Detective Harrison reached across his desk and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, patiently waiting for her to let it all out of her system. This breakdown was more than familiar to him. He knew how to handle it. So when she finally managed to get herself back together as best she could, he spoke even more softly to her: “I understand that you’re scared; you have every right to be. It’s not always easy to think straight when you’ve just been through a traumatic experience.
“Now Megan, I’ve been a cop for over fifteen years, six of which I’ve been doing detective work all over the Lancaster area, working robbery, theft, and missing person cases. I’m looking at this from the outside, and I’m able to put it into perspective with a logical point of view. So let me tell you, in my professional opinion, what I think. I’ll tell you everything I can based on what I know. Won’t hold anything back. A complete, genuine, honest-to-God, true analysis. Okay?”
Megan wiped her tears while sniffling. Harrison held out a tissue for her, smiling like a caring dad trying to comfort his teenaged daughter who had just been dumped by the high school star quarterback. “Okay,” her voice cracked as she accepted the Kleenex from his extended hand.
The detective inhaled for a second, then let out a sigh as if preparing a rehearsed speech. “Megan,” he began, “I’m not gonna lie to you, kid: you are one lucky duckling. That man could’ve killed you. I know you were just trying to help him, and it’s okay to help people, but never risk your own safety to help someone.”
“I know,” she said a little shamefully. “I’ve never done this before. I know you’ll think I’m an idiot, because there’s no logic to what I’m saying, but I really felt like he was a kind man. It’s weird, but I had a strange sense of comfort when I was talking to him. Boy did I have him pegged all wrong.”
“Like I said,” Harrison continued, “guys like him are professionals. For criminals they sure know how to put on that charm. They’ll tell jokes, listen real closely to things you say then respond in a way they think you’ll most want to hear. They know how to work their victims little by little until their guard is let down. And most of them live their lives as professional scammers. But the ones who hold victims at gunpoint, tend to be more aggressive… more violent. If you had said ‘no’ one more time, if you had become hysterical, or if you so much as twitched, he could’ve pulled that trigger when it was pointed at you.
“Megan, people in the city have gotten shot just for their shoes. One of our detectives in Homicide had to work a case where a man climbed into the back seat of a car that was left unlocked at a local bar. He waited until the vehicle’s owner left the bar and got into the driver’s seat. Some college kid. The perp shot him in the head and took his wallet. When we caught him, we found that he had no connection with the young man he murdered. Had no beef with the kid; nothing. Just wanted his money. The kid had less than ten bucks on him. A man committed murder and is serving life, all for a few dollars. Do you see the reality… and the severity of the danger you put yourself in?”
Megan nodded. Nothing was more real to her at this moment.
“All the same,” Harrison went on, “a pair of shoes, a college kid’s thin wallet… if people kill for these worthless items, it doesn’t seem so unbelievable that this guy wanted your crucifix. You told him it wasn’t worth anything, but why should he believe you? If even if he did, if he’s good at scamming you into thinking he’s a harmless, sweet, homeless man, he probably has the skills to scam someone else into thinking it’s worth a lot more than it is and pawn it off for a pretty penny, which I’ve already suggested.”
Megan felt the sense of what the detective was explaining enter her thoughts, and she was calming down inside. She took a sip of her water, soothed by the refreshing coolness running down her throat. “What about his gun?” she asked with more control of her recently quivering voice. “Do you think he scammed someone out of that?”
“Or stole it,” Harrison replied. “We have reports of break-ins at over hundreds of residences a year. People leave for work; when they come home they find their doors or windows busted in and many of their personal belongings gone. I’m sure that if… or rather when we catch this guy, the gun he has will most likely match one that was reported stolen.”
