by Terry McGhee
I explained my concern to Hannity. “Look, Inspector, if this nut comes back to get his truck, he not only will get a big surprise, it’s bound to set him off. He could come after me. I don’t own a gun, but I want to stay alert and be on watch for him. Do you think Officer Meadows could swing by a few times and make his black and white visible?”
“Hold on, he’s right here completing his report.” I waited while I heard the two men talking.
“Jake, Meadows lives by himself. I suggest he stay in one of your spare bedrooms tonight at least. He’s happy to do it. Sam and I will drive to the lake tomorrow to check out three identified old cabin structures. With luck, we might connect our suspect to one of them, and he even might return to pick up his things if he finds a ride back to his shack. We’re almost positive he is living somewhere near the lake. We’re floating the scenario that back then, Jerkovick and his uncle may have teamed up to do away with Wendy and Roy. Agent Moore will stay here to help keep watch for our suspect. You OK with that?”
“Sounds like a good plan. This nut is crazy enough to try to burn down my house. My jeep is definitely going in the garage tonight. I’ll feel safer with Meadows here. Thanks and good luck tomorrow.”
“Yeah, with fingers crossed. We just don’t have any accurate description of this guy. We know age, but that’s it. Moore has talked to Mrs. O’Sullivan and got her best description. He will meet today with the caller who spotted Jerkovick in the bar by the college. Sam says we can get a facial sketch and other description for a BOLO. This can go out to all neighboring police departments and the highway patrol, but it might be too vague to be of real value. We just don’t know how age has changed his appearance, although the sketch artists are pretty good at aging a drawing. We should have the aged sketch today.
“Another thought is that after he discovers his truck, he might just decide to leave town. Sarah has notified the bus and train connections. He also could grab another vehicle. I’ve arranged for a friend to stake out the road tonight that leads into the cabin area at the lake. He owes me a big favor, so he’s OK with keeping a lookout for Jerkovick, should he decide to drive back to his place tonight. We personally think if he needs to get back to his digs, he will wait until daylight. Sam and I will be waiting for him.
“One other bit of good news. Moore met with our two witnesses and got a verbal description of this Darrel Jerkovick. He showed each of them the array of five photos with Darrel’s booking photo included. Mrs. O’Sullivan made a positive ID. The caller that saw the guy in the bar just could not positively ID Darrel as the man sitting with Jerkovick.”
When the conversation was over, I closed my phone and started to open another beer. “Whoa, Sherlock, you need to stay focused if the crazy decides he wants to hunt you down tonight.” I was talking to myself, since Barb wasn’t around to say these things. I moved through the house making sure all interior lights were turned off. When this entire caper was over, I absolutely needed to get Barb and me out of here. Maybe a quiet beach getaway somewhere.
Sitting in a chair that faced our driveway, and that would also let me glance to my left out to the edge of the forest, I spotted the glare from car headlights coming down our long S shaped drive. It had to be Meadows. I flipped on the exterior spotlights to light up the area right around the house. I slipped out a side door to our breezeway and crouched down behind our firewood pile, aluminum baseball bat in hand—waiting.
I quickly saw it was a police black and white. Meadows killed the engine and quietly opened and shut his door. He had his gun drawn and was waving it back and forth. Geez, I thought, he seemed overeager to make contact with the bad guy. Shooting first and asking questions later was not a good thought. He was holding a small duffel bag in his other hand. “Meadows, it’s me, Jake, behind the firewood stack.”
He turned quickly toward the sound of my voice. “Show me your face…now!”
“Damn it, Meadows. Put your gun away. Let’s not have an accident here.”
“OK it’s in the holster, but my hand is close to it. I make those quick-draw dudes look slow.” Shit, I thought. The headlines flashed in my mind. “Officer Shoots Citizen He Was Assigned To Protect.”
I stuck my hands above the wood stack. “These are my hands. I’ll keep them here and you walk around to check me out. We need to get into the house in case this nut comes looking for me.”
Meadows took the few steps to verify that it was actually me. He had actually drawn his gun again. I would have to talk to Hannity. This eager beaver needed to retake some of those classes that dealt with the ‘friend or foe’ situations.
