Heart Break: An Isabel Swift Novel (The Isabel Swift Detective Series Book 1)

by MF Moskwik

  “Captain! Jameson is still out there. In the forest.”

  “He’s here too?” Williams asks. “Where is he? What happened?”

  “We were kidnapped. It was a guy from the school we were looking for today. Put us in an old bunker in the middle of the forest. I got out, Jameson’s still back there. He’s waiting for me. Sir, please—”

  “Just sit back, Swift. We’ll take care of this,” Williams says as he presses Izzy back onto the stretcher.

  Izzy shakes her head and pulls the blanket off of herself. “No, sir, you won’t find it without me. You won’t find him. Please. The guy who kidnapped us, Richard Lipton? He might be out there, still. I need backup, we need to find Jameson.”

  Williams takes off his coat and puts it around Izzy’s pajama clad form. “Sergeant!”

  The auburn-haired woman reappears. “Yes, Captain?”

  “Take half a dozen men with you and follow Swift. Jameson’s out there, somewhere, and we need to go find him.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “I’ll set up a perimeter and search the woods. Swift, you have a description?”

  “Yes, sir. White male. 5’10,’ slender to average build. Bald. Amber eyes. He was wearing . . . dark clothes.”

  “We’ll get on it.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Izzy turns to the red-haired sergeant on her left. “Thanks, Maggie.”

  “Any time, Swift. Glad to see that you’re okay.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “The couple with the car called it in. Me and Penny responded, so we got the ambulance out here. The rest of the department heard it on the radio and showed up.”

  Izzy looks around at the half dozen men and women assembling around them. “Lopez. Chu. Johnson. What time is it?”

  “Night, but only just, Iz. Night shift’s still in rotation.”

  “Thank God, we still have time,” Izzy mutters. She pulls Williams’ coat around her more securely.

  Maggie looks at her more carefully. “You sure you’re okay to do this, Iz?”

  Izzy nods her head. “I promised him, Maggie. I’m ready.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s head out. Folks! Let’s spread out. Me, Swift, and Chu in front. Lopez, Johnson, you take back. Waters! Schneider! You take left and right flank. Got it?”

  As the officers nod their assent, Maggie motions for Izzy to take the lead. “Okay, Swift, let’s go find your partner.”

  ***

  As they walk through the forest, the sound of more police cruisers breaks the silence of the early morning. The blue, red, and white emergency lights swirl, blinking strange bright patterns into the moonlit canopy of the forest.

  Izzy retraces her steps. It’s hard to do in the dark.

  Please, she thinks. Let him be okay.

  As Izzy nears where she thinks the bunker is, the day’s first light begins to filter in through the trees. While she scans the area for landmarks, Maggie walks close to her. “Iz, anything yet?”

  “Maybe,” Izzy replies. She sighs in frustration.

  Maggie gives her a considered look. “Another hour, and then maybe we can consider a sweep of the area. Bring in lots of guys to cover the whole area.” Maggie places her hand on Izzy’s elbow. “The important thing is that we find Jameson, right?”

  Izzy sighs and nods her discouraged assent.

  “Sarge!” calls a voice on their left.

  “Waters! What have you got?”

  “Come take a look at this!”

  Izzy and Maggie jog toward the officer.

  In a small clearing is a shed. The tall, brown-haired young officer who called them stands next to the shed with a gun in his hands, pointed at the ground.

  “Stand down, Jim,” Maggie orders. The authoritative red-haired woman puts on a pair of gloves, draws her gun, and approaches the shed. “Westchester Sheriff’s Department. Come out and show yourself.”

  She walks toward the shed, gun drawn. When no one emerges, she places one hand on the handle. “Jim, cover me.”

  “Yeah, Sarge.”

  “Sheriff’s Department! I’m opening the door. Now!”

  With a yank, she pulls open the shed door.

  Inside the shed is a rack full of tools and a small riding mower.

  And a ladder.

  “Maggie. The ladder. Our suspect pulled a ladder from the bunker last night. The bunker is around here. It’s got to be.”

