Текст книги "Silent Justice"

Автор книги: Rayven T. Hill

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter 34

Thursday, 9:37 a.m.

LISA KRUNK had been following the story of Adam Thorburn closely, and she’d managed to conduct interviews with just about everyone involved. Though she’d searched long and hard, she hadn’t been able to locate Adam. An interview with him would be like gold in the bank, and her ratings would soar even higher than they already were.

An interview with Virginia Thorburn would be the next best thing, and though Lisa had tried in the past, the woman always eluded her calls and never answered Lisa’s knock on the door.

Not today, though.

She needed to talk with Virginia. Lisa’s viewers depended on her expertise to keep them fully informed of the latest in breaking events. It was her determination that consistently put her stories at the top of the news.

There was only one choice—an ambush.

And luck was with her. As Don spun the van onto Mill Street and neared the Thorburn residence, Lisa spied Virginia Thorburn coming down the sidewalk.

She pointed frantically toward the woman. “Pull over, Don. That’s her.”

Don turned the steering wheel, touched the brakes, and the van jerked to a quick stop. His door swung open and he jumped out, opened the side door, and grabbed his camera. In one deft move the camera landed on his shoulder, the red light glared, and he was raring to go before Lisa could locate the cordless mike and climb from the van.

She smiled smugly at his eagerness. She had trained him well, and he knew every move she made, and every word she spoke, was worthy of being captured on video. And when she had a subject in her sights, he had better keep up with her. That is, if he wanted to continue getting the generous paycheck she provided him with every week.

Lisa hit the sidewalk, gripped the mike, and flicked it on. Virginia Thorburn stopped short, a frown on her face as Lisa strode toward her, Don at her side. The woman glanced around as if looking for a quick exit, then her shoulders slumped as she gave in and waited.

Lisa faked a wide smile and spoke into the microphone. “Good morning, Mrs. Thorburn.” She pushed the mike at the trapped woman and waited for a reply.

Lisa received a frown in return.

“I wonder if I might ask you a few questions,” Lisa said, the smile remaining on her stiff lips. “I’d like to get Adam’s side of the story.”

Virginia’s face softened noticeably, but she remained quiet.

Lisa was used to that. It always helped to stroke their ego a little to get her subjects to loosen up, and then when their guard was down, hit them with the tough questions.

“Mrs. Thorburn, I’ve done some research on you and your son,” Lisa lied. “Your undying dedication during some of his rougher periods must have been pretty hard on you.”

Virginia Thorburn nodded. The woman was loosening up.

Lisa continued. “Other newscasts have portrayed your son as some kind of monster. I know for a fact that isn’t true.” She paused. “Will you tell my viewers what Adam is really like?”

Virginia opened her mouth for the first time. She appeared to be thinking as she stared at the microphone pushed under her nose. “Adam is … a good son. He’s never caused any trouble to me, and I believe the stories about him have been exaggerated.”

“You believe he never killed anyone, Mrs. Thorburn?”

“I … I didn’t say that.” The woman fumbled for words, probably unsure how best to defend someone Lisa knew was a true barbarian. Adam was one of the most vicious killers Lisa had ever run across, but she wasn’t about to tell his mother her feelings. At least, not yet.

“I understand he has a brilliant mind,” Lisa said.

“Yes, he does. He hasn’t been allowed to reach his full potential. Maybe someday.”

Lisa smiled inside. Adam would reach his full potential all right—in prison. If he lived long enough. She stifled her thoughts and said, “We’d like to see that.”

Virginia bit her lip and remained silent.

“Perhaps if he gave himself up, things could be different,” Lisa said.

“Adam has to make up his own mind about that,” Mrs. Thorburn said, glancing at the camera. “Since I have no contact with him, I can’t persuade him either way.”

“You haven’t see your son since he became a fugitive?”

Virginia shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since Tuesday morning.”

“How’s he been surviving without some help?” Lisa asked.

“He’s resourceful.”

“Are you concerned he might kill someone else?”

The woman glanced away, took a slow breath, then looked at the camera, her eyes narrowed. “My son deserves a fair trial. If and when they find him, I hope the law will be unbiased.”

