Текст книги "Heartless"

Автор книги: Patrick T. Phelps

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“This doesn’t make sense,” Derek said. “The timeframe. The note left for me at the car rental desk. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Now Derek,” Ralph said as he walked over to the counter to retrieve a fresh Arthur Avenue cigar and a book of matches, “this whole case is stuffed to the rim with things that don’t make much sense.” Ralph paused, introduced flame to his cigar’s end and was soon billowing out grayish smoke into the humid air of the Adirondack lodge’s entry way. “But, before we get further into discussing the finer points of this case, you said something that caught my interest.”

Derek had stood up and was tracing the scar of his left cheek gently with his fingers. He knew he was tired and that his mind wasn’t as sharp as he needed it to be. As he paced the entry area of the lodge, he struggled to piece together the time frame of the last several hours.

“Are you planning on pretending that I am not here in this same room as you or are you just building up something brilliant in that freelancing mind of yours?” Ralph said.

“I’m sorry. What did you ask me?”

“Actually I have yet to ask you anything, but I am fixin’ to as soon as you appear ready to be asked a question.”

“I just can’t figure this out. I must be missing something. But, go ahead and ask me your question.”

“You said during your little ramble a moment ago about some note that was left for you at the rental car desk. I sure would like to know what that note said and who gave it to you.”

The smoke from Ralph’s cigar was quickly replacing the fresh mountain air. Derek moved over to the main door, opened it, and took a deep breath of non-cigar smoke filled air.

“The note just said ‘Welcome to Albany, Mr. Cole,’ and I have no idea who wrote it. The only person who knows that I flew into Albany was my client.”

“Any chance your client left that note?” Ralph asked, thankful for the open door but not as thankful as he was for the finely crafted cigar he held between his stubby and overly hairy fingers.

“Possible, but doesn’t make any sense. If he left the note for me then he did so assuming that I would suspect that it was him.”

“Someone else must have known about your travel plans?”

“US Airways and Hertz. That’s about it.”

Ralph checked the time on his watch. “What time did your flight leave Chicago?” he asked.

“Just before ten last night.”

“And when did your plane land?”

“Around midnight. Got to the Hertz desk twenty minutes after that. I asked the clerk who the note came from but he had no idea. Think it could have been Alexander? But, how the hell would he know I was headed to Albany and was renting a car from Hertz? Had to have been my client or someone my client told that I was coming here. Must have been.”

Ralph drew softly on his cigar and watched Derek struggle to figure things out. For his entire working career, Ralph had been in law enforcement. He had developed the ability to read people that others who worked with him both envied and were cautious of.

Though he knew that allowing Derek access to information about the case would violate nearly every rule in the book, he also knew that his department lacked the resources and experience to solve the murders. The state police were involved and certainly didn’t need Ralph’s or his department’s assistance, but Ralph liked to see things through himself. He never liked when another department, be it a federal, state, or city department barged in and took over an investigation.

As Derek continued his thought-laden pacing, Ralph felt that Derek could be trusted and that there was something about him, something that made breaking the protocols, rules, and standard operating procedures worth the risk.

“Well, let me ease your mind about one of the options you have. It wasn’t Alexander, and I’ll show you why.”

Ralph waved a single hand towards Derek, inviting that Derek follow. They walked deeper into the lodge, through the great room that in the daylight would offer spectacular views of Piseco Lake and the surrounding mountains. They finally came into a small, windowless room. The room was decorated with countless pictures of who Derek assumed to be William Straus.

Ralph took a seat behind the blonde wood desk that was entirely too large for the small room, opened a desk drawer, and pulled out a four-inch thick manila folder.

“I have made a few mistakes in my career,” Ralph said as he held the folder out in front of him, “and I sure do hope that what I am about to do here is not gonna be another one. Whether or not it is a mistake is entirely up to you, Mr. Cole.”

“Is that the case file?” Derek asked.

“Not exactly,” Ralph said as he dropped the heavy folder on to the desk, sending dust into an immediate flight. “This here is a little something that those state police investigators overlooked. Now, I’m thinking about showing you some very interesting things I’ve found in this folder, but I need to make sure my impression of you is accurate.”

“Ask me anything you want.”

