Текст книги "Heartless"

Автор книги: Patrick T. Phelps

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Derek’s departure was sudden. No more than five minutes after his call with Ken O’Connell ended, Captain Smith gave Derek his clear expectations then made sure Derek’s car started and headed away from Piseco Lake New York.

When Derek was no further than three miles away from the lodge, he pulled his car over to the side of State Route 8, pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, and redialed the last number called.

“Ken O’Connell.”

“Ken, it’s Derek Cole.”

“Problem?”

“Unfortunately, there is, and the problem is yours,” Derek said. “The last conversation we had was not as private as you would have liked.”

Derek explained the circumstances of their last call. He explained that Ralph Fox and Captain Jared Smith from the state police heard that Ken was not in the Bahamas but was in Chicago, the same city where two murders had just taken place.

Ken was silent as Derek explained that while he could have refused to make the call in front of others, learning that Ken hadn’t made the flight to the Bahamas made him very suspicious. Ken O’Connell said nothing when Derek explained what he had found beneath the bedroom of Alexander Black and how it seemed highly likely that Alexander had an accomplice. Derek tried to describe what he’d seen on the trail, marked with freshly painted hearts and stocked with supplies. He explained how the timeline of the murders in Chicago demanded that Alexander had either learned how drive and to steal a car (though no cars were reported as being stolen in the area) or Alexander was given a ride.

“You’ve seen the pictures of him,” Derek said. “The chances that anyone would have pulled over and picked him up if he were hitchhiking are highly unlikely.”

Derek shared his thoughts that Straus may be the accomplice and told Ken why he suspected Straus. He also told Ken that while he thought it was careless and suspicious that Ken never got on the plane and admitted that he learned the truth about Alexander Black, he still didn’t suspect Ken O’Connell had anything to do with the murders.

“You are my client, and I take my client relationships very seriously,” Derek said. “As soon as our last call ended, I knew I had to call you and let you know that the conversation was not a private one.”

“Derek,” Ken finally spoke, “I don’t blame you at all. I should have expected something when I noticed that you were speaking to me on your speaker phone. Doesn’t matter, though, I guess. I didn’t have anything to do with any murders or helping Alexander escape. As far as I’m concerned, I won’t do anything differently than what I was planning on doing, even though I will have to keep an eye out for police. I still need you to find Mix, Lucietta, and Straus, and I still want you to call me twice a day.

“Cole, I do appreciate you letting me know about our first call. And don’t worry about pissing me off. The fact that you called and let me know says more to me than you can imagine. Listen, I have a call scheduled in one hour with some of my other hired resources. If they have come up with anything, I’ll call you right away. In the meantime, what are your plans?”

“Honestly, I don’t know which way to head. I could drive out to Rochester and start trying to track down the Mixes, or I could head down to Manhattan and try to locate Lucietta. As far as Straus and Alexander goes, I have to believe they are in the Chicago area. If they are together or if Alexander is acting alone somehow, that means that they or he will be looking for you and your son.”

“Thomas is on a boat in the middle of Lake Michigan, along with three of my ‘special forces’ team members. I’m not worried about him,” Ken calmly said.

“Special Forces?” Derek asked.

“Cole, I have been fortunate in my business dealings. I started with a used car lot on the south side of Chicago when I was nineteen years old. I turned fifty last year and opened my eighteenth car dealership the day after my birthday. I’ve also branched out to a few other endeavors, all of which are profitable. I will tell you this, Cole, everything I do is above board. Nothing illegal. At the same time, my success in business has made me a target on more than one occasion. I told you that I have many resources, including some ex-military professionals who handle personal security for me and my family. Nature of the game, I suppose, but considering what’s happening now, I am damn glad I have my special forces team on payroll.”

“If Thomas is out on Lake Michigan, how is that I’ve been able to contact whenever I needed to?”

“Each morning and evening, the boat moves close enough to shore to pick up a cell signal. My team knows exactly what they are doing, when to do it, and how to do it.”

