by Rick Murcer
His eyes were glassy, but he tried to sit up, cringed, grabbing his back, and seemed to think better of it. “Damn, dat wasn’t funny.”
Moving Sophie out of the way, Alex looked at the wound on his head, pulled out a pair of latex gloves, and began to gently touch the area where Braxton had been hit.
“Gloves? Still?” chided Sophie.
“Bite me. They come in handy, right? Anyway, I think it’s just a graze. It looks much worse than it is. He’ll make it, I think.”
“Whoa. What about the shot in the back? That made me sick when it hit you.” said Manny.
“Dat Kevlar is good stuff,” Braxton responded. “I’ll be sore, but living.”
He began to sit up again, seemed to think better of it, and laid back down. “I’ll just wait for dat ambulance.”
“It’ll be here in a few. There’s one up by the hut with the four bodies,” said Alex.
“Good,” said Manny. He motioned toward Josh.
“You said something about explaining the shooter. I suspect I wasn’t the main target, but two for the price of one? And why are you all here? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“We had some inside info that Fogerty probably knew where we all were this morning and took it from there.”
“Inside info?”
“Ruiz. Seems he was talking to Fogerty and his people real often,” said Josh.
Raising his eyebrow, Manny stared at Josh. “Ruiz? I didn’t have him pegged for that. He was a little nervous, then the whole thing about his daughter seemed to have him more than distracted. What else did he say?”
“Ah, not much. He’s gone. Fogerty again. Ruiz was able to give us that much before he died, plus we sent Dean to pick up some evidence Ruiz said he had at his house that would give us names and places,” said Josh.
Manny bowed his head. It was hard not to think that Ruiz’s torture regarding his daughter, and maybe life in general, was over. He hoped that the detective really was residing in that “better place.”
“Sorry to hear it, truly. His life hadn’t seen too many bright spots the last few years.”
“No, it hadn’t. Maybe a little peace now, huh?” said Chloe.
“I hate to seem cold, and I always say we can cry tomorrow, but it’s true. So, what about the shooter that kept Braxton and me company?”
“Must be Fogerty figured something out about Braxton and sent the man up here to make sure Braxton took care of you, then he would be next. We called Alex to see what direction you’d headed and were on our way to the first scene when we just happened to hear a shot,” said Josh.
“Yeah. What a dumbass,” said Sophie. “You could almost see him from the curve where we parked. It didn’t take long to find him, and we were up his butt. And then he got dumber.”
“What do you mean?”
Sophie smiled at Chloe. “She figured out in a heartbeat what was going on, that maybe you started from the last to the first, and she was right. She beat us to the shooter and told him to stop, he took another shot, then she took one of her own and hit him in the left cheek, the one below his waist.”
“Didn’t want to kill him, but the next one would have ended his miserable life. I would’ve tracked Fogerty down if this one had done his job,” said Chloe.
“I bet you would have,” said Manny.
Fogerty.
“Oh shit. I just remembered.”
“What?” asked Alex.
“Braxton got a call from one of his agents. Fogerty’s dead.”
“Dead? How?” asked Josh, surprised.
“Dey got him trying to escape. Dat’s all I know,” said Braxton, eyes still closed.
“I guess that’s good enough for now,” said Josh.
The ambulance crew came around the bend hauling a stretcher and two medical kits and quickly went to work on the big man. Manny smiled. He didn’t know how they were going to get him on that stretcher and back to the vehicle, but it was going to be a show. He was as large as the two EMTs put together.
He bent down to Braxton. “We’ll talk more later, but we’ve got to go. We’ve got a bead on a few things with this crazy bastard, and we have to compare notes.”
“You can bring me flowers, but you’re right: you need to find dis one. He don’t feel straight.”
Sophie volunteered to go get the other SUV. Ten minutes later, Manny was standing by his vehicle with Dean and Chloe, who wouldn’t let him move two feet from her. Sometimes smothered is good.
Josh was on the phone, trying to reach his office and then Dean. Alex had followed Josh’s lead and wanted to see if the lab had anything for him, plus a status on the latest murder site processing from the local CSU.
Out of nowhere, Sophie tore into the parking lot steering the FBI’s SUV, skidded to a stop, revved the engine, and then hopped out.
“That thing moves, I got to tell ya.”
“You’re going kill yourself one of these days,” said Manny.
“Maybe, but not today.”
“Good ta know,” grinned Chloe.
Sophie turned to Manny. “Alex said you found something at that last murder scene. What was it?”
By then, Josh and Alex had joined the rest of them.
“It looks like he left the number ‘2’ on the ground at the murder site, but you really couldn’t see it until you got up ten or twelve feet.”
“How’d you think of that?”
“It sort of popped into my head. I just remembered something from a class a long time ago.”
“But the question is: did he do it at the other murder scenes or am I smoking dope?”
“Let me answer that,” said Alex. “I took the liberty of sending two CSIs to the tower after I got your message and I’m waiting for those images. Meanwhile, I got one of the blues to climb the big tree near the south end of the hut. Look at these.”
Alex opened up his tablet and flashed to the pictures.
