by Frank Zafiro
That left a vehicle pursuit which occurred out in the County. The suspect had been a four-wheel drive truck that simply went off road and lost the Deputy Sheriff, who couldn’t follow in his Chevy Caprice. That might make for a mildly humorous piece, but Pam didn’t think it was worth embarrassing the Deputy. It never was, in her mind. Unlike some of her colleagues, she knew that cops were people, too, just like everyone else — not simply convenient targets.
So all in all, she had a puny paragraph about a DV to hand into Mr. Seven O’Clock.
Her phone rang. She glanced down at the caller ID, but didn’t recognize the number. She lifted the receiver.
“Pam Lincoln, River City Herald.”
There was a pause. She could hear the flow of traffic in the background and guessed immediately that her caller was on a payphone.
She squinted. Now, why would someone call her on a payphone? Leaning forward, flipping open her notepad and fished around in her drawer for a pen.
“Hello?” she repeated, her interest piqued. She found her pen. Quickly, she held it poised above the steno pad.
“You wrote the piece about the Rainy Day Rapist,” a male voice said. Something sounded wrong in the tone and inflection, but for a moment, she couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
“Yes,” she answered, “I did.”
The voice fell silent again. A car horn honked in the background.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked in her most open voice.
He chuckled. “Yes. Yes, I think you can.” He paused a moment. She figured out what was wrong with the voice. He was trying to disguise it somehow. She started to make a note of that on her steno pad.
That’s when he dropped his bombshell.
0741 hours
The Chief of the River City Police Department sat at his desk, his hands folded on his lap. Across from him sat Captain Michael Reott of the Patrol Division and the head of Major Crimes, Lieutenant Crawford.
“I’m not sure these answers are satisfactory,” he told the both of them. “In fact, I have to tell you that, in my opinion, they’re not.”
Crawford squirmed in his seat, his lip curled up as if he were about to deliver a retort. The Chief looked at him placidly, waiting to see if he said anything, but ultimately the Lieutenant remained silent.
The Chief turned to Reott. “You’re the ranking officer here. Explain to me why this occurred.”
Reott didn’t blink. “Sir, at each stage of this operation, Lieutenant Crawford assessed the situation. He took into consideration the officers who were involved, what actually occurred and what was at stake. In each case, he determined that the best course of action was to press on and continue with-”
“Do you agree?” The Chief asked him. Crawford wasn’t Reott’s immediate subordinate, but he was pretty sure he knew how the Captain would answer.
“Absolutely,” Reott told him without hesitation. “He made the best decision at the time with the information available to him at the time.”
The Chief wasn’t surprised. Still, he asked, “When exactly were you made aware of these decisions?”
“As soon as it was practical,” Reott answered.
“Specifically,” The Chief said, “when?”
“No later than the following morning. Earlier, in some cases.”
The Chief nodded. Reott had always been a stand-up leader when it came to his troops, so his response was exactly what The Chief had expected. He admired the Captain’s loyalty. Still, he was disappointed at the turn of events.
“Just so I’m clear,” he said, “let’s recap how this task force has progressed.”
Crawford clenched his jaw and exhaled heavily, but Reott’s expression remained impassive.
The Chief continued. “The team was out for three total nights. The first night, no rapist. But MacLeod has an accidental discharge under the Washington Street Underpass. And yet she goes back out again the next night anyway. The second night, no rapist again. And MacLeod is assaulted in an attempted robbery. Even after that, she goes out again a third night. This time, we actually get the rapist. But the cover team blows it and MacLeod ends up in the hospital while the rapist gets away.” The Chief rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers in front of him. “Does that about sum things up?”
“No,” Crawford began, but Reott cut him off.
“Yes, sir,” the Patrol Captain said in an even voice. “That is what occurred.”
Crawford looked away and sighed heavily, but said nothing.
