by Fox, Stephen
Her partner limped to a seat next to her. Bill Wilson had just six months to go until retirement and he was short timing it until then. They sat in front of the big, weathered desk that took up the north wall. After glancing at the small stack of messages that had appeared on his desk since he had left for lunch, the captain settled back and looked up at the inexperienced detective and her partner. “Be gentle, people. I’ve had a rough afternoon!”
Owens turned to Wilson, who shrugged. An excellent and thorough evidence collector, she never knew how to take the captain. Lacking a sense of humor, she had trouble recognizing a joke when she heard one. Underwood surmised that it was probably the result of being the butt of so many on her way up the department ladder. It wasn’t easy for a woman in a man’s world.
“Yes, sir.” She paused, then continued in a rush. “I completed the calls to most of the witnesses to last night’s homicide at Matilda Park, the Griffin girl. Only three people actually saw the assailant, and none of them could confirm or deny the existence of a mask. Patrolman Evans and I spent an hour scouring the neighborhood, with no new information.”
The captain sighed. “Too bad. Knowing one way or the other would narrow our possibilities.” He shrugged. “What’s the other news?”
“We got several usable fingerprints from the girl’s purse. You know, a patent leather handbag. Great for latents. All but one of the prints belonged to the girl. We compared the unidentified print to fingerprints we have in our files. We always do before we send them out to the crime lab.”
The captain was patient. “I understand. Standard procedure for this department.”
“Oh, yes sir. Sorry sir! I didn’t mean to—”
“Am I to understand that you got a match?”
“Yes sir. The print belongs to that blood guy, Patrick.”
Underwood shot upright in his chair. “WHAT?”
Her eyes grew big. “Yes sir! You know, the guy who escaped. That man who covered himself in blood.”
“Are you sure?”
Owens stared as the captain’s finger tried to rub right through the desk. She tore her eyes away from his hands and back to his face. “Yes sir. The lab gave me the results a half-hour ago. When I recognized the name I rushed right over. The computer stopped counting after fifteen points of similarity and, as you are aware, it only takes eleven to make a confirmed match.”
Underwood was deep in thought, his head spinning in overdrive. “I knew there was something odd about the girl’s death, but I never expected the case to develop a link to Patrick.”
His brain spun the myriad scenarios around before he decided that he needed to alert his superiors before making any decisions on this political hot potato. The senior policeman reached for the intercom. “Martha, get the commissioner on the phone. I need to speak to him immediately.” He turned to the detective. “Gail, Bill, don’t go away. I want you in on this discussion.”
The intercom came back to life. “Commissioner Williams on line two, Captain.”
“Thank you, Martha.” He reached for the phone and pushed two buttons, one for the speaker phone and one for line two. “Commissioner, Detective Owens is here with me. We have a disturbing development in the Patrick case.”
The commissioner listened without interruption, while Underwood outlined the facts. When the captain completed his account, Williams remained quiet for over a minute, running possibilities through his head. “I’m glad you briefed me. Obviously the situation has taken a drastic turn. Homicide is definitely a few steps above the escape charge. The question we face now is what are we going to do next?”
Underwood nodded. “Commissioner, Detective Owens is in charge of this homicide and should be the one to direct all our efforts. Gail, what are your thoughts?” He turned to her expectantly.
Owens sat there, a stunned look on her face. Underwood sympathized . Her first time as lead detective and she must have felt like he was throwing her to the wolves, expecting her to tell the commissioner how to handle it. She twisted in her seat to look at Wilson for support. He shrugged again. She glanced back at the captain. All he could do was sit there and look confidently toward her.
She took a deep breath and began. “Well, I assume we have around-the-clock surveillance on the suspect’s home. That is the only reference point we have for him. He apparently has no immediate family in the area.”
The captain nodded. “Good. That is already in place.”
Her eyes widened, but her voice was calm. “Yes sir. Have officers gone door to door around his home to see if the neighbors can give us any more information on him?”
Another nod. “Also been done. Not one person would admit to saying more than a hello to him from time to time. No one had ever seen anyone visit the home, either.”
“Can I also assume that you have gotten a warrant and searched the house already?”
“Yep. We found nothing that gave us any clues to his whereabouts.”
She looked ready to panic as she tried again. “Copies of his photograph have been circulated around town, to see if anyone can give us clues to where he works or hangs out?”
Again he shook his head in the affirmative. “It has been done, but now that the stakes have increased, we’ll do it again with twice as many pictures and people. We need to find him as soon as possible. In the meantime, any other suggestions?”
“Units should be assigned to patrol each park.”
This time he shook his head. “Not feasible. We have too many parks and not enough officers. I would have to assign a lot of overtime, and I can’t do that on what amounts to a hunch. Remember there has been only one attack in a park so far.”
“So far.” She added the words grimly. “But you agree that it is a possibility.”