Lisa cleared her throat. It was time to get nasty and perhaps get something interesting for the viewers. “Your son’s a vicious and violent killer, Mrs. Thorburn. Surely you don’t think it’s right to protect him?”

Virginia Thorburn’s eyes flashed and her face darkened. “You have no right to condemn him and no right to accuse me of protecting him.” She leaned in, her voice becoming more frantic. “I told him to give himself up, but I can’t force him to. He doesn’t remember killing those people.”

Lisa took a small step back. Mrs. Thorburn was angry, but anger was good. In fact, Lisa did her best to get any emotions she could from her targets. Emotions kept people at home glued to their screens.

“Mrs. Thorburn,” Lisa asked, “are you harboring Adam inside your house? Is he in there right now?”

Virginia’s body stiffened at the question, a deep frown appearing on her brow. She pointed a finger across the street and scowled at Lisa. “The police are watching my house and they have searched it already.” She stood back, her hands on her hips, and gave Lisa a black look. “I already told you, I haven’t seen Adam.”

This was getting good. Lisa had caught the woman in a blatant lie. She raised her chin and looked down her sharp nose at Virginia Thorburn. “So let me get this straight, Mrs. Thorburn. You haven’t seen Adam since Tuesday morning, and he told you he didn’t kill those two people.” Lisa cocked her head. “How can that be? Are you telepathic? Mr. Ronson was killed on Tuesday evening.”

Virginia gave Lisa a blank stare. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again.

“You’ve been meeting with your son, Mrs. Thorburn,” Lisa stated flatly, moving in a step. Her tone became accusing. “How can you condone what this raging lunatic has done?”

Virginia’s face reddened, her eyes firing hatred at Lisa. “This interview is over.” She turned, brushed past Don, and strode up the street toward her house.

Lisa chased after her, Don hurrying behind, the camera still running. “Come back, Mrs. Thorburn,” Lisa demanded.

Virginia didn’t answer. She hurried up the driveway, digging her key from a pocket. She unlocked the door and turned toward Lisa, who was fast approaching, and pointed a finger. “Get off my property.” The woman stepped inside the house, slamming the door behind her.

Lisa turned toward Don, drew a finger across her throat, and the red light on the camera blinked off.

“Let’s go, Don,” she said, striding toward the van. “We have some great footage here.”

Don placed the camera carefully in the back of the van and jumped into the driver seat. Lisa climbed in the passenger side, well pleased with herself and the interview.

Of course, she would edit out the mushy stuff at the beginning of the interview. Its only purpose was to put the woman off her guard. The good stuff came later, and she would be sure to give it the treatment it deserved. Once she edited in other footage she had obtained elsewhere, her little exposé of Mrs. Thorburn was bound for the top of the news; there was no doubt.

Chapter 35

Thursday, 11:16 a.m.

ANNIE WORKED her way down Mill Street, talking to the Thorburns’ neighbors in the off chance someone had seen Adam Thorburn in the area.

Though most of the residents were at work this time of day, she talked briefly to a handful of people who were at home for one reason or another—either didn’t have a job or worked at odd hours. Thus far, her efforts had been unrewarded. Everyone she talked to knew Adam and was aware he was a fugitive, but no one had seen him recently.

She paused in front of the Thorburn house, attempting to come up with an excuse to visit Virginia Thorburn. She glanced across the street. The car parked there was unmarked, and the officer inside was out of uniform. She doubted if Adam would venture to the house, the presence of the car likely more of a deterrent than a trap.

Annie hesitated a moment, then went up the driveway to the side of the house, opened the screen door, and knocked. The door opened a crack, revealed Virginia’s face, and then opened all the way.

“Good morning, Mrs. Thorburn,” Annie said, smiling pleasantly.

The woman showed a faint smile.

“May I come in a moment?”

The door opened and Annie stepped inside.

Virginia motioned toward a chair as she took a seat at the table and leaned her arms on top.

Annie sat and laid her handbag on the table. “I came to talk to you about Adam. I’m rather worried about him.”

The woman sighed deeply. “So am I.”