  “Okay, Iz.” Maggie pulls out her CB. “Guys, we found a shed. It’s got some stuff we think belongs to our guy. Fan out, stay in contact—the bunker with Jameson must be nearby.”

  Over the crackle of static, the rest of the officers give their assent.

  “Sarge!” barks a voice over her radio.

  “Chu?”

  “We think we’ve got it! We think we’ve found the bunker!”

  “What’s your twenty, Chu?” asks Maggie.

  “I’m with Schneider, just east of you guys, about forty, fifty yards,” comes the reply.

  Marge points to the shed. “Jim. Get your gloves on and bring the ladder.” She grabs Izzy by the elbow and starts walking fast. “Looks like it’s your lucky day, Iz.”

  ***

  By the time Izzy, Maggie, and Jim reach the bunker, the rest of the officers have congregated around a circular metal door surrounded by a two-foot by three-foot concrete rectangle in the forest floor. Underneath their feet, they hear a faint, but regular ‘BOOM.’

  “We heard a banging a few yards out, so we checked it out,” calls out Chu as the trio of police enter the clearing.

  “All right. Stand back. Johnson, gloves, then get the door. Lopez, cover us. I’m going in.”

  Marge approaches the door. A young, dark-skinned woman with long dark hair dons a pair of gloves and then grasps the lever of the door.

  Marge looks up at her officers. “On the count of three. One, two . . .”

  Johnson yanks the lever and pulls the door open.

  “Westchester County Sheriff’s Department!”

  “Isabel!” calls a voice.

  Izzy runs to the hatch. “Jameson! We’ve got you! Are you okay?”

  “Isabel!”

  Maggie nods and motions for Jim to approach. “Jim! The ladder! Schneider, can you go down and give him a hand?”

  Together, the two young men lower the ladder into the hatch. Slowly, the short, dark-haired young man crawls over the lip of the opening and climbs down into the hatch. After a minute of scuffling and talking, the British detective inspector emerges, followed shortly by Schneider.

  “All clear, Sarge,” Schneider says.

  Isabel fights the urge to run to Jameson and hug him.

  “Detective Inspector. Welcome back,” Maggie greets him as they shake hands.

  “Thank you for finding me. Thank you all for finding me,” Jameson says as he looks around at the officers around him.

  “Can you walk?” Maggie asks. Jameson nods. Maggie picks up her radio. “Captain? We got him. We’re going to walk him out to the ambulance. Keep the medics ready, please.”

  Behind them, the young police officers are crawling into the hatch and searching the area outside, documenting the scene. Jameson walks toward Izzy, his steps shaky.

  “Isabel. Thank you for coming back for me,” Jameson says.

  He’s safe. He’s safe! she thinks silently. “I’ll put it on your tab, Jameson,” Izzy says with a cool nod of her head.

  “Swift. Jameson!” calls out Maggie.

  The two turn in unison. “Maggie?”

  “Captain wants you to look at something.”

  ***

  Fifteen minutes later, Maggie, Izzy, and Jameson arrive in a clearing about a quarter of a mile away from the bunker. A dozen uniformed officers gather around a cabin.

  “Smith! Jameson! Swift! Over here!” calls out Captain Williams.

  The trio head over to where the tall, slender man stands, a half-dozen men surrounding him.

  “Jameson. Nice to see you out and a
bout.”

  “Thank you for sending men to find me, Captain,” replies Jameson.

  “Only the best. Thanks, Sarge,” Williams says to Maggie.

  Maggie acknowledges the praise with a nod of her head.

  “Captain. What’s this?” Izzy asks.

  “County records show that the land we’re on belongs to a Harold Barry. The woods, the bunker, the house, all his. Name ring any bells?”

  Jameson nods his head. “Yes. It is the name of the principal of Briargate High School, the high school of Robert Lennox.”

  “No one was inside, though there was evidence of the house being recently used. Food in the fridge. Trash. There are also fresh tracks to and from the house—someone has been here, on foot and by car. And recently,” Williams points out.

  “Sir, that can’t be. Harold Barry died six months ago,” Izzy protests.

  They look at the house. Through the windows, they can see a table and kitchen, a couch, and a TV. The windows to what Izzy thinks must be the bedroom are covered with curtains. The dozen or so police officers move in and out of the rooms of the cabin, and Izzy can see their profiles flicker as they walk from window to window.