“Wish I had a team like that sometimes,” Derek joked.

“As long as you are working for me on this case, my resources are at your disposal. In fact, I have two private investigators assisting in your efforts. One is getting close to finding Stanley and Michelle Mix, and the other is busy locating Straus. I don’t have anyone looking for Alexander, however. I figured that he’d either show up or the police would be focusing their efforts on finding him.

“Listen, Cole, I do appreciate you being honest with me, and I need you to know that I am being honest with you. If you think that I am somehow behind these murders, you need to tell me right now. I can’t trust someone that doesn’t trust me.”

“I think we are on the same page,” Derek said.

“I need you to know, not to just think.”

“I can’t tell you that I am without my suspicions yet. There’s too many variables and coincidences to rule out anyone. Hell, I even wonder if I had somehow had something to do with these murders.”

“I guess that’s fair enough. I have to run. That call is coming in soon, and I have some other matters to attend to. I’ll call you if my resources come up with anything important. If you don’t hear from me, call me at 8:00 tonight. Agreed?”

“Agreed. Stay safe, Mr. O’Connell,” Derek added.

“Call me Ken, and you stay safe as well.”

It was no more than five minutes after his call with Ken ended that his cell phone rang again. This time, the caller ID told Derek the caller was from the Piseco Lake area.

“You left so damn fast that I didn’t even get your cell number. Had to do some research to find it,” Ralph Fox slurred.

Though Derek had left Ralph just a few minutes ago, it sounded like Ralph was at least an hour into a happy hour.

“Miss me already, Ralph?” Derek said.

“Not entirely, but I do think it wise that you and I maintain a certain level of ongoing communications regarding our shared case. And since I believe I made you a member of my team, I do believe the chain-of-command position that I have affords me the ability to expect an open line of information sharing with you.”

“I told Ken O’Connell that he was on speaker phone and that you and Smith heard everything he said,” Derek said.

“I figured you would,” Ralph said, his voice now sounding clear and solid “I noticed a change in your face when O’Connell said that he was in Chicago. Bet you no longer like him for these crimes?”

“I’m still not sure, but his reasons for not getting on that plane make sense to me. To me, he’s someone who had a horrible injustice happen to him and someone who wants to deliver his own type of justice to the doctors.”

“Honestly,” Ralph said, “I don’t blame him at all. Now since we are sharing like a couple of school girls here, I do feel compelled to let you know that Captain Smith is going to keep an eye on your movements. He ain’t got the resources he’d like to have you trailed, but part of the reason he took your cell phone was to allow his smart people to trace your whereabouts. Ain’t sure if he can tap your calls, but he is going to know where you are at, most of the time.”

“That’s good to know. Thanks Ralph.”

While he was still talking with Ralph, Derek heard the familiar “beep” of his cell phone, alerting him to an incoming call.

“Ralph, I have another call coming in. I’ll get back to you later.”

He ended the call with Ralph and answered the incoming call.

“Derek Cole,” he said.

“Derek, it’s Thomas. Did you speak with my father yet?” The sound of wind and rain could be heard in the background.

“I did. He’s fine. Just wants me to keep him informed. He told me that you are on a boat out on Lake Michigan. Seems like a pretty safe place to be.”

“Didn’t think you wanted to know where I was,” Thomas said through a soft chuckle. “And I have two of his goons around me at all times. My father tends to go overboard, pardon the boating pun.”

“He seems like a smart man. You just make sure you don’t fall overboard. That lake can get rough, and it sounds like it’s raining out your way.”

“Little summertime storm. We pulled in close to the marina, so were not a sitting target out in the middle of the lake. Listen, I called you because I was just given some more information that you probably need to know.”

“Shoot,” Derek said.

“My father’s goons are pretty well connected, as you might imagine. They have friends working in police departments all over the country. This isn’t confirmed yet, but there was a doctor murdered in the same hospital that Brian Lucietta works. Happened a few hours ago. Middle of the day. And before you ask, they don’t have anyone in custody.”

