“Damn straight you do. This is the chance to nail this bastard if you can catch him on-site. Have you got a list of places?”
“Chuck Smaill says there’s only one place that makes sense. Old Montgomery County Jail.”
“Whoa. That place is a disaster. I’ve seen pictures.”
“That’s why I need everyone. And Kate has cleared any additional assistance I need, so Todd Webb is already with me, and Chuck Smaill is on his way. Both have emergency equipment, and Todd has his medical pack in case we need to treat the victim on-site. But I need Brian, Lauren, and Scott. And tell them to carry. If we run into the guy, we may need to be armed. And can you pass on a message to Brian?”
“Sure.”
“Tell him I need his spare piece with the holster. I wasn’t at home when I got the call, so my firearm is still locked in my gun safe.”
“I’ll call them now and I’ll pass that on to Brian.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
“No need. I’m on my way as well as soon as I make the calls. I can’t help with the search, but I can help coordinate the teams on-site. I’ll see you there.” He ended the call.
“Now that I didn’t expect,” Meg said. “He usually coordinates from a distance.”
“Better too many people on hand than too few. But you realize what that also gives you? An extra man outside the facility in case this guy gets past everyone inside.”
“That’s a good point.”
“McCord is going to be pissed at you for missing this one.”
“I know. But this site is too dangerous, and the last thing I need is him running into the suspect. He can give me a hard time about it later. Cara, on the other hand, will thank me. I wish we could take the time to get a personal article from Mr. Pillai for the dogs so we could do real tracking, but there isn’t time if we have any hope of catching the suspect. Granted, by this time, Hawk should recognize the suspect’s scent because it’s been comingled with the victims’ all along. How much longer until we get there?”
Webb checked the map on his phone. “Twenty-four minutes.”
“That’s too long.” She pressed down on the accelerator.
“How fast will everyone else get there?”
“About the same. And they’ll be pushing the speed limit.” She glanced at the dash clock. “Every second that ticks by is a second he could be slipping through our fingers. This could be our one chance to catch him. We can’t miss it.”
CHAPTER 21
Crater: An unplanned and possibly unprotected fall from a significant height.
Saturday, November 10, 12:39 AM
Old Montgomery County Jail
Germantown, Maryland
The teams assembled just down the road from the county jail, pulling off to the side of the road in a line, taking care to stay out of sight around the corner and uphill from the jail property. They didn’t want to blow their one chance to catch the suspect by coming in with lights blazing.
Stealth was definitely called for.
Craig was the final person to arrive. He pulled his car last into the line of the handlers’ SUVs and Smaill’s Jeep and jumped out with a handful of papers.
“I need everyone over here,” he called. “And I need light.”
They grouped around the hood of Craig’s car, shining their flashlights down on the papers he laid out on the warm metal. Meg moved in to study the aerial photo showing a large property with a number of sprawling buildings spread out inside a forested area. The image had been captured at a slight angle, so the buildings themselves were partially visible rather than just rooftops from overhead.
The November night chill ran down her spine, and she pulled her jacket collar in closer.
“I took the time to call someone I know who has satellite access and can call up previously captured data.” As Craig spoke, his breath misted out in the frosty beams from the flashlights. “He got to work getting me the layout of the property, and while he was doing that, I did some research so I could tell you what was where.” He pointed to the large, rambling brownstone structure at the front of the property. “This is the original men’s cell block from the mid-nineteenth century. These are the two original wings out front, the medical facility was behind it, and this”—he circled a smaller building tucked behind the western wing—“is the auditorium-slash-cafeteria that was added on in the early twentieth century. This concrete structure behind it is the more modern cell block for the men, dating from the 1930s.” He tapped the next building. “This is the women’s cell block, complete with its own medical facilities.”
“What’s that?” Lauren asked, leaning in for a closer look. “Is that a house just in front of the women’s building?”
“It’s the warden’s house. He lived on-site.”
“It looks . . .”
