Текст книги "Blue Justice"

Автор книги: Anthony Thomas

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 7 страниц)

I heard two male voices arguing on the other side of the box-car I was poised against.  I lowered myself gently to the ground.  A yellow light was flashing on the two men.  I pulled out my phone and pressed record and focused it in on the two.  Officer Paul Drexler was pointing a gun at Samuel “Shank” Bernard.

“Don’t you shit me, goddammit, don’t you shit me,” yelled Drexler.

I ain’t shittin you man.  The old homeless guy, JP, is dead.  Now there is nobody to connect you to those cops’ murders,” said Shank.  Shank was crying like a baby and pleading for his life.  The cop in me wanted to help right away but that would be foolish.  I needed to get a confession.

“Good, now there is only one more person left that knows I killed those officers.”  He looked at Shank as a lion looking at a bloody antelope.

“Wh-who’s th-that?” a frightened Shank asked.

“You.”

At that moment, I jumped up and yelled, “FREEZE!”

I ducked in time as he shot off a round over my head.

Shank ran behind the building.  I squeezed off a couple of shots to put him on the offensive.

Drexler took off running through the rail yard.  I followed cautiously, making sure I kept my eyes on him at all times.  He turned and fired a few more shots.  I returned fire and ducked behind a Box-car.

“It’s all over, Drexler, I got you.  You are going down for killing those officers.”

“Fuck you!” he exclaimed and fired two more shots.

I quickly fired a couple of more rounds his way and got lucky and hit him in the shoulder.  He spun around grabbing his shoulder and dropping his gun to the ground.  I quickly walked up on him with my gun pointed at him.  I kicked his gun behind me.

“Go ahead and kill me you bastard.”

“No, I’m not going to kill you; the state will do that, Bastard.”

I handcuffed him and picked him up and walked back toward the area where we began shooting.  I could see the light on my phone showing that it was still recording.  I patted him down real good to make sure he didn’t have anything else on him and slammed him to the ground on his face so I could go get my phone and call for assistance.

Just as I was about to call, I hear sirens in the distance and red and blue lights pulling into the rail yard.  I guess somebody must have heard the ruckus, I thought.  Then Coffy came from around the building with Shank in handcuffs.  He had pissed his pants.  Probably from seeing his life pass before him at the hands of Drexler.

I looked at Coffy.  “I’m glad you were here.”

She smiled.  “Shank here told me everything.  I think I am up to speed on this with you now but I still have a couple of questions.”

“No problem, let’s get these birds in the cages first.”

The patrol officers got Drexler and Shank and put them in the back of their patrol cars.  A tow truck was called to tow away the white Chevy Impala that Drexler drove out to the rail yard.

Detective Santiago drove Chief Adelaide and the commissioner out to the rail yard when they all heard on the radio that the cop killer was caught.

It took everything in the commissioner to hold him back from probably shooting Drexler.

“Get his ass out of here.  Now!” said the commissioner.

He and the chief walked over to where Coffy and I were standing.

“Good Job Detectives, a damn good job.”

I nodded.  “Thank you sir.  Now I can get back home since this is over.”

“Detective Jackson how did you do it,” he asked.

“Well Commissioner, it was a joint effort.  Coffy showed me around town.  We made some contacts with people and gathered a little evidence.”  I could tell he wanted more but I had to ask something.

“JP a homeless man that usually hang out at the park across from the Best Western is dead, but he was the one who turned me on to the cop killer being a cop.”

I waited for confirmation.  They both dropped their heads.

“He was found in an alley under a pile of garbage.  Nobody realized he was there because of the odor.  He must have been dead for a least a day before he was discovered by some employees taking out the trash,” said Chief Adelaide.

I shook my head and finished up the story.

“Later I made another contact with someone who knew how the hustlers operated and I told Coffy to stay clear because nobody in town knew I was a cop so I could move freely like a tourist.  Of course I told Coffy to follow me around at a distance for safety.  After we discovered Joppy dead, we searched the house.  I found this picture of Drexler, Shank, and Joppy inside the roll of toilet paper at Joppy’s house.  This picture connects him to both of these men.  Shank was ordered by Drexler to kill JP to keep him from talking.  Joppy turned down the order and figured he would protect himself by coming to the police later on with this photo of them with Joppy holding a Key of cocaine and if you notice the two men in the back of the photo are…”

“Officer Jones and Officer Davies!” exclaimed the chief.

