by Mike Ryan
“I’m just not at liberty to reveal their name.”
“What was it about?”
“Just a...case.”
“A case we’re not on,” Recker said. “Considering I finished the last one yesterday.”
“Well, about the CIA problem.”
“And you don’t think it’s worth sharing?”
Recker could tell Jones was just saying whatever popped into his mind. If it was really about a case, Jones would’ve just come out and said what it was about. He wouldn’t have danced around the subject like he was doing. And if it was really about the CIA, it wasn’t something Jones would’ve kept to himself. So, if it wasn’t about a case, or the CIA, then it must’ve been something personal. Either for Recker or for Jones. With a few suspicions as to what it might’ve been about, Recker lobbed a few more questions at his friend, just to see how he’d handle them. After a short give and take, Recker thought he might’ve figured it out. At least partially.
“Is this about Mia?” Recker asked.
“What? Mia? Why would it be about Mia?” Jones asked incredulously.
“Because I haven’t heard from her in a week, you’re being ultra secretive, sounds like you two are planning something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What on earth would we be planning?”
“That’s a good question. Why don’t you answer it?”
“I can’t.”
“Do I have to call Mia and ask her?”
Jones suddenly looked much more pleasant. “Yes. Yes, I think you should do that.”
“If I can ever get her on the phone,” Recker said.
Though Jones kept buttoned up and steadfastly refused to confirm anything else, he didn’t deny whatever he was hiding had something to do with Mia. For Recker it was basically a confirmation it was true. Recker grabbed his phone and made another call to Mia, once again going to voicemail. This time, he left a message.
“I guess now I know how it feels,” Recker said.
“What’s that?”
“Trying to call someone repeatedly and not getting an answer. I guess now I know how she’s felt these past couple years when she called and I didn’t answer.”
“Oh. Well, turnabout is fair play as they say,” Jones said.
Not having to answer any more questions, Jones sat again and got back to work. With nothing new on the CIA front, he pulled up some of the cases he’d been keeping an eye on lately. As he was worked, Recker continued his CIA search, trying to glean any new information he could. After about thirty minutes, Jones made a couple of muffled sounds which distracted Recker. Since the Professor didn’t say anything to him, Recker played it off and kept going about his own business. A few minutes later, Jones made the same type of noises, drawing Recker’s attention again. He put his elbow on the table and rested his head on his hand staring at his partner, waiting for an explanation of his troubles. Jones didn’t even seem to realize what he was doing and never took his eyes off his screen. A few more minutes went by with Recker staring and he finally got tired of waiting for an explanation.
“So, do you wanna spill it?”
Recker’s voice finally broke Jones’ concentration and he looked over at his partner. “Hmm?”
“Do you wanna share what’s so fascinating about whatever it is you’re looking at?”
“I wish it was fascinating,” Jones said. “It’s more like...disturbing.”
“Well, are you going to share?”
“Oh. It’s one of the cases I’ve been monitoring. To be honest, it’s one I hoped would just somehow magically go away without us having to get involved. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to be the case.”
“What’s the trouble?”
“It’s umm…” Jones hesitated, rubbing his head as he thought of the best way to explain it.
Recker didn’t recall a case in which Jones had trouble stating the issue before. It was his first tip-off it might be something big. “Just say it.”
“Well, it’s actually two people I’ve been keeping an eye on. I first caught wind of a text message one of them sent to the other about...children,” Jones said, struggling to get the words out.
“Children? What do you mean, children? What about them?”
“One of them is a convicted child sex offender.”
“What’s the message say?” Recker asked.
“Well, apparently one of them has been watching an elementary school and has his eyes on a couple of kids. Some of the language they use is...well, I just can’t repeat it. Not when thinking about kids. Here, you look at it.”
Jones moved his chair over a little so Recker could come in and take a look at what he was seeing. Recker read the messages the two men had been sending to each other regarding the children they were seeking out. Recker had seen and heard a lot of things, and not much really bothered him. But reading what these two men were planning on doing to some small children really disgusted him.
“Who are these creeps?” Recker asked.
“Reed Laine and Sidney Bowman.”
“Both convicted sex offenders?”
“Only Laine is. He is not allowed to be anywhere near a school. Bowman on the other hand, does not appear to have any kind of criminal record,” Jones said, still clearly bothered by what he had picked up on.
“How do these two jerks know each other?”
“That I do not know off hand. It appears the two somehow befriended each other somewhere along the line over the years. Maybe online, maybe in a chat room, maybe on a message board, maybe somewhere on the dark web, who knows? I do know they weren’t childhood friends. They grew up in different areas, different schools, never worked together. So, my best guess is they hooked up online somewhere due to their fascination with...the kids. That seems to be the tie binding them together.”
“Wonderful. Anything concrete on the time and place of what they’re planning?”
“Nothing definitive as of yet.”