“What’s in the duffle?”
He held up the bag and said, “Hey, I brought spare underwear, socks, and my shave kit.”
I doubted the kid needed to shave yet. We walked back into the dark house, and I pointed out a chair I had set up for Meadows. “Everything seems quiet now,” I said, “but for at least the next hour, we need to be extra alert.” Geez, was I safer without the cop in my house?
I made a pot of coffee and offered Meadows a cup. We both sat quietly and sipped the strong brew. It might be a long night. I made sure that I kept close to Meadows so he could see me at all times. I toured him through the downstairs of the house. I considered a possible scenario where everything went wrong and I was being asked about what happened. “So you were shot in your house by this madman who was stalking you?” No, actually it was the cop who shot me, that was assigned to protect me from the madman.
We made small talk for the next three hours. Finally, I said, “Looks like this idiot isn’t coming. He’s probably out stealing some wheels.” How prophetic this statement would turn out to be.
“If you want to sack out, take that back, right side bedroom. A full bath is next door.”
“Sounds good, Jake. I’m really beat.” I followed him back to the bedroom. He was poking through his duffle and removing items from his shave kit. Toothbrush, electric razor, aftershave, eye drops, hand lotion, antibiotic ointment, bandages, manicure set in a leather case. The kid came prepared.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you want me,” I told him.
“OK, Jake thanks.” He was poking his gun under his pillow. I hoped he remembered to put the safety on. I needed to let the young man do his job. Hannity had told me was a top graduate of the police academy in Sacramento.
Fifteen minutes later, I sat in the kitchen with another cup of coffee. I heard some loud snoring coming from the back bedroom. This was my body guard.
I pulled out my mobile and called Barb. “Just reporting in. We found the old truck, and Hannity and Sam lifted a print that identifies the driver as Jerkovick’s uncle. There’s still no sign of him, but there is an officer here at the house. He is sleeping like a baby in the back bedroom.”
“Oh dear,” Barb exclaimed. “Is the bedroom clean and were there towels and toilet paper?”
“I’m sure there is everything he needs. It’s a bathroom…they usually have all that stuff. Don’t worry. I’ll call in the morning if anything to report. This is Sherlock, signing off. Hi to your mom and give Murph a scratch.”
Chapter 17
I walked downstairs at 6:00 a.m. and found Meadows opening cupboards and drawers looking for the coffee beans. He had two empty cups on the kitchen counter with sugar and cream close by.
“How’d you sleep, Officer?” He was dressed complete with his sidearm. His face looked cleanly shaved, although it looked the same last night. That’s my guardian. I liked the young man. He was friendly and always seemed eager to do the best job possible.
“Just great. I did get up twice and took a peek outside. The coast was clear. I checked the garage door and window just in case Darrel decided to break in and trash your car. Everything was buttoned up tight, and your jeep was OK.” I was in good hands last night as I slept soundly. The eagerness and enthusiasm of youth.
“I’ll grind the coffee beans, and we should have coffee in five minutes. I think our crazy decide
d not to come after me. He could have spotted your black and white and backed off, but my gut tells me that he found his out-of-commission truck and decided to flee the scene. Maybe he decided that we might be on to him and getting his revenge by trashing my jeep was not in the cards he is holding. He would try to steal a car, I’m pretty sure. If he did, and we get lucky, Sarah should get the call this a.m. reporting a stolen vehicle.”
Just then, my phone rang. It was Hannity checking in. I said, “No sign of our guy last night inspector, and my thought is that he has stolen a car to either get back to his digs, or he has hit the road for parts unknown.”
“We thought of that and Sarah is on alert for any reports of a stolen vehicle. Sam and I are heading out to Deadfall Lake right now. She will radio me the instant she hears of any break-ins or stolen vehicle. My contact staked out on the road to the area where we know the old cabins are located called and said there was no sign of our guy last night. He is either gone, or is waiting until this morning to head over the mountain to the lake. Sit tight and stay alert.”