“Ya see, Mr. Cole, I wasn’t a 100% forthcoming about my feelings on freelancers. Fact is, I often wished I could bend the rules a tad. You know, here and there.”

“In my experience, you’re not alone,” Derek said in a measured response.

“Now I may have actually bent some of those rules over the years but always did so when my instincts suggested that them rules needed a little flexibility. So since I am pretty much alone on this investigation, and the state police see me as someone just to keep informed, I am going to include you into this investigation.”

“I appreciate your trust.”

“You need to catch some shut eye?”

“Eventually, but I’m more interested in seeing what’s in that file first,” Derek said as his eyes grew hungry at the idea of reading the contents of the file.

“Well, I do. So I’m going to leave this file right here on this goofy-looking desk and go find a place to sleep.” Ralph stood and hitched his pants over his belly. “I want to show you a few things first that I want to pay particular attention to.” Ralph opened the file and thumbed through a few sheets until he pulled out a group of photographs. “You take a good look at these, and I’ll bet you’ll understand why I don’t believe your mysterious note leaver wasn’t Alexander.”

As Ralph quietly left the small office, Derek moved to the more comfortable chair behind the desk. He gave a quick glance at Ralph.

“Thanks for not shooting me earlier,” he said.

“Well, I imagine that would have not been an enjoyable event for you. But, there’s still time, I imagine. Still time.”

As Ralph left in search for a bed that would be kind enough to allow him a few minutes of sleep, Derek dropped his eyes to the series of photographs laying on the desk in front of him.

“Holy shit balls!” he said.

The picture on top of the pile was of a young man who, to Derek, seemed to be posing for his autopsy pictures. The man in the picture stood over six feet tall and was standing against a wall. As he stared at the photograph of the man standing naked against the off-white wall, Derek was captured by his eyes.

Baby blue, yet dimmed, surrounded by yellowish-gray skin where white should have been. Eyes too large for a man, and too blue. If not for the spark of something in them, Derek would take these eyes for those of a dead man.

Lifeless. Cold. Vacant.

The man’s eyes were they only bit of life’s color in the picture. The man’s skin was a horrible shade of death; gray mixed with hints of purplish blue. He was completely bald, and though the photograph was obviously taken from a digital camera then printed out on an ink jet printer, Derek could make out whispers of eyebrows, so faint as to remind him of an infants. Soft brown and stretched to a point of comical sparseness. Above each eyebrow were two, nearly perfect circles of much darker skin. They looked like old, healed burn marks and made Derek think of the pictures of electrodes he’d seen pictures of before.

The shade of death the man wore on his face was a theme carried throughout the rest of his body. Though some areas of the man’s body– his elbows, back of his hands, and knees – were a darker shade of death, the man was colorless.

There was very little fat on the man. Muscles, seemingly defying the death motif, were visible. A classic and envied six-pack was clear in the man’s abdominals. Biceps and deltoids both well developed and prominent. Muscles lined the man’s thighs and appeared to have been carefully carved to show each of their assigned functions. His genitals hung softly and assumed a much darker variation of gray. Unlike the rest of the photo subject’s body, his genitals appeared to have never developed.

“I see what you mean, Ralph,” Derek said out loud, somewhat hoping Ralph was still awake and within ear shot. “This guy showing up in an airport would certainly be remembered.” Derek received no report back from Ralph.

As Derek scanned the photograph again, he paused when his eyes met the man’s smile. The thin lips curled just slightly at their corners, parting enough for Derek to that they hid nothing. Though he couldn’t be certain, the way the lips fell inward and the lack of anything white behind them, suggested that the man was toothless.

As he flipped through the remaining pictures, each of the same subject, Derek noticed that each picture was dated and each date marked the same day of the year. June 30th. There were twenty-two pictures in the stack, each taken on June 30th of the last twenty-two years. The only picture that broke the sequence was the very first picture that was dated July 4, 1992.

This picture showed a baby wearing the same alarming shade of death-gray. He was lying in a crib. His eyes, baby blue then, held an unsettling gaze back at the camera.

“This is not a good-looking baby,” Derek said.

Derek quickly scanned the printed photographs again and noticed that the first thirteen were taken in a different place than the last nine. In those, the subject stood, naked and gray against a painted concrete blocked wall. In the remaining nine, the person stood against an off-white and typical-looking sheet-rocked wall.