The commissioner studied the photo also.  “But what about Officer Clements? Was he involved in any of this?”

“I believe Officer Clements died a true hero.  He had no connection to them.  I believe the traffic stop he made that night was an ambush because of all the riots in Baltimore and the suspects who did it may be connected to the CPDK gang out of Chicago.”

“CPDK?” asked the Commissioner.

“Chicago Police Department Killers.” I said.

He looked at the chief in amazement.  “We actually have idiots out there like that?”

“Yes sir–and I believe Clements died as a result of that traffic stop.”

“Okay,” said the commissioner, “so who killed Davies and Jones?”

“Drexler killed them both.  I have his confession on video.”

I downloaded the video to the chief’s phone, the Commissioner’s, and Coffy’s so that they could use it as evidence.

“The way I figure, Drexler was using the smoke screen of Clements murder, making you all think that there was some lunatic on the loose killing cops at random but it was him tying up loose ends.  They all, except Clements, were in on the distribution of dope in the city and were heavy on the take.

“Plus Shank is going to talk,” said Coffy.

The commissioner looked at us both and extended his hand.  “Well I suppose that wraps up everything.  You two did a great job!”

We shook hands and he and the chief walked to their car.  Santiago gave us both thumbs up.

Chapter 7

The headlines were on every network news channel in New Orleans and also blasting the front page of the newspaper:  Cop Killer Caught.  The story didn’t go into detail much but I kind of knew why.  It would be an embarrassment for sure if the public knew all of the truth.  The public couldn’t handle the truth.

My flight was leaving in an hour.  I decided to get me something quick from the hot bar in the restaurant.

“Good morning,” said a woman’s voice.

I turned to see Coffy removing her sunglasses and smiling at me.

“Well, good morning to you, too, I was just about to get something quick and be ready when you got here.”

I grabbed a napkin, some French bread, piled on some scrambled eggs and put some Creole sauce on top for a kind of breakfast po-boy.

We talked the whole ride to the airport.  Well, she talked, I ate, careful not to get that sauce on my shirt.

“Next time you come back to New Orleans, dinner is on me,” she said.

“We’ll see,” I said.  I grabbed my bags and closed her door.  “Take care, Jas.”

“You too, Jared.  Get home to that lucky wife of yours.  God, she is so lucky.”

Nice of her to say, but I wasn’t going to think about that.

The weather in Alabama was sunny, and not quite as hot as New Orleans.  I grabbed my bags off the baggage conveyor belt and almost skipped out the door.

My phone rang.  I looked at the caller ID.  It was Charlotte.

That ice water feeling formed in my gut again.

“Hey, baby!” she said, excited.

The ice water feeling subsided.

“Hey honey what’s up?”

“We heard all about how you caught that cop killer.  You are famous.  Also we have other news.  Burncutt was caught early this morning tried to car-jack an off duty deputy with a knife.  The deputy shot and killed him.”

“Wow,” I said.  “A lot has gone on both in New Orleans and here.”

“Oh yeah.” She tried to sound casual now.  “Speaking of New Orleans, Who is Detective Jasmine Coffy?”

“She is just a New Orleans cop.  Something about her kinda reminded me of you all the time I was there.  See you soon, Baby.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Atlanta Ripper

Beatrice Bishop ran as fast as she could; panting; bleeding; and scared for her life.  She felt herself getting weaker and her legs about to give out from under her.  But he was right there behind her, slowly walking like a hunter following the bloody trail to his kill.  She grabbed on to a tree to catch herself from falling.  She rested; heaving and trying to catch her breath.  She heard the sloshing of slow moving footsteps getting close to her.  She started running again; she didn’t know where she was.  It was dark and she was in the woods and every direction looked the same except from where the footsteps were coming from.  She then noticed a different sound.

This sound gave her hope and the motivation to keep going.  It was the screaming sound of heavy tires beating the asphalt.  She kept going until she seen the headlights and tail lights of fast moving vehicles.  It was a highway, she thought.  She screamed for help as she ran toward the roadway.  She threw her hands up, waving her arms and stepping out into the traffic.

“HELP!”  She stood in the path of a fast oncoming vehicle, which happened to have an off-duty police officer behind the wheel.  Me.  The car swerved and braked hard.  There was a thump and the car came to rest a few feet past the woman.

I looked over at Charlotte.  “Are you okay, honey?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she responded rubbing her belly, probably communicating with the little guy to assure him they were both all right.