  “We knocked on the door, but no answer. No one’s home,” Williams points out.

  “No one should be home,” Izzy points out.

  The four turn toward the house and look at the well-kept home.

  “Then who’s been living here?” asks Maggie.

  “A vagrant perhaps?” asks Jameson.

  “You mean a squatter?” asks Maggie.

  Izzy shakes her head as she walks into the empty cabin. “The door. It’s still got a lock. They’ve got a key.” She flips a switch and notes the temperature of the room. “Electricity’s on. Heat too, so that means gas, maybe,” Izzy observes.

  “Someone’s been paying the bills,” says Williams.

  Izzy nods and looks around the sparse living room. “This place is spotless. Everything—the books, the TV, the pictures, even the teaching awards . . . Whoever is here cares about the place. Maybe cares about the owner?” She walks over to the bookshelf on the far side of the room and looks at the pictures there.

  Maggie, with her gloved hand, picks up a frame. “This must be Mr. Barry?” she asks as she points to a tall, smiling, and mustachioed man with gray hair, glasses, and a slight paunch. “He’s in all the pictures.”

  Izzy scans the frames. “No wife. No kids. Looks like . . . students? Teachers?”

  Maggie nods and gestures to a large framed picture of an older Mr. Barry with a cake. “This one is a . . . retirement party?”

  “All of these were taken at the school, it looks like,” Izzy agrees. “Wait! Look at this!”

  Jameson approaches the bookshelf. “Isabel?”

  “This kid. He’s a few years younger, but it’s the same hair, same smile. Same eyes. I think this is a picture of Mr. Barry with Robert Lennox!” exclaims Izzy.

  Maggie picks up the frame and shows it to Izzy and Jameson.

  “It does resemble a younger version of the person in the picture Dr. Lennox gave to us,” agrees Jameson.

  “Computer club, 2003,” Maggie reads off the frame.

  “Here he is again—Computer Club, 2004. 2005. 2006,” observes Jameson.

  “And graduation,” Izzy says as she points out a picture of Mr. Barry and the young man, standing together in graduation robes. “Jameson, Dr. Lennox said that her son was close to his teachers, and that he loved his clubs. What if Mr. Barry was Robert’s mentor? What if it was Mr. Barry that Robert stayed in touch with? Turned to when things got bad after his arrest for possession?”

  “Then we should see some proof of their continued relationship,” reasons Jameson. “If indeed Mr. Barry provided assistance or guidance to Robert after his run-in with the law, then should we not find some proof of his recent presence in Harold Barry’s life, after that picture was taken?”

  “Guys?” calls out Captain Williams.

  Isabel, Jameson, and Maggie walk toward the bedroom, where Captain Williams is examining a wallet with gloved hands.

  “What is it?” asks Maggie.

  “A wallet,” Captain Williams says as he shows the item to Izzy and Jameson. With a careful flick of his thumbs, he opens the wallet and shows them the driver’s license

  “Richard Lipton!” gasps Jameson.

  Williams nods his head. “But that’s not the most interesting part.” Captain Williams hands the wallet to Maggie, who opens it with her gloved hands.

  Jameson, Maggie, and Izzy peer into the wallet. Credit cards, a car registration note, and the driver’s license of Richard Lipton fill the pockets. In the billfold at the back are three singles and a five-dollar bill. In the transparent photo holders are three pictures: a picture of Saul Lennox, the graduation picture of Robert Lennox and Harold Barry, and the picture of Mr. Barry’s retirement party.

  Captain Williams nods his head at the trio, standing agape over the wallet. “It looks like your guy Richard Lipton is Robert Lennox.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Robert Lennox, aka Richard Lipton. Caucasian. 5’10’, slender build. Bald, amber eyes,” drawls Captain Williams as he places a Briargate High School staff photo on the white board. “This is what he looks like now. His goal, we think, is to crash the Police Academy’s Class of ’89 25th Annual Reunion for the purpose of murdering some of the police officers present.”

