The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 7-9

by Jonas Saul

  That made him stupid.

  “As security for this building, I’m going to have to ask how you gained access to this warehouse.”

  “Through the hole in the fence by your vehicle.”

  “Your name?”

  “Colin James.”

  “Like the eighties singer?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, I’m not going to call this in.” He smiled for Colin’s benefit. “But this building is off limits. Technically, you’re trespassing. Let’s both walk out to the hole and leave, but I’m going to have to ask you not to come back. Can you do that?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “The hole is being fixed the first week of March. Until then, you’ll see my vehicle almost daily but you can’t come back. On my days off, another guard might not be as cool about you walking in.”

  Colin nodded. “I just wanted to introduce myself and let you guys know that I work in that building across the way. I’ve been keeping an eye on the building since Alba Plastics and Metals closed.”

  He tapped Colin on the shoulder and turned to start walking toward the exit. Colin matched his step.

  “We appreciate your help, but you don’t have to anymore. We got this.”

  “I didn’t get your name,” Colin said.

  “Bruce,” he said, the fake name he always used for times like this.

  “Well, Bruce, it was nice to meet you. And I’ll stay away now that you guys are on the job.”

  He tried to think of something security-like that he could ask or talk about. They walked in silence across the massive floor space and then out through the side door and into the early afternoon sun.

  “Any idea how that hole in the fence got to be there?” Bruce asked.

  Colin smiled wide. “I was there the day the stupid punks pried the fence back. I chased them away, but they came back a couple of times. For a while I kept coming over with a few of my fellow employees. We got the police involved.”

  “Good,” Bruce said, knowing that the punks Colin talked of were using the hole to gain access to the premises, taking advantage of the hole he made last August and getting in trouble for it. “We don’t want squatters in here. A clean-up crew are coming through next month and then the new company takes over after that.”

  “Any idea who’s moving into the building?” Colin asked.

  “None. They don’t tell us things like that.”

  At the fence, Colin squeezed through first and stared down at the magnetic square on the door of the Range Rover.

  “CPS? Who’s that?”

  “Canadian Protection Services.” He had ripped them off the door of a car parked at a hotel overnight over a dozen years ago. No one had ever questioned it. But now Colin frowned.

  “Everything okay?” Bruce asked. “You thinking of something you want to tell me?”

  The wind had died down and the sky was cloudless. He had to squint as the bright sun reflected off all the fresh snow surrounding them.

  “No, no, just thought I’d heard of them before. No big deal. Anyway, have a great day and stay safe out there.”

  Colin turned away and trudged through the snow, following the fence around the property in the boot prints he had made on the way in.

  I should’ve killed him.

  It was a mistake. This year’s leap day success relied on whether Colin James decided to make a return visit or not. It was too risky. But he had been warned off. Hopefully he would stay away.

  If he showed his face before the ultimate reset was complete, he would have to kill him. That was all there was to it.

  He walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. The interior had gotten cold. He turned the engine over and waited until the heat kicked in.

  To an outsider, it would appear that he was writing a report. At least that’s what cops did after visiting a building like this.

  He slammed the steering wheel.

  “Everything could be fucked this year because of that idiot.”

  He had waited four years for this moment. He had waited four years to satisfy his urges without paying any price and to teach the ones who wanted a price to be paid what that really meant.

  He waited four years to reset the wrongs and he wasn’t about to let Colin James take that away from him.

  “Nobody will stop me. Nobody.”

  He dropped the vehicle in gear and left the property, heading downtown to sign in to his day job. He had work to do and now even more planning.

  He would take his first mannequin tomorrow after the cage was in place.

  Tomorrow marked the last of the resets.

  Tomorrow.

  Chapter 12

  Sarah had been here before, done this before. She was past the point of fear. The good cop, bad cop was a foolish circus act when used on her, but they always tried. There had to be a cop school of manipulation where they’re all taught the same thing.

  She rubbed her wrists gently, the pain from the handcuffs subsiding, the bruises rising. Her tiny shirt had dirt on it where she had been shoved onto the massage parlor’s floor. Residue from the cop’s boots had smeared on her breasts and stomach. It had dried, but smudges of dirt remained.

  What charges were they going to threaten her with this time? With her reputation, and a trio of cops coming to her home the previous night asking for her help, she didn’t think anything would stick. This was routine. This was their process, but it was all bullshit.

  The door to the small interrogation room opened and two men dressed in suits stepped inside, then closed the door.