“Go check on that person back there; they could be hurt bad.”  She knew I would anyway, but she was concerned.

“Okay, I‘ll go back there and you call the police and tell them there has been an accident; that a pedestrian was hit and we need an ambulance also at uhm…”  I looked around to find a mile-marker.  “Tell them we are at mile-marker 51 on interstate 20.”

I jumped out of the car and raced back to where the woman was lying on the ground.

Charlotte picked up her phone and dialed 911.  Other passing motorists saw what had happened and pulled over to assist as well.

She was lying face up.  “Miss, are you okay?” I yelled, lightly shaking the young woman.  I had to keep her awake if I could, and had to be gentle in case she had a serious injury.

Her breathing was shallow and she opened her eyes.  “Are you ok?”

Another motorist came over.  “Hey I’m a nurse, let me help.”

I backed out the way and pulled my badge out.  The woman saw it.  She tried to move and get my attention.

“She’s trying to say something!” said the nurse.

I leaned in to her.

She pointed at my badge and grabbed my ankle as if she was holding on for dear life.

“Yes I’m a Detective, what is it you want to say?” I asked softly.

She let go my ankle long enough to point toward the woods and then grabbed it again.  She held me with a death grip.

“Killer, woods, he-he stabbed me.”

“Who?” I asked.  “Who is this killer?”

“Man—tall,” she said and let go my ankle again and pointed at her face.

“A tall man in the woods stabbed you and he’s black,” I asked.

She tried to nod.  I glanced over to where she pointed and scanned the area but saw nothing.  She saw that I understood and smiled showing her pretty white and straight teeth.  That’s how she looked when her spirit left her; smiling and staring into the dark abyss.

The nurse checked her pulse and her breathing.  The young black woman was dead.  The nurse looked at me and shook her head.

“I’m sorry Detective; but she’s gone.”

I felt bad.  She looked so young and full of years.  I got up and looked over at the woods again, still I saw nothing.  It was dark.  I decided to wait for the police to arrive.

I was so distraught that I didn’t notice Charlotte talking to the nurse.  She then walked over to where I was.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.  “I just killed someone.”

“No, you didn’t,” she said, rubbing my back.  The nurse said she is sure the lady bled to death from the wound in her back.”

I looked at Charlotte and then toward the nurse who was walking over to me.

“Detective, I’m not a coroner, but I believe this young woman was stabbed to death long before your car touched her.”

I didn’t know what to think.

“So far I didn’t feel any broken bones.  I witnessed the accident.  I believe she basically brushed against your car when you swerved,” said the nurse.

The police and ambulance arrived minutes later and shut down that portion of the interstate for their investigation.  A young officer came up to me and I flashed my badge.  I told him what had happened.  He and another officer walked over to the wood-line and investigated.

“Hey, we got blood over here.  Get a K9 unit.” One of them yelled back to the just arriving officers.

So she was right, I thought.   I told Charlotte to wait with the nurse while I walked over to the wood-line where the two officers were standing with their flashlights shining on the ground.

“There is a trail of blood.  Don’t know how far back,” said on the officers.

“It looks like she was running, with all the blood scattered like it is.”

I paused and looked where one of the flashlights had just glossed over.

“Shine your light over there again.”  I pointed at the ground just in front of us.

“It looks like shoe prints—large shoe prints,” said one of the officers.

“That is exactly right,” I exclaimed.  “Somebody chased this woman and tried to finish killing her and the bastard stood there watching all of us as she died, and he got away with murder, for now.”

The nurse and I told the homicide investigator everything that the young woman had said before she died and our contact information.  I told him the hotel Charlotte and I were going to be staying and that we would be there the weekend until Sunday morning.  I also learned that the nurse’s name was Lenora wells and that she was a registered nurse at Emory University Hospital Midtown.

The drive was different now.  Before all this happened, Charlotte and I were listening to the music on the radio, holding hands, and thinking about the great weekend we were going to have doing some sight-seeing, a little shopping, and just having fun.  Things had changed and everything in me wanted to turn around and go back home, but I thought about how the young woman looked at my badge and held onto me tight because I was her hope.  I was the one she silently asked to find out what happened.  To her, I was her hero.

Chapter 2

I felt like I had just closed my eyes for only a few minutes until my phone rang the second time.  Charlotte was sleeping well with her head on my chest and her arm wrapped around me.  I turned and looked at my phone at the third ring hoping it would somehow stop but it didn’t.  I knew I had to answer it.  I answered it.