The Chief gave him an appraising look. “You know, Mike, I’m not a detective anymore. But I was at one time, years and years ago. Back in those days, we learned all about behavioral cues. And I have to tell you, as rusty as I am, it still looks like the Lieutenant here has something to say.”
He smiled humorlessly at Crawford. In his peripheral vision, he saw Reott turn to the Major Crimes Lieutenant as well.
Crawford stewed for a moment, as if engaged in an internal debate. He glanced at Reott, then leaned forward. “It’s not as clear cut as all that, Chief.”
The Chief held up both his palms. “Educate me, then.”
Crawford wiped the sweat from his lip and cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll deal with things in the same order you did, I suppose. For starters, not getting a bite from the rapist that first night was expected. It’d be like winning the lottery to catch the guy the first time out.”
The Chief made what he hoped was an expression of mild agreement.
“The A.D.,” Crawford continued, “was just nerves. MacLeod was in a dark place and there was movement. She shot a rat.”
“And what if it had been a bum?” The Chief asked.
“A transient,” Reott corrected.
“When I talk to the camera, they’re transients,” The Chief said, unfazed. “In this office, they’re bums.” He turned to Crawford. “Answer the question, Lieutenant.”
“If it were a bum,” Crawford said, “MacLeod would have killed him.”
The Chief nodded.
“And,” Crawford added, “if my aunt had balls, she’d be my uncle.”
The Chief raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. His silence seemed to embolden Crawford, who pressed forward.
“I told the Captain about the accidental discharge. He was considering a summary judgment in the matter rather than sending it to Internal Affairs.”
“Which means?” The Chief asked, his voice sounding a little tight to him.
“Which means a formal letter of reprimand.”
“How does that impact her?”
Reott answered before Crawford could speak. “According to Lieutenant Saylor, she’s just been given a position as a Field Training Officer. A formal reprimand would revoke her FTO status for six months.”
The Chief pursed his lips. That actually seemed a little harsh to him, but he left it alone for the time being.
Crawford pressed on. “The second night was just bad luck. There’s no way the team could have predicted a robbery attempt. The coverage on it was good. One of the suspects was captured, interrogated and charged.”
The Chief nodded, saying nothing.
“The third night,” Crawford continued, “was a stroke of good luck.”
“Good luck?” The Chief asked.
“Yes,” said Crawford. “Good luck. A victim came forward who hadn’t yet spoken to police. Her attack came in the exact same place as the victim we thought was number one. Tower and Renee in Crime Analysis both theorized that the suspect lived near that location. That was why they were at Corbin Park on night two and Mona Street on night three.”
“Tell me where the luck comes in,” The Chief asked.
“We found him,” Crawford answered. “Just three nights into the operation, we found the son of a bitch.”
“How do you know it was him?”
Crawford grunted. A smug look overcame him. “MacLeod was wired. Tower reviewed the tape. The guy used some unique phrases. It was him. No doubt.
”
The Chief gave Crawford a long glance. He wondered for a moment if he should lay into him for his demeanor, but he figured Reott would take care of that later. Instead, he conceded the point. “Okay, so we got lucky. We failed to capitalize on that luck.”
Crawford nodded in agreement. “You’re right, sir. But the officers on the scene made the best call they could under the circumstances. They didn’t have the benefit of twenty/twenty hindsight.”
“Maybe so,” said The Chief, a whisper of frustration creeping into his chest. “But the end result is that I have an officer up at the hospital and a rapist still on the loose.”
“I’m aware of that, sir.”
“I’m glad you’re so aware, Lieutenant.” The Chief was unable to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Now, tell me what you plan to do about it.”
He saw Crawford’s eyes flash in anger, but the Detective Lieutenant held his tongue. “We stay the course,” was all he said.
The Chief raised his eyebrows. “Stay the course? You don’t think your operation is burned?”
Crawford shook his head. “Damaged, yes. But burned? No. We just need a different decoy and we can keep moving forward. A guy like this won’t stop. We’ll catch him. We just have to stay the course.”
