by J. C. Fields
Kruger remained quiet.
“I believe I found the crossing.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been curious about how Bishop crossed paths with someone like Rosie Singleton. She lives alone in an isolated community and was planning on being gone for several weeks. No one would miss her at work because she would be on a cruise. Her tickets and packed bag are still in the living room. A plane ticket showed she was to fly out of St. Louis yesterday. How did Bishop know?”
“I’ve wondered the same thing.”
“I found a debit in her bank account to a restaurant Thursday night.”
Kruger looked at JR and waited. This was a typical dramatic pause from his friend when explaining a finding. “Go on.”
“The restaurant was next to the hotel Bishop was staying in.”
Kruger stood. “Damn, he overheard her talking.”
“That would be my assumption as well.”
Frowning, Kruger paced in the confided space of the bedroom. “Any way to find the Civic like you did the Equinox?”
JR shook his head. “Bluetooth and Navigation were options on Hondas that year, but her car didn’t have it.”
“Unfortunate.”
“So, how are you going to find him?”
“Well, looks like we’re going to have to do it the old fashioned way.” Kruger stopped pacing. “Put a BOLO out on the Civic.”
Chapter 35
Columbia, MO
The shift change at Brian Kruger’s apartment failed to occur at the normal time. Holding binoculars against his eyes, Randolph Bishop watched the two men as they maintained their vigilance outside of Brain’s residence. The pattern had been two outside, one inside, rotating positions every thirty minutes. There were two teams of three, each spent twelve hours on, twelve hours off. Tonight, something was wrong. Since the missed shift change three hours ago, the two men outside were on their cell phones constantly.
Bishop watched from a wooded area east of the apartment. Surrounded by bushes and trees, he stood just behind a large scrub oak. Where he stood was dark, the lights of the apartment complex failing to illuminate him due to the thick foliage. Rosie Singleton’s Honda sat in a Walmart parking lot several blocks to the south.
How to get to Brian Kruger continued to elude him. He had been watching off and on for several days. Now, after three hours of watching this disruption in the security routine, he felt any chance of getting to the son was gone. Even as he watched, four police vehicles, their sirens screaming and lights flashing, could be seen heading toward the apartment complex on Providence Road. Bishop lowered his binoculars and observed the cars turning onto Green Meadows Road as they proceeded east, skidding to a noisy stop in the parking lot of Brian’s building. He raised the binoculars again and watched as Highway Patrol officers stepped out of the cars, their emergency lights still rotating, and conferred with the two men guarding the building.
Bishop’s breathing rate increased, and he felt a chill crawl up his spine. He moved further back into the bushes. After several minutes of indecision, he started making his way back to the Honda. As he got within sight of the car, he noticed a Boone County Sheriff car parked behind the Civic. A sheriff’s deputy stood next to the open driver’s door speaking into a microphone from the car’s radio and staring at the back of the car.
“Dammit.” The word slipped from his mouth without thinking. He stood still as he watched the deputy return the microphone to the car’s interior and place his right hand on his weapon. After several seconds, he withdrew it from his holster and stepped carefully around the hood of the patrol car. Gripping the gun in both hands, he approached the Honda’s driver’s side door. Once he confirmed the car was unoccupied, he returned the weapon to its holster and pulled a flashlight out of his belt.
Bishop retreated from the Walmart parking lot into the darkness of the night. He rushed across Green Meadow Road into a Kohl’s department store parking lot. Checking his cell phone, he noted the time was approaching 11 p.m. The store closed at 9, but a few cars were still scattered haphazardly around the area. He checked several and found a twenty-year-old Mustang with the driver door unlocked. He climbed into the back seat and waited.
Fifteen minutes later, he heard voices, both female. He lowered himself into the back floor of the car and held his CZ P-07 9mm pistol in his right hand. One of the voices said, “G’night, Sally, I’m off tomorrow. What about you?”
“Have to be here at 4 in the afternoon,” Sally answered. “Gotta close tomorrow night and do the folding thing like we did tonight. Got any plans for your day off?”
“Sleeping late. Have to be here early the next day.”
Bishop felt the driver door open and the car dip as the owner sat behind the steering wheel. He waited as she started the car and drove out of the parking lot. The ride lasted fifteen minutes, with Bishop having no idea where they were. As the car stopped and she placed the automatic transmission in park, Bishop rose, reached around the driver seat and placed his hand over the woman’s mouth as he simultaneously placed the pistol against her right temple and growled, “Don’t make a sound and I won’t kill you.”
There was a gasp from the woman, but she nodded. He couldn’t make out too much detail about her appearance, but he felt sweat form on her upper lip. In the rearview mirror, he only saw a round face, his hand over her mouth. The eyes were wide and her hair dark. He asked, “Do you live alone?”
She shook her head.
Without hesitation, he removed his hand from her mouth and pulled the trigger.
Bishop climbed out of the passenger door, looked around, saw no one, and started running.
***
His arms crossed, Kruger stood behind Rosie Singleton’s Honda Civic as the Highway Patrol Rapid Response Team processed it for fingerprints and DNA. Sandy Knoll walked up beside him. “We’re transferring Brian and Michelle to a safe house Joseph owns in Christian County. They left ten minutes ago.”
