Текст книги "American Devil"

Автор книги: Oliver Stark

Соавторы: Oliver Stark
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 35 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Upper East Side

November 20, 10.56 p.m.

Elizabeth was just turning into Roma Avenue. A daddy’s girl through and through. It paid to be a daddy’s girl in her family. It got her the Upper East Side apartment, the Mercedes, and the expense account, as Daddy called it. It got her expensive clothes, expensive treatments and all the trappings of wealth – just as long as she played the virgin daughter to her preacher father.

Hey, but she was also doing well on her own, wasn’t she? Never put a foot wrong. Straight-A student. Graduated top of her class at Princeton. But it was love she really craved tonight. Firelight, candles and strong arms. Love she wanted and love, she thought, she was going to get.

She fished in her handbag for her entrance card, but couldn’t find it. Damn. When she reached the apartment building she signalled to Marvin, the concierge, and waited for him to release the heavy door for her, rewarding him with a smile. Marvin turned and followed her with his eyes as she headed for the lift. Elizabeth was used to attention. The elevator travelled quickly to the twenty-second floor.

Elizabeth was thinking about Anthony. He was an investment banker. All gaunt cheeks, awkwardness and sparkling eyes. Gorgeous. And he made love like a man who wanted you to remember it.

She walked up the thickly carpeted corridor to the door of her apartment and took out her keys. They were on a little Tiffany lock charm shaped as the letter E.

She looked at the lock. It was covered in small scratch marks. She put in her key but the door was not locked. The killer heard the key in the lock. She opened the door and was surprised by the sudden scent of flowers. She raised her eyebrows, tossed her handbag aside.

Anthony had got in somehow. Maybe he was planning something special. ‘Is that you?’ she called.

She walked towards the bedroom. The phone started ringing and she hesitated, but then she saw it. The bed had been turned down and a small box lay on the pillow. It looked like the kind of box you’d put a ring in. A dress was all laid out. Was this Anthony’s big secret? Was he going to propose?

From inside the wardrobe, the killer watched her. Beauty and wealth were so strange, so very strange. You could see them, but you couldn’t ever grasp them in your hand. They were in her, somewhere. He was going to find out where.

She opened the lid of the black velvet box, and her smile drained away. An eye stared back at her. He had decided to use one of Mary-Jane’s eyeballs. Elizabeth suddenly felt terribly vulnerable, a feeling she’d not experienced before. Her legs began to shake. She couldn’t move as the door of the wardrobe opened. She couldn’t move at all. He appeared and stood before her. Over six feet and holding something that shimmered and caught the light. She held up her hand, open-palmed in a gesture of conciliation, as if that tiny little protest would be enough to stop the American Devil.

He walked up to her and put his other hand out to touch her golden hair.

‘Remember me?’ he said.

Elizabeth recoiled from his touch, her body frozen in shock, her eyes staring at the blade he held by her cheek.

‘You’re just perfect,’ said the killer. ‘I watched you for a long, long time, Elizabeth. I need you to cooperate with me. We haven’t got much time.’

Chapter Thirty

The Laker Building

November 20, 11.16 p.m.

The crossroads outside the Laker Building were burning with flashing light, but there wasn’t a siren going. The dispatcher had called all patrol cars to go silent to the glitzy building overlooking Central Park. There were seventeen cars parked at angles within ten minutes of the call. Several squad cars, Dodges and Chevrolets were kerb-parked forming a semicircle around the entrance to the building. The Emergency Service Unit Hummers were just beyond. Uniforms were keeping the civilians away. This was the one. The big endgame.

As Harper and Kasper pulled up, the enormous SWAT trucks arrived. They’d got a team together in advance, just in case, and the squad was jumping out of the back of each truck in their black armour and helmets. They were about as well armed as a man could be.

Williamson was directing the operation from a TARU truck. The concierge was in the truck with him already and they had a list of the registered owners of the apartments within minutes. Williamson ran his finger down the list. ‘Here we go,’ he spat excitedly. ‘There’s only one Elizabeth in the building, thank God. We’ve found her.’ He took the map of the layout of each floor and circled the apartment, then called it through to the rest of the team over the shortwave.