Recker took a few steps back then walked over to his gun cabinet. He selected his two weapons, his primary and backup, as per his usual. As he closed the cabinet, he looked over at Jones, who appeared to be deep in thought. Jones was kind of staring away from the computer toward the wall, not seeming to be looking at anything in particular.
“What is it?” Recker asked.
“I was just thinking if maybe it’d be a good idea if we kept a low profile for a while.”
“You mean take a vacation?”
“No. Just work more in the shadows. Relay our information to the authorities, let them handle things,” Jones said. “Kind of stay quiet.”
“You want us to sit on our hands while these two jerks are out there molesting kids?”
“No. Not at all. We can forward what we have to the police and let them take over the investigation.”
“Why?”
“Well, with the CIA looking into your whereabouts again, I just think it may be wise to stay in the background until things blow over a little.”
“David, I’m not someone who just sits on my hands very well.”
“I’m aware.”
“Besides, what can the police do?”
“Monitor their behavior and such.”
“Yeah, monitor their behavior after they’ve already committed some heinous act some poor kid will never emotionally recover from,” Recker said.
“I’m not saying we should do nothing.”
“I know. You’re just saying to let someone else do the dirty work.”
“I’m just worried. If something happens, it may put you even more in the spotlight. A spotlight we don’t need at the moment,” Jones said. “Any type of publicity The Silencer gets at this moment may be something which draws the CIA closer to our doorstep. To your doorstep.”
“You can’t live in fear, waiting, wondering, hoping something doesn’t happen.”
“I’m not saying we should be living in fear, I’m just wanting to exercise some caution.”
“Listen, I hear yo
u and I understand your concern. But it doesn’t really change anything. Do you really wanna put this in the hands of the police and take chances on the lives of children? What if the police can’t act on the information you give them? Which is likely. What if they have too much on their plate and they don’t get to these creeps in time? You’re leaving a lot to chance.”
“I know.”
“And if this was some run-of-the-mill nut job and innocent children weren’t at play, then maybe I’d agree with you. But I won’t stand by and let children be targets. I didn’t sign up for this to stand on the sidelines.”
Jones nodded, completely understanding Recker’s position, and actually agreeing with it. Even though he suggested caution, Jones knew his partner was right on point with his arguments and he really had no winning argument against them. Now that they were in agreement that they shouldn’t do anything different than usual, Recker went back to the computer to get more information.
“Where am I gonna find these clowns?” Recker asked.
“Reed Laine lives on Washington Street and Sidney Bowman lives on Ashford.”
“Do we know what school they’re targeting.”
“They didn’t say. But, judging from where they live and the approximately to the closest school, I can take a guess,” Jones said.
Recker took a final look at their addresses to memorize it before heading out to find them. He usually could commit everything to memory, but asked Jones to send him the information just in case.
“Send their pictures and whatnot to my phone,” Recker said.
“Mike, if I can give some advice, please handle this as quietly as possible.”
“Should I leave them tied up in the middle of a room with some porno mags taped to their chests?” he asked sarcastically.
“I’m just saying discretion is sometimes the better part of valor.”
“I’ll do what has to be done. No more, no less. Just like always.”
Recker bid his partner goodbye and left the office to find their targets. Once he exited the office, Jones got a bad feeling about his intentions.
“Just like always. That’s the part I’m worried about,” Jones muttered.
As Recker drove, Jones forwarded the requested information to his phone. He sent the pictures of the two men, along with their addresses, work information, as well as DMV information on their cars. Everything Recker might possibly need to find the two as quickly as possible, he now had. Considering the two men only lived a few blocks from each other, Recker wouldn’t have far to go to find either of them. Recker’s first target was Laine, who was the closest. It took Recker about twenty-five minutes to reach the Laine address. Laine lived in a row home in an end unit. There was a small driveway big enough to house one car in the three-story home, though there was no car sitting there. Laine was supposed to be driving a small gray Toyota. Many owners of these homes also parked on the street by the curb due to the lack of space so Recker cruised up and down the street, and even on the connecting streets, just to make sure it wasn’t nearby. But it wasn’t in sight. Instead of sitting waiting for a while, Recker drove over to the address of Bowman, which was only about five minutes away. He also lived in a similar house, a row home, though his unit was in the middle. Once Recker found the address, he parked across the street. He saw a light blue Ford belonging to Bowman parked in the driveway. While Laine was single and lived by himself, Bowman was living with his parents, as the house was registered in their names.
While the thought occurred to Recker to just burst through the front door and start blasting away, he didn’t want to hurt or injure innocent people, which he assumed Bowman’s parents to be. Recker called Jones and asked him to run a quick background check on them just to make sure they were unaware of their son’s behavior. Recker would just sit tight until Jones got back to him with the information. He also wasn’t sure if the parents were even there at the moment. So, while he preferred not to wait at the moment, he figured it was the best strategy for the time being. After uneventfully sitting there for half an hour, Jones got back to him with the information he had requested.
“As far as I can tell, Bowman’s parents are not connected to their son’s activity in any way,” Jones said.
“They don’t know anything about it?”