Nodding, Kruger looked at the taller man. “Thanks, Sandy.” He turned his attention west of the Walmart parking lot. “Allen’s spoken to the Governor. The Highway Patrol is issuing a statewide BOLO for Bishop. If he follows past behavior, he’ll find someplace to hold up for a while and let everything calm down.”
As he finished the sentence, a Highway Patrol car skidded to a halt just behind where the two men stood. A man with sergeant’s stripes on his sleeve was behind the wheel. “You Kruger and Knoll?”
Both men turned and nodded. With a neutral expression, the patrolman spoke, “A woman who works at the Kohl’s next door was shot inside her car. Her roommate heard a loud pop, looked out the window, and saw someone running from her roommate’s car. She called 911. First responders tell me it’s bad.”
Kruger shut his eyes and brought his hand up to cover them. “Ah, geez.” He shook his head and then turned his attention to Knoll. “I’ll head over there, you get with Boone and shut this town down.”
Knoll nodded.
***
Kruger parked across the street from the duplex, left the emergency lights on his car flashing, and stepped out into the chaotic scene. Columbia police, Highway Patrol, Boone County Sheriff’s cars, and a Boone County Hospital ambulance were parked in and around the older model Mustang sitting in a driveway, their emergency lights reflecting off the houses in the neighborhood. He saw a female officer talking to a young woman on the porch of the house. The woman was crying. Clipping his badge on his belt, Kruger walked toward a Highway Patrol officer who was standing next to the older Mustang.
The officer noticed Kruger and started walking toward him. The two shook hands and Kruger introduced himself. The Highway Patrol nodded. “Corporal Matt Hughes. Major Boone speaks highly of you.” Hughes was taller than Kruger by several inches and broad in the shoulders. His size made him slightly intimidating, but Kruger was used to large law enforcement officers.
“Boone’s a good man; I’ve worked with him several times. What’ve
you got here, Corporal?”
“Contact gunshot to the right side of the head. She never knew what happened. We’re guessing, but it looks like someone was hiding in the back of her car when she left work. The back seat and floor board are cluttered, but you can see where the clutter has been pushed aside. Roommate heard a loud noise, looked out the window, and saw a man emerge from the passenger side of the car and run north.” Hughes pointed in the direction of more duplexes down the street. “Lots of students live around here.”
Kruger nodded and took a deep breath. “If it’s the man I suspect, you need to tell your fellow officers to shoot first and ask questions later. He’s desperate and will not hesitate to kill a police officer.”
Hughes sighed. “Major Boone already issued a shoot-on-sight order.”
Nodding again, Kruger looked in the direction Hughes pointed. “What exactly is in that direction?”
“Lots of older homes, apartments, and wooded areas.”
Kruger frowned as he understood the implications of Hughes’ statement.
***
Bishop breathed hard as he slowed from his dash down the street. Having never been in Columbia, he had no idea where he was. He could tell it was an older part of the city. Mature trees, older two- and three-story homes, a few nice ones, but most were rundown. New and old cars lined the street with many parked in yards. The area appeared to be close to the campus of the large university and he assumed the majority were student housing.
Off in the distance he heard multiple sirens and felt a moment of disappointment. He did not expected the girl to be found so quickly. Not wanting to be seen, he left the street and made his way behind one of the larger two-story homes. A quick glance at the only remaining cell phone he possessed showed the time was half past 1 in the morning. He turned the phone off and disappeared into the darkness of the back yards.
Keeping to the shadows behind the houses, he moved slowly into the wooded area behind them. Standing still he observed several of the older homes, keeping an eye on the ones with lights on. Ten minutes later, his vigilance was rewarded with the sight of a young woman in the second-floor window of a three-story house. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, and she wore a man’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her back was to the window, and she appeared to be sitting on the ledge of the window. Her left hand was pressed to her head, and her right hand was animated. She was talking to someone on a cell phone.
Bishop moved through the darkness until he was directly behind the house and watched. Several minutes later, the woman stood and turned toward the window. Her shirt was open, and she wore nothing underneath. The sight of her bare breasts and slender body caused Bishop to take a sudden deep breath. His lips grew dry, his heart rate quickened, and he felt a tightness in his groin. His attention turned to the building. It was an older home, at one time a grand structure, but now subdivided into multiple apartments. Bishop noted an outside fire escape attached to the outside leading to the second and third floors of the house.
Retreating further back into the wooded area behind the home, he continued to watch her as she talked on the phone. After several moments, he approached the house, avoiding the light cast by the window. Making his way to the fire escape, he started to climb.
Once in the hallway of the building, Bishop stood quietly outside the woman’s apartment, his ear to the door listening to the one-sided conversation.
“I can’t believe he just left without waking me. I’m so embarrassed, Sara.”
There was silence as the woman listened to her friend.
“I know, but he was so nice and we’ve had several dates. Uhh… I can’t believe it. I feel so used.”
More silence.
“No, he’s not coming back. I’m done with him.”