Derek collected the photographs into a neat pile and set them aside. He wanted to see what else of interest was in the over-stuffed folder that sat in front of him. As he began to thumb through, Derek noticed several smaller pictures, all black and white, bound together by a rubber band that was showing its age with cracks and a visible loss of elasticity.

Derek removed the tired rubber band and thumbed through the twelve or thirteen pictures that the band faithfully bound. Each was of an attractively shaped woman and was obviously taken without her being aware that a camera’s lens was trained on her. The woman was captured in many positions; bending over what looked like a crib, standing with folding arms looking at something in the non-captured distance, sitting at a small desk writing notes. Each picture of the same woman dressed in a white nurses uniform and each taken from what Derek assumed to be a hazy window.

The pictures were not dated, but all seemed to have been taken the same day, for the subject’s uniform and hairstyle remained consistent. The last picture in the lot was of the nurse holding the gray baby. Her backside was the obvious target of the photograph, but the eyes of the baby as the nurse held it over her left shoulder were what sent a disturbing shiver through Derek’s soul.

The eyes were certainly the same eyes of the subject of the other pictures, but they seemed different in this one picture. They seemed aware that they were being watched. To Derek, the eyes looked angry about an interruption. A presence that, though seemingly unnoticed by the nurse holding him, was clearly known by the baby.

“Michelle Pettingall, I assume?” Derek thought and began to wonder what kind of man Straus was to have taken these secret pictures and to have kept them in a file for over twenty years. The thought of what Straus may have been doing while looking at the pictures caused Derek to drop them and then to rub his hands clean on his jeans.

“Sick bastard,” he thought of Straus.

Next to review were the hundred or so medical notes, Some were printed and many were handwritten in a journalized format. As his eyes were growing weary, Derek flipped through the notes and only paused to read a few. Those he read continued to affirm his client’s story and to affirm Derek’s initial impression of Doctor William Straus.

Patient arrived today. Initial examination confirmed diagnosis of Dr. Adams et al – No heart. No breathing. Skin color=gray. Reflexes very sharp. Dr. Lucietta to run lab tests on pooled blood, skin cells, and muscle tissue. Results in two days. 7/4 1992 DWS

Patient slept 14 hours. Lung activates upon sleep. Cell regeneration tests inconclusive. Cell transfer ability noted 7/8/92 DWS

Patient displaying unusual levels of awareness for age. Eye tracking and environment awareness remarkable 7/10/12 DWS

Derek thumbed through the stack of notes and reached one that explained the dark patches above the eyes of Alexander. He assumed that the initials after the notes were to indicate which doctor was doing the note taking.

Patient did not respond as expected to shock. Small voltage caused extreme reaction. Highly sensitive to electricity. 2/5/2002 DBL

Derek continued reading notes that seemed to stand out from the rest.

Patient displaying unusual strength. Electricity continues to be the best method to subdue. Highly effective, but need to send low dosage only! 5/17/2003 DBL

Patient move complete. Suite secured. Memory tests to resume in two weeks. 9/3/2005 DTC

Encountered stranger during outdoor activity. Patient behaved well due to threat of “dog collar” shock. Limit future outdoor activities to evenings and rainy days. 7/9/2013 DWS

Test results positive!!! A breakthrough at last. Dr Curtis running third round of test against HIV virus to verify results. 7/1/2014 DWS

Derek placed the final note back into the folder, realizing that there were no more notes dated after the last one. And there would be no more.

He leaned back into the soft, leather, executive chair, rested his head back and let his mind mull over the pictures and the notes. His mind, however had enough of thinking, and soon Derek was sound asleep.

When he opened his eyes, Derek saw that Ralph was sitting across the desk from him and seemed to have been waiting for Derek to wake up.

“How much reading did you get done before you fell into la la land?” Ralph asked.

“Enough to know that Alexander probably would want to stay out of public as much as possible and that the doctors, Straus, Curtis, and Lucietta, used Alexander as a lab rat.”

“Ya happento read that last note? The one about the big breakthrough?”

“I did. Kind of suggests they were on to something with the HIV virus.”

“Yup. And I went through every other file in the file cabinet over there,” Ralph said as he nodded to Derek’s left, “and didn’t find a single mention of anything related to HIV or any other virus.”

