Once Shadows Fall (29 page)

By the time he exited the building and reached the garage entrance, there was no one to be seen. Gun drawn, he went in and started checking the floors.

Unlike the first two levels, the roof of the parking deck was open. He heard no engines start and saw nobody. The suspect had vanished. Jack rested his arms on the wall and looked down. No traffic was moving on Pharr Road. The police had reacted quickly. He walked to a stairwell in the corner and took the stairs to the bottom.

The street was now filled with cop cars and cops going door to door. Jack crossed to where Childers and Spruell were. Devon was sitting in the back of their cruiser still handcuffed, looking miserable. Jack handed Childers the envelope Devon had given him and explained what happened.

“So you were in the neighborhood and this man just came up to you out of the blue,” Spruell said.

“If that’s what you heard, you weren’t listening very well,” Jack said.

“Tell us again.”

“I don’t think I will. Your partner can fill you in later.”

“How’d he know you were here?” Spruell asked, ignoring his jibe.

“The only explanation that makes sense is that I was tailed. The description doesn’t fit with what we know of the killer. That means it was the second man at Detective Sturgis’s house.”

Childers agreed that made sense. Spruell shook his head and stayed quiet. His skepticism came through loud and clear.

“How about taking those cuffs off him?” Jack said, motioning to the cruiser with his chin.

“Departmental policy, Mr. Kale,” Spruell informed him. “He’s a material witness and we’re taking him downtown to meet our sketch artist. You understand about department policy, right?”

Jack bit back a reply. He turned to Dave Childers and said, “Uncuff him. He’s been trying to help us.”

Childers searched Jack’s face for a moment and then nodded to his partner.

Muttering under his breath, Spruell leaned into the back seat and removed the cuffs.

“Just trying to do things by the book,” he said to Jack when he straightened out.

“That’s fine, Detective.”

“It’s probably that you FBI types have your own way of doing things,” Spruell said. “Am I right or am I right?”

Jack took a deep breath. He’d screwed up with the reporter and he knew it. Probably the whole Atlanta PD knew it. Whatever the other concerns, the only thing that mattered was getting Beth home safely. He was sick with worry over her. For a moment, he considered trying to smooth things over and promptly dismissed the idea. He didn’t like James Lee Spruell, and he didn’t have the energy to see who was the alpha male on the block. He moved closer to Spruell and spoke quietly so the other man had to lean in to hear what he was saying.

“It’s fine to take him to the sketch artist, but treat him with respect. When he’s through, I want you to give him this hundred dollars, then call St. Mary’s Parish and see if they have a spot in their drug program for him.”

“Listen—”

“I want
you
to do it. No one else. If I find out you didn’t, I’ll come and see you and we’re going to have a major problem. Do you understand me?”

Jack and Spruell locked eyes. Whatever the younger detective saw in Jack’s face hadn’t been there a moment ago. He nodded and crossed the street to speak with one of the uniforms.

Dave Childers said, “He’s still young.”

“That what you call it?”

“You want copies of these photos for the book?”

“No,” Jack said. “I’ve seen them.”

O
n Monday morning, Jack found himself sitting in Lieutenant Fancher’s office.

The shades were drawn, giving the room a cave-like feel. Apparently, the lieutenant didn’t care for the world looking in on her. He felt the same way.

“Glad we could get together, Jack. How are you doing?”

Jack lifted his shoulders. “Day by day.”

“I understand. I was planning to call you later.”

“To tell me I’m out of a job?”

“’Fraid so. The deputy chief said to thank you and we’ll take it from here.”

Jack nodded. He was expecting this.

“I’m sorry,” Fancher added.

“Me, too,” Jack said. “Maybe it’s for the best. I’ll clear out my desk.”

“There’s no hurry,” Fancher said. “You’ve done fine work. I want you to know we all appreciate it.”

“Not fine enough,” Jack said.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. We’ll get the bastard. If there’s anything I can do, let me know, okay?”

“I will, Lieutenant.”

A silence followed.

There really wasn’t much more to say. Neither knew the other well enough for personal remarks beyond the usual condolences. It soon became obvious Fancher was one of those people who dislikes lulls in the conversation. She arranged the papers in front of her in a stack.

“I was just going over Beth’s case expenses when you came in,” she said, just to have something to say.

“Expenses?”

“Oh, just the usual stuff—gas, requisition requests for a car, that sort of thing.”

Jack searched his memory. He couldn’t remember having gone many places with Beth that would raise an eyebrow. Out of curiosity, he asked Fancher about it.

The lieutenant informed him, “The last was a trip to Mayfield the day she disappeared. Since the budget cuts, I have to account for every dime we spend these days. That’s where my nickname comes from.”