He paused and offered Megan another tissue, gesturing a wiping motion on his own nose. Only slightly embarrassed, she wiped her nostrils free of whatever substance Harrison had noticed protruding from them. “You asked, Megan, how many homeless men can afford a gun. Well, you’re right: we don’t know if this guy even is homeless. Desperate, yes. Desperate men usually manage to get their hands on some weapon or another. And if he really is homeless… well, you said he was masking his intelligence, that he could speak very well and had a sophisticated air about him. I’m thinking this guy was once successful but had run into some bad luck. People who have been living on the streets their whole lives usually don’t cause trouble because they’re used to their poverty. They’ve accepted their lives as they are. People who become impoverished when they were once successful… can become desperate. They’re trying to get back what they’ve lost. If they can’t, they become bitter against others who still have those things that they used to have.”
“Father Paul said the same thing, before you got here. But if that’s true, I’m surprised he didn’t take my car.”
“No, he wouldn’t do that. Not unless he could get it to an underground chop-shop very quickly and get cash for it. That’s not likely here. In a large city like Philadelphia maybe, but here, if he took your car, he’d be much easier to find. Most car thefts around here happen when the owner is nowhere in sight. Like when they’re stuck in their workplace all day, or spending a few hours shopping at the Outlets. Places or situations where the car thief knows he can hotwire the vehicle and be long gone before the owner even realizes it’s been stolen.”
Harrison collected his notes and placed his pen in his jacket pocket. “On that same note, it’s highly unlikely that he’s stalking you. The last thing he wants is for you, or anyone who was at your Bible Study, to spot him. If he’s smart, he’ll either skip town or lay low. Thieves and muggers don’t make a habit of robbing the same place or person more than once.”
Megan nodded. Comfort was slowly trickling its way back up her spine. “Do you really believe he was just after my money and valuables?”
“I told you,” he smiled again, “I’m giving you my professional opinion based on my experience of seeing similar patterns over hundreds of cases.” He paused; took a breath. “That being said, it’s also my job to consider all options until reasonably able to rule them out. So my advice to you is to be safe. I wouldn’t go anywhere alone if I were you, and be sure to keep your car and apartment locked at all times.”
“I’m already planning on upping my levels of paranoia sir,” Megan tried to assure with humor. “Do you know any place that I could get a good deal on a Taser?”
The detective smirked. “In the meantime, we’ll be making our rounds. We’ll be questioning the others who attended the Bible Study tonight; try to get as much info on this guy as we can. I’ll also need you to come in tomorrow when our profile artist is on the clock so we can have a visual. Once we have that, we can work the streets and start asking around. If he didn’t skip town, he’ll soon wish he would have.” He gave her a concerned look. “You gonna be alright driving home?”
“I think so,” Megan responded. “I feel better after talking with you. My boyfriend… Sonny… he picked me up from the parking lot and drove me here. I wasn’t sure I was in any condition to drive, so I locked my car and left it in the parking lot of that shopping center.”
“He’s driving you home then?”
“Well, I think I’m okay to drive now. I’ll have him drive me back to my car then follow me home.”
“You sure you’ll be alright… you know… going back there?”
“I’m sure. Sonny’s pretty protective of me. He won’t let anything happen to me.”
She extended her hand to Harrison. “Thank you, detective.”
“No problem ma’am,” he replied with a handshake. “Just doing my job. Well, you’ve had enough excitement for one night, I think. I’m going to get a statement from the priest while your boyfriend takes you home.”
Detective Harrison escorted Megan out to the waiting area, where she was met by Sonny and Father Paul. Chief Biddle was also present. “Father,” the detective announced, “I’m ready to get your statement.”
“One second, Harrison,” the police chief cut in. I just need a word with you in private.
“Sure Chief,” Harrison obliged and followed the detective around a corner. It did not seem odd to him that Biddle wanted a private word in the middle of questioning procedures. Detectives and investigators usually exchanged information in private, out of earshot of the public.
“I’ve already taken the priest’s statement, Harrison,” the police chief informed.