The likelihood that Alexander had at least one accomplice was now a certainty for Derek. The fact that six murders had occurred in three different parts of the country, each separated by at least six hours of driving, made the possibility of one person acting alone virtually impossible.

“Thanks for the update,” he said to Thomas.

“I don’t know what my father wants you to focus your efforts on, but I figured you’d be interested.”

“The more I know about all the players, the better.”

“That’s all I have. I’ll be heading back out beyond cell coverage as soon as this storm passes, so I will be out of range for a while,” Thomas said.

“Stay dry,” Derek said as he ended the call.

Derek slowed his car down to the reduced thirty-five speed limit as he approached the small Adirondack town of Speculator, New York. Feeling hungry, he started looking for a quiet place to eat, think, and to process the events of the day. Off to his right, he spotted a small pizzeria and deli that only had two cars parked in the lot in front.

Before he could shut off his car, his cell phone rang again.

“Derek Cole,” he said, amazed at how many times his normally quiet cell had rung in the last twenty minutes.

“Alexandria Bay. River’s Edge Resort,” the voice of Ken O’Connell said. “My resources tracked the Mixes down. They made reservations under the name ‘McClury,’ and checked in last night.”

The excitement was abundant in Ken’s voice.

“I’ll head up there now,” Derek said. “I found out that my cell phone location is being traced, so I will turn it off as soon as this call is done.”

“Fine. If you can’t contact me by 8:00, call me whenever you can, no matter the time. I just want you to identify Stanley and Michelle and confirm that they are in the resort. Understood?”

“Understood. I’m going to grab some lunch, pull up the directions, and head up to find them.”

“Don’t engage them. Just identify them, and contact me right away. If they leave, I need you to follow them. I’ll email you their pictures so that you can mark them.”

“Sounds good.” Derek pulled into the parking lot of the pizzeria, turned his car off and sighed deeply. While his suspicions about Ken O’Connell remained, he felt like he, Ken, and Thomas were all working together towards the same goal. Derek never wanted to become friends with his clients. He intentionally made decisions to prevent learning too much about his clients as well as letting them know too much about him. As he sat in the parking lot, listening to Ken’s altered instructions, he wondered, if things were different, if he and the O’Connells may have enough in common to become friends.

“I hear that the Chicago area is getting some storms. Hope your weather clears out soon,” Derek said, cutting off his thoughts and giving the conversation a logical ending.

“Weather? There’s not a cloud in the sky around the whole area.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

His head was swimming. Each time he reached a conclusion, another thought changed the course of his thinking and suggested an alternative. As he drove the three hours the trip to Alexandria Bay would take, Derek rode in absolute silence.

His phone was turned off and stuffed inside of a lead– and aluminum-lined bag that prevented any signals from getting out or into his phone. Though he usually would spend his windshield time listening to music at the highest volume a car’s system could pump out, the radio in his rental car was silent.

“Not raining in the Chicago area,” he thought to himself. He had confirmed the weather report using his MyRadar app on his iPhone before shutting it down. The only place of interest that was experiencing a “summertime storm” was the greater New York City area. Chicago and almost the entirety of Lake Michigan were enjoying a beautiful summer day.

“How could he be in New York if he has his father’s ex-military people watching him? Is it possible that the whole family is involved in these murders and that there are no ‘goons’ protecting Thomas since he doesn’t need protection?”

The miles passed. Each mile marker bringing Derek further away from clarity.

Derek had grown comfortable with silence, though he still would prefer to have someone to be with in most situations. Someone to talk with. Someone to enjoy the silence with. Lucy made him comfortable with silence. When they first met, Derek felt compelled to always keep a conversation going. Failing that, Derek would either whistle, sing softly to himself, or have either the radio or television on in the background to break up the absent silence.

“We don’t always have to be talking, you know,” Lucy stated. “You don’t have to worry about keeping a conversation going all the time. Sometimes I just like to sit with you and not have to say anything.”

