The choices were simple. Use up more air calling for help or lay here and die for lack of oxygen. Her eyes were growing steadily heavier. False images began to float in front of her—colors generated by her brain. Is this how it feels?
Maybe if she slept for a bit, just a few minutes to gather herself. More shapes swam before her along with those little stars you see when you stand up too quickly. Shooting stars. She remembered pasting them on the ceiling of her boys’ room when they were little. Shooting stars that continued to glow after the lights were out. Slowly, inexorably, the stars began to recede in the distance, growing fainter and fainter. Donna Camp closed her eyes and went to sleep.
*
A uniform officer responding to the emergency call was already at the parking lot keeping more people from entering the Underground Atlanta complex. Jack recognized Corey Harrison immediately.
“Nice to see you again, Harrison,” he said.
“I was on my way to court when your alert went out. What’s up?”
“We think our killer has the woman somewhere in there,” Jack said, pointing.
“Really?”
“It’s a reasonable guess. That evidence you brought in was crucial. Are you familiar with the layout here?”
“A little,” Harrison said. “My girlfriend and I visited after the renovations were complete. Basically, it’s just a couple of streets with restaurants and souvenir shops.”
Beth said, “There’s supposed to be a closed section they haven’t started on yet.”
“It’s probably at the north end of Old Alabama Street,” Harrison said. “I remember seeing some broken-down old buildings there but never paid much attention to them.”
Beth nodded and went to the trunk of her car and removed two body armor vests and handed one to Jack. They both put them on. She explained to Harrison, “Tactical should be here any minute. Let them know we’re on scene.”
She then turned to Jack. “Are you armed?”
“Uh . . . no, I didn’t think I’d need to carry a gun.”
“Jack, you can’t go into a dangerous situation without a weapon.”
“He can have my backup,” Harrison said. He knelt down, removed a compact revolver from his ankle holster, and handed it to him.
Jack looked at the gun and frowned. It was a five-shot .22-caliber Smith & Wesson the cops referred to as pop guns.
“Better than using harsh language,” Harrison said.
Jack managed a smile and thanked him.
“How about I come with you guys?” Harrison said. “I can have radio advise tactical we’re in.”
Beth looked at Jack and then back to Harrison and nodded.
“Let’s go.”
As soon as they cleared the entrance, the three found themselves in the midst of Underground Atlanta. Beth wasn’t sure what was above them, but she could hear the rumble of traffic. Around her old-fashioned lampposts spilled light onto the cobblestones.
The street they were on ended at a sidewalk restaurant flanked by a gift shop and a store called Ye Olde Printing Company—Stationers. Perhaps a hundred yards away, at the opposite end, was a gray, wooden fence blocking off further access. Beyond it she could see three or four brick buildings, or rather what was left of them. Their front and sides were blackened and none looked particularly safe. Portions of one had already collapsed. The roof and top floor of the building across from it were completely gone.
Without speaking, they spread out. Beth took one side of the street, Jack the other, and Harrison moved to the middle. As they drew closer, she could see the area beyond the fence had once been used to house construction materials. Large mounds of sand and concrete blocks still remained. Atlanta’s city fathers had hoped to turn Underground Atlanta into a tourist attraction, similar to Boston’s Faneuil Hall or New York’s South Street Seaport. The fact that Beth had never visited there or knew anyone who did said something about how the public had received it. Harrison finished speaking with radio dispatch and stopped in front of the gate.
“Looks like the lock’s been snapped off,” he said, drawing his gun. “Someone probably used a crowbar on it.”
Jack and Beth joined him as he pushed the right half of the door open. It was large enough to drive a truck through. The door swung back on its hinges to reveal a narrow street.
The buildings were no more than piles of rubble. Whatever was left was now sealed in by the road overhead and a wall at the very end that cast them into perpetual night.
“SWAT’s here,” Harrison said, listening over his earpiece. “They’re clearing out the last civilians now.”
“Where do you think he has her?” Beth asked.
“If he’s consistent, it’ll probably be in a basement. That’s where Pell’s last victim was found,” Jack said, coming to a halt at a ruined brick structure.
Boards and debris were blocking the building’s entrance. They searched for another way in and found nothing.
“Commander Sheeley’s on his way,” Harrison said. “He says to stay put until he’s secured the area.”
“We don’t have time to stay put,” Beth said, “and neither does that woman.”
“I’m just telling you what he . . .”
Harrison’s words went to Jack and Beth’s backs. They were already in the process of negotiating their way over the rubble. Harrison cursed under his breath and followed.
All that was left of the Beckworth Munitions Company was a faded sign that hung above an interior courtyard. Its four sides were surrounded by the building’s shell. Above them, only the framework of the roof remained. Portions of two walls had collapsed as had a wooden balcony that ran along the inside of the second floor. Sections were still intact, but the majority now lay in the courtyard, its timbers charred by fire.
Low light glinted off broken windows high up in the remaining brick walls. It was a desolate, abandoned place that had once been filled with activity. No one had been here for years. The echo of wagons moving and men shouting, laughing, and cursing long ago reverberated within these walls. Now the only sound was wind passing through the shattered beams.