Annie cleared her throat. “Adam called me on the phone yesterday,” she said.

Virginia’s eyes narrowed. “Why would he call you?”

“I’m not sure,” Annie said, watching Mrs. Thorburn closely. “He said he killed another person but can’t remember it clearly.”

Virginia’s mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide, then she leaned forward. “Did he say who it was?”

“He didn’t know, but he seemed to be struggling with it. Perhaps struggling with himself, looking for some help.”

Virginia reached for her cigarette package, pulled out a smoke with a shaky hand, and managed to get it lit. She took a long drag, inhaling it deeply. Puffs of smoke came from her mouth as she spoke. “I don’t know if anyone can help him.”

“Perhaps not,” Annie said. “I just wanted to let you know.” She hesitated and spoke cautiously, watching the woman’s face. “If Adam calls you, it might be best to try and convince him to turn himself in before anyone else gets hurt.”

Virginia frowned. “Why does everyone think I talk to him?”

“Everyone?” Annie asked.

“This morning I was accosted by a newsperson. She said some cruel things about Adam and me. Accused me of harboring him.”

Annie was pretty sure Mrs. Thorburn was referring to Lisa. She touched the woman’s hand. “I think I know who it was. Her name’s Lisa Krunk, and she lives to stir up trouble.”

Virginia nodded, took another drag of her cigarette, and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. “I’ve seen her stories on TV, and when she came around earlier, I never let her in, but today she caught me in the street.”

“I try to avoid her when I can too,” Annie said. She picked up her handbag, pushed back her chair, and stood. “Mrs. Thorburn, for Adam’s safety, please contact the police if you see him. I know he’s your son, but it’s the right thing to do.”

Virginia stood without a word, dropped her cigarette in the ashtray, and followed Annie to the door. Annie stepped outside and walked to the sidewalk, leaving the woman silently staring after her.

Annie wasn’t sure if she’d made any headway in convincing Mrs. Thorburn, but she feared there would be other innocent victims.

She strode past the house next door. She had already talked to Mabel Shorn and didn’t see the point of dropping in again. She continued down the street, talking to the inhabitants at some, her knocks going unanswered at others.

Finally, she reached the corner. The last house on the block had a side door facing the intersecting street. She stepped onto the porch, opened the screen door, and knocked.

There was no answer, so she rapped again, a little harder, and the door swung open with a groan.

“Hello,” she called. “Is anyone home?”

There was no answer. Annie peered through the door and into the kitchen. The room seemed to be empty, void of furniture save for a broken-down table and two sturdy chairs. Trash littered the floor, and the room had a stale, unlived-in smell. The owners had moved out, and Annie wondered why the door was not only unlocked, but unlatched.

She stepped inside and reached for the doorknob to pull the door shut, calling one last time. “Is there anyone here?” She peered around the door toward the almost empty living room and decided the house was indeed unoccupied.

Except, something seemed out of place. She frowned at a crippled couch, missing one leg, pushed up against the far wall. A blanket and small pillow lay on top as if someone slept there on occasion. Was it just a homeless person seeking shelter, or was it Adam?

Curious now, she stepped into the living room and examined her surroundings. A broken lamp with a twisted shade sat in one corner, empty boxes in another. The carpeting was stained and worn through in places, the walls and ceiling yellowed with age. Except for the new-looking blanket and pillow, the house appeared to have been vacated many months, maybe many years, ago.

She knew the police had been here earlier, and if the blanket was an indication of Adam’s presence now, then he must’ve come since the place was searched. She looked around nervously and decided to leave. He might be here even now, and she should notify the police of the possibility.

“What’re you doing here?” the voice came from behind her. Startled, she spun around and glared into the face of the man she recognized from his profile.

It was Adam Thorburn.

She looked toward the door. He sidestepped and blocked her passage. “Who’re you?”

“Adam, it’s Annie Lincoln,” she said, attempting to speak as friendly as possible. “I … I’ve been looking for you.”

His frowning face relaxed slightly. “Mrs. Lincoln?” Then his frown deepened. “Why’re you here? Can’t you leave me alone?”

