“Agreed.”
“So that just blows a hole in your theory.”
“Not necessarily. Call the bank and have them send us a picture of Erin at the ATM.”
Twenty-seven
The wait wasn’t long. The bank did better than send a picture of Erin Smith, they emailed a video of the transaction. Pat pulled it up on her computer and called me over. We were looking at a woman wearing dark sunglasses wearing a black baseball cap. The video wasn’t the best quality because of the glare of the sun in the background.
“What do you think?” Pat asked.
“Looks like her.”
The woman appeared to be attractive and slender. Similar facial features to Erin Smith. The transaction took a whole thirty-seven seconds. This wasn’t a drive-up ATM. When the woman was done, she walked back to a car that could be seen in the video and drove off.
“Could you make out the tag number?” I asked.
Pat ran back the video to when the woman turned and walked away. She got into the front passenger side of a white Nissan Maxima, somewhere between an ’04 to ’07 model based on the body style. The car backed up from the parking space and drove away. The camera angle didn’t capture the license plate.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Most banks have outside cameras. Pretty sure we can get a plate number from one of the cameras.”
Two minutes later I was on the phone with the Duck Police Department in North Carolina. I was talking to a Detective Cartwright whose heavy, rough voice sounded like he should be retiring in the next year or two. I explained the situation to him and said that we couldn’t get a plate number. He told me he’d get video footage from the bank and track down the tag number. I thanked him and hung up.
“So what do you want to do?” Pat asked.
I didn’t hesitate with my answer. “Let’s take a ride out to Annapolis.”
Twenty-eight
The ride to Annapolis was relaxing. Once out of the city, New York Avenue turns into Route 50 which is a literally a straight shot to Annapolis. Pat and I talked about things that we haven’t had a chance to talk about. Seems like I’ve been running on first gear ever since I came back to work, which gave me little time to actually get to know Pat the person.
She filled me in on her life before making detective. She worked as a uniformed officer for seven years out of the Sixth District. She was born and raised in Northern Virginia, city of Falls Church to be exact, and after college she wanted to pursue law enforcement. She said that her parents were initially against it. They wanted her to go to law school, but she said she couldn’t imagine a career where you sit behind a desk for the majority of your life. I agreed with her. However, I told her that if I had met her on the street I wouldn’t have taken her for a cop. She doesn’t look the part. She’s exceptionally attractive with a beautiful smile and pearly white teeth. This isn’t to say that beautiful people can’t pursue law enforcement, but she looks like she should be on the cover of Vogue rather than wearing a detective’s badge. She’s tall with a slender frame, long blond hair that she usually keeps in a ponytail. Her fingernails are always nicely manicured and the little bit of make-up that she wears is always flawless. She looks like a young Farrah Fawcett.
She chuckled and said she gets that all the time. She said that ever since she was young she wanted to be a cop. She has two older sisters and despite her looks, claimed that she was the tomboy of the trio. She said that when her sisters were playing with Barbies and doll houses, she was outside kicking around the soccer ball with the neighborhood boys or seeing if she could out-climb them in trees. When she was eleven, her father put her and her two sisters in martial arts. They lasted two months, but she never stopped training. She said that when the MMA got big a few years back, she started doing that as well.
I looked at her surprised. I tried to imagine her flipping someone over her back or trying to get out of an armlock, but couldn’t. She laughed again and said it’s the look most men give her. But she’d bet money that she could take most men down and have them tapping out in under a minute. The more I thought about it, the more I believed her. It’s usually the ones you don’t see coming that are the most ruthless.
The subject switched over to me. I told her about my family and how my parents passed away shortly after I joined the force. We talked about the life of a cop and how challenging that can be on a lot of families. I told her that I had it great because my wife was a doctor so the both of us were used to the crazy schedules and stresses of our jobs. She said that she heard Theresa was a great woman from some of the people in the precinct. I said that she was.
Things became quiet for a minute. I started thinking about my wife again and I fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. When people are young and in love and believe they’ve found their life partner, they never imagine they’ll only have a short time to spend with that person. We hear all the time that life is short, and that we’re supposed to make the most out of each moment. But we don’t really believe it until it stares us in the face and forces us to accept the reality that life is short and that we are supposed to cherish every moment.
“Did I lose you there, Jacob?”
Pat’s voice brought me out of thought.
“What’s that?”
“You tuned me out for a few seconds there. Everything okay?”
“Sorry, didn’t hear what you said.”
“I was just asking how you and Theresa met.”
“By my clumsiness really.”
“Clumsiness?”
“We were in separate lines at McDonald’s. We both paid for our food. I wasn’t paying attention and when I turned around, I bumped into her and knocked her food down. Here I am in a police uniform nearly knocking over a woman and spilling her food. She took it in good spirit though. And the rest is history.”
“Aww,” Pat said smiling, “that kinda stuff only happens in the movies.”
“What about you? Haven’t met prince charming yet?”
“They don’t exist. Men are just dogs.”
“Uh oh, a woman scorned?”
“Let’s just say I’ve had my share of jerks. And if living a happy life means being single and jerk free, then I’m all for it.”