The Chief looked over at Reott. “Mike, do you agree with this?”
Reott looked uncomfortable. After a moment, he opened his mouth to speak. Before he could say anything, The Chief’s telephone rang.
He glanced down. The ringing line was his private number. Not many people had that, so he figured he should answer it.
“Excuse me,” he said to Reott and Crawford, then lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello, Chief. This is Pam Lincoln.”
The Chief didn’t miss a beat. “Hello, Pam. What can I do for you?”
“I just wanted to make you aware of something before I took it to my editors,” Pam said.
The Chief narrowed his eyes. That didn’t sound good. “I appreciate that,” he said. “Go ahead.”
“I got a call from a man about twenty minutes ago who claimed to be the Rainy Day Rapist,” Pam told him.
The Chief paused. “Really?” he asked.
“Really.”
He looked at the two men across from him. “Pam, let me put you on speaker phone,” he said. “I’m in a meeting right now with Captain Reott and Lieutenant Crawford.”
“I’m not surprised,” Pam said. “Go ahead and put me on the speaker phone.”
The Chief pushed the speaker button and rested the receiver back on the cradle. “Can you repeat what you just told me, please?”
“Certainly. I received a call about twenty minutes ago from a man who claimed to be the Rainy Day Rapist.”
The Chief watched as the eyebrows of both men flew upward.
Crawford withdrew a notepad from inside his ancient sport coat. “Do you know what number?” he asked.
“Yes, I do.” Pam recited the number slowly while Crawford scrawled it onto the notepad. “But I think it was a pay phone,” she added.
“What did he say?” The Chief asked her.
“He said that the police tried to catch him with a decoy,” Pam said. “He also said that he badly assaulted the decoy before escaping from the area. Is that true?”
No one answered her. The three men stared at each other during the long silence.
“I thought I was going to be kept up on this operation.” Pam Lincoln’s voice from the telephone speaker broke the silence. “I’m already aware of a foot pursuit and a K-9 track for a rapist up at Mona and Post last night. I also know that there was an ambulance dispatched to that same location.”
There was another silence.
Again, it was the reporter’s voice that broke the silence. “Are you still there, Chief?”
The Chief cleared his throat. “I am. Pam, thank you for calling me about this. We were just discussing the matter in this meeting. I’m sure the lieutenant would have updated you.”
“Okay,” Pam said, her voice neutral.
“Are you anticipating running this story?”
“I have to, Chief. If I don’t pass this onto my editor, I’m fired. It’s that simple.”
“I understand,” The Chief said. “If that’s the case, then please give Lieutenant Crawford a call at his office in five minutes. Do you have that number?”
“I do. What can I expect from him?”
“Everything,” The Chief told her.
“Nothing held back?”
“Not unless there are clear security concerns,” said The Chief.
“Or specific medical privacy issues,” Reott added quickly.
“Of course,” The Chief said.
“I understand,” Pam said. “I’ll call in five minutes.”
“Thank you,” said The Chief. He pressed the button to disconnect the call. Then he looked up at both men. “Well, I guess that settles whether the task force is burned or not.”
Crawford’s face bore a sour look. “I’ll let Tower know it’s over.”
The Chief nodded. “Good. And do right by Pam Lincoln. She didn’t have to call us. She could have gone straight to her editor. We might still be able to minimize looking like the Keystone Kops on this one.”
“I will,” Crawford said. He stood and left without another word. As he swung the door open, Lieutenant Alan Hart stood outside, his fist poised to knock. Crawford gave him a distasteful look and brushed past him without a word.
The Chief hid his own feelings toward the Internal Affairs Lieutenant. “Come in,” he told him, gesturing to the chair just vacated by Crawford.
Hart strode in, his back ramrod straight. He stood next to the chair, then paused and looked at The Chief.
“Please,” The Chief said. “Have a seat.”