The captain of the SWAT team moved close to the map and then looked up at the building. ‘We got to hit this quick,’ he said. ‘No telling what he’s done already.’

‘Then get going!’ shouted Williamson.

Outside, the patrol started cutting off the scene, several officers skirting the edge of the building from both sides, making sure no one left and no one got in. Harper looked round at the flashing lights and then up at the windows. He turned to Eddie. ‘Well, if he didn’t know we were coming he does now.’

‘What do you think? You don’t look convinced,’ said Eddie.

Harper was reading through the notes of the phone call. ‘He’s not stupid, is he?’

‘No, he’s smart.’

‘Does a smart guy let us know his location with a cell phone?’

‘No, he’d be mad to do that.’

‘Yeah, so what’s his game?’

‘I don’t know. You think this is just a red herring? He’s gone already?’

Harper took off his jacket and pulled on a Kevlar vest. Kasper started getting kitted up too. ‘No. I think he’s here. But if he’s up there with her, they need to go in now.’

Kasper looked across to the first SWAT team. They had assembled at the great marble entrance to the Laker Building. Six black-clad officers in body armour were heading in the door. Each one had a face mask, Kevlar helmet and either a Heckler and Koch sub-machine gun, a Benelli M3 shotgun or a semiautomatic rifle. They looked formidable. The SWAT teams worked as small units with a leader taking the team forward: two assaulters with the heavy weapons, a scout to go on ahead and a rearguard. The team entered the building.

Harper and Kasper ran across to Williamson at the TARU truck. ‘What you got? What’s the plan?’

‘We got one Elizabeth in the building,’ said Williamson, breathing heavily. ‘Elizabeth Constantine. We’re lucky this time. I’ve sent the SWAT team to storm the apartment. We’re going to get this bastard. I just hope he’s not got to the girl yet.’

‘What’s the layout look like?’ asked Harper.

‘The building’s got an elevator and two stairwells. They make their way to the apartment up the stairs, take the door off its hinges, then take him down.’

‘Simple as that,’ Harper said.

‘That’s how it’s going to be. What’s the problem?’

‘I don’t like it,’ said Harper.

‘What? That I’m going to take him down?’

‘No, Nate, I don’t like the situation. He’s too smart to give us such an easy lead.’

‘He’s not smart, he’s spooked – the press statement panicked him. He doesn’t know we can trace his cell phone. He thinks he’s indestructible.’

‘Maybe, but he didn’t sound like it. Give me a look at the residents’ list.’

‘Sure, look all you like, but there’s only one Elizabeth living in this building. I’m going into the lobby,’ said Williamson. ‘I need to be there when they bring the bastard out.’

Harper leaned over the list of residents. He called the concierge to his side. ‘Hey, what’s your name?’

‘Marvin,’ said the concierge.

‘Is this list up to date?’

‘Sure is,’ said Marvin. ‘I only just got the latest list yesterday.’

Harper stared down the list. He was working through the angles. The killer’s call had been triangulated and he’d given them a name, Elizabeth, but maybe the name was phoney. They couldn’t know for sure. The triangulation meant only one thing and that was that twenty minutes earlier the killer had been somewhere in the building. But that was all they knew.

He turned to Marvin. ‘Tell me about Elizabeth Constantine.’

Marvin sucked his teeth. ‘Like I told Detective Williamson, she’s pretty, all right. About twenty-four. Nice lady. Quite a small woman, but she’s very polite.’

‘What colour hair?’

‘She’s blonde.’

Harper nodded. Williamson’s instincts seemed to be right. ‘Well, I hope she’s all right.’

‘So do I,’ said Marvin. ‘She’s a real nice addition to the family.’

‘What did you say?’ said Harper.

‘We’re like one big family here.’

‘No,’ said Harper, ‘you said she was a nice addition.’

‘Yeah,’ said Marvin. ‘She’s only been here a couple of weeks.’

‘Where did she live before?’