“This ain’t smart,” a voice behind them said.
All three turned to see the SWAT team commander making his way across the entrance.
“We think there’s a woman somewhere in this building,” Beth said.
“I know, but you don’t go stumbling into an unsecured situation unless you’re tired of living.”
Sheeley was dressed completely in black body armor with the word SWAT and a gold badge emblazoned over his right breast.
“She may be dying as we speak,” Beth said. “Let us help and—”
“Just give me a few minutes to make sure there are no surprises waiting for us. It won’t take long.”
“But—”
“We’ll move as quickly as we can. I promise. In the meantime, I want you to fall back outside.”
Beth opened her mouth to protest and stopped. Sheeley was right. Barging into an uncontrolled area without making sure it was safe was foolish and against department policy. Conscious the clock was ticking, she told him to have his men look for a basement.
Six of Sheeley’s squad, dressed as he was, entered the courtyard and began to check different portions of the structure, splitting into two-man teams. Within minutes each team called in advising the area was clear. The last to report was team two.
“Myers here, boss. We found the basement, but it’s empty.”
“You sure?”
“There’s an inch of dust on the steps going down. It’s the same with the floor. I promise you, no one’s been on them for years. This is a dead end.”
“She has to be here,” Jack said. “Everything fits.”
“Fine. Tell us where to look,” Sheeley said.
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. All indications are—”
“Why are those arches sealed?” Beth asked.
The men turned to see what she was looking at. Across the cou
rtyard, a small group of arches under a section of the balcony had been bricked over. The arches on either side were open.
Beth asked Jack, “Didn’t you say you found old mortar mixed in with the brick chips—lime or something?”
“Absolutely,” Jack said, staring at the arches.
Sheeley understood immediately. He snatched the hand mic off his shoulder and snapped, “Antonelli, Johnson, grab the battering ram and meet us here on the double.”
Chapter 31
There was no need to guess which arch Donna camp was entombed behind. In the dim light, it had not been possible to see the color difference between the old and new mortar or the joint discrepancy in the courses of brick. Once they were close, both became apparent. The recently constructed wall gave way after only two blows with the battering ram. Jack, Harrison, and Beth stood off to one side and watched with a cold dread building in them at what they might find inside.
Two SWAT officers climbed over the pile of brick and disappeared into the shadows. A moment later Antonelli yelled, “She’s alive! I saw her move. He’s got her wrapped up like a mummy. We need oxygen ASAP! Someone call the medics!”
The EMT unit arrived within minutes and transferred Donna Camp to a stretcher, cautiously carrying her out of the alcove. One of the technicians started an IV drip to combat her dehydration.
“Is she able to talk?” Jack asked.
“Yeah. She’s pretty banged up, but she should be okay.”
“I need a few minutes with her.”
“Jack, they need to get this woman to a hospital,” Beth said.
Jack ignored her and moved to the stretcher. “Ma’am, are you well enough to speak with me?”
“I think so,” Donna said.
“Did you see the man who did this to you?”
“Yes.”
“Can you describe him?”
“He’s tall with brown hair and blue eyes. He had a beard, but it didn’t look real.”
“Did you speak with him?”
“Uh-huh. I asked him if the wall was the only thing he could get up. He didn’t like that.”
Jack stifled a laugh. “No, I don’t imagine he did. How did he react?”
“He tried to put tape over my mouth. When he got close, I kicked him and ran. But he caught me again.” Donna tentatively touched her left eye and winced.
“He hit you?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you recall which hand he used?”
Donna thought for a second and then said, “His left one.”
“You’re doing great,” Jack reassured. “Did he do anything else besides hit you?”
“Nothing sexual, if that’s what you mean,” Donna said.
Jack glanced at Beth. She already had a plastic evidence bag in one hand and was in the process of filling out a description card. Quick learner.
“I’m very glad to hear that,” Jack said to Donna, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re a brave woman. You said you kicked him?”
“Correct.”
“Which foot?”
“This one,” Donna answered, lifting her right leg. “You can have my shoe if you need it.”
“We do,” Jack said. “When we’re done, I’d like you to spend a little time with Detective Sturgis, so she can check the rest of your clothes.”
“For fibers and fingerprints?”
Jack smiled, “Been watching CSI on television?”
“I don’t mind. I want to help.”
“You already have. Tell me what else you remember about him.”
“He might have been wearing a wig, too, but it was hard to tell because it was dark.”
“I understand. And you’re sure his eye color was blue?”
“Probably more gray now that I think of it.”
“After he hit you, did he put his hands anywhere else on your body?”
“Around my throat, but he was wearing gloves—brown leather gloves.”
Jack nodded. No surprise there. “What about you? Did you put your hands on him?”
“I tried to fight, but he was too strong,” Donna said. She seemed to sag a little with the last statement.
Jack caught Beth’s warning look and thanked her. He nodded to her and stood back while she ran a sticky roller over the woman’s clothes to pick up trace evidence.