“Hello?” I said in a low raspy tone.

“Detective Jackson please?” said the woman’s voice on the other end.

“Yeah, this is he,” I said looking at my watch.

“I’m sorry to call you so early in the morning; this is Agent Margaret Faulkner with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

I wiped my eyes.  “If this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny,” I said.

“I’m afraid not Detective.  I know it is early, but I wanted to catch you before you and your wife left out this morning.

The thought of her knowing my wife was with me was less than comforting.

“Ok, what do you need from me?”  I asked.  I looked at the coffee pot on the table and walked over to it.

“Well, Detective, like I said, I am Agent Margaret Faulkner, and I need for you to meet me this morning in the hotel lobby.  It’s about the murder case last night.”

I filled the pot with water from the sink and listened to her.  “Okay, what time?”

“Shall we say around 8:00 A.M.?”

“Okay, I’ll be there.”  I hung up and poured the water into the coffee maker.

Charlotte stirred from her sleep.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“A little after five,” I told her.

She yawned.  “Who was that on the phone?”

“Just the FBI,” I said.  I flipped the on button to turn the pot on.

“FBI?” she asked, surprised.

“Yep,” the FBI.  She wants to meet me in the lobby at 8:00 and talk about that murder case last night.

“Oh–another ‘she,’ huh?”

I knew that was coming.  She never really got over that I had worked side by side with a beautiful female detective in New Orleans a month ago.  Of course, nothing had happened, but she let me know that I at least should have told her and trusted her instead of trying to keep it a secret.  She told me a man looked more suspicious when he hides something from his wife.  Instead, he should come right out and say it.  It actually made sense.

“At least I’m telling you about it up front this time.”

I tore the plastic off the cups and placed them by the coffee maker.  She smiled.

“Would you like a cup?”  I asked.

“No, baby, I’m gonna go wash my face.”

She brushed up against me and patted me on the behind and kissed me on the cheek.

“All right,” I said.  “That’s how you got pregnant in the first place.”

I kissed her on the cheek.  I then held her and tried to kiss her on the lips.  She covered my lips with her hand.

“Uh-uh, after I brush my teeth.”

She walked in the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

I poured myself a cup of coffee.  I pondered the conversation I just had with Agent Faulkner and wondered what else she knew about me—after all, she was the FBI.

Chapter 3

Agent Margaret Faulkner met me in the lobby right on time.  She was a white woman, probably 5’2, with brown eyes and brown hair with some gray, and maybe in her late 50’s.  I sighed a little in relief.  She looked plain.

“Detective Jackson,” she said extending her hand.  Her handshake was firm but her hands were soft.  She held out her credentials for me to read them, much longer than I would have.  I assumed she was proud of her job.

“How can I help you?”

“We need to talk at my office downtown.  I would appreciate it if you would join me.”

I could have probably told her no but I was intrigued as to why the FBI was interested in this case.  The case had nothing to do with me except the information I gave the investigators, but it must have had a lot to do with the FBI.

“Sure, why not.”

The drive to the FBI building was smooth with not much traffic, probably because it was Saturday morning.  She parked her car in the parking deck and we took the elevator up to her floor.  She had a small desk with a couple of chairs and her office smelled minty.

“Can I get you anything—juice, coffee, or water?”

“Coffee will be fine.”

While she started to make the coffee, I looked at a photo on her desk.  It showed an elderly couple in the center and surrounded by women—one being agent Faulkner.

“You have a lovely family.”

She turned around from the coffee pot and saw me looking at her family photo.

“Thank you.”  She turned back toward the coffee pot and finished putting the grounds in the filter.  After she was done, she went and sat in the chair behind her desk.

“My mom passed recently,” she said.

“I—am—sorry.”

“It’s quite all right.  We just have to keep on keeping on, don’t we?”

I waited for her to start the conversation.  Why I was I there, in her office, on a Saturday morning?

She opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of files that looked older than her age and mine combined and placed them on her desk.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Before I get into that, Detective, I want you to think back to last night and fill me in on everything the victim Beatrice Bishop had told you before she died.”

I didn’t know her name.  It was a pretty name that matched a pretty face.

“I already gave my statement to the investigators on the scene.”  She was about to say something but I cut her off.  “But if you wish, I will repeat it just for you.”

I gave her the same information I had given the investigators at the scene letter to letter.

“Detective Jackson, the files you see on my desk are from cold cases dating back to 1911.”