On the right side of the hut, closest to the sun, was a distinct “1” carved into the embankment.
Chapter-61
“We’ve got a boatload of information to share, and we’ve not exactly been in a place to do that until now,” Josh announced, standing at the head of the table inside the conference room at the Federal Building.
Josh turned to Crouse. “How’s your relationship with your ex?”
“What? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Just tell me.”
Crouse folded her arms in that familiar position of rebellion. “Not a relationship at all. I haven’t seen him for at least a year. We were married for five months and nothing worked for us. The sex was good, but I loved being a cop more than I loved him. He loved his work and that stuck-up fencing club more than me. Tell me why that’s important.”
Sophie shared the information about the fencing clubs and their conversation with Donald Flores.
Crouse snorted at the part about putting Samuel Crouse on the top of the list. “He never liked Sam much. He was better at the game than Flores and had more money. Plus, they didn’t like each other from some political shit at the University that cost Flores a class or two. He didn’t need the money, but his ego is bigger than a cruise ship.”
“What about the part about your ex losing his mom? I’d bet you a million this unsub had an event that triggered this spree,” said Manny.
She shook her head. “His mom passed over a year ago. I went to the funeral in Miami and that’s the last time I saw Sam. Not a few months ago, if that’s what he said.”
“We’ll have Flores picked up to talk some more, but we finished checking out his story, and were able to verify that he was out of town when the murders started,” said Josh.
“Anything else?” asked Manny.
“That’s it. Except how he loved those old swords he spent a fortune on. It all added up to a perfect storm for divorce and not being in each other’s world. Oh, wait. He’s a suspect, isn’t he?”
“Yes. A viable one.�
��
Manny leaned closer. Chloe had filled him in, she hadn’t mentioned names.
The phone in Josh’s shirt pocket rang, and he answered. It didn’t take long for the expression on his face to reflect a new development. “What do you mean he’s dead? Son of a bitch.” Josh spun away from the table, then spoke into the phone. “Okay, get a team out there. Alex and Dean will be busy for a while.”
Punching the stop button, he tossed the phone on the table. It rattled and then stopped in front of Manny.
“Who’s dead?” Manny asked.
Rubbing his face, Josh scoped the table and stopped at Julia. At that moment, his boss appeared older than Noah after the flood.
“Sam was a suspect, along with a few others, but not anymore. I sent two agents over to talk to him, and they found him inside the front door. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Sam’s . . . dead?” Crouse stammered.
“I’m afraid so. I’m sorry to have to tell you this way.”
The rest of the room grew silent. Their faces displayed the same mixture of surprise, anger, and sadness that Josh was feeling, and none of them had ever met the man. Cops would always feel deeply for another cop’s loss, because they knew they were only a call away from the same fate. Manny recalled the day his old partner Kyle Chavez had died, and then Louise’s face flashed across his mind. There really wasn’t any escaping those ghosts. Julia would have to learn what he already knew: you live with them and hope they don’t visit too often.
Exhaling, the San Juan detective stared at the table, then got up and paced back and forth, struggling to find poise that was doing its best to elude her. Manny hated that feeling.
“You should leave . . .” said Josh.
She stepped around the room, then sat down, jutted out her chin and swore in Spanish, smacking the table with the flat of her hand, tears smearing her makeup.
“I could, but . . .”
Josh’s voice grew soft as he spoke. “There are a few rules about working the case of someone close. I—”
Chloe took Julia’s hand. The detective lifted herself from the chair, brushing at her cheeks. “For once, there’s a freaking rule that makes sense. I need to think.” Then she left, pushing away Chloe’s attempt to console her.
Josh motioned for Manny to return his phone, then dialed a number and waited. “I’ll call the department’s counselor and let them know she just left. They’re probably expecting her anyway.”
He finished the call and looked around the room. “Manny’s right. It’s going to be tough, but we can’t do anything about what’s already happened. We need to find this guy before anymore funerals are scheduled. Let’s get to this. Sophie? Flores’s list?”
“Yeah, you’re right. It just seems like it gets harder,” she answered.
“Let’s hope it never gets easier,” said Manny.
“I’m done if it does. All right. There were six names that fit what we were looking for, at least from the roster Flores gave us and the killer’s approximate height based on what Manny and Alex put together at the latest murders. Josh sent teams out to each address, but it’s Saturday and who in the hell knows if we’ll find any or all of them at home. Besides, these guys are just leads, like Sam. Maybe the killer never even belonged to one of these fencing outfits.”
“That’s true, but it’s a good start. What about the auction houses that specialize in those swords?” asked Manny.
“We’re checking out that angle and, with any luck, we won’t need subpoenas to get records,” said Josh. “Meanwhile, we’ll keep pounding the other leads.”
“What about this number thing?” asked Sophie.
“I don’t know what it means—”
“Wait,” interrupted Alex. He was looking at his laptop screen, scowling as he did.