“Ornate and ostentatious? Even from an enlarged satellite photo? I agree.”
Meg focused her flashlight on it. “White stucco with a red-clay tile roof. Because nothing says Maryland jail like Spanish Revival architecture.” With her index finger, she circled a building off to one side with a smokestack at one end. “What’s that?”
“The powerhouse,” Craig said. “It was a big-enough complex to need its own generator. And these are garages.” He tapped two buildings on the outskirts of the property.
Brian crowded in for a better look. “This is a lot of ground to cover.”
“That’s why I wanted all of us here,” Meg said. “A lot of territory, and he’s here, too. It’s our chance to end this now.”
“And save the victim. What’s his or her name?” asked Scott.
“Vikram Pillai. According to local authorities he’s sixty-five and was abducted off a neighborhood street while he was out walking his dog. He’s also likely the strongest victim the suspect has taken, so, if we’re lucky, Mr. Pillai is giving the perp a hard time and slowing him down.”
“We should be so lucky.” Scott’s tone held the doubt of many unsuccessful searches.
“Can I make a suggestion?” Smaill interjected. “While we’re outlining the search?”
“Of course,” said Craig.
“Urbex is rarely done at night because of the risk of serious injury. A lot of these places are already dangerous, and any misstep could be possibly fatal. Now put that exploration at night when there’s no natural light. Then make it a situation where you’re trying to track a killer and don’t want to be waving your flashlights around in the dark to attract attention to yourself. We need to be extremely careful.” He turned to look directly at Webb. “That goes double for us. Yeah, we’re used to hazardous situations, but I’ve seen guys get into trouble simply because they’re overconfident that it can’t happen to them.” At Webb’s single nod of message received, he turned back to the group as a whole. “We need to at least be in pairs. No one should be alone in this situation. If you run into trouble, you’ll need a buddy to help or at the very least sound the alarm. I have emergency equipment in my pack, Webb has the med supplies. We can do a lot on-site, but if we don’t know there’s a problem, we can’t help.”
“What do you know about this particular site?”
“I’ve been here once before, but it was over a year ago, so it’s probably deteriorated since then. The building that’s actually in the worst shape is the modern cell block.”
“They don’t make ’em like they used to,” Brian muttered.
“The lower floor was condemned after only about forty years of use, and they used the upper floors for a while, but then started moving prisoners to newer facilities. The women and some of the men were moved off-site. The original building may be in the best shape. Built solid. The powerhouse didn’t get as much wear and tear, but the smokestack looked like it was falling apart back then. Depending on when this image was taken, it may be a pile of rubble by now. The warden’s house was relatively safe. And it’s small compared to the other buildings, so it’ll be easy to strike that off the list.”
&nbs
p; “Thanks, that’s good intel,” said Craig. “This is how we’re going to set up our searches. Todd, you’re with Meg. Chuck, you go with Brian. Scott and Lauren, I want you two to stick together.” Lauren started to interrupt him, and Craig cut her off. “I know, we’re doubling up the dogs this way, but I need you both safe. Do you each have your service weapon? Meg, you have Brian’s extra firearm?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s get started. Everyone set their radios to channel twelve, but keep the chatter down to a minimum. We have to assume the suspect is somewhere in this complex and we don’t want him disappearing because he overhears us. Flashlights are also going to be a problem, but we can’t help but use them, so do your best to keep the light down on the ground. Hopefully, he isn’t being so careful, so keep your eyes open for light coming from him.” Craig looked up at the half moon overhead, brilliant in the cloudless sky. “Not hugely bright, but at least it’s not a new moon.” He turned to the aerial view of the complex. “Lauren and Scott, I want you to start at the warden’s house, then cover the powerhouse. After that, loop around to the women’s block if there’s still no word. Brian, you take the original building, starting at the near wing and working your way down. Meg, you take the 1930s block. I want regular communications. Keep it short and quiet, but I want to know where you are in the buildings. I’ll answer with a single click so you know I’ve received your message. If anyone finds him, or the victim, at that point we’ll have more communication. Any questions?”