An idea came to Bishop, he gently tapped on the door.
“Hold on, Sara, I just heard something at the door. I’ll call you back, maybe it’s him.”
He tapped the door again.
From inside he heard in a soft voice. “Is that you, Tommy?”
“Yeah, sorry I left.” Bishop heard a deadbolt retracted and a chain being slid out of its receptacle. When the door started to open, Bishop slammed his shoulder into it and heard it make contact with the person behind. He heard a gasp of surprise as he rushed into the room, shutting the door immediately behind him.
The woman was now sprawled on the floor, the shirt open, exposing her nudity. Bishop knelt, clamped his hand over her mouth and growled, “Don’t.”
Withdrawing the CZ secured by his belt with his other hand, Bishop pointed it at the woman. When she saw the gun her eyes grew wide and he felt her body start to tremble.
Chapter 36
Columbia, MO
The early glimpses of dawn were evident as Kruger and Knoll returned to Rosie Singleton’s house. JR had remained behind to learn what he could from Bishop’s possessions.
Kruger and Knoll listened as JR summarized his findings.
“First, there’s over fifty thousand dollars in the duffel bag. Two cell phones and no computer. Did you find one in the woman’s car?”
Shaking his head, Kruger spoke first. “No. The witness who saw the fleeing man thought she saw a backpack on the guy.”
JR frowned. “Without his computer, it will be difficult to determine how much money he has left.”
Knoll stood next to Kruger, his arms folded across his massive chest. “It’s been five hours since the last sighting. He could be gone by now.”
“I agree.” Kruger walked toward the window and watched the sky grow lighter. “I hope we don’t have another casualty, but I expect we will.”
“How fast did the checkpoints out of town go up?” JR asked, returning his attention to his laptop.
“Right after Rosie’s car was found.”
JR nodded. “Now what?”
“I don’t know.” Kruger concentrated on the sunrise. “He’s been unpredictable from the start. If he’s found somewhere to hide, it might be several days before he feels comfortable enough to move again.”
“I think he’ll try to find a way out,” Knoll leaned against the door jam. “We’ve been right behind him since he got to Columbia.”
Kruger turned to look at the big man. “You may be right.” He resumed studying the brightening sky. After several minutes of silence, he walked to the bedroom door, and looked at JR. “Pack your computer, we’re getting out of here.”
***
Sara Ferguson gently tapped on the door of her best friend’s apartment.
“Mandy, are you okay?”
Silence. She tapped again.
“You didn’t call back, I got worried.”
Still no response. She tried the door and found it unlocked. Taking a deep breath, she gently opened the door and peeked in. The front room was dark and she didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. “Mandy, are you here?” She stepped further into the quiet room.
A strong hand grabbed her right arm and yanked her into the room. The door shut behind her. Before she could make a sound, a hand clamped over her mouth, her right arm was wrenched behind her back, and she felt the presence of a larger body that smelled of sweat.
“Mandy can’t come to the door right now. Don’t make a sound, and I won’t hurt you. Do you understand?”
Sara nodded slightly.
“I’m going to take my hand away from your mouth. If you make a sound, I’ll break your arm. Do you understand?”
Sara nodded again.
Bishop removed his hand from her mouth and at the same time put more pressure on Sara’s right arm.
“Where’s Mandy? Is she okay?”
“Don’t worry about Mandy. You need to worry about yourself at the moment. Do you have a car?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“On the street. Why?”
“You’re going to take me for a ride, Sara.”
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
�
��Who I am and how I know your name is not important. Now, let’s go to your car.”
***
JR was on the verge of shutting his laptop down, when he received a message from one of his servers in Springfield. “Hang on, Sean. A phone just called the number in Thailand.”
Kruger stopped and walked back to JR, but remained quiet.
Typing rapidly on the keyboard, he stopped, read something on the screen, and started typing again. He repeated this process several times before looking up from the screen. “The phone number calling the contact in Thailand is owned by Mandy Bryant, who lives a half mile from the woman shot in the Mustang.”
“Shit.” Kruger was out the door and heading toward his car followed closely by JR, who was stuffing his laptop in a backpack. Sandy Knoll ran to his GMC Denali and prepared to follow. As Kruger accelerated toward the neighborhood exit, he called Allen Boone.
The call was answered on the second ring. “Major Boone.”
“Allen, we have a lead on Bishop’s location.” Kruger gave him the address. “We’re on our way, but won’t be there for at least fifteen minutes.”
“On it, I’ll get the Columbia PD and Boone County Sheriff’s department headed that way. I’ll let them know you’re coming in hot.”
“Thanks, Allen.”
As soon as the call was over, Kruger flipped the switch, and the Mustang’s lights and siren lit up.
The neighborhood was east of the campus. The streets were narrow, the homes older, and cars were parked on the street and in yards. Kruger killed the siren, but kept the lights going as JR guided him to the address using Google Maps. As they approached, they noted several police cars with their light bars flashing. JR pointed. “The house is on a corner lot, looks to be a three-story colonial.”
Kruger nodded as he parked behind a Highway Patrol car. Knoll parked behind the Mustang and left his emergency flashers on.
