19th, 2:52 PM

  ANNIE STOOD FROZEN, staring at the gun Hoffman pointed at her, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  She dropped behind the trunk and twisted around to the far side of the vehicle. She watched her cell phone leap from her hand, hit the concrete, and skid across the floor. If she went for it, she would be back into Hoffman’s view. She would have to leave it.

  “Stand up and come out,” Hoffman called.

  She heard him coming across the floor, around the car to where she was crouching. She scurried to the front of the vehicle, just as he reached the side. A loud crack echoed off the walls of the room, and a bullet whistled and smacked into the wall behind her.

  She eased her head up for a moment. He had the gun ready and was moving to the front. She dropped down and looked around desperately for a weapon or some means of escape. She saw nothing useful, and she had but a couple of seconds to spare. He was between her and the outer door now, getting closer. She sprang to her feet, ran to the door leading into the house, and half fell up the single step into the landing.

  Another shot sounded. It hit the wall near her head as she scrambled across the floor on all fours. She stumbled to her feet. She was in a large kitchen. She thought about looking for a knife, but didn’t have time. And a knife wasn’t much good against a deadly gun.

  She crossed the kitchen and dove through a doorway into a large living room as she heard his feet on the kitchen floor.

  “You can’t get away,” he shouted. “If you stop and come back, I won’t hurt you.”

  Annie knew that was a ridiculous promise. He had killed three people, and she didn’t want to be the fourth. She was sure Hoffman was the murderer, and didn’t realize until she had seen the blood, how much danger she had put herself into. She should have called Jake when she had the chance, or at least, left a message telling him where she was.

  She ran across the room toward another doorway. In a split-second she saw that going to the right circled back to the kitchen, the left down a hallway, a wide staircase to the second floor. She could be trapped up there, and circling back to the kitchen was dangerous. She took the unknown route down the hallway.

  He wasn’t far behind her, just coming into the living room. He knew his way around, but she was running blind. A wrong decision and she would be trapped.

  She made a quick choice and took the first open doorway into a large bedroom. She looked around frantically. In the closet, under the bed, or through the window?

  Instead, she stood behind the door, hoping he would pass. He didn’t.

  She heard him step into the room and stop. He was on the other side of the door, but she couldn’t see him. She stood motionless, her heart pounding as she listened to him breath.

  “I know you’re in here,” he called. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you and find out why you are in my house.”

  She watched his back as he came in further and crept through the door of a walk-in closet, his gun poised and ready, gripped in both hands.

  When he came back out, he would be sure to see her. She had only one chance. She eased around the door and back into the hallway with a single objective; get out of here and get to a phone.

  She was only familiar with one route, back to the kitchen, into the garage, and outside. But what about a phone? She had heard an uneasy snap when hers had hit the concrete floor. She didn’t expect it would work. Should she look for a phone in the house, or just go to the neighboring property?

  She made a quick decision, and headed for the garage.

  Chapter 53

  Friday, August 19th, 2:52 PM

  JAKE DECIDED he would have to deal with Salamander later. It wouldn’t be hard for the police to track him down and get the truth out of him, once he had this thing figured out. He hurried across the street, climbed into the Firebird and turned the key. The engine roared and the car leaped ahead. He took a left on Main, and drove north, heading toward more familiar territory.

  As he reached closer to home, he took a left, and a quick right, and pulled over to the side, directly in front of a row of townhouses. He jumped from the vehicle and went up the driveway to the door of #633. He ra
ng the doorbell and waited.

  The door sprang open. “Hello, my good man. What brings you to my less than humble abode.”

  Jake grinned and stepped in. “I need your help.”

  Jeremiah Everest and Jake had been good friends for many years. With not a lot of the same likes and dislikes, their paths hadn’t crossed often, but they remained friends nonetheless. Jeremiah was aptly named ‘Geekly’ by those who knew him best, a name he rather liked. Geekly had helped Jake and Annie a few times when they needed his expertise.

  Jake slapped him on the back and followed him into a room the builder had designed as the living room. Other than a small television and an easy chair, in this case, the room was put to better use. It was wall-to-wall technology, with makeshift shelving containing monitors, keyboards, mice, cables, and unknown things with dials and meters.