“Okay, what does that have to do with 2015?”

“Precisely my point, Detective,” she said pushing to files to me for me to look them over.

“In those files are crimes similar to the one last night.”

She took out three more files and laid them on her desk.  This is why you are here on a Saturday.

Those files looked fresh and new.

“So what does this all mean?” I asked.

“Have you ever heard about the Atlanta Ripper murders in 1911-1912?”

“No, I just remember the Atlanta Child Murders back in the late 70’s and early 80’s when I was a kid.”

I looked at the photo of the lady in the first file.  She was black and pretty and probably was in her 20’s.

“The Atlanta child murders were horrible and we caught that killer, but this guy back at the turn of the century was just like Jack the Ripper in London back in 1889—they both killed many women and vanished into thin air.”

I could tell she prided herself on being knowledgeable.

“Okay so, if both of those guys vanished and it’s been well over a hundred years for both men to be alive today, then who is doing the killing?”

“A copycat,” she said.

I acknowledged what she said by nodding my head.

“The victim last night is the only one to have survived long enough to give us some detail as to what this guy may look like.  And being that you were told directly by…”

“Hold on, okay, you want me to say this publicly don’t you?”

“Detective, I assure you that it is in the best interest of the city right now.”

“Oh so since I’m black and a detective, and the dead black woman told me that a tall black man stabbed her; you want me the black detective to smooth the possibly upcoming race riot before it starts, right?”

“Detective, you are an officer of the law; plus I took the liberty of calling your chief and asking him if you could assist us in this matter.”

I stood up.

“WHAT!  You called my boss without asking me…”

She threw her hands up in surrender.  “Relax detective, I only asked in case you didn’t find the idea of speaking publicly appealing.”

“You damn right, I don’t!”

“We need your help on this case then.”

“How?”

“You and I will partner up and investigate.  I did some checking up on you and you have dealt with psychos before.  Besides, it would keep you out the press and the public will see a some-what well-known detective working with the FBI to catch this guy.  The public will feel safer and the city will hopefully not be destroyed.”

“I have my wife with me and we are here for the weekend.”

“Sorry detective but we need you and duty calls.  Do you want this guy attacking your wife?”

The words pierced my heart like a hot double edged sword.  It reminded me of the time Charlotte was abducted.  I calmed down and thought.

“Okay, I will help, but I want 24 hour protection around my wife starting right now!”

“That was already done before you got in my car at the hotel.  Now let’s get down to business.”

All I could do was look at her.  She was smart and witty.  I actually liked her but I wasn’t going to let on.

Chapter 4

“I’ll get out in front of the hotel,” I said.  Agent Faulkner didn’t say anything.  She pulled in front of the hotel double doors and parked.

“Thanks for the ride.”

She looked at me with a twisted smile and gave me her contact card.

“Agents Riley and Jefferson will introduce themselves when you get to your floor.  If you have any questions or need anything, please call me.”

I took the card, nodded, and walked through the double doors.

When I got up to my floor, it was just as she said.  Both agents were standing in the hallway.  They wore black suits and had ear pieces in their ears.  I assumed she had told them I was coming up.  They came over and introduced themselves.

Agent Riley spoke first.  He was young, pale and had a crew cut.  Agent Jefferson was tall and black and stood erect, as if he’d been in the military.

We talked briefly as I slid the key in the door.

Charlotte met me at the door.

“Jared, who are these guys?”

“They are FBI agents.”

“FBI agents?...Why?”

“I’ll explain later, but for right now, let’s go down to the restaurant, I’m starved.”

Charlotte and I walked into the elevator with Riley and Jefferson following close behind.  We didn’t say anything on the ride down.

The restaurant was not crowded and we had our choice of the best tables.  The lunch time buffet looked good.  Charlotte and I sat down close to the hot bar and salad bar.  The agents sat a few tables over to give us some privacy, I suppose.

The waitress took our orders for sweet tea and water and we both went up to the hot bar for the entrées.  Everything looked appealing to the eyes.  Charlotte and I both chose the roast beef, macaroni, collard greens, and cornbread.

We went back to our table, said grace, and ate in silence for a few minutes.

She looked at me.  I knew what her eyes were asking.  I wiped my mouth and told her what she wanted to know.

“Really, they think it’s a copycat?”

“Yeah,” I said glancing over at the agents.  They were eating as well, and glancing our way at times.  Maybe they felt that babysitting was beneath them also.  I turned my attention back to Charlotte who was eating for two and doing a good job of it.