“Any idea where Straus is?” Derek asked after a short pause.

“Now that is an interesting question right there, Derek. And one that I truly wish I had an answer to.”

“I take that as a ‘no.’”

“Some town’s folk reported that they saw the doctor’s car tooling down Route 8 and moving at a pretty good clip about the same time we figured the murders took place. State police put out an APB on Straus and his car but ain’t nothing come of it yet.

“I’d really like to talk to that Straus doctor. Specially since your recent investigative find of the trap door under Alexander’s bed. Sure would like to find out why he wasn’t among the victims we found in this lodge.”

“You liking Straus for an accomplice?” Derek asked.

“I sure do find it peculiar. The timing of everything, that is. The last note says something about a breakthrough. Two of Straus’s fellow doctors found all dead in that room. Straus’s car seen tooling out of the area. And your discovery. Lots of reasons to be interested in Straus, I’ll admit.”

Derek paused and began thinking about the note left for him. He wondered if the Hertz clerk had discovered where the note came from. As what became his habit, Derek slowly traced the scar on his left cheek absently as his thoughts drifted to planning his next step.

“I noticed that scar while you was sleeping. I’ve seen plenty of scars in my day. Spent two years in the Army as a medic. Yup, I sure have seen plenty of scars. But that little beauty you’re sporting, I find to be interesting.”

Derek dropped his hand to his lap and asked, “Why do you find it interesting?”

“Funny thing about scars,” Ralph said looking down, “see enough of them and you can tell what caused them. It ain’t much of my concern, but I have to say that you’re little reminder there is an exit wound. Something went through that there cheek from the inside of your mouth.”

“You do know all about scars, Ralph.”

Ralph, knowing that his curiosity about Derek’s scar was satisfied, and not wanting to find out what drove his guest to create the scar, stood up abruptly.

“I do not know about your digestive system, but mine is telling me that it needs something to do. Now, this town may be small, but it has one of the best diners this side of Texas not four miles from our exact location.”

“Sounds good. Any place to get cleaned up first? I have an overnight bag in my car that’s parked up the road a bit.”

“I took the liberty of moving your car down closer to us. Didn’t think you’d mind all that much. And since you left your keys and wallet out in the kitchen, why I thought you were all but requesting me to get your car.”

“Thanks. Have any trouble finding it?”

“One of my officers spotted it around an hour ago. Gave me a call and told me where it was parked.”

“I do apologize again for breaking into this place. And again thank you for holding off sending a bullet into my head.”

“As I said before, there’s still plenty of time. But right now the only thing I am thinking of is to getting some eggs and toast into my belly. Go get your stuff from out of your car so you can get yourself all prettied up like a good city boy.”

As Derek began walking out of Straus’s office, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. A quick check of the caller ID told him that the call was from a 518 area code number.

“Derek Cole.”

“Mr. Cole, this is Amanda from the Hertz car rental office in the Albany airport. I got a message from another Hertz team member about a note that was left for you when you picked up your rental?”

“Yes,” Derek said. “Do you know who left the note?”

“I wrote the note for you. I received a phone call a little after ten last night. The man on the phone just said he was a friend of yours and to write a note welcoming you to Albany. I’m sorry, but I don’t know the man’s name.”

“Can you tell me what his voice sounded like?” Derek asked, hoping for some clue.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cole. I really don’t recall the man’s voice. Will you be needing anything further, Mr. Cole?”

“Any way to trace the call through your system?”

“Again, I’m sorry, Mr. Cole. We really have no way to trace any incoming calls. We do appreciate your loyalty with Hertz, and if you should need anything regarding your current rental, please don’t hesitate to call. Have a great day!”

Ralph heard enough of the conversation to know that Derek received no information about who left the note for him. While knowing would have made his case less of a mystery, Ralph could tell that the mystery surrounding the note was bothering Derek much more than it was bothering him.

Ten minutes after getting the call from Hertz, Derek and Ralph climbed into Derek’s rental car and headed out for breakfast.

“Now, I know I told you this diner is but four miles away. And that is the truth of the matter. However, I’m gonna ask you to add some miles to that and drive around a bit.”

“Something you need to see or do?”

“If you are going to be my freelance assistant on this case, you need to get a lay of the landscape. I’d like to start by showing you where our third victim, Roger Fay lived.”