“Detective, if I acted on every possibility, our annual budget would be depleted in three months. It would be wonderful to have a lot of surplus manpower to put on situations like this, but the sad truth is, we have more pressing problems in the city than one attacker that may or may not strike again near a park. However, I agree with your assessment enough to have nearby units circle the parks more frequently looking for any suspicious behavior.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Don’t mention it. Any more ideas?”
The nod was in her court again. “Yes sir. I believe the nighttime surveillance team should be equipped with night vision goggles. The probability is that if the suspect tries to go home, he’ll do it in the dark to avoid being spotted. He’s comfortable working in the dark, which we learned in our first encounter. The goggles might give us an edge on him.”
Underwood’s eyes widened slightly, and he smiled. “An excellent idea. I never thought of that. Both encounters have been at night. Maybe we can get the drop on him if he thinks he’s safe in the shadows.”
The captain sat back in his chair. “Any other suggestions? What about you, Commissioner? Anything to add? Wilson?”
Wilson shook his head in the negative. From the phone, Williams declined with a laugh. “I’ll leave that up to the experts, thanks.”
Underwood jumped back in. “Well, if there’s nothing else, we can all get back to work. Detectives, the changes we discussed will be in place as soon as possible.”
Captain Underwood said goodbye to the commissioner as the detectives got up and started out of the room. Replacing the phone, he spoke softly, “Could I see you for a moment, Owens?”
Owens and Wilson exchanged glances, then Wilson shrugged and left the office. Owens sat back down.
When the door closed, Underwood looked at the woman, “Detective Owens, I couldn’t help but notice your expression during the discussion. You seemed a little down. I hope you don’t feel I was trying to one-up you.”
“Oh, no sir, I—”
“Don’t feel bad that I had already thought of most of your ideas. Rather be pleased that you did think of them. It shows me that you know what you are doing. We’re on the same wavelength, and remember, we ar
e on the same team, after all. We should be thinking alike. It’s not a contest. And by the way, the idea of the night vision goggles was brilliant. It confirms my faith in naming you to the squad. Keep up the good work.”
“Thank you sir.”
“No thanks are necessary. Just keep doing your job.”
He settled back further in his seat and continued. “Look, I know you think I’m punishing you by assigning you with Wilson. I realize he is not as effective as he used to be—”
A snicker escaped her lips. “You got that right!”
Underwood ignored her. “But remember, he used to be a fine officer. Did you know he has been decorated four times for bravery and wounded three times? The last time left him with that permanent limp.” Her expression told him she hadn’t known. “I’ve tried to get him to take a desk job, but he wants to go out the way he came in. And it is for just a few more months. Please, allow him this dignity. Cut him a little slack, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your duty as a police officer. And along the way, he might even teach you a few things.”
“I’ll try, Captain.”
“Thanks, Gail. Now, back to the case at hand. As the assigned detective on a homicide, your investigation takes precedent over the inquiry into the escape. However, at the same time, remember that two of your fellow officers are fighting for their professional lives. Help Internal Affairs in any way that doesn’t interfere with getting a conviction of this guy.”
“Yes sir.”
“Oh, and Gail …” The captain looked stern.
“Yes sir.”
“Go easy with the yes sirs.” He softened his voice. “I’ve got enough Yes Men in the department. I don’t need any Yes Women as well.”
“Yes si… I’ll try to remember, Captain.”
Chapter 3
Ten p.m. on another cool, damp night. Harris Park was usually well lit, but two streetlights were out. A rock concert was ending at the Civic Center just three blocks away, and overflow parking spread five or six blocks in each direction.
Don Carter walked his girlfriend to her car. He had met Barbara last week at a little shop on the riverfront where she worked, and they had hit it off right away. They drove separate cars because this was First Saturday and she had to work late. Each month on the first Saturday of the month, Savannah holds a festival at River Street, and in recent years the event has grown tremendously. The shop had been so busy that she’d had to plead to get off early enough to make the concert.
Hand-in-hand the couple walked toward the park. Only a few cars were left on the street. The well-dressed twosome appeared to be the only ones from the concert parked on this street. But unbeknownst to the starry-eyed couple, hidden eyes deep in the shadows followed their progress. Could he handle them both without creating a disaster like last night? Better to bide his time than to make another mistake. But the need was growing so strong.
The lovers neared her car. “Gee, if I had known that it would be this dark, I never would have parked here.”
“Well, fortunately for you, beautiful Barbara, you have a rough, tough, incredibly handsome, not to mention sexy guy to protect you.”
“You forgot humble, Don.”
“Did I? Well that one is taken for granted. As my idol Jethro Bodine says, when you’re a third grade graduate, the world is your clam. Or was it mussel?”
She giggled. “The only muscles around here are in your head.”
The laughing and good-natured banter brought back memories of another age, another place for the dark figure, but the need quickly overwhelmed any other feelings.
The couple stopped at a red Ford Mustang, still fifty feet from where he crouched in the greenery. Barbara produced a key and opened the car door. Patrick wanted to leap out and take them both, but the distance was too great, the risk too high. Watching the couple embracing in the road, so close and yet so far away, made the craving even harder to bear.