  “Do you want a lawyer present?” the taller one asked while the short one walked to the corner and leaned against the wall.

  “No need for one,” Sarah said.

  The tall one dropped a folder on the table. “You’re being charged with many offenses, two of which are attempted murder and uttering death threats. That puts you in the system for the next year. Attempted murder is pretty serious, so you may be stuck here for a number of years rotting in a prison cell.”

  “Really?” she asked. “Is that how assholes do it in Canada?”

  The two men exchanged glances.

  “Excuse me? We have the sworn statement of the woman who was in the kitchen of the massage parlor with you. She said …” He picked up the file, flipped through a few pages and stopped, tracking something with his finger. “Ah, here it is. She said your words were, ‘I’m going to put five more bullets in your face.’” He closed the file and dropped it on the table. “She went on to say that you described where each bullet would enter his face in detail. Is that true?”

  Sarah nodded. “Absolutely true.”

  They exchanged another glance. “You don’t deny it?”

  “No. He deserved it. But I didn’t shoot him.” She shrugged and looked down at the table. “Maybe next time.”

  “Ohhh,” he laughed. “There won’t be a next time—”

  “Would you shut up?” Sarah said.

  “Excuse me.”

  She met his gaze with a cold stare. “I told you to shut up. You’re wasting your time telling me about the charges I’m going to have to endure for years. If that’s the case, where’s my arraignment, my bail hearing? I haven’t even been read my rights. You fucking amateurs. Get me somebody who really wants to talk to me.”

  He looked stunned but did his best to cover it up. “Do you realize the trouble you’re in?”

  “Oh, no,” she said in a scared voice. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders and shivered. “You’re right, I am in trouble. Now fuck off and bring in the man whose pulling your strings. I’m done talking to the puppet.”

  The tall one stood open-mouthed and stared at her. After a few seconds, the other man pushed off the wall. On his way to the door, he tugged on the sleeve of his partner and they exited together.

  Not more than five minutes passed before the door opened again and Alan Lyson, the man from her apartment last night, walked in alone. He took the chair across the t
able from her and sat down.

  “Miss Roberts.”

  “Lyson.”

  “You really upset some people around here with your antics.”

  “You want to talk about upset? You want to piss me off?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “A man walked into that massage parlor and shot Rita without provocation. I ran that beaten-down woman into the kitchen and barred the door. The perp threatened to shoot the door down. Take a look. The door’s a piece of balsa wood. He would’ve gotten through it within seconds and we’d both be dead. I opened the door, allowed him entry and gave him a flesh wound. Once his weapon was secure, I got the wound tied off. Then I came out with my hands in the air. Everything was by the book. Your asshole brotherhood in fucking blue,” she smacked the table hard, making Lyson jump, “attacked me and nearly broke my wrists and dislocated my shoulders. They called me a slut and a whore. I want their fucking badges for that. Do you hear me?”

  Lyson nodded. He appeared afraid to say anything.

  She calmed a little before attempting to talk again. “If you know anything about me, you will know why I was there today. You will know that I was directed to be there to save that girl’s life.”

  He nodded.

  “I wore this,” she gestured at her dirty shirt that showed all her cleavage, “to gain access to the premises because they have that buzzer system. I needed to be inside to save her. Get it?”

  He nodded again.

  “Can you do anything other than nod?”

  His head stopped moving. “The officers who responded to the call said you walked up the hall with the gun on your person.”

  “Yes, okay, probably a stupid move in hindsight, but I’m not leaving that gun behind. It’s too important to me. I didn’t leave it in that warehouse in Vegas and I’m not leaving it here.”

  “Warehouse in Vegas?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Long story.”

  “Are you interested in hearing me out?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “I could hold you for twenty-four hours without charging you or charge you based on that women’s statement and keep you longer. But I don’t want to do that.”

  “You mean to tell me she actually gave a statement that I wanted to kill that guy?”

  He nodded, then caught himself and said, “Yes.”

  “That bitch. Sometimes saving people isn’t what it’s all cracked up to be.”

  “I’m a cop near retirement. I know exactly what you’re saying.”

  She dropped her hands to her thighs, squared her shoulders and said, “Go ahead then. Tell me what it is you’ve got to say. Then I’m leaving.”

  The door opened and another man entered. He was a husky man with thick shoulders, slicked back hair and black-rimmed glasses. He held a large file.

  “Just put that here,” Lyson said.

  The man did as he was told and moved to the door. He closed it, staying inside the room, and leaned on it.