“You have a nickname?”

“Penny Pincher. The guys don’t think I know.”

Jack smiled, got up, and shook her hand.

“A privilege working with you, Lieutenant,” he said.

“Same here,” Fancher said.

He was halfway to the door when he stopped and turned back. “How many trips to Mayfield did Beth make?”

“Three,” Fancher said.

“Really?”

“One by herself the day after she caught the case, one with Dan Pappas, and one over the last couple of days before she was abducted,” Fancher said, reading from her notes.

Jack thanked her and promised to say good-bye before he left. He walked directly back to Beth’s desk, sat down, and picked up the murder book. All her case notes were there including the ones he and Pappas had added the other day. There was no mention of any additional trips to Mayfield or why she went.

Pappas was sitting in front of his keyboard using the one-finger method to enter something on his computer. He stopped typing when he saw Jack.

“I spoke with the eminent Charles Raymond an hour ago and asked him about the list he put together,” he said. “He told me he was just responding to Beth’s request. Then I mentioned we might come back out to do some rechecking. He wasn’t happy about that.”

“Why not?”

“Said it would disrupt the harmony of their environment.”

Jack blinked. “Seriously?”

Pappas held up his right hand in a Boy Scout oath.

“Did Beth ever mention going back to Mayfield on her own?”

Pappas frowned. “Not that I recall.”

“According to Penny Fancher, she checked out a cruiser and drove there again in the last week.”

“Don’t make sense. She’da told me.”

“I guess,” Jack said. “You have any further thoughts on why she wanted that employee list again?”

“Double-checking?”

“The more I think about it, the more I think it’s possible she hit on something.”

“And decided to fly solo?” Pappas said. “Wouldn’t be real smart in a case like this. Against policy, too.”

“But not out of the question. She’s fairly competitive and was embarrassed about making the wrong call on that personal trainer we pulled in for questioning.”

“Happens to everybody. It’s part of the job.”

“Sure. But what if she wanted to make sure of her facts before going out on a limb again?”

“It’s possible,” Pappas said. “If she really was backtracking, then I’ve got an idea about what two of the letters on her list might mean.
L
for left and
R
for right. The killer’s left handed so maybe she was trying to eliminate the men who aren’t.”

“I like it,” Jack said.

“Yeah, but I’m still drawing a blank on the
E
and
S
.”

Jack sat down across from Pappas, picked up a pencil, and began to tap a rhythm on the desk. Two minutes ticked by before his head came up.

“Physical characteristics,” he muttered. “I think she was trying to pull all the matching physical characteristics together.
E
for eye color and
S
for shoe size. Remember we picked up a size twelve print at the farm with the first victims?”

They looked at each other for several seconds before Pappas nodded. Jack reached for the phone.

“D
r. Charles Raymond, please. This is Detective Kale calling.” He figured that was still the truth for the next few hours.

The secretary informed him, “I’m sorry, Detective. Dr. Raymond’s out of the office today. Can I help you?”

Jack motioned for Pappas to pick up his extension.

He said, “Detective Pappas is also on the line. According to our records, Elizabeth Sturgis visited Mayfield in the last week. We’re curious why she was out there.”

“I believe she was reviewing our security tapes.”

The men exchanged glances across their desks. Pappas turned his palms up.

“Do you know what she was interested in?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“How about the period of time she was checking?” Pappas asked.

“I don’t know that either. Tony Gillam is in charge of security. Would you like me to put you through to him?”

“No,” Jack said. “I’m on the way. Please tell Mr. Gillam I’d like to meet with him. I’ll be there shortly.”

As soon as they disconnected, Jack informed Pappas that Penny Fancher had given him the axe.

“I heard,” Pappas said. “She told me when I came in. You really think Beth might have found something?”

“I do. Something that set the killer off. Why else target her? You and Beth were in the background.”

“Okay. But what’d she find?”

“No idea. Whatever it was, it required a visit she didn’t tell either of us about.”

Pappas stood and put his sport jacket on, then said, “You ain’t cleared out your desk yet, right?”

“No.”

“Then it ain’t official. Let’s go.”

“Dan, you don’t need to come with me.”

“Yeah,” Pappas said. “I do.”

They broke the speed limit and managed the trip in twenty minutes. They went directly to Elaine Hilton, Charles Raymond’s secretary. She led them through the halls to the security office. Tony Gillam was waiting.

He was around thirty-five, middle height, and medium build with sandy-brown hair. Gillam was dressed in a supervisor’s uniform consisting of black pants and a white shirt with epaulettes. The single gold bar on his collar indicated he was a lieutenant.