  An angry murmur ripples through the officers gathered in briefing room of the Westchester County Sheriff’s Department.

  “Our goal, ladies and gentlemen, is to see to it he doesn’t achieve his.” Captain Williams places two more photos on the board. “The suspect will have these two devices—one of them belongs to NYMC, the other to the state, on loan to County Forensics. Our second goal is to retrieve these devices and return them to their rightful owners.”

  “Is he armed?” asks a young officer in the front of the room.

  “We do not think he is armed. But he may be able to harm those with implanted or programmable medical devices,” imparts Captain Williams. “So, if anyone deems this operation to be too much of a risk, there’s no judgment for sitting this one out.”

  “And what about the use of deadly force?” asks a detective at the back of the room.

  “Authorized. But we want this guy captured alive, if we can,” Williams says with finality. “Officers will be stationed at all entrances and exits and in the ballroom. Medics will be on hand to respond to any medical emergencies. Keep your line open at all times,” commands Williams. “Our suspect may have the ability to disable all communication frequencies. Should this be the case, if your line goes out, you and your partner will first secure your area and then send one person to the ballroom to let us know. Does everyone understand?”

  The officers and detectives in the room nod their assent.

  “The officers attending this luncheon are doing a brave thing, risking their lives to bring this guy out into the light,” says Williams. “Let’s not let them down. Go. Serve. Protect.”

  As the officers disperse, Williams gathers his materials, getting ready to go on mission with them.

  “Captain!” a voice calls.

  Williams turns and glowers at the speaker. “Swift. Jameson. I thought I told you two to go home?” Williams barks.

  “Can’t do that, Captain,” Izzy counters.

  “We rescued you four hours ago, and you two are back here?” Williams asks.

  “Yes,” Jameson responds.

  “If this is about the collar—” Captain Williams starts.

  Izzy shakes her head. “It isn’t, Captain. This guy kidnapped both me and Jameson. He killed over a dozen police. He killed Carter. I want . . . no, I need to see that we put this guy away.”

  Captain Williams looks from Izzy to Jameson. “You?”

  “I am bound by duty to ensure the retrieval of the device for the state, Captain,” Jameson states.

  “You two . . . look. We ha
ve people everywhere—each exit, each entrance, the bathrooms, the hallways, the ballroom, the stairs, the elevators. This place will be crawling with cops. We’ve got this,” Captain Williams protests. “And besides, five hours ago, you were captive in a bunker underground. And you, Swift, were unconscious in the road. I need to know that the people I have out there are ready, and I do not feel confident that either of you are ready to be out there so soon.”

  “Then put us somewhere where we’ll have lots of backup. So if we aren’t ready, there will be plenty of other people around who will have our backs,” Izzy reasons.

  “Yes, Captain,” agrees Jameson. “Perhaps . . . in the ballroom?”

  “In the middle of everything?” asks Williams. “That seems like the last place I would put the two of you.”

  “But it’s the perfect place. The place will be guarded by cops and medics. And to even get to the ballroom, Lennox would have to get through the perimeter, through the doors, through security, and into the room,” argues Izzy.

  “Indeed. And should those unlikely events occur, we would be but two in a dozen officers protecting the room,” agrees Jameson.

  Williams looks back and forth at the two of them. “When did you two start agreeing on things?”

  “Captain!” barks Izzy in surprise.

  “When I realized I could place my implicit trust in and rely upon the superior talents and unfailing instincts of Officer Swift,” Jameson supplies smoothly.

  Izzy gives Jameson a surprised look, which he ignores.

  “Damn straight,” Williams mutters.

  Chang walks into the room and knocks on the wall. “Sir, it’s five minutes till go time,” she says as she points at the clock.

  With a sigh, Williams relents. “Fine. You two, in the ballroom. And stay there. Under no circumstances are you two to leave it. Understood?”

  “Yes, Captain,” agrees Jameson.

  “Thank you, Captain,” says Izzy.

  “Fine. Get a wire, both of you. Then go serve. Protect.”

  “Captain?” prompts Chang again from the doorway.

  Williams walks toward Chang, and then motions for Swift and Jameson to follow them. “Let’s go catch us a bad guy.”