Hannity asked to speak with Meadows so I handed him my phone. The young officer spoke to his boss and nodded his head a few times. “Yes sir, roger that.” He closed the phone and announced, “The boss says I should stick around at least until noon. Then I need to get back to the station and bring Agent Moore up to speed. Sam is almost positive that our suspect will try to steal a vehicle. This Darrel doesn’t know we suspect that he might live near the lake. Sam’s instinct says he will drive back to lay low, or pack up and split.”
It was pretty much all luck and guesses now. I could only wait for news here at the house.
***
Less than one hour later Sam and Hannity left the station and were only on the road to Deadfall Lake for twenty five minutes when the radio crackled. “Boss, its Sarah, your hunch was right. We just had two stolen property calls within fifteen minutes. A bread truck driver said his van was just stolen a few minutes ago. He was parked behind the market and left the engine running while he hand-trucked in his delivery. When he came out, the van was gone. The van is white with no windows. A blue and red lettered sign on both sides says fresh baked bread from your local bakery. It has the local address and telephone number. I also answered a call from a guy reporting a break-in to his house and theft of his hunting rifle. He had been gone for an hour to the market. He was cleaning the rifle as he and two friends are going deer hunting this weekend. Ammunition for the rifle was also taken—about fifty rounds. And I have the license number of the van,” she said, rattling off the plate numbers.
Sam wrote down the estimated times of the thefts and said to Hannity: “It looks like we have at least an hour head start. I’m confident he is headed this way. I doubt he would hit the road driving the stolen bread truck. I now wonder if he might have another vehicle stashed near the lake.”
“Thanks, Sarah. Sam and I will be at our location within twenty minutes. If our suspect is heading home as we think, then we will be ready for him. Keep us posted if any news. We have both the car radio and our cell phones…over and out.”
Hannity steered the black and white over a partial dirt and asphalt road, driving as fast as he dared. Sam was checking both handguns. Their shotgun carried nine shots of double 00 buckshot and was definitely lethal at twenty-five yards. The rifle was a semiautomatic. “OK, we’re locked and loaded and both ammo belts are full. When we get to our destination, park this car into the trees out of sight from the cabin and the dirt road that opens onto the cabin clearing. This has got to be where this Darrel Jerkovick is holed up…I have a strong gut feeling about this.”
The patrol car emerged into the clearing where the suspect’s cabin sat on open ground. Hannity drove past and up a slight incline until they reached the main tree line. He drove into the forest for another fifty yards and parked where there was no clear line of sight to the cabin. Both men checked their weapons again and stuffed flashlights, crowbar, rope, screwdriver, hammer, first aid kit, and other miscellaneous items into a small backpack. They removed their jackets and each put on a flak vest to wear underneath. “Let’s move out,” said Hannity, “but keep an eye on the road that opens into the clearing.” Sam suggested they get photos of the tire tracks that didn’t belong to the patrol car. They could be compared with the tires on Darrel’s pickup truck.
They approached the cabin from opposite sides. It looked like it had two rooms. There was no rear door, and a wooden rickety porch fronted the main entrance door. They climbed the stairs and Hannity said, “I’ll check inside through the window, you keep a watch on the road.”
“Just a second,” Sam said. He walked around to the back.
“Check this out, Inspector.”
Hannity hustled around to the rear, where he found Sam pointing at a portable canvas and aluminum frame carport. Inside, an old Dodge sedan was resting up on cinder blocks. “He did have a second vehicle. It looks clean, and I’d guess with ten minutes of effort, it could be ready to drive.”
“Keep watch. I’m going back to the front porch to check inside.”
Hannity jumped up on the porch and peered through a window. Sam retreated back to the edge of the porch so he could watch the rear, and also get info from Hannity. “These windows haven’t been cleaned in a while, but there is visibility to the inside. I see a small kitchen next to a small wooden dining table. The sink is piled with dirty dishes and pots. There is a small microwave on the counter next to a stovetop with two gas burners. The propane tank in the back is his source of fuel. The main room with a stone fireplace opens onto both kitchen and dining area. Some firewood is stacked on the floor. There is a door leading directly off the living room. Probably a single bedroom with a bath in the back. I see stacks of canned goods on the floor next to a very small refrigerator. The guy likes chili. Whoever lives here is a major slob.”