Terry Beard sipped his coffee as he sat next to his partner. He moved to try to stay comfortable. “I wish the department had stayed with the bigger cars. These mid-sized jobs are murder on surveillance.” They had the eight to midnight watch tonight, staking out an empty house. After sitting for two hours, their attention span grew smaller with each passing minute.
“Quit complaining,” his partner replied. Richard Coleman was a seventeen-year veteran and had seen it all. “I hear that the Macon City Council was complaining about cost so one of the councilmen suggested that the police switch to subcompacts. Of course that wouldn’t apply to the Council’s cars and portable phones and other perks. Just the police who are expected to solve problems immediately and who need the more powerful engines.” He chuckled. “The only reason they didn’t switch was that they couldn’t find a good American subcompact. Can you imagine doing surveillance in a Geo Metro? We’d have to get out of the car to change our minds.”
“Still, some of those foreign jobs are pretty nice. My brother loves his Toyota.”
“Well, with our luck, we’d get stuck in some Yugo. We’d have to get out and push if we came to an overpass.”
One last kiss and the boy helped her into her car. As the Mustang started, the boy was already moving toward his car, toward the shadows. Suddenly out of nowhere, a figure shot out of the dark and belted him in the mouth. As he fell, the shadowy form kicked him in the head, grabbed his arms and dragged him into the bushes, vanishing as quickly and silently as he had appeared.
The car moved to the end of the block and turned around, coming back. The girl looked again for one last glimpse of her friend. No sign of him. “That jerk must have taken a shortcut across the park,” she thought. “Anyway I’ll see him again tomorrow afternoon.” She didn’t think another thing about it until he didn’t show up for their picnic date. She was more mad than concerned, until she watched the six o’clock news that evening, and realized the horror that she had narrowly missed.
“These night goggles are pretty cool. It’s amazing how well you can see out of them. Now if only the coffee didn’t fog up the lens all the time.”
Richard had been assigned to stakeouts with Beard before, so he was used to the junior officer’s constant griping. “You know, Terry. You could stop swilling that stuff long enough to let the lenses clear up. I don’t think you’ve been five minutes tonight without a cup in hand.”
“Got to, man. My wife’s mother is in the hospital and we spent most of last night and today there.”
Richard hadn’t known that. “Sorry to hear that. Anything serious?”
“Yeah. They cut her open and found her insides filled with cancer. They closed her right back up. No hope. Ginny’s real broke up over it.”
“I’ll bet.”
The figure moved quickly considering the load he carried. Gliding silently through the backyards he made his way through the maze of streets and houses and fences, toward the safe haven at the end.
Beard put on the night goggles and scanned the area once again. His body went rigid. “Hey man, get a load of this!” He pointed across the street. Coleman’s senses went on alert and he sat up straight. Donning the goggles, he explored the area that the other detective had indicated. Instead of a fleeing suspect or anything remotely suspicious, he found himself staring at a naked lady.
Not quite naked. She wore one of the skimpiest pair of drawers that Richard had ever had the good fortune to see. Trudy Hines had forgotten to close the blinds again. Five times in the last month parents had made complaints about the free shows she put on for the neighborhood. Trudy was a legend at the local middle school, and boys from all over the area made the pilgrimage to her house to review their knowledge of anatomy. But the detectives didn’t know of these complaints. All they were aware of was the young, nubile body flouncing in front of the lighted window just one house down, across the empty street from them.
His journey almost complete, he could see the house just two doors down. But now he also saw the car on the street occupied by what were obviously tw
o plainclothes policemen. He could also see enough of the nearest figure to make out the large apparatus on his face. It had to be some sort of night vision glasses. Such a device could give the lawmen the edge. How could he get past the men to the safety of his lair?
“Check out the bazooms on that momma!” Terry was his usual crude self. However Coleman had to admit that the younger man wasn’t exaggerating this time about the lady’s attributes. Both men trained their night glasses at the bedroom window across the street. So intent was their ‘investigation’ that neither man saw the car pull onto the street until both sets of goggles picked up the glare of the headlights and amplified the bright light a thousand times.
The dark figure saw the passing car and realized that the men would lose their night vision for several minutes. As the headlights swept past his position, he picked up his victim and raced for the house. Moving quickly to the basement window, he opened it. While basements are rare in coastal Savannah, where the groundwater is so close to the surface, this one had been painstakingly carved out of the sandy soil as a smuggler’s roost back in the early 1800’s. Later it became a vital link in the Underground Railroad, where runaway slaves could be hidden while waiting for a ship to board to escape to northern cities. Still later it was a storehouse for bootleg liquor during Prohibition. Now it served a darker purpose. Painting and covering the windows gave him the privacy he needed. Soundproofing the special room kept nosy neighbors away.
Patrick lowered the body through the narrow window. A few seconds later he followed, easing himself down into the basement. As he slithered through, he failed to notice the slash where the paint had scraped off the glass. The window closed and the night went back to normal again.