“But everyone always says that communication is the key to a lasting marriage,” he rebutted.

“Sometimes, the best way to communicate is just to be with me in silence.”

He tried to just sit and not talk with her, but he found it harder than Lucy expected.

“Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, I am really interested in hearing what you have to say?” he asked one evening after sitting next to Lucy on their couch silently for over an hour.

“Have you ever considered that the reason you always want to talk with me is that you are afraid of what I might be thinking about when not talking?”

Lucy was talented at reading people, especially Derek. His attempts to keep his fears and insecurities hidden were in vain. If he asked a strange question, she always could figure out what Derek was really trying to uncover.

“Until you learn to listen more than you speak, you’ll never make a good detective,” she told him once after he found out that he didn’t get the promotion with the Columbus Police Department he was expecting. “God gave you two ears and one mouth. Use them in that proportion.”

Derek worked on being comfortable with silence. After a while, he actually grew to look forward to times when he and Lucy could just sit together and digest their days in silence. As long as she was in the same room as he, Derek could go hours without muttering a single sound.

“It’s nice. Isn’t it?” she asked one night. “To just be together and not have to always struggle to think of something to say.”

Derek glanced at his wife as he sat across their living room and raised his index finger to his lips.

“Shhh,” was the only response he offered in answer.

Lucy smiled.

Derek remembered that night. How they laughed together. How they talked about starting a family some day. About their upcoming vacation to Maui and how Lucy would someday be able to stop working as a children’s counselor and be able to stay home and raise their kids. He remembered how they made love that night and how wonderful it felt to just hold her. There was no way of knowing that the next day, Lucy would be dead.

As he continued driving through the twisting roads of the Adirondack Park, Derek could clearly see and hear the events of Lucy’s final day.

The call came in over his police radio while Derek and his partner, Bill Manner, were on routine patrol. They responded along with at least twenty other patrol officers, lead investigators, Derek’s lieutenant and Captain, and the two hostage negotiators.

The call came through as “10-42, 10-43b, First Metropolitan Bank. 423 North Main.” Officer Manner new to the police force asked Derek what the codes meant.

“Robbery in progress, and shots fired. Looks like we are headed to a bank robbery.”

When Derek arrived on scene, he was approached by his Captain. The look on his face was one that sent immediate concern warnings to Derek.

“Officer Cole, I need you to stay back from the scene.”

“What’s happened?” he asked, his voice dripping his fear.

“Your wife is in the bank with the gunman. He’s already shot the kid she was with. Hostage negotiators are trying to establish communications with the suspect now. You need to stay back.”

“Captain, I know this bank like the back of my hand,” Derek pleaded. “I do security for them on my off days.”

“Officer Cole, I need you to stay back and let the experts handle this.”

“If he’s already killed one, why wait and give him time to shoot someone else? I could get in the back entrance without him ...”

“Cole,” his Captain interjected. “I need you to let us handle this one. You running in through back door with your level of emotional involvement will probably end poorly. Let the experts handle this.”

Derek could see into the bank through the front window and could make out five, maybe six people all prone on the floor. Towards the teller counter, he could see the gunman holding a woman in front of him with his gun pressed to her temple.

“This is detective Allen Green,” a voice boomed from a patrol car’s loudspeaker. “I’m here to make sure that no one else gets hurt.”

“Leave me alone,” a muffled voice was heard screaming from inside the bank. “These bastards took everything from me.”

“Why don’t you put your gun down, walk outside, and you and I can have a conversation about what happened to you? I promise that no one will hurt you, and if someone in the bank did something to hurt you, I’ll promise to give you justice.”

The front window of the bank exploded as the gunman fired three shots from his Glock .40 caliber into it.

Derek could see that the gunman was moving closer to what remained of the window, screaming words that Derek couldn’t understand.

As the gunman reached the unbroken windowpane, his human shield’s face became clear.