Sam said, “We need to get inside.”
“Easily done,” said Hannity as he popped the cheap wooden door with the crowbar. “You take a look and I’ll keep watch.” Sam entered the small cabin using a long mag flashlight not wanting to hit any of the wall light switches. After about ten minutes, Sam came out onto the porch.
“I didn’t find anything that would tell us positively if it’s our guy that lives here. No weapons anywhere, just a large axe next to the fireplace and firewood pile. The bedroom has a chest of drawers with men’s clothes in them. Looks like our next move is to wait and see if he shows. We can do a thorough check later.”
Both stood on the porch talking when, without any warning, a shot rang out and Hannity grabbed his leg above the knee. He went down on his side. Sam ducked quickly alongside Hannity and poked the rifle through the porch slats in the direction he guessed the shot came from. Seeing nothing, he glanced at Hannity’s wound. “It doesn’t seem serious.” He tore open the pack and pulled out the first aid kit all the while holding the rifle in the ready position and glancing at the road opening. “Hold this gauze pad and I’ll wrap the tape around it.”
“I’m OK,” said Hannity. “It looks like a through and through that missed any bone or major arteries.” Sam rested the rifle on the porch railing as he peered over it toward the spot where the shot came from. He crawled over and grabbed the shot gun. He flipped off the safety and handed the weapon to Hannity. They both crouched behind more firewood that was stacked on the porch.
“Cover me,” Sam said. ”I’m going to drop off the side porch and check the rear. This has to be Darrel, and he now knows there are two of us. Anyone else would have driven right up to the cabin and parked. He has to have left his stolen van on the road before the clearing and walked up to check out his place.” Sam disappeared off the porch and made his way to the rear, hugging the wall.
Hannity looked up and spotted someone running between trees to circle around. He took a quick aim and fired off two shots with his 9 mm. The attacker was too far away to use the shotgun. There was no more movement visible. Sam reappeared.
�
�He’s about fifty yards to the right of the entrance of the clearing. He was moving fast between trees. I don’t know if I hit him. My guess is he was heading for a position behind the cabin. Go back there and keep watch.”
Hannity rested the shotgun on the railing and stared at the last spot he had seen the suspect. One minute…two minutes…three. Nothing moved, and then all of a sudden Darrel appeared from behind a large tree and started running toward the cabin. His rifle was raised and he was firing at the porch as quickly as the rifle’s semi-automatic action would allow. Bullets were thudding into the cabin, and a front window blew out. “You bastards, I’m going to kill you!”
When he was about eighty feet from the cabin, Hannity yelled out, “Stop right there or I’ll drop you.” Sam had come back and climbed onto the porch, his rifle ready. They could both see that it was almost certainly Darrel Jerkovick. But it didn’t matter who it was, they were under fire. Hannity yelled once more, but Darrel kept coming. He had dropped the rifle on the ground when the magazine was empty. He now was firing a pistol, still walking toward the cabin. When their attacker was about sixty feet away, Hannity raised the scattergun, aimed low, and fired.
The buckshot kicked up dirt in front of their attacker. A half a dozen crimson spots bloomed on the thigh just above the knee and also the lower leg. Darrel went down face first in a heap. The pistol flew off to the side and landed out of his reach. A dust cloud billowed over Darrel as he screamed in pain. Sam and Hannity froze with their weapons aimed at the writhing figure on the ground. They looked at each other, and Hannity said, “I’d say we got him.” They both approached slowly, but it was clear that he was no longer a threat.
Hannity retrieved the backpack and the first aid kit as Sam inspected the damage to Jerkovick. “Three hits are bleeding badly, and one lower leg appears to be shattered.” He quickly grabbed a bunch of the gauze pads and pressed them firmly on the wounds. Darrel started screaming. “I preferred the low level whimpering. This screaming is hurting my ears,” Hannity said.