Hart nodded briskly. He sat down, his posture remaining erect.
Before Hart could speak, Captain Reott stood. “Unless you need me, Chief, I have some things to attend to.”
The Chief nodded.
Reott glanced at Hart, his disgust plain. Then he left the room, pulling the door shut behind him.
The Chief turned his gaze upon Hart. “What can I do for you, Alan?”
“A couple of things, sir. First, I wanted to discuss your findings that you issued on my investigations of both Officers O’Sullivan and Battaglia, as well as Officer Chisolm.”
“Refresh my memory,” The Chief said. “The one with O’Sullivan and Battaglia was…?”
“A demeanor issue, sir. And an inadequate response. It was in regard to a stolen vehicle. Mr. Tad Elway was the complainant.”
“Ah, yes. I remember now. I think I decided on a letter of reprimand on that one?”
“Yes, sir.” Hart bobbed his head. “I just wanted to express that, with all due respect, I thought that was a little bit lenient.”
“Noted, Lieutenant,” The Chief said, his voice dropping into a growl. “Anything else?”
Hart seemed to catch the audible clue. “Uh, no, sir. I’m sure you made the right decision. Anyway, I was more concerned with the Chisolm matter.”
“The driving issue?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The one with the child molester complainant?”
“Well..uh, yes sir.”
“I dismissed it,” The Chief said.
“I know,” Lieutenant Hart said, then hastily added, “Sir.”
“Then what?”
“Well,” Hart said, “in light of last night’s events, I believe another investigation is in order. Clearly, Chisolm made some errors during last night’s operation.”
“Hard to say,” The Chief said, “since we weren’t there.”
Lieutenant Hart pressed his lips together, clearly in disagreement.
The Chief leaned back in his chair. “Tell me something, Alan. What’s your beef with Thomas Chisolm?”
Hart’s cheeks turned red. He swallowed hard and clenched his jaw. Finally, he answered, “He doesn’t think
the rules apply to him, sir.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“Because,” Hart answered, “Thomas Chisolm thinks that it is his personal responsibility to save the world. If rules get in the way of that, he just disregards them.”
The Chief considered Hart’s words. After a few moments, he had to concede that despite being a pompous, self-serving boob, the man was correct on this count. Chisolm did think it was his job to save the world. Still, as Chief, he’d rather have one Thomas Chisolm than fifty Alan Harts. Then again, he realized that he could probably only afford to have one Thomas Chisolm around.
“My decision stands, Lieutenant,” The Chief finally said. “But I appreciate your input.”
Hart’s face took on a pinched look. His cheeks remained flushed, but he stood erect, nodded, said “Thank you, sir,” and turned to leave.
“Lieutenant?” The Chief said to him before he reached the door.
“Yes, sir?”
The Chief eyed the ambitious lieutenant. Then he gave him a short nod. “After this Rainy Day Rapist thing is put to bed, I’ll reconsider your request to look into the operation. But not until.”
Lieutenant Hart seemed to be suppressing a smile as he said, “Thank you, sir,” and strode from the office.
The Chief leaned back in his leather chair. Like it or not, his job was a political one. He needed someone like Hart to watch the troops. Not that most of his officers weren’t stand up cops, but having Hart lurking in the wings had much the same effect that a locked door did on an honest man. He viewed it as an insurance policy of sorts.
But all the same, it irked him to see how much Hart seemed to revel in potential mistakes by officers. It appeared as if the arrogant, self-righteous bastard felt like every one of those mistakes was his chance to show everyone how much smarter he was than everyone else.
Which, in the Chief’s opinion, he wasn’t. He was a useful tool. Maybe even a round peg in a round hole, but one that he viewed as a necessary evil. And there was no way Lieutenant Alan Hart was going to make Captain, at least not while he sat in the Big Chair at the Big Desk.
The Chief of the River City Police Department let out a long sigh. It was on days like this that he wished he drank before five o’clock.