“Captain,” Derek yelled. “that’s Lucy!”

“Stand down, Cole. Our sharpshooter is clear to take the shot as soon as he can. Stand down.”

“Captain, I can be in that bank in twenty seconds without him knowing.”

“Cole, are you seriously suggesting that I allow you to go freelancing into that bank and risk having you screw up and getting yourself and your wife killed?”

“He’ll never know I’m there until it’s too late,” Derek begged, his eyes now locked with Lucy’s. “Please, Captain. I can end this.”

Before his Captain could talk, the gunman screamed. No words, just a primal sound at the top of his lungs. Derek could see the fear in Lucy’s eyes. She stood, her faced pressed against what remained of the cool window pane as the gunman began grunting, breathing in heavy pants, and sending his spit onto the window pane.

“Captain,” Derek said, his eyes never leaving Lucy’s, as the gun fired.

He watched her fall to the ground in a lump of death, her head exploded out on one side, and her eyes instantly glazed over.

He never heard the next few shots. The gunman turned and opened fire on his hostages before then turning the gun on himself.

No one tried to hold him back as Derek sprinted across the parking lot and in through the shattered glass of the bank. He knew she was gone before he fell beside her and held his dead wife in his arms. He cradled her, saying nothing. Gently rocking her and whispering “shhh” into her ear.

“It’s all quiet now,” he said as he kissed her bloodied forehead. “No more questions.”

No one asked Derek to release his hold of his wife. They worked as silently as they could around him, as he sat cradling her body. He sat holding her for nearly two hours before someone told him it was time to let her go.

“Derek, we have to get Lucy cleaned up. She wouldn’t want to stay out in public like this. Come on, let me help you up. I promise that we’ll take great care of her.”

Derek could never remember who convinced him to let Lucy go. As he softened his hug, he gently rested her back on her side, the way she always slept. He brushed the blood-soaked hair away from her face, kissed her then collapsed beside her.

The days following Lucy’s death were a blur of wakes, funerals, impossibly silent nights, and a slowly diminishing stream of friends parading through his front door. The days blended into weeks before Derek’s bereavement and personal time had expired, and he was expected to return to duty.

“There’s no rush, Cole,” his Captain told Derek on his first day back. “If you need more time, say the word.”

“Didn’t think you cared about what I had to say, Captain,” Derek said.

“Come again, officer?”

“You know what I mean,” Derek said as he brushed past his Captain and into the officer’s dressing room.

Though his Captain never said, Derek knew that he felt that he had wronged Derek. While Derek was desperately trying to save his wife and put an end to the bank robbery, his Captain played it by the rule book.

It was no more than three months after Lucy had died that Derek’s life began to spiral out of control. His performance while on duty was becoming “reckless and haphazard.”

“You’re behavior of late is putting yourself and others at risk, Officer Cole,” his lieutenant told him. “I understand, the whole department understands what you must be going through, so if you feel you to take some more time, just let us know. We’ll work something out for you.”

“What about my behavior specifically concerns you?” Derek asked.

“Last Thursday, it was reported that you ran into a home with a reported domestic situation. You know that domestics are the most dangerous calls we receive.”

“Does your report say what happened after I ‘rushed in?’”

“Just because you prevented the husband from causing more harm to his wife, doesn’t justify your actions. We have protocols and procedures to follow.”

“Like those we followed that day at the bank?”

Three weeks after his conversation with his lieutenant, Derek was placed on “temporary leave with full pay and benefits.” The department knew that Derek was a quality officer, who had shown tremendous potential from day one. They also knew that his errant and dangerous behavior would eventually get him or another officer killed.

“How long am I to stay away?” he asked the Chief of Police when told about his temporary assignment.

“Until you feel fully ready to be a part of this department again, or our counselors believe you are ready to return to active duty.”

All departments make occasional mistakes. Some forget to process paperwork correctly. Others make the mistake of not reading an arrested person their rights. Other departments neglect to ask an officer placed on leave for their service weapon. Derek left the department, drove to the nearest bar, then took himself and his modified Glock home.