  Pushed up against another wall, a desk was piled high with other curious pieces of computer equipment, rows of DVDs, software, stacks of manuals, and hard drives.

  Geekly sat sideways at a smaller desk that contained two monitors and a keyboard. He kicked a chair toward Jake. “Have a seat and tell me what I can do for you.”

  Jake sat and pulled the chair in closer. “I need you to find someone for me.”

  “Piece of cake,” Geekly said, as he tucked his glasses back up onto his nose. “Who are you looking for?”

  “His name is Tommy Salamander.”

  “Tommy. Probably registered in the birth records under the name of Thomas,” Geekly said as he swung his chair around. He tapped a few keys. “I have two Thomas Salamanders. How old is this guy?”

  “Probably mid-twenties.”

  “There’s only one then. Thomas Salamander, born March 10th, 1987. That would make him twenty-six years old. Sound right?”

  Jake nodded. “That sounds like him.”

  Geekly banged a few more keys. “Currently living at 12 Portal Street?” he asked, as he looked at Jake.

  Jake nodded. “Yup. Now I have to find out who his Uncle is.”

  Geekly turned back to the keyboard. “Let’s see here. His mother is Betty Salamander. She lives in the city.”

  “So Salamander would be her married name,” Jake said. “What’s her maiden name?”

  Geekly continued to drum the keys. Finally, he turned to Jake. “She was born Betty Hoffman.”

  “Hoffman,” Jake shouted. He lowered his voice slightly and leaned in. “What’s the name of her siblings?”

  “Let’s see here.” Tap tap tap. “One brother. Boris Hoffman.”

  Jake jumped to his feet. “Boris Hoffman. I don’t believe it.”

  Geekly shrugged. “It’s all here.”

  “Yeah, I mean, I know Hoffman. I just never suspected he was a murderer.”

  “You wanna fill me in a bit here?” Geekly asked.

  Jake told him quickly about Hoffman, and what he was now sure Hoffman had done.

  “You should call the police,” Geekly suggested.

  “The problem is, I don’t have any real evidence yet. Just the word of a homeless man who hates cops, and a low-life who won’t admit anything.”

  “So, what are you gonna do?”

  Jake shook his head. “I’m not sure yet.” He paced for a few seconds and then swiped his iPhone from its holster.

  His call was answered on the first ring. “Anderson Blackley.”

  “Mr. Blackley, it’s Jake Lincoln. Did my wife come and see you today?”

  “Yes, she did. Just after one.”

  “Did she say where she was going? I’m unable to reach her.”

  “No, she never said.”

  “Ok, thanks.”

  “Wait,” Blackley said. “There is one thing that might help. When I told her Vera had been seeing a psychiatrist some time ago, a Dr. Boris Hoffman, she seemed quite interested. She left in a hurry after that. She said she had some things to take care of right away.”

  “Thanks again.”

  Jake thought a moment, and then spun around and looked at Geekly. “I think that crazy wife of mine went to see Hoffman.” He ran toward the door. “I gotta go Geekly. Thanks for your help.”

  “Yeah, yeah, any time,” Geekly called as the front door slammed.

  Jake ran to the car and powered it up. He threw the shifter in first, touched the gas, and left a few black marks behind.

  He still had his iPhone in his hand. He called Philip Macy.

  “Hello?”

  “Philip, it’s Jake. I think we have our man. Dr. Hoffman. Does that make any sense to you?”

  “Dr. Hoffman?” Philip asked. “Are you sure?”

  “I’d bet my iPhone on it.”

  Philip whistled. “It’s starting to make a little bit of sense. Yeah, sure. He would have access to enough drugs to... kill Abby. And she would let him into the house with no question, because she knew him.” He was talking fast, excited. “Yeah, it makes a lot of sense now.”

  “And don’t forget,” Jake added. “He’s the one who said your wife was delusional, and the police gave his statement a lot of weight.”

  “Wow. Exactly. He’s the guy Jake. I’m sure of it. Did you inform the police yet?”

  “That’s the problem. I can’t prove any of this right now.”

  “So, now what?”