Meg glanced at Webb, who shook his head. “We’re good to go.”
Everyone else confirmed they were ready, and the teams shouldered their packs and readied the dogs. Meg set her radio to channel 12, ensured the volume wasn’t too high, attached it by its belt clip at her left hip, and checked the holster at her right hip. Then they left Craig in Meg’s roomier SUV to track and support the teams while also being able to watch the road for any sign of a vehicle or someone on foot. When Meg questioned that he would be okay on his own, he patted the holster under his left arm and assured his team he could handle whatever came his way.
They walked down the access road in silent pairs, Lauren and Scott with Rocco and Theo in front, followed by Meg, Hawk, and Webb, and finally Brian, Lacey, and Smaill. They hugged the side of the road and carried their darkened flashlights, depending on the light of the moon to illuminate their path. As they approached the dark buildings, they silently broke off in pairs with Lauren and Scott heading for the ghostly white form of the two-story warden’s house and then Meg and Webb cutting behind the sturdy brownstone Victorian in the direction of the four-story concrete structure.
They did their best to keep their steps quiet as they crossed crumbling and cracked asphalt that stretched between the buildings, Hawk heeling to Meg’s left. His head was up, actively scenting the air, but Meg didn’t sense that he was onto any particular scent. She knew that for all Smaill’s warnings, the site could still be used by urbexers or the homeless, so there could be residual scents lingering. Tonight, it was a matter of trying to track the freshest, and hopefully strongest, scent.
They approached the plain concrete building, and Meg looked up the rows of barred windows to the scant crenellation detail that some Art Deco architect added to dress up an otherwise drab, utilitarian exterior. He’d failed. Down below, someone who considered himself a street artist had tried to do the same with spray paint in multiple colors, a jumble of bubbled or angular letters spelling out faded words pointing to a gaping doorway leading into inky blackness.
Ready? she mouthed at Webb, and he gave her a nod. She stepped over the threshold, Hawk at her side, and paused for a moment inside the door, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness as she waited for any sign of artificial light or any hint of a sound—a moan from the victim, or the scrape of the suspect’s boot.
But there was only darkness and quiet.
However, the longer she stood there, the lighter the space became. Up above, a huge section of the ceiling had collapsed inward, and a wide swath of sky was visible through the gap. Moonlight filtered into the building, and Meg was slowly able to discern the internal structure.
They stood at one end of a huge space, the roof soaring four stories overhead. The outer wall comprised vertical lines of barred windows stretching nearly from floor to ceiling; the building was designed so daylight would stream inside, cutting down on the need for electric lights at a time when only half the country had them. The cell block rose as a huge brick tower attached to one end of the building to touch part of the existing roof. The cells were constructed of sturdy brick walls, broken at regular intervals in layered levels up to the roof by gaps where cell doors once stood. A single railing lined some of the walkways above that stretched along each row of cells; some areas were an unimpeded straight drop to the floor below.
Meg looked down at the motionless dog at her side—his head was high, his nose actively sampling the air, his attitude one of focus and interest. Meg touched Webb’s arm and pointed down at Hawk. He nodded in understanding.
Hawk detected fresh scent.
She wished she could radio Craig to let him know they might have a possible scent trail, but she didn’t dare. In the silence of the huge, echoey building, her voice would carry, giving away both their presence and their position. They would risk losing the man they tracked and would make themselves targets. She would let Craig know when she had more definite information. Not wanting to risk a clearly transmitted radio message from anyone else, she turned the volume dial on her radio down to nearly zero.
Bending, Meg unclipped Hawk’s leash to give him freedom to maneuver without restraint, then gave him the hand signal for “find.” Hawk started into the cell block, Meg following closely, and Webb bringing up the rear. Meg held her dark flashlight in her left hand, but she was conscious of the weight of the firearm at her hip near her free right hand. She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t need to use it tonight, but she would if given no other choice. In the meantime, she needed that hand for climbing.