‘I don’t know that kind of stuff, but it’d be on her registration documents. You’ll have to see the building manager.’

Harper ’s finger stopped halfway down the resident list. Elizabeth Constantine was new to the building. The question troubling Harper was whether she was also new to the city. ‘Get yourself back to the building and find me those documents,’ he said.

Marvin jogged back towards the Laker Building. Harper looked up at the building. Eddie sidled up. ‘You’ve got that look on your face, Harps.’

‘Elizabeth Constantine moved in two weeks ago.’

‘Does that matter?’

‘I don’t know. He’s a careful bastard. We know he stalks them for a long time, sometimes years. If she’s just moved here, he’s not had long to get to know this building. I don’t know. And if she’s from out of town, how the hell has he been stalking her?’

‘Maybe he’s killed all the girls he’s been stalking,’ said Eddie.

‘Yeah, or it means he might be setting us up. Get across to Williamson and get him to call the SWAT teams, let them know we’re less than a hundred per cent on this. Tell them to be cautious. I don’t want anyone hurt. We need to be certain.’

‘Got you,’ said Eddie, and he ran towards the building.

Harper needed to check his thinking. He couldn’t afford to be wrong if he was going to get Williamson to back off. He called Denise Levene. ‘Listen up, Denise. I’ve got no time to explain but I’ve got a major situation here. Can you speak?’

Denise shook off her tiredness and sat up in bed. Fahrenheit, her spaniel, lay between Daniel and her on the big double, blissfully asleep. ‘Go ahead,’ she said as Daniel stirred in his sleep.

‘The killer called us. He identified himself as Sebastian. He said he’s going to kill a girl called Elizabeth and we traced the call to a building here full of wealthy residents. So we’ve got the killer located somewhere inside the building, except we’re not sure which apartment.’

‘Is this Elizabeth in the building?’

‘Well, there’s only one Elizabeth listed. We’re about to go in. Except this Elizabeth is new to the building. She moved in a couple of weeks ago. She’s maybe even new to the city. What do you make of it?’

Denise let it float around her mind for a moment. ‘He likes to know things inside out. I’d say it’s improbable if she’s new to the city, but I’m not sure it matters if she’s moved apartment.’

‘Except that we’re pretty sure all his locations have been thoroughly scoped and he wouldn’t have been able to get to know how this building works in two weeks. You can never be a hundred per cent, but if he doesn’t know this building, then this is high risk.’

‘You might be right, Tom. You got the residents’ list?’

‘Right here,’ said Harper. ‘But it doesn’t have any other Elizabeth on it.’

‘Okay, this isn’t absolute but his type is likely to be late teens to mid-twenties. She will live alone. She will probably work in a people profession. She’ll be fair or blonde. You got anyone else like that? Keep looking. Maybe it’s someone’s daughter.’

‘I’ll look into it. Thanks.’ Denise was about to reply but Harper had already switched off the phone and was sprinting towards the building.

Chapter Thirty-One

The Laker Building

November 20, 11.27 p.m.

The hallway was pitch dark and the SWAT team wouldn’t switch the lights on. They put some patrol on the lift but scaled the stairs on foot, all seventeen storeys. It was quiet as hell in the building. The halls, exits, roof, lift and fire escapes had all been sealed and manned. They were the only way up or down. The rise up the stairs went quickly. They pushed through into the hall, three men arriving from each side. They kept in contact with hand gestures. Again, it was pitch dark in the hall at their request and the team felt their way along in torchlight. Then they were there at the apartment.

Down below, Williamson was listening on his headset. His heart was thumping. Through the headset, he could hear breathing and footsteps, but nothing else. Suddenly Harper appeared at his side. Eddie was already there with his arms out, palms upwards, pleading. ‘He’s not listening!’ he yelled to Tom.

‘Williamson, I’ve got to speak to you. This killer wouldn’t use an apartment building he doesn’t know. He wouldn’t make a mistake like that. He’s not going for Elizabeth Constantine. He’s set you up. You’ve got to call them off.’