“You did? But sir…”
“Thought I’d lighten the workload a bit,” he interrupted. “It’s been a long day, and there’s a lot of paperwork to be done. I also got a list of the names, numbers, and addresses of the other witnesses who were at the church tonight.” He handed the list to Harrison, who tried to mask his annoyance that the chief was, as usual, giving unwanted assistance in a case that he considered his own. “You and Gibbons get in touch with them, by Friday morning.”
“Gibbons, sir? You’re partnering me up on this?”
Chief Biddle responded, without responding; “Go home and get some sleep. Take tomorrow off. Start first thing Friday morning.” His voice was stern, indicating he was not up for discussion or debate. Clearly, this was not a private meeting for purposes of exchanging information. The police chief merely wanted to make sure they both appeared to be on the same page before speaking with the civilians.
“Yes sir,” Harrison acknowledged with trained professionalism, “but shouldn’t we go looking for this guy immediately? He may try to skip town.”
“Patrols are already searching the streets for any suspicious individuals that match the perpetrator’s description. If they get him, you’ll be contacted. In the meantime, your orders stand as they are.”
Harrison said nothing, only nodded. He rounded the corner, mentally wiping any signs of irritation from his facial features. “Father, it appears you already gave your statement, so you’re free to go.”
“Thank you for all your hard work, detective,” Father Paul offered warmly as he shook Harrison’s hand.
“Mr. Williams,” Harrison turned to the young man with his arm around Megan’s shoulder, “you see that she gets home safe and sound, you hear?”
“Yes sir,” Sonny replied. “We’ll be careful. Nobody’s gonna mess with her while I’m around.”
Detective Harrison nodded, then turned to Megan. “Try to get some rest tonight, Miss Panco. Call me if you remember anything else… or if you need anything else.”
Megan thanked him one more time, then he kindly walked all three to the front entrance of the station, bidding them goodnight one final time. He was rather tired after a long day, and thought it best if he took the chief’s advice in spite of his being malcontent with the procedures mandated to him. Perhaps taking the day off tomorrow would indeed be what he needed, especially if he would be privately stating his disagreements to Biddle when reporting back to work on Friday, which he fully intended to do.
Chapter XXI
While Detective Harrison was getting Megan’s statement, Chief Biddle was having his own private conversation with Father Paul in his office. “Hell of a close call, Father,” he commented as soon as he closed and locked his office door. “If this bum killed her tonight, it would’ve complicated things.”
“True,” Father Paul agreed. “Another selection would have to be made, and quickly. I don’t like when things are rushed. We’ve been working on Miss Panco for quite some time. All those months we’ve invested in her…” The priest seemed deep in thought. “Still… this situation can work to our advantage. We’ll just have to make some alternate arrangements.”
“What’s on your mind, Father?”
Father Paul sat at Biddle’s desk, and began to write on a slip of paper. “I know we had decided to… change the pattern before, but now I believe we should use a scapegoat after all.”
“What, the homeless guy?” Biddle took a seat at the desk opposite of the priest.
“Exactly,” he smiled.
“But Father,” Chief Biddle protested, “a second attack would seem out of the ordin…”
“No,” Father Paul interrupted, still jotting down on the paper, “not a second attack. I’ll explain in a minute.”
Biddle was curious. “What are you writing?”
“Just the names of the parishioners who were present at this evening’s Bible Study. They were all witnesses that can describe the appearance of Cliff to your profile artist. They will testify that he was there tonight, while I will inform your detective that afterwards I happened to see him on the nearby road, getting into Megan’s car, who appeared to be offering him a ride. And that’s the last that I or anyone ever saw of her.”