“Well, they know their son has issues and it looks like they’ve tried to get him help with psychiatrists and doctors and the like, but it doesn’t appear the apple falls from the tree if you get my meaning.”
“So, they don’t know he’s staking out schools and kids right now,” Recker said.
“It wouldn’t appear so.”
That bit of information confirmed Recker’s strategy to wait until he could get Bowman alone. Since the parents didn’t seem to be involved, he was going to make sure they weren’t hurt in whatever went down. Recker still wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but everything going through his mind seemed to have a violent end to it. He knew it wasn’t what Jones wanted, but in this case, Recker didn’t see another way around it. Maybe Jones was right and they should tread carefully, but with kids involved, Recker just wasn’t willing to tap dance around. He’d do what he thought was right and let the chips fall where they may.
Two more hours went by and Recker was starting to get a little antsy. Though he didn’t usually get anxious over cases, when kids were involved, and not knowing exactly when the two subjects were planning on putting their plans into motion, he was ready to get moving. Fortunately, he didn’t have much longer to wait. He saw the front door open and a man come out of the house. Recker looked at his phone for confirmation it was Bowman. It was. At first glance, Bowman didn’t appear to be a very threatening type of guy. He wasn’t big or imposing or tough looking. He was in his mid to late forties, rim glasses, and kind of small at five feet four or five. Seeing him for the first time, you wouldn’t expect him to be the type who’d have issues like this. But, as Recker was well aware, most people had secrets hidden away. He watched as Bowman locked the door to the house, walked down the steps then get into his car. As he pulled away and drove down the street, Recker followed him, keeping a safe distance behind him so Bowman wouldn’t see he was being followed.
After driving for a few minutes, it became clear where Bowman was going. Once he made a left turn at the traffic light, there was an elementary school dead ahead. Bowman drove up to the edge of school property and parked just alongside the curb. It was recess and most of the kids were outside playing. Recker parked about five car lengths behind his target and just sat there watching him. As he sat there, he called Jones to let him know what was happening.
“Well, looks like we know what’s on Bowman’s mind,” Recker said.
“Which is?”
“He just drove down to the elementary school and parked. He’s watching the kids at recess.”
“That is alarming, isn’t it?”
“There’s no use in waiting, is there?”
“We could call the police and have them run him off,” Jones said.
“What for? You said he has no record. There’s nothing stopping him from being near school grounds.”
“I’m just searching for an alternative.”
“There are no alternatives,” Recker said. “You and I both know what has to be done.”
Even though Recker seemed strongly in favor of capital punishment, he wasn’t as sure in his own mind. It was part of why he called Jones to begin with. Part of him hoped that Jones had another solution at hand, even though Recker knew there was none. He knew what he had to do. Recker partially opened his car door, ready to unleash his brand of justice, but then thought better of it. He heard the joyful screaming of the kids playing in the background and it caused Recker to pause. He then shut his door again as he contemplated a better option. Killing Bowman near school property just didn’t seem like the right move. There’d be a big commotion, along with a police presence, news cameras and reporters, and a lot of outside noise that Recker didn’t thin
k was fair to subject a bunch of young kids to seeing. Recker would have to wait and pick a better spot. As he continued thinking about his plans, his phone rang. It was Jones.
“Yeah?”
“You haven’t done anything yet, have you?” Jones asked.
“No. Not yet. Why?”
“Well, as we’ve noted, Bowman doesn’t have any type of record. It appears his family has tried to get him help for his problem.”
“So? We already know all that. What’s your point?” Recker said.
“My point is, you don’t have to do what we both know you’re planning on doing.”
“I asked you for alternatives earlier. You didn’t have any.”
“Well, maybe if you just talked to him, let him know you’re watching him, that may be enough to scare him off,” Jones said.
“You really think so? People like this are sick. You really believe a good talking to is all he needs? What do you think happened when he visited the psychiatrist?” Recker asked.
“Would it hurt?”
“Well it might not hurt, but it sounds like a complete waste of time. Don’t forget we got one more guy out there doing who knows what.”
“Believe me, I’m well aware of that.”
“You really think a little chat is going to do any good?”
“It’s worth a try,” Jones said.
Recker let out a little grunt, “Fine. But I’m telling you this is a waste of time.”
“Noted.”
Recker hung up and quickly got out of his car, not wanting to waste any more time. With his guns tucked firmly out of sight inside the belt of his pants, he closed his car door and took a look around to make sure he wasn’t being watched or there was nobody nearby who could see any commotion going on. With the coast clear, Recker started walking toward Bowman’s car. As he approached it, he could see Bowman was looking at the school playground through a pair of cheap looking binoculars. Seeing that made Recker even angrier and more agitated than he already was. Still unsure what he was going to do or say, Recker was just kind of making things up as he went along. He stopped when he got alongside the driver side window. Bowman didn’t even realize he was there at first. Recker knocked on the window to get his attention. Startled, Bowman jumped in his seat a little when he saw the intimidating looking man standing outside his window.