After the EMTs left for the hospital, they went back to the alcove and began searching the area for clues. Forensics arrived and set up two portable lights, which helped a great deal. Their work was methodical and painstaking and yielded a good set of footprints. Whether these were left by the killer or by someone else, Jack didn’t know. He ordered comparison prints from each of the SWAT officers to eliminate them. The unspoken question on everyone’s mind was what would they find behind the other alcoves.
Rather than knock down the wall as they did the first one, Sheeley sent one of his men for a hammer and cold chisel. Little by little, the mortar was chipped away and a brick was removed. The officer then used his Maglite to peer into the room, sweeping the beam from side to side slowly. Everyone’s attention was riveted on him.
Suddenly, the man’s hand stopped moving. He pulled his head back and said, “Holy shit.”
Most of the color seemed to have left his face. He turned back to Sheeley and announced, “There’s another body in here.”
Chapter 32
It took the rest of the day and into the night before the other walls came down. One by one, the bricks were removed and placed into separate piles. Ben Furman and two assistants arrived on the scene and worked tirelessly. Dan Pappas, back from interviewing witnesses, showed up along with Deputy Chief Noah Ritson and Burt Wiggins. They watched from the sidelines without comment. Sheeley and his men also stayed to see the developing nightmare. They had the expression of people who had just discovered their training would be of no value. The atmosphere in the courtyard took on a surreal quality. Police and technicians moved in and out of the lights going about their tasks without speaking. A group of uniforms were assigned to keep the crowd back, which was growing in size with every passing hour. Among the onlookers were reporters from the newspaper, CNN, Fox News, and all three major networks.
After the last body was removed and turned over to the medical examiner, Noah Ritson motioned the detectives away from the cameras now set up behind the police barricade.
Ritson addressed Jack first. “I noticed you speaking with the crime scene photographer a minute ago. What was that about?”
“I asked her to get some pictures of the crowd.”
“You think our man is here?”
“It’s possible,” Jack said. “Detectives Sturgis and Pappas found what looks like an observation point near the dam. Sometimes these nuts like to hang around and see our reactions.”
“Nuts?”
“It captures the spirit, Chief,” Jack said.
Ritson smiled. “We’ll need to make a statement to the media. What can you tell me?”
Jack noted his use of the term we rather than I when he mentioned making a statement.
“Five of the victims are female; one is male. Judging from the clothing and the state of decomposition on the first woman we took out, I’d say her body has been here for quite a while. Years, probably. The ME or maybe a forensic anthropologist can give us a better idea.”
“What about the others?” Ritson asked.
“Thanks to the lack of moisture and the alcove being sealed, the bodies are in surprisingly good condition. The style of clothes indicates they were here even longer than the first victim. Since around the early nineteen hundreds, I imagine.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Best guess, Chief, unless they attended a costume party before they were murdered.”
“You’re telling me we’ve had a serial killer running around since the turn of the last century?” Ritson said.
Jack took a deep breath and looked through the gate to where the crowd was congregating. “I’m only telling you what I ob
served. It’s too soon to reach any conclusions.”
Ritson took a moment to digest the implications. “Okay. Get cleaned up and think over what you want to say. We don’t need to set off a general panic.” He turned to Beth and Pappas. “I want both of you at the press conference. I’ll handle the broad strokes and then Professor Kale will take over.”
Pappas waited until the chief was out of earshot and leaned around Jack to look at him from the back.
“What are you doing?” Beth asked.
“Checking to see if there’s a bull’s-eye strapped to his ass.”
A short distance away, reporters jockeyed for position.
“Showtime,” Jack mumbled as they started forward.
The reporters began shouting questions almost before Chief Ritson was in position. He held his hands up for quiet.
“As some of you know, another woman was recently abducted. Thanks to some quick thinking on the part of our investigative team, I’m pleased to announce she was rescued several hours ago. She’s now resting comfortably at Grady Hospital.”
“What’s her name, Chief?” a reporter from WXIA called out.
“We’d prefer to keep that confidential for the time being until she’s had a chance to speak with her family.”
“Was she hurt in any way?”
“Some bruises and scrapes, I’m told, but otherwise she appears to be in good health—badly shaken, but all right.”
“Was she sexually assaulted?” a reporter from Fox News asked.
Ritson squinted against the glare and shielded his eyes to see who had spoken. “She advised us there was nothing like that.”
The reporter followed up with another question. “How about ransom demands?”
“At this time we’re not aware of any demands for money, but we’re still investigating.”
An attractive blonde woman who Jack recognized from a TV news special about the zoo’s new panda asked the inevitable next question. This was probably a juicier story than what the panda was up to. “If this woman was rescued hours ago, what were you doing in there so long?”
The chief, used to dealing with the media, answered calmly. “Gail, in any crime scene, it’s important that we examine the area for clues carefully and methodically. We wouldn’t want to miss something significant.”
Once Shadows Fall: A Thriller (A Jack Kale and Beth Sturgis Thriller) Page 14