“Sounds like you just haven’t met the right guy yet. There’s plenty of prince charmings out there.”
“Well when one comes around, let me know.”
“Patience, my friend. Just be patient.”
“Jacob, I’m thirty-three years old. If I haven’t met him by now, I’ll never meet him.”
I understood where she was coming from. Women have different body clocks to men. I didn’t want to get too personal and ask if she wanted kids, but judging by her answer, she understood the childbearing age warnings that doctors inform women about. I wasn’t sure what to say next. I couldn’t give the “patience” answer again because she’d probably give me a death stare from hell. I didn’t want to say, “I’m sure you’ll meet somebody soon” because that’s probably what every man would say in this situation. Luckily my phone rang which saved me, for the moment.
Twenty-nine
Detective Cartwright from the Outer Banks was on the phone. When we spoke the first time, he sounded like an old man on his last leg. When he acknowledged who he was, I couldn’t tell if he was going to give me good news or bad. But at this point any news was better than nothing.
“We were able to get a tag number on that Nissan Maxima you inquired about,” he said.
“That’s great news.”
“The heavens must be on your side because once I got the number, I put the word out to patrols to keep an eye out for said car. And guess what? We pulled them over about ten minutes ago.”
“Really? Have they said anything?”
“Well, we knew the driver. His name is Kevin Townsend. We’ve spoken to him a few times in the past. Seems like he’s always in the middle of stuff but never gets his hand caught in the cookie jar. Anyways, the girl in the
car is his girlfriend. Her name is Victoria Shepherd. We’re bringing them in for questioning and will probably book them for stolen property. But I don’t think she’s your girl.”
“Is that her real name?”
“That’s what her license says. We can verify through fingerprints. If she’s been hanging with Kevin Townsend then chances are she’ll be in the database too.”
“Okay. If she is who she says she is then we need to find out how she got hold of Erin Smith’s bankcard.”
“Will do buckaroo. I’ll call you once I get more info.”
Buckaroo? I thanked him and hung up.
“What’d he say?” Pat asked.
“They pulled over the car in the video, but he doesn’t think the girl is Erin Smith. He’ll call me back once they’ve questioned her.”
“And the plot thickens.”
“Indeed.”
“So what do you think is going on here?”
“I think Erin Smith is toying with us.”
“I don’t like being played,” Pat said.
“Neither do I. If there’s one way to get under my skin, it’s trying to make me look like a fool.”
The exit for downtown Annapolis came up on the right. I gracefully took it, hoping that I wasn’t being played for a fool.
Thirty
I didn’t know what to expect. A bulls eye shot in the dark maybe? My inner voice told me to go to Annapolis. I’m now here, but no sign of Erin Smith. Pat and I checked the docks. There were plenty of boats out because it was a beautiful day, but no sign of the boat in Erin Smith’s picture. Maybe she was already out in the water. Maybe I was totally wrong about the whole boat theory. It wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong. Definitely not the last.
People were out walking along the sidewalks, crossing the streets, staring at the harbor and enjoying the day. Maryland’s capital usually enjoyed light tourism around this time of year. The Naval Academy is only a few blocks away. Prospective families come and tour the downtown area of Annapolis that could be home to their children for the next four years.
Pat and I were heading back to the car. We’d already walked the downtown area twice and got nothing. We were lucky enough to park along Main Street, where most of the shops were located. Pat was saying something about how my theory wasn’t a bad one, even plausible that Erin Smith might hide in the water, but a better working theory would be that she’d be traveling by car. I was listening and I wasn’t at the same time. I was getting mad at myself for even thinking she’d come to Annapolis. Why would she? This is too close to D.C. and Annapolis gets the same news channels that D.C. gets. Her face had been plastered across the TV screen. She’d want to get as far away from the D.C. metro area as possible. I nodded as Pat continued. Hopefully she wasn’t asking for my input because I really didn’t have any. But then suddenly, someone caught my eyes. I squinted. Sight out of my left eye becomes clearer when I squint. And that’s when I was sure who I was seeing.
The man had just come out of O’Brien’s restaurant, a red brick building that stuck out like a sore thumb. The same man who told me that he was with Jack Smith at the convention. The same man who lied to me because Jack Smith was dead long before the convention had started. Russ Ackers. He looked the same: short brown hair, tall with a fit build. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes, khaki shorts and a dark brown T-shirt. He came out of the front door, looked left and then right, and stopped when he saw us. We were about fifty yards away. He stood there, probably just as amazed as I was. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I bet they were big and wide and filled with surprise. I tapped Pat on the shoulder and pointed with my finger. She saw what I saw.
All of a sudden, it felt like everyone else around us had stopped, almost like time itself had stopped. I could feel the beat of my heart and hear my breath coming in short, quick intervals. I felt sweat roll down my cheek like it was trying to stop itself from inevitably falling from my face and ending its life with a splat on the ground. The muscles in my legs tensed because I knew what was soon coming. I’ve seen the look before. The look of a person weighing their options. Their mind starts calculating things within milliseconds. They aren’t quite sure what to do, but they know they need to do something soon. And usually when that happens, our most primitive survival instinct kicks in. We run. And that’s exactly what Russ Ackers did.