“Sounds fine to me.”

As Derek backed out of the crushed stone driveway of Straus’s lodge, he took notice of the large maple tree wrapped with police tape almost directly across from the driveway.

“I take it that something fatal happened at that tree?” Derek asked as he stopped his car near the tree.

“Yup. As far as we can tell, that there tree is where Roger Fay was killed. Looks like old Roger had a knife plunged straight through his neck. Damn knife went a few inches deep into the tree itself. Lots of strength to do that.”

“Then his body was dragged into the lodge?”

“More likely it was carried. There are no drag marks, just a whole bunch of blood splatters. Like the blood had fallen from a few feet above the ground. We found Roger all dead and pretty close to naked on the floor next to them other doctors.”

“Naked?” Derek asked.

“Folks who saw Roger walking that day said he was wearing some cowboy type of hat and black boots.  All of them items were taken off by what I assume to be the killer.”

“Did you know him?”

“Probably met him a time or two. My officers tell me that I had, but I don’t recall. I know he was some type of a writer who lived up here year round. Just killed by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, we reckon.”

The route to Roger Fay’s home included a short time spent on New York State Route 8. When Derek’s car reached the intersection of Route 8, Ralph spoke.

“This is Route 8. Our Doctor Straus was seen turning right out of here and speeding down that a way,” Ralph said pointing to his right. “Ain’t no use us heading that way and following him, as I’m sure you’d agree, so take a left here.”

As Derek turned his car onto Route 8, he asked Ralph why he hadn’t seen a car parked near the lodge last night, though Ralph was obviously there.

“I do like to be close to my work. But mostly I stayed at the lodge last night because the state police didn’t want me to. They thought I’d sully up the scene. But I figured since I am the man in charge that I’d go ahead and do what I damn well pleased. I had one of my officers bring my car back to my house yesterday afternoon. I figured that if Alexander or anyone else involved in this here crime had to get back inside the lodge that they’d be more likely to do so if they thought there was no one around. Turns out the only person who showed up was some freelancer.”

The route to Roger Fay’s home was just under a mile away from the maple tree across from Straus’s lodge. Derek turned off Route 8 and onto a road that followed the shore line of Piseco Lake and then circled back towards the direction of the lodge. When they reached the trailer park that Roger Fay called home, Ralph had Derek pull his car over to the side of road in front of Roger’s double-wide but suggested that they not do any outside investigation.

“Ain’t nothing we gonna learn by traipsing around his old trailer. State police wasted a whole lot of time looking for any clue that connected Roger to Straus and came up with a handful of nothing. I just wanted you to start piecing together the events and time frame of our murder. Go ahead and drive straight for a bit. This ain’t the way to the diner still, but I want to show you something that I find very peculiar down the road a stretch.”

Derek continued driving down the road as his mind began retracing the timeline of the murders. He tried to imagine what Roger Fay had seen or done to get himself pinned to a tree. His imagination failed him again.

It was just over two miles past Roger Fay’s home when Ralph told Derek to pull over to the side of the recently paved road and onto the hard-packed dirt shoulder. Without saying a word, Ralph opened up his door, pulled himself out, and started walking across the road. Derek followed quickly behind.

“Tell me what you make of this,” Ralph said, pointing to an outcropping of large rocks on the side of the road. The rocks were set back twelve feet from the road and seemed to be in the same position they had been for the last million years. Painted on the rock in red was an image of a heart.

“Looks like some local kid wanted to spray paint a message to his girl and was interrupted,” Derek offered, not sure why Ralph seemed to think that the spray painted heart may have been important.

“That may be true, but the neighbors all say that they hadn’t seen this graffiti before a few days of the murders. And if you head on back this little trail right next to the rocks, you’ll see something else that I find a bit interesting.”

The small trail that started right beside the rock formation seemed to be made several years ago. Weeds and ground plants had recaptured much of the trail, making the task of keeping on trail a bit of a challenge for Derek.

 With Ralph trailing behind and breathing much heavier and louder than Derek thought the simple hike demanded, Derek navigated his way through the overgrown path for roughly one hundred yards before Ralph breathlessly called from behind.

“Now if you pause a moment,” he said as he used a trailside tree as support, “and take a look around, let me know if you see anything peculiar.”