The first floor was littered with long, heavy wooden beams and trusses from the collapsed roof, mixed with tar paper, shingles, and bricks. Clambering over a bulky beam, Meg glanced upward, the small, niggling concern at the back of her mind for the stability of the structure growing exponentially.
It’s seriously falling apart.
Smaill wasn’t wrong.
Hawk slipped under a fallen truss that lay propped against the second-floor walkway, and Meg had to duck to follow him. He headed for the far end of the building; as they got closer, Meg realized that double, opposing sets of open metal stairs climbed the block at that end. The staircases met at a single shared platform on the second level that then joined the catwalk hugging the end of the cell block, running to either corner, where the next flight of stairs rose to the third level, repeating again up to the fourth floor. One of the flights of steps leading to the upper level had come free from the concrete walkway that should have anchored it and instead sagged, untethered, into thin air from the third floor.
Hawk overshot the stairs, circling a tangle of wood and mangled rebar, but then paused, his nose down, scenting the floor. He explored the ground toward the back of the cell block for a few feet and then turned, sniffed around the pile of debris, and climbed it without hesitation.
The scent trail led upward.
Meg did her best to ignore the gut punch of fear that threatened to knock the air from her lungs as she looked up to the cracked and broken concrete platforms, many of which lacked railings, and to those barriers that did exist but couldn’t be trusted.
She turned sharply to the nudge at her back. Webb pointed over her shoulder to where Hawk was now six steps ahead of her. She met his gaze, knowing he could read her thoughts in that moment, and then turned away, climbing up onto a truss to step onto the stairs. The stability of her first step told her that this part of the staircase was intact and would support the three of them, so she followed her dog toward the m
oonlight.
Hawk paused only briefly on the second level, decided on a direction, and then trotted to the far flight of steps to continue his upward climb. Meg followed him, taking care to keep her steps as quiet as possible. She avoided looking down but took comfort from the graffiti that flowed across the brick wall beside her, a testament to the stability of the stairs that street artists had used as a platform for their murals.
Up to the third floor. This time Hawk didn’t hesitate, and followed the scent across the platform to the only remaining flight of stairs.
They were getting closer. The scent was stronger.
Hawk started up, Meg behind him, but when Webb mounted the steps, the staircase gave an ominous grinding sound up above. Looking up, Meg caught the faintest sprinkling of dust visible from the contact point. If she could see the concrete actively disintegrating in light this low, it must be close to giving way as it had on the other flight of steps. She held up an index finger to Webb. Wait until we’re up. Too much weight.
He nodded and stepped off the steps, onto the concrete floor of the third-level platform.
Hawk climbed to the fourth floor, and Meg glanced up nervously. A painted tin ceiling, remarkably similar to the one she’d seen in the Massaponax Psychiatric Hospital, sagged just overhead, white paint peeling off to reveal darkness beneath. Wooden boards, still partially attached at one end of the roof, drooped like grasping fingers down toward the walkway. The entire roof looked as if it could cave in on their heads at any second.
But Hawk was unmindful of the threat of his surroundings. He had the scent, and his drive directed him to find it at all costs. He left the staircase and immediately trotted to the catwalk leading to the far side, heading for the far corner of the cell block.
Meg lightly tapped the staircase railing twice, hoping Webb would hear the quiet sound and know that was his signal to come up, and then followed her dog. He’d have to catch up to them; she had to have her dog in sight at all times in an environment as treacherous as this. Turning the corner, she saw that the roof opened to the sky and stars shone softly overhead. She exhaled heavily with exertion, her breath forming a diaphanous cloud in the frosty moonlight. The catwalk was a mere three feet wide, and she hugged the line of cells, refusing to look down, so far down to where debris that had already tumbled from that floor lay broken and mangled.
No Man's Land Page 15