“How about we go for a walk,” I asked when we had finished the meal.

“That sounds good,” she said.

“Let’s give our government bodyguards a little exercise,” I said, finishing my plate.

We started our walk south of the hotel.  We came to a park and Charlotte sat in one of the swings.  I pushed her gently.  I wanted us to try and enjoy as much of our weekend as possible but in the back of my mind, the words agent Faulkner said were echoing in my thoughts.  What if this guy attacked your wife?

We got back to the hotel around three.  I could see that our bodyguards were hot and pissed.  I didn’t care.  I really didn’t want to be here in Atlanta anymore.  I wanted to be back home with Charlotte where things felt right and simple.

I started to slide our room key but noticed a piece of paper sticking out from under the door.  The agents noticed it too.  I reached down and picked it up by the edges.  It was a habit.  Perhaps a good habit to keep in my line of work.

I opened the folded piece of paper.  My whole demeanor changed.  Agent Jefferson looked over my shoulder and read the paper and immediately got on his ear piece.  They both drew their guns and took my slide card and went in our room and searched it all over.

Charlotte had a look of fear in her eyes.

“C’mon detective,” said agent Riley, “you and your wife cannot stay here.”

“What’s going on” asked Charlotte.

“We are wasting time, let’s go,” said agent Jefferson.

I grabbed Charlotte by her hand and led her to the elevators.  We got downstairs to a waiting unmarked black sedan.

“Get in,” ordered Riley.  “We have to get you two away from here.”

I nodded and placed Charlotte in the back seat.  She had to adjust a little to get inside because of her pregnancy.

“What was on that piece of paper?”  Charlotte asked.

“It was a note from the killer,” I said, as I pulled out my phone.

For the rest of the ride, everybody was silent except Agent Jefferson speaking into his collar.

The route was the same route Faulkner and I had taken earlier.  We got out of the car in the parking deck and took the elevator to Faulkner’s office.  Agent Faulkner met us at the elevator.  She escorted us into her office and waved Riley and Jefferson to stay outside.

I sat Charlotte down in the seat I was in earlier.

“Hello Mrs.  Jackson, I am Agent Margaret Faulkner with the FBI.  I am sorry for all of this but it is for your protection.”

Charlotte looked at me.  I kept my eyes on Faulkner.

“How did he know where we were?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” said Faulkner, “you still have the note?”

I pulled the note from my pocket and gave it to her.

“You have a pretty wife, just like the nurse.

Watch the news.

___Baron Samedi”

Charlotte started breathing fast after hearing the words of the note.  “What does that mean?”

I kept my eyes on Faulkner.  “Yeah Agent Faulkner, What—does—that mean?”

She looked at me as if she wished she could disappear at that moment.  I went on and asked her the question she tried to avoid answering.

“When were you going to let me know the nurse was dead?”

“I thought it best not to say anything right away.  That is why I placed Riley and Jefferson to watch over your wife.”

I slammed my fist on her desk.  “What else have you held back from me?”

“What do you mean, detective,” she said, trying to assert her authority.  I wasn’t about to give her the pleasure.

“You knew damn well that killer knew where we were and you also knew he had killed the nurse sometime between last night and this morning–didn’t you!”

“She tried to look me in the eyes without flinching but her eyes went down and to the right.  I knew I had been right.  I sat back in my seat.

“What do we have to do with all this,” asked Charlotte.

“We were bait,” I said, “at least you were.”

Charlotte placed her face in her hands.

I was getting madder every second I sat there.

“C’mon Charlotte, we are getting the hell out of her and going back home—right now!”

Charlotte had tears coming from her eyes.  “Why,” she asked agent Faulkner.

Faulkner broke her silence.

“We have been trying to catch this guy for a long time now.  I’m sorry this happened to you.  We tried to give Ms. Wells protection also, but we were too late.  She left the hospital this morning at around 1 A.M. and headed home.  Her body was discovered next to her car on front of her apartment.”

I thought back to that night about Lenora Wells.  She was pretty just like the other victim.

“How did you find out she was dead?” Faulkner asked me.

“I searched the news on my phone before we got here.”

Faulkner nodded.

“Well, we have to get you two to safety.”

“I already took care of that,” I said.  “A good friend of mine is coming to pick Charlotte up and take her back home.”

Charlotte looked at me.  I held her hand.  “I have no choice now, baby.”