  “That’s Justin Ferman. He’s one of the members on the task force that was put together in the last couple of days to deal with all the bodies.” Lyson opened the file in front of him.

  “All the bodies?” Sarah echoed.

  “Yeah. So far we’ve located six dead women with their tongues removed. They were found in homemade cages. One was wrapped neatly in a garbage bag. The MO is definitely the same on each case. We’re hoping you can help us find the killer before he strikes again.”

  It was her turn to be stunned. “How do you know he will strike again?”

  “Because it’ll be February 29th in a few days.”

  “What’s the leap year have to do with dead bodies? Or future dead bodies for that matter?”

  “We received a letter from the killer three days ago outlining what he had been doing on each leap year and where to find the bodies of his victims. He’s being called The Leap Year Killer and we intend to stop him.” He paused. “With your help, of course.”

  Chapter 13

  He surveyed the cage, opening and closing the door to make sure it fit just right. The lock engaged, then disengaged properly.

  He had entered the warehouse after dark when the business across the street closed and everyone had gone home. Staking the company out from up the street had proven easy. For the task of bringing the cage walls in, he had rented a small cube van and he’d left the security magnetic advertisements off the vehicle. By nine in the evening, this part of the industrial neighborhood was empty. He backed the truck up as close as he could and dressed all in black. He loaded as much as he could onto a flat wooden toboggan and dragged the cage walls to the broken fence and into the building from there.

  Now that it was assembled, it stood four feet tall. It was long enough for a six-foot woman to lie down, even sit up cross-legged. Having two in there made it a little cramped, but this wasn’t here for comfort.

  He checked his medical bag to make sure everything was in place for what he needed to do when his first woman arrived tomorrow night. He would have to spend a lot of time dealing with her over the course of the week in case Colin James came back. Discovering what he was up to before leap day would thwart his plans.

  The timers for the explosives were set, the explosives in place.

  His plan had changed. The letter he had anonymously left at the police station with Alan Lyson’s name on it had been perfect. He was surprised that the newspapers hadn’t printed anything on their findings yet, but he knew they had all six bodies of his previous victims. He had seen the bodies himself as they came in.

  But he wasn’t in charge of press releases and he wasn’t being told when that would take place.

  So in the meantime, he would continue with his plans, finish with his last two dolls and then destroy the evidence in a grand fashion.

  He had learned of the eleven most popular explosive components insurgents used in their bombs, which included ammonium nitrate, potassium chlorate, nitrocellulose, RDX and C-4 .

  Because he knew someone who could put him in contact with someone who sold C-4, there was enough C-4 in six different places throughout the warehouse that it would take the entire building down.

  They were hidden so well that only bomb-sniffing dogs would be able to find them. A crack in the floor at a random corner. Underneath the ridge of the stairs and covered in a black cloth. Because no one would expect to be looking for bombs, they would never be found. The timers were set for just before midnight, February 29th.

  It was also his line of work that enabled him to learn how to build the cage himself. He had seen a cage like this on a case over fifteen years ago and had been fascinated by it. If the task force investigated how he procured his materials and hid his victims and what cages he used, if they really looked deep at his methods, they would discover the root was the criminal element already out there, schooling him from his exposure to the police station in downtown Toronto.

  He set up a Bunsen burner and placed the scalpel on the table beside it. He would need to operate on his victim as soon as she arrived, while the doll was still drugged.

  He walked to the corner and switched off the portable lights. Then he turned on his flashlight and made his way slowly through the basement of the warehouse. As he neared the top of the stairs, he closed his eyes tight and turned the flashlight off.

  After half a minute of standing still and listening to the empty warehouse, he opened his eyes, hoping they had adjusted to the darkness enough to see his way out without the flashlight.

  He stumbled a few times, but made it to the side door and then hopped outside onto the snow. The toboggan was where he had left it. After dragging it across the snow, he tossed it in the back of the truck and drove away, not turning on the headlights until he was two blocks south on Keele Street.

  Half an hour later, he pulled over on a random street and dumped the toboggan in front of a house. Maybe some kid would discover it and take it home.

  Then he drove the truck back
, dropped the keys in the slot at the rental company’s office door, and hopped in his cold Range Rover.

  It was time to go home and rest. After work tomorrow, he needed to pay a visit to Janice Weston at the strip club where she worked as a whore. He had his chloroform and napkin ready, and a life lesson for her on his agenda. He knew exactly how much chloroform to administer to his doll so she wouldn’t die from it. He couldn’t have that. Death would happen on his terms.