He ran.
And we ran after him.
Thirty-one
He ran up Main Street. Main Street ascended up a slight hill. Either side was filled with shops. People were coming and going. Cars were parallel parked. Russ Ackers was in pretty good shape. When he ran, he looked like someone who was used to running sprints on a regular basis. I was not. Although I keep myself in good shape, running sprints is something I don’t do regularly. I rely on my natural speed to catch people who are slower than me, which usually ends within a minute or two. But this guy was fast.
I yelled back to Pat to call 911. I don’t know if she heard me. I didn’t look back to see where she was. I wanted to keep an eye on Russ Ackers in case he tried to duck into one of the stores or take a side street. Fortunately there weren’t too many places he could go without being seen. People blew by me in a blur. I was keeping pace with Russ Ackers but I wasn’t gaining ground. He had a fifty-yard lead on me and I didn’t seem to be getting any closer. We were almost at the top of Main Street where there’s a circle. He had his choice to go straight, right or left. Russ Ackers decided to bear right.
By now we’d sprinted about a half mile. Up a slight hill. I was starting to feel a burn in my lungs. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. Once the mind senses fatigue it doesn’t let the thought go away. It dwells on it and allows the fatigue to take over the body. My legs started burning. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up. Russ Ackers didn’t appear to be bothered by it. Perhaps it was his adrenaline pumping. He had more to lose than I did. If he stops, I catch him and he goes to jail. If I stop, well, then I’d try to catch him another day. His motivation to keep running was far stronger than mine. But I feared that if I stopped, I would lose him and lose a chance of finding Erin Smith.
I sprinted on. With each stride I took deep breaths. I extended my legs to their limit. Each time my foot touched the ground, my toes pushed off which caused my legs to spring to a natural rhythm. By now I was totally drenched in sweat. A couple of times, I had to wipe sweat from my eyes with the back of my hand which interrupted my stride.
We came to a split in the road. Russ Ackers followed the road to the right. If I were a car, my gas tank would be near empty. The red light would come on, warning the driver that they needed to re-fuel. I could feel myself starting to slow down. Not by my own will, but by the will of my body. Russ Ackers started getting farther away instead of getting closer.
I cursed out loud. He was getting away and I couldn’t catch him. I’ve never been outrun by a suspect. For the first time, I allowed myself to look behind me. I didn’t see Pat. Where was she? I finally waved the white flag and slowed down to a jog. Russ Ackers continued sprinting like he was running for the gold. By now we’d sprinted nearly a mile. Who could keep up that kind of pace for a mile?
I finally stopped and bent down to rest my hands on my knees. My lungs were on fire. I gulped in huge breaths of air hoping to put out the flames that were burning in my chest. Then I heard a car skid round the corner. It was Pat. I had forgotten that I gave her the keys to my car after we first parked. She slammed on the brakes when she got to me. I rushed into the passenger seat and she took off like a bat out of hell.
“I see him,” she said. “Annapolis P.D. should be here any moment.”
She looked at me. I was still trying to catch my breath.
Sirens sounded in the distance. Russ Ackers turned left onto 6 Bladen Street. Pat closed in on him quick. He didn’t look as fast anymore compared to a three-hundred horsepower engine. He turned his head and saw that I wasn’t on foot any longer. My brief break from running
gave me a second wind. I had my hand on the door handle ready to jump out. Pat was going to fly passed him and cut him off to give us a perfect angle to jump on him. She was holding her cell phone and quickly spoke into it telling the dispatcher what road we were on.
We were out of our jurisdiction. We weren’t sworn officers in the state of Maryland, but that wasn’t going to stop me from grabbing this guy. Pat had already started turning the steering wheel towards him when he suddenly did something unexpected. I saw him lift the front of his shirt and pull out a gun. He did it without breaking stride, like running and grabbing guns was second nature to him. He straightened his arm without looking back. Pat didn’t seem to react so I grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it right. The car instantly jerked and Pat slammed on the brakes. The car yanked right and our momentum caused us to lean left. I heard two loud pops and the rear side windows exploded.
Pat yelled into her phone, “Shots fired! Shots fired! Suspect has a gun.”
The car came to a stop. We were nearly turned the opposite way. We ducked down to protect ourselves from anymore bullets. I raised my head just enough to see that Russ Ackers was still running, but the gun wasn’t in firing position. He had it cradled in his hand and it was moving back and forth with each stride.
Sirens were getting louder. And there were more of them. I opened the door and started pursuing once again on foot. Up ahead was an intersection. I could see police cars about a half-mile ahead barreling down the road. There were a few office buildings in the immediate vicinity and I was worried that with a gun, Russ Ackers might try and hole up in one of them and take someone hostage.
He momentarily stopped at the intersection and appeared to weigh his options. If he continued straight, he would run into the oncoming police. If he turned around he’d be heading back to us. He could go either left or right, but besides the office buildings, there wasn’t anywhere to hide.
Behind the Closed Door: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 2) Page 7