*****
Presently, Megan sat in the passenger seat of Sonny’s Chevy Blazer. The throbbing headache had returned; if she were to mention it had been one hell of a day, she would have been undoubtedly downplaying her summary of it. But she wasn’t mentioning anything. Had she not been so preoccupied by the traumatic experience of being robbed of her most precious memorabilia at gunpoint, she might have expressed her sincere appreciation to Sonny for being the best perfect-guy in the history of perfect guys, having dropped everything in the most stressful point of his semester at college to come to her in her time of need. Instead she stared blankly out the passenger window; the raindrops and the darkness preventing her from fixating her gaze on anything. There was nothing to see, but she only wanted to point her face away from her boyfriend. She was spent; her makeup was more than likely smeared from a night of crying and holding her face in her hands. She felt extremely weak in the presence of a man with strength and stability, and for some reason, though she assumed that their relationship would cause them to see each other at their worst from time to time, she couldn’t help but to feel self-conscious nevertheless.
Even more so, she felt stupid. She allowed herself to be used, deceived, taken advantage of. Sonny drove through the rainy night, saying nothing… just as silent as she was, and that silence only augmented her shame. She remembered when her mother picked her up from the principal’s office in elementary school the day she had gotten caught letting her friend cheat off of her during a math test. During the entire ride home, her mother said nothing to her. She would have preferred to be scolded, even screamed at. The cold silence that her mother had made her endure had been harsher than any disciplinary action she could have mustered for her. Her mother’s silence had stated “You know better,” much more loudly than her voice would have. Now, in the Blazer, Sonny’s silence seemed to ask her “What were you thinking?” She mentally heard that all night in the presence of everyone she encountered tonight after the incident. Sitting next to Father Paul in the waiting area, being offered water by Chief Biddle, giving her statement to Detective Harrison, she felt them telepathically asking her this all night.
In reality it was all in her head, Megan knew. Like she herself had told herself that she should know better when being driven home by her disappointed mother, she knew she was asking herself what she had been thinking tonight, that she only imagined everyone’s eyes on her. Regardless, she felt stupid in front of everyone she was with tonight, who had heard the story of her reckless decision to offer a ride to a stranger. So, on and on she stared out the window, wanting nothing more than Sonny’s comfort, yet unable to face him, and at the same time wanting nothing more than to hide in a hole for a week, or however long it would take her to recover from the humility of looking like an idiot in front of people she
admired and respected.
But the silence was too harsh. She needed to hear him say something, even if it was lecturing in tone. “You can say it,” she said quietly, still looking out the window.
“Say what?” Sonny asked innocently.
“What you’re thinking,” Megan answered. “Go ahead. I deserve it.”
“Okay. I was thinking that Jedd Gyorko is having a good start to the season, and the Cardinals have a chance this year.”
Megan said nothing, only stared out the window. His playfulness was not helping.
Sonny offered a more serious tone: “Honestly though Megan, if you think I should be angry that you put yourself in danger, or that I should yell at you for being careless… look, I think we’re all just relieved. Things could’ve turned out a lot more… inconvenient than they did.”
Inconvenient? She assumed he was downplaying the situation, but still the word made her feel insignificant to him suddenly. It was not a good pain killer to mix with her already established feelings of anger, embarrassment, and stupidity. “Interesting choice of wording,” she said blandly. “Thanks.”
“I didn’t want to say ‘tragic.’ Maybe ‘severe’ would have been a better choice. Listen, I guess what I mean is that this guy could’ve killed you, but he didn’t. So I don’t want to harp on the things you should or shouldn’t have done. I’m sure you learned your lesson. No need to talk about it. What’s important is that you’re alive. We can all go back to our regularly scheduled agendas.”
This tone that Sonny was using was new to her. It wasn’t like him to speak this way. He never downplayed the situation when she would cry to him on nights when she had rough days at work with Butch. No matter how redundant her complaining might have seemed, he never dismissed her “bad days” with watered down terminology like he was doing now. Still, her bad days at work never consisted of her life being threatened at gun point. She realized that this was most likely as new to him as it was to her, that he had to come to terms with the notion that he could have lost his loving and loyal girlfriend tonight, and this was just his way of dealing with it. He had done so much for her; he deserved a little latitude.
Agents of Shadow (The Keepers of White Book 1) Page 22