It was the first time Jack had been to Mayfield. During the ride, he speculated what his reaction would be knowing that Pell was also in the building. He was mildly surprised to find there was none at all.

Pappas said, “Did the lady tell you why we’re here?”

“Something about the videos Detective Sturgis was looking at. I was real sorry to hear about her.”

Pappas thanked him and asked specifically what Beth wanted to see.

Gillam informed them, “I have no idea. I asked if I could help, but she said no. She just wanted me to set her up in front of a monitor.”

“Exactly what’s on them?” Jack asked.

Gillam shrugged. “Nothing much. Just personnel going in and out of Pell’s cell. Pretty boring stuff, really.”

“What period of time was she interested in?” Jack asked.

“The last two months.”

“You keep a log of your tapes?” Pappas asked.

“Sure. Everything’s time and date stamped,” Gillam said. “They go back a full year. After that, we recycle them. And they’re not tapes. We record onto DVDs. Each one lasts a full month.”

“Great,” Pappas said. “We’d like to take a look at whatever she did.”

“No problem. What can I do to help?”

“We’ll let you know,” Pappas said. “Right now, we don’t have a clue what we’re looking for.”

“Understood.”

“Can you show us how to operate the equipment?”

“It’s pretty simple. But I gotta tell you, even reviewing one month is gonna take a little time.”

“We have a little time,” Jack said.

Gillam nodded, went to a shelf over his desk, retrieved a plastic case containing a single DVD, and then brought in two chairs from an adjacent office for Jack and Pappas. He sat down behind them.

“I can identify our people, unless you guys want privacy,” Gillam said.

“Nah. You’re welcome to stay,” Pappas said.

There was no sound on the DVD, which began on March 1
^st
, approximately one month before the murders in Jordan. The first visitor to Howard Pell’s cell was a guard carrying a breakfast tray at six thirty in the morning. He slipped it through a slot at the bottom of the door. Another guard came by later and took it away at nine o’clock.

“The first one is Felix Grazanka,” Gillam said. “He’s in today if you want to speak with him. The guard who took the tray is Ryan Thomas. Ryan works from seven thirty in the morning until three in the afternoon. You’ll see him come by twice more to check on Pell. We do body counts every four hours. The nurses show up with the meds between six and eight o’clock at night.”

Pappas nodded and continued to watch. Jack stayed silent.

Nothing of interest happened the first week. The meals and medicines arrived on schedule as Gillam said. The process was repeated again the following day. He was right about it being tedious. After a while, Jack began to look forward to seeing the guards and nurses just to break the monotony. At two o’clock in the afternoon, Pappas got up, stretched, and went to the bathroom. Jack remained where he was, his eyes glued to the screen. Gillam stayed with him. Days passed on the security disc. On Wednesday of the following week, Pell’s routine changed with the arrival of a man Jack hadn’t seen before.

“That’s Dr. Cairo,” Gillam said. “He does counseling with the inmates.”

“Cairo?” Jack said, consulting Beth’s list.

“DNA test cleared him,” Pappas said.

Jack nodded and then asked, “What about Dr. Raymond?”

“He’s been up a couple of times. More when I first got here. Mostly, he handles administrative stuff now.”

They watched Howard Pell place his hands through an opening in the middle of his cell door so the guard could cuff him. When that was done, he stepped back into the room and Dr. Cairo entered.

“Can I get you guys a cup of coffee or something?” Gillam asked.

“I’m fine,” Pappas said.

“No, but thank you,” Jack told him.

A male nurse showed up at 7:48 PM with that day’s medication.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked.

“Ron Curry. He’s at Ellenwood Regional in Savannah now,” Gillam said.

Jack nodded and made a note in the little book he carried. They continued to watch. The only time Pell was allowed out of his cell was for a one-hour break. He was taken to what Gillam described as their recreation yard, a triangular cement enclosure with forty-foot-high walls topped by razor wire. While he was out there, Pell walked the yard’s perimeter. Occasionally, he did a few push-ups or sat in the corner against a wall with his face turned up to the sun.

On seeing his old nemesis, Jack had no reaction. Not hate. Not anxiety. Nothing. Strange. He was certain Beth was correct. Somehow, Pell was at the bottom of the murders.

*

At the end of the second week on the DVDs, something odd happened. Once again, the guards came for Pell and led him out to an enclosed recreation area, different from the one the general population used. Pell went through his walking routine for approximately fifty minutes and then came to a halt directly beneath the security camera. He stared up at it, smiled, and then mouthed the words, “Hello, Jack.”

“Sonofabitch,” Pappas said, sitting back in his chair.

“He knew we’d be watching,” Jack said.

“Sick fucker,” Pappas said.

He looked at Tony Gillam, who responded by raising his shoulders. “