  “I have to get over there right now. I think Annie went there this afternoon. She may be in trouble.”

  “Take me with you.”

  “What? No.”

  “Take me with you, Jake. He took my wife. I want to be there.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I’m in this a hundred percent.” He paused. “I can meet you there if you want.”

  “I’ll pick you up,” Jake said. “See if you can find out where he lives, and I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

  “I’ll be outside waiting for you. And I know exactly where he lives.”

  Chapter 54

  Friday, August 19th, 3:21 PM

  AS ANNIE SCOOTED from the bedroom, heading for the garage and freedom, she could hear Hoffman behind her again. He must have heard her, or perhaps stepped out of the walk-in closet in time to see her run.

  She would have to dodge into the kitchen again. She was just going in circles, around and around. She needed a moment to think, but there wasn’t time.

  She swung into the kitchen out of his line of fire and stopped suddenly. Reaching up, she selected a large frying pan from a row of cookware hung on hooks from the ceiling. She swung around, hoisted the pan over her head, and waited.

  “You can’t get away,” he called.

  She heard him breathe. He was moving slowly, getting close. The tip of the gun appeared around the corner. Then a hand.

  As she brought the pot down with all her strength, she heard a sickening thud as it connected with his wrist. The blow drove his hand down, but he held onto the gun. He cursed. The pot was now at her side, gripped in both hands. She stepped around the corner, swung up, and caught him full in the face. He stumbled with the blow, hit the wall with his shoulder, and went down.

  He still had the gun, but another quick crack with the pan onto the back of his hand caused it to jump away and skitter against the wall.

  She dropped the pan and dove for the weapon. He caught her by the shirtsleeve, but she retrieved the gun with her other hand, swung it around, and cracked him on the side of the head, wrenching her shirt from his grasp. It ripped, but she was free. She rolled away, and sprung to a crouch, facing him, the gun in her hand aimed directly at his head.

  He groaned and opened his eyes, frowning at her.

  “Don’t try anything,” Annie said, “or I’ll kill you.” She stood and backed up a couple of steps. “Stand up.”

  He groaned again and rose slowly to his feet. “You won’t shoot me,” he said.

  “You don’t want to find out for sure, do you?”

  He was silent, glaring at her.

  The scuffle had put him between her and the kitchen. She want
ed to get in there, get to a phone, and call the police. “Step back,” she said, “into the kitchen, and sit down at the table.”

  He scowled at her a moment and then stepped back, eyeing the gun.

  “Another step.”

  He did.

  “Now sit down.”

  He turned and pulled back a chair, and sat at the end of the table.

  She looked around and spied the phone on the counter. She stepped sideways. The gun didn’t waver as she swooped up the receiver.

  “You don’t want to do that,” Hoffman said.

  “And why is that?” she asked.

  “Because you are an intruder in my house. You broke in here. I tried to defend myself, and now you are holding me at gunpoint.”

  She hesitated.

  “You will be in a lot of trouble,” he said.

  “You killed Abigail Macy.”

  “Where’s your proof?”

  He was right. She had no proof, just a theory. Except for the blood. “I found blood in the trunk of your car. Vera Blackley’s blood,” she said.

  He laughed. “That’s my blood. I cut my finger changing a tire.” He held up his hand and showed her a scab on the side of his finger.

  A neighbor saw you parked at Vera Blackley’s house.

  He laughed again. “She was my patient, and I make the occasional house call. I went to see her a couple of times when she was feeling particularly down.”

  “What about Abigail Macy?” she asked.

  He shook his head slowly. “It was very sad to hear about her committing suicide.” He sighed. “Very sad, indeed.”

  She set the receiver back in its cradle. He was right. It was all circumstantial evidence, and if she couldn’t back any of it up, then what kind of trouble had she gotten herself into? Maybe it really was his blood in the car.

  She sat at the other end of the table, clenching the weapon tightly in her hand, and pointing it at his head.

  Chapter 55

  Friday, August 19th, 3:32 PM

  JAKE FOLLOWED Philip Macy’s directions to Rambling Road. As they drew closer to 133, he frowned and pointed. “There’s Annie’s car.”