“You have to turn yourself in, Adam.”

“I should never have called you.”

She took a step toward him but stopped short when he held out a hand, palm toward her. “Don’t come any closer. I don’t trust you.”

“Then let me leave and I won’t come back,” she said, then realized no one would fall for that line—especially someone with Adam’s intelligence. She changed her tactic. “Better still, you leave, Adam. I’ll wait until you’re safely gone, then you know I have to call my husband.”

He shook his head as one hand circled to his back. A moment later, his hand appeared again, gripping a pistol. “I can’t do that,” he said. He didn’t look angry or vicious, only frightened and perhaps cautious.

She stared at the weapon wavering in his hand. She could tell he had rarely, if ever, held a gun before. A loaded pistol in the hands of the unpracticed can be more dangerous than in the hands of a skilled marksman. An expert will only shoot if required, but judging by the way Adam’s finger shook on the trigger, he could inadvertently fire at her any moment.

She took a step backwards, bumping into the couch. He didn’t move, and the weapon still wavered.

He looked toward the door, then moved back and closed it with a foot. “Come here,” he said.

Annie eyed the weapon and stepped closer. She had no other choice and nowhere to run.

He took another step back and reached for a doorknob, twisted it, and swung a door open. “Downstairs,” he said, flicking on a light switch. “You have to go down there until I decide what to do.”

She glanced down the stairs.

“Give me your handbag.”

She reluctantly slipped it off her shoulder and handed it to him.

He took the bag and raised the pistol. “Now go.”

“You don’t have to do this, Adam,” she said.

He waved the pistol and his finger shook. “Now.”

She stepped down the stairs, one at a time until she reached the bottom, and then turned around and looked up.

He stood at the top, watching her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Lincoln. I truly am, but I told you to leave me alone.”

The door closed and a lock slid shut.

She turned around and her eyes roved over the empty windowless room. Adam seemed to be in his right mind for now, but what might happen during one of his blackout periods was uncertain, and it frightened her.

Chapter 36

Thursday, 11:35 a.m.

JAKE WAS CONVINCED Adam Thorburn was somewhere in the immediate vicinity, close by the steel mill and the area surrounding it. After dropping Annie off on Mill Street an hour or so earlier, he had continued to patrol the adjacent streets in hopes the fugitive would make an appearance.

Occasionally, he had spied a police cruiser making its rounds, but thus far, all his attempts to locate Adam Thorburn had been unsuccessful.

He pulled the Firebird to the shoulder at the end of the steel mill property and gazed into the large area of land the mill encompassed. There were a lot of places a fugitive could hide. The ancillary buildings alone offered an abundance of possibilities.

But that wouldn’t exactly be permanent. The buildings were in use, all contributing in one way or another to the running of the mill, and anyone hiding inside would be apt to be discovered at any time. As far as he knew, the police had already scoured the property, and their search had turned up nothing.

Jake gazed past the mill to the line of trees a quarter mile away. From where he sat, it appeared to be a vast forest. When he had discovered Adam in the area the previous day, the fugitive had made it to the opposite side of the chain-link fence. Perhaps he was hiding out somewhere in the forest.

He turned off the vehicle, pulled out his cell phone, and sent Annie a text message: “Checking in forest. Call me when you’re done canvassing.” He didn’t get a reply, and he assumed she was in the middle of an interview.

Jake stepped from the vehicle and walked onto the empty land. It was a huge area, unused, likely owned by the mill should they have plans to expand. The even larger field behind the mill property also sat vacant, extending all the way to the forest. It was unlikely houses would be built so close to the mill, and he suspected the property was also destined for the mill’s expansion one day.

He crossed the overgrown field and headed for the forest, wading through tall weeds, around pitted areas, and across gullies. He finally reached the tree line, and it didn’t take him long to discover the band of trees was but a facade for the miles of swamp within, extending toward the horizon to his left and to his right.

The dark bog seemed impenetrable—ankle-deep mud in the most secure areas, with dismal and clouded waters thick with tall reeds, lily pads, and dying vegetation as far as he could see. It seemed unlikely anything but native swamp creatures could inhabit such a dense, overgrown portion of land.