“I got an e-mail back from my friend in Michigan. He worked late, and I owe him tickets to the Redwings and the Tigers, but he’s got something on the metal we sent. He says it’s unique to the sixteenth century, a rapier with a slightly wider blade and a grip that was probably quite ornate. He said the steel was pure, but littered with small idiosyncrasies that went with the steel folding criteria of that time. German, he thinks. He says this type of sword was kind of a hybrid between a thrusting blade and a cutting blade. That makes it a sixteenth-century weapon, probably designed by someone named Peter Munich Solingen. Then he says ‘Go Blue’—he hates the MSU Spartans.”
“Excellent. Let’s get that information over to the auction houses, too. That’ll narrow the search,” said Josh, becoming a little more enthused. Manny was glad someone was enthused because he was having a hard time gleaning information into something that made sense. It was making him crazy.
“Manny?” said Sophie. “You here?”
“Yeah. Just thinking.”
“While you’re thinking, let Dean and I give you some more information to stoke over,” said Alex, squirming in his seat. He stood, shifting to one leg, then the other.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Dough Boy? Underwear issues?” teased Sophie.
“Sort of, but that’s none of your business.”
“Rash, isn’t it? What have you been doing?”
“Maybe, but like I said; it ain’t your business, wench.”
“Wench? That hurt, and don’t say I didn’t warn you about those gloves.”
“Later, you two,” warned Josh, though his eyes were smiling.
Alex grimaced and shifted again. “Anyway, we’ve got all of the pictures from the other two murder sites and we found more numbers. Site one had a ‘2,’ site two had a ‘0,’ site three had a ‘6,’ the altar site had the ‘2’ Manny found, and the last site had the ‘1,’ which gives us, in order, 2-0-6-2-1.”
“You could reverse it,” said Dean. “But either way it makes no sense to me. I took a few classes on numerology and cryptology, and there’s about a million things those numbers could mean.”
“The Zodiac killer did this in the late sixties, but his code was more complex, and he made mistakes in it, supposedly. But if this is all we got, it’s a start,” said Manny.
“Could the numbers be translated to letters?” asked Chloe.
“They could, but the trick is to find out which numbers correspond with which letter. It’d be too easy to start with A as zero,” said Dean.
“We have to think simple and go from there. I mean start from the most obvious and work our way up. Maybe Occam’s Razor will apply here. God knows we need a simple, obvious explanation,” said Manny.
“Damn. This could be anything. In the movies, the numbers are always a longitude, latitude clue,” said Sophie.
“Good guess, but not enough numbers,” said Dean. Manny noticed the CSI’s look of worship toward Sophie was back and wondered briefly if he did the same thing himself when he looked at Chloe.
“Could it be a significant—wait!” Manny jumped up. “Alex. I need to see the pictures from the morgue. I thought there was something weird there. I couldn’t figure out why he’d dragged the body. I thought he was simply screwing with us.”
Still trying to get comfortable, Alex punched a couple of keys and turned the computer in Manny’s direction. “Have at it. Just push this arrow to go to the next one. This will take you back to the previous one.”
The others had gathered over Manny’s shoulder as he clicked pictures of the dark red smears running in different directions on the floor. They watched in silence as he worked the slideshow.
“You might get this tech junk yet,” said Sophie.
“God forbid. How do I isolate four pictures in an up-and-down row?”
“Which four?” asked Alex.
After Alex had them lined up, Manny could only stare.
“Well, kiss my ass and give me a Valentine,” whispered Alex.
The large “P” was rough, but unmistakable.
Chapter-62
The sounds of the casino echoed through the lobby as he sat patiently in one of the padded chairs in t
he lounge, pretending to play on his tablet. He’d already been for two walks, and then decided he couldn’t risk taking any more. He didn’t know when Special Agent Manny Williams would return to the hotel, but he needed to be here when the object of his hatred showed himself. The arrogant prick would probably be surrounded with “his” people, but that didn’t matter. Williams would go to his room, eventually, and when he did, it would be his time to shine. And shine he would, wouldn’t he? He hadn’t prepared all of these months to fail. That wasn’t in the cards: his or Williams’s.
“Do you mind if I use that outlet to plug in my phone?”
The heavyset man with the Southern accent smiled at him, and he smiled back.
“No problem. I’m not using it.”
“Thank you. I’m waiting for my wife and that could be a while. Being married to her sure has taught me patience, but she’s been worth it.”
He stood, stretching his legs to his full height. “I know exactly what you mean. Rewards come to those who wait, do they not?”
“Oh, are y’all waiting for the love of your life?”
“Something like that.”
Chapter-63
“Great. Now we have a ‘P’. What good does that do?” asked Sophie.
Manny ran his hand through his hair, studying the pictures. “I don’t know, Sophie, but I think the puzzle’s still not complete. We’ve found what he left in El Yunque and the morgue, but what about the body parts? Especially the last one. Dean?”
“The heart?” answered Dean. “What about it? Same MO for delivery, same box type, same amount of puking when the cops opened it. Even the label print had the same sub-pattern inside the letters, but—”
“But what?” asked Alex, tapping him on the shoulder. “You didn’t have any ‘buts’ when you and Julia left the office, and the techs took the heart for more work.”
“I don’t know, I think Mucus’s butt is kind of cute,” said Sophie.