‘The call located him in this building, her name’s Elizabeth, she’s blonde, I checked. Hey, Harper, I’m following the evidence, not you.’

‘They didn’t locate him in her apartment. Look at the detail. The only reason you think he’s up with Elizabeth Constantine is because of her name and he gave us the name. There might be another Elizabeth or another girl altogether. Do the math, Nate. If she’s been here for two weeks, then he can’t have worked out how to do this.’

For a moment, Williamson felt doubt well up in his chest. He looked at Harper and cocked his head. ‘What is it with you?’

‘Fuck that, this is about saving someone’s life. Call off the SWAT teams. He’s not after Elizabeth Constantine, so we’ve got to keep looking. Call them down.’

Williamson breathed into his mouthpiece. ‘Proceed,’ he said and turned his back on Harper.

Harper took Eddie by the shoulder and they ran to the small concierge office. They were going to have to work this out by themselves.

Outside Elizabeth Constantine’s apartment, the SWAT team could hear the TV going. One of the team pushed a tiny camera through the gap at the bottom of the door. He looked down on the monitor. The living area appeared to be empty, but there was no telling what was on the sofa. They could only see the back of it.

The lead gave the signal and they checked their weapons. The door had a shotgun, assault rifle and two pistols pointing at it. The rearguard moved in with the jamb spreader. They’d decided to go in quiet. Ramming the door would allow the killer the few seconds he might need.

The hydraulic jamb spreader was inserted against the door jambs and the rear guard started to gently crank the pump arm. The idea was simple. Up to three tons of pressure pushed the door jambs until the lock was no longer sitting in its carriage and the door could be quietly pushed open.

The team watched as the pressure began to build up.

Down in the concierge’s office, Harper was questioning the building manager over the phone. He’d already told Harper that Elizabeth Constantine had moved from another apartment on the Upper East Side. ‘Listen,’ Harper said. ‘We’re looking for a woman called Elizabeth, but we’ve got no one else registered in that name. You got any ideas?’

‘I don’t know all the residents,’ the manager said.

‘Well, this one will be a single woman in her early twenties. She’ll be pretty and blond-haired, slender build. Have you got anyone like that?’

‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t spy on them. Look, I’m sorry,’ said the manager.

Marvin had hung back during the conversation but he was nodding even before Harper had finished the call.

‘What is it, Marvin?’ Harper asked.

‘I know a girl like that up in 146. Miss Seale. She’s a real beauty.’

‘Her name’s not on the list,’ said Harper. ‘What’s her first name?’

‘I don’t know her name. It’s her father ’s apartment. Here it is.’ Marvin pointed to a name on the list.

Harper looked down at the name Seale. Miss Seale. He remembered the curious line the killer had used on the phone. ‘Sealed with a kiss.’ Could this be the one? He felt a surge of energy. ‘Describe her to me, Marvin.’

‘Beautiful, blonde, slim, just like you said.’

This had to be her. Harper was sure. He got back on the radio to Williamson.

‘I think her name’s Elizabeth Seale. He’s set us up with the wrong apartment. We should be going for 146.’

‘It’s too late, Harper, we’re going in,’ said Williamson.

Seventeen floors above the SWAT team held steady as the door loosened. The lead gently pushed the door open. The first officer crouched and moved into the room. In less than two seconds, he whispered ‘Room clear’ and pointed to the bedroom. The team of six black-suited officers moved forward into the room. They could hear faint noises from the bedroom. All six firearms were raised. The lead turned the handle and pushed the door.

‘Freeze or I shoot!’ shouted the captain, and six weapons pointed into the room.

On the bed, a man was writhing naked on top of a woman.

The man turned and stared at the six monsters in black, a look of panic frozen on his face. ‘What the hell is going on?’

The next few seconds were brutal. The team floored the naked man and had him cuffed in moments.

‘Are you Elizabeth Constantine?’ asked the rearguard. The woman on the bed nodded, her face terrified.

Down below, Williamson listened. This was not a dead end, this was the fucking guy. He waited for the words. Then he heard them. ‘We apprehended the suspect. Threat nullified. She’s alive.’

‘Is the suspect in the apartment?’ asked Williamson.

‘Yes. He’s on the ground, sir. Victim is unharmed, Detective.’

Williamson felt a surge of pride. He ran to the stairwell and started up the stairs. His heart was beating with joy. He had come good. Harper was wrong. Williamson had backed the right horse for once.

Five floors up, Harper and Eddie arrived at the door to Elizabeth Seale’s apartment. Harper put his head to the door. ‘We’ve got no choice.’

‘No.’

‘How do we get in?’

‘Lucky I thought ahead,’ said Eddie. He held up his shotgun.

‘Well, what are you waiting for?’

Eddie crouched in front of Elizabeth Seale’s apartment door. He swung the shotgun butt to and fro and then let the full force smash against the lock. It split and shattered at once and the door yawned open. Harper and Kasper threw themselves to the floor and looked into the apartment. The first room was clear. They looked to the bedroom. The door was ajar and a light was on. The muzzles of a Glock 19 and a SIG pointed towards the door.

‘What are you waiting for?’ said Eddie.

Harper breathed in deeply. ‘Wait a moment.’

‘Why, you see something?’ said Eddie.

Harper shook his head. ‘Breathe in.’

Eddie sniffed and turned back to Harper. ‘What is it? I got nothing.’

‘I can smell blossom,’ said Harper. ‘We’re too late.’

Williamson’s voice came through on the radio. ‘We’ve got the bastard, boys, we’ve got him. And Elizabeth is alive.’

Eddie looked at Harper. They stood up and walked slowly to the door of the bedroom. The whooping continued on the shortwave as the cops below congratulated each other. Harper pushed open the bedroom door with the muzzle of his Glock. The door swung open and they stared at the body of Elizabeth Seale, who was propped up on some pillows, staring right back at them with cold dead eyes. Harper rushed across and put his fingers to her pulse.

‘She’s dead,’ he said, turning to Kasper, ‘but she’s warm. The killer might still be in the building.’ He went out on the shortwave. ‘Nate, this is Detective Harper. We’ve got a dead woman in Apartment 146. Elizabeth Seale. She’s only just died, Nate. He could still be in the building.’

‘There was no Elizabeth Seale,’ said Williamson. ‘There was no such girl.’

‘Thing is, she wasn’t registered. It was her father’s apartment. He fucked us, Nate. We need to get the CSU crew here soon as we can and get the whole area sealed. We need to search this building. He could still be here.’

There was no response from Nate Williamson, just the crackle of static.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Laker Building

November 21, 1.47 a.m.

The proud, glass-fronted lobby of the Laker Building reflected a massive light show of flashing red and blues. It looked like carnival time, but it wasn’t. Not even close.

The small crowd that had started to form a couple of hours earlier as seventeen patrol cars swooped, full of authority and optimism, had swollen to a great sea of wide-eyed gawping faces, all flickering with the dancing lights of the NYPD.

Harper looked out at the crowd. He knew that the killer may well be out there watching them all, enjoying the scene he’d created. They liked to do that sometimes. Watch their own show. They couldn’t resist. Harper scanned left to right. It could’ve been any of them.

Harper had just walked the perimeter. He had yet to figure out how the killer had left the building. He knew damn well that the killer had duped them, and that made him doubly dangerous. This killer had sidestepped a SWAT team and executed a young woman, then walked out of a murder scene. He would be walking tall, feeling supercharged and invulnerable.

The two partners went across to the concierge, who was talking to a uniformed cop. Tom wanted to know one thing only. ‘How many ways can a guy get out of here?’

‘Two ways,’ said Marvin. ‘Out through the front, or through the service doors, but they’re electronically sealed. We don’t open them until seven a.m.’

‘So this is the only way out?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And no one saw a thing? Not one of the patrol? There were thirty to forty guys out there. How did he do it?’

The concierge shook his head. ‘I ain’t the detective.’

Elizabeth Seale’s apartment overlooked Central Park. It was a stunning apartment. Worth a fortune. At the door, two uniformed officers stepped aside. They knew Harper from the Romario case and nodded respectfully.

There was something different about this crime scene and Harper was trying to pin it down. Two officers were still there hanging just inside the apartment talking to CSU detectives. The crime scene had been secured and no one had moved the body.

The patrol supervisor nodded across to Eddie. The two detectives walked over.

‘You been in yet?’ the broad-backed, silver-haired supervisor asked. Both Eddie and Harper nodded. ‘We should’ve protected this girl better,’ the big guy sighed.

Harper looked at him directly. ‘We tried, we were just too late this time. The truth is, he was probably watching us all arrive as he killed her. Bastard. He was torturing her as we were running around like headless chickens. That was his plan. Kill her with the cops in the building. Another buzz.’

‘We’ll know more later,’ said Eddie, ‘but as yet it’s as clear as Mississippi mud.’

Harper shuffled past into the living room where Williamson was waiting. It was bad. He felt it. He wished he had something to say.

The supervisor called out, ‘Williamson has the reins, Detective. We’re waiting on next steps.’

Williamson was staring at Harper. ‘I messed this up, Harper. I should’ve listened.’

Williamson was granite hard and chewed constantly, but his cold grey eyes were full of sadness. Harper shook his head. ‘He was playing us, Nate. It made no difference. He knew what he was doing. He knew that there was only one Elizabeth on that resident list. He knew what we would do, too.’

‘How did you know my guess wasn’t right?’

‘He’s an obsessive planner, Nate. He wouldn’t have dared to do this if she’d moved in two weeks ago. She had to be a phoney.’ Harper looked about him, embarrassed with Williamson’s awkwardness. Finally he walked away and opened the bedroom door. Garcia was already inside. ‘We’ve got a crime scene to get through. Let’s make like it matters.’

The crime scene detectives were combing the scene, taking photographs, sketching and lifting prints. Detective Williamson called to Garcia.

‘Anything gives?’

‘No, sir, nothing.’

Williamson lowered his head and slipped out the living room. The bureau chief, Ged Rainer, moved through to the bedroom. He was shaking his head as he passed Harper and Eddie at the door.

The two detectives looked at each other. Whoever Elizabeth Seale was, she clearly mattered. The top guys were already there. That’s what felt so strange. A crime scene was usually a lonelier place.

‘Who is she?’ Harper asked Ged Rainer.

‘Patty Seale’s little girl. The evangelist preacher – Mr Moral Outrage. This is going to be bad. That’s all I know.’

Harper felt nervy. The whine and flash of the cameras. The smell of death. Not good when you’re already about to puke your guts. And death scenes always smelled of shit. He didn’t feel ready for a lungful of putrid air and an eyeful of the grotesque. The things you never forget about a crime scene. Reluctantly, he led Eddie back into the bedroom. It felt harder second time round.

Elizabeth Seale was lying on her side on the bed, facing the door. It was like a film set in the perfect little room, like some sick fairy tale gone wrong. Her body was full of knife cuts. Harper felt the emotion but he went cold, like you have to. You either go cold or you lose your focus.

He stared at the vision of death. Except it was strange. From the door, her naked body was posed in a carefully arranged S-shape, upper torso upright, her arm modestly over her pudenda. Her mouth was closed in a smile and a black ribbon was tied around her neck. She had a scarf around her hair. It was crimson with a gold design. She looked like she was posing for a painting.

The body shocked you with its nakedness and direct stare. Harper felt as though he was looking at an exhibit in some sinister museum. On the white carpet beside the bed, the girl’s clothes were laid out, the dress, the brassiere, the panties, the nylons, the jewellery and the shoes. Each item was perfectly spaced.

Harper couldn’t do any more. He needed air. He walked out of the building. On the street, the crowds and the press had all come out. It was a mass of lights and cameras and perverts and people, all there to soak up the gruesome glamour of murder. Harper knew what this killer was doing, all right. He was showing off and this was just the beginning. He had started his show, the lights were bright, the audience was set.

The circus animals were all in town.