He walked down the tree line bordering the swamp, only to find more of the same inaccessible bog. He glanced back toward the mill site. He had traversed its entire length, and yet on both sides, the wetlands stretched on endlessly.

He squinted, frowned, and strode toward a patch of weeds. They appeared to have been disturbed—broken, some trodden down. Other than an occasional loose dog, he knew of no large wildlife in this part of the country. He crouched down and examined the vegetation. Barely discernible but unmistakable, the path of injured greenery extended toward the city, and behind him, into the swampy land.

There was no doubt someone had been here recently, and Jake had a suspicion it was Adam Thorburn.

He rose to his feet and gazed toward the bog a moment before easing into the marshy land. He trod carefully on a solid piece of land jutting into the bog. He stopped. Ahead of him was nothing but mud, maybe quicksand, and further on, a pool of black water.

To his left, a fallen tree extended across the muddy area to a solid-looking piece of land. He stepped onto the log. It was slippery in places. He walked carefully, balanced precariously for several steps, then leaped onto the dry land.

From there, he skirted around the dark waters along what appeared to be a solid footpath. Before long, the path ended, and he hopped across a patch of oozing mud onto a rock. Ahead of him was another rock, then another, then he leaped onto a patch of dark green grass. It led him deeper into the swamp, and he hoped he could remember his way back.

He followed the grassy strip for a few minutes and stopped short, dropping to a crouch. Dead ahead of him he spied a small building—a ten-by-ten hut, mounted on a handful of stalwart pillars. He listened for sounds of any human presence, but was only greeted by a bullfrog’s deep voice.

He walked slowly toward the hut, careful to avoid fallen branches or loose vegetation. Ten feet short of the building, he crouched down beside a rosebush. To him, it looked like the same type of bush that grew along the rear of the Thorburn house. Adam Thorburn must have planted it there. Jake was on the right track, and he was sure now—this was where the fugitive was hiding out.

But was Adam Thorburn there now?

There was only one way to find out. There was no window in the side of the hut he faced, nor at the back. He crept forward, rounded the corner, and saw an undersized door with no knob, only a metal latch, a short, leather strap for a handle. He kept going. The far side of the building had a small hole cut in the wall to serve as a window.

Crouching down, he crept to the window and stopped underneath it. He listened intently for a few moments, then slowly raised his head. There was no one in the rustic one-room building.

Moving back to the door, he lifted the latch, swung it open, and stepped inside. The room was vacant save for an empty plastic grocery bag on a built-in shelf, along with bits of folded newspaper littering the floor. He examined the paper. It was from yesterday; Adam had been here recently.

But where was he now, and would he come back?

He pulled out his cell phone. No coverage. He tucked it away, stepped outside, and examined the immediate area. There was no indication of a trail other than the path he had come in on.

He picked his way back slowly, stopping once or twice to recall the proper route, and soon exited at the tree line. He tried his cell again. Three bars. He dialed Annie’s number and waited, then frowned at the message: “Caller unavailable.”

Why would she turn her phone off? He checked his messages and was informed she hadn’t received his last text. That didn’t make a lot of sense.

He put his phone away and worked his way across the field, passed the steel mill, and exited onto the sidewalk along Steel Road. His car was at the other end of the block, and he tried to reach Annie’s phone again as he strode up the sidewalk. There was still no answer and his concern grew.

Reaching his vehicle, he climbed inside, hoping there was a simple explanation for his inability to reach his wife. He started the car and drove around the block, from Steel Road to Mill Street and back again, peering at each house with hopes of seeing Annie at the door interviewing the owner.

Perhaps she had moved onto an adjoining street. He checked the surrounding areas, rounding block after block, but she was nowhere to be seen. As he continued to patrol the neighborhood, he checked his phone constantly. A deep unease gnawed at him, a fear something had happened to Annie.

There was only one thing to do; he would have to retrace her route. He would start at the beginning of the street, talk with anyone who was home, and work his way to the end of the block and around to the next, if necessary.

He parked the Firebird at one end of the street, stepped out, and began his long search for Annie.