The tears were streaming down his face as he sat holding a picture of Lucy in his arms. Beside him, on his nightstand, sat a bottle of Johnny Walker black and his fully loaded service pistol.

“I need you here. With me,” he cried. “I promise to be more quiet. And I promise to never let anyone hurt you again.”

He pulled hard from the bottle of black and danced his fingers over his pistol.

“I can’t see your face,” he sobbed, dropping the framed picture to the floor, sending shards of broken glass sliding across the hardwood floor.

He reached for another tug of black. As he slammed the near-empty bottle back on the nightstand, his hand held firm to the bottle as his gaze held firm to the gun.

“I can’t see your face.”

He released his hold of the bottle, grabbed his Glock, and shoved the barrel into his mouth. Between his sobs and desperate cries, he began to squeeze the trigger. Two pounds of pressure, his eyes closed, hoping to see her face. Three pounds of pressure, his mind was filled with the horrible images of her face pressed against the bank window. Four pounds of pressure, he saw a flash in the corner of his eye. He quickly turned his head as his finger delivered the full five pounds of pressure needed to fire the Glock.

He remembered nothing when he woke. His ears still held the ringing and his left side of his jaw and face felt as if they were on fire. He saw doctors and nurses standing over him, assuring him that “everything will be okay, Derek.” He slipped in and out of consciousness, each time trying to remember what he had seen that made him turn his head as the bullet left the chamber and blasted its way through his left cheek.

He woke again to see his mother sitting by his hospital bed and his father leaning against the far wall.

“Oh Derek,” his mom said. “Everything is going to be just fine. Mom will see to that.”

Derek was in the hospital for only four days until he was released. His parents willingly agreed to have Derek stay with them until he was fully recovered and assured the hospital that they would make absolutely certain that Derek attend everyone of his sessions with his psychologist. Beyond having three of his molars blasted out of his head and an exit wound scar on his left cheek, Derek was amazingly uninjured.

“I know you don’t feel it son,” his father told him the afternoon they brought Derek to their Columbus Ohio suburban home, “but you are one lucky buck. Now, you know I’m not good at talking about feelings, but if there’s anything you want to talk about, you just let me know. Anytime. And that goes for your mom, too.”

The sessions with the psychologist were an embarrassment for Derek. He knew full well that he was inches away from killing himself and survived only because of a slight head turn.

“I don’t know what I saw,” he said to his psychologist. “Maybe I didn’t see anything and just chickened out. I don’t know.”

“Do you wish you hadn’t turned your head?” she asked, slowly twitching a pen held in her hand.

“I don’t know yet, but I think I’m still here for a reason.”

“Let me help you find that reason, Derek.”

Three months of sessions later, and Derek was cleared to return to the police department.

“I know this won’t be easy on you, Cole,” his Lieutenant said on Derek’s first day back to the police department. “But I can tell you without question that everyone here is on your side and is as happy as hell that you’re back. Now, if there’s anything you need, you just let me know.”

“I quit,” Derek said, finding his lost smile as the words effortlessly came from his mouth. “I came back today just to let you know that I quit.”

“Cole, Derek, hold on a minute. Maybe you need some more time. Time to think this through.”

“I had all the time I need, Lieutenant. What I don’t have is my wife. And though I know that your protocols and procedures didn’t put that bullet through her brain, they allowed it to happen. I can’t work for a place that puts policy before people.”

“Now Cole, you are starting to sound like someone that we need to be careful of. You’re not planning…”

“I’m not a criminal, and I’m not insane,” Derek interrupted. “I won’t bother you or this department at all. I know what I want to do with the rest of my life and believe me, I won’t be any concern of yours, this department or any of your policies or procedures. I have no issue with anyone in this department, or on any police force across the country. I just can’t be a part of one anymore. I can’t be part of something that I blame for Lucy’s death.”