Derek glanced around the trail, then off towards the dense undergrowth that bordered the trail. He knew that Ralph wouldn’t have asked him if he saw anything “peculiar” unless Ralph felt that there was something that he found to be “peculiar.”

A second before Derek was going to report that he couldn’t see anything of interest, he noticed a small, white birch tree twenty-feet off the right of the path. On the tree was spray painted a small, red heart. The image was small but stood out clearly against the white, paper-like bark of the tree.

“Think that’s a trail marker?” Derek asked.

“Head on over, and let me know what you think,” Ralph answered, still challenged to capture his breath.

Derek hopped some small bushes and bounded over to the white birch tree. Once there, he noticed a small pile of twigs and leaves just behind the marked tree.

“Okay to see if anything is under this pile of sticks and leaves?” he called to Ralph.

“Ain’t no reason since I know exactly what’s under it. Git on over back here, and I’ll tell ya what I found.”

When Derek returned to the path, Ralph had found his breath, though his brow streamed with sweat.

“Damn hot out here. Muggy as all hell. You’d think that an ole Texas boy would be accustomed to heat and humidity but, damn if this upstate New York heat doesn’t get me every time.”

“So,” Derek pushed, “what was under that pile?”

“Same thing that is still under that pile, actually.”

“And that would be?”

“A small backpack. And in the backpack, which I am sure that you’re about to ask, is .380 caliber Smith and Wesson semi, a well folded map of the area, three vanilla flavored Power Bars, a pair of Nike sneakers, socks, clean shirt, long pants, and a towel.”

“Not sure how smart it is to leave a gun out here for anyone to find,” Derek said.

“Guns are funny, Derek. They ain’t much good with no bullets and the firing rod removed. That gun has been modified. I guess you could call it a custom.”

“Someone left the gun without bullets?”

“No, they was there. Hollow points. A full box of fifty of them, plus six loaded in the magazine. I took the liberty of removing them.”

“Get any prints off the bullets or the gun?”

“Clean as a virgin’s nightstand,” Ralph answered.

Ralph pointed further down the path.

“Keep on walking that way for another click. You walk your pace, and I’ll do my best to keep up.”

Though Derek wanted to talk more about the hidden backpack and the two painted hearts, he figured it was more important to keep on Ralph’s good side, and he turned to continue walking the path.

Five minutes later, the path ended at the shore of Piseco Lake. Directly across from the end of the path was the lodge of Doctor William Straus.

“Interesting,” Derek said, though Ralph was still too far behind to hear.

A few minutes later, Ralph’s breathing could be heard. He reached the end of the path next to Derek and sat down on a large rock that Derek hadn’t noticed was marked with a small, red heart.

“And beneath this rock that is now holding up my fat ass,” Ralph said, “was a flashlight, not unlike the type I found you waving around the lodge last night.”

“This whole path is a bit ‘peculiar’ I’d say,” Derek said.

“Very much so,” Ralph answered. “Now, I want to hear your ideas about this path, the objects on this path, and the three small hearts painted on the rocks and tree. I have my thoughts, but I am very curious to hear what you think.”

Derek thought of how his father would always ask him to share his thoughts about difficult to understand questions that Derek had growing up. Derek would share his views before this father would share his thoughts. When Derek asked about why his grandmother had died, his father asked him, “Derek, everyone has their own ideas of why people die. What are your thoughts?” And while Derek never felt the need to replace his father with a “father figure,” the way Ralph spoke to him made Derek feel comfortable and at ease.

“Well,” Derek started, “the fact that this trail is directly across a narrow stretch of the lake from the lodge, is marked at both the beginning and end and has some supplies stashed along the route, also near a marker, I have to think that Alexander used this route to escape after murdering the three men. Since Fay was murdered outside the lodge, I imagine that Alexander was headed towards the lake to either swim to this point or to use a boat that may have been stashed on the lodge’s side of the lake. Did you or the state police find any canoes or small boats drifting around the lake?”

“Not a-one,” Ralph answered, his smile showing his obvious satisfaction with Derek’s summation.

“Now the fact that the flashlight and backpack were obviously never collected,” Derek continued, “leads me to believe that  Alexander didn’t make the swim over here, that he got lost, or that he had another means of escape. I also am more convinced than ever that Alexander wasn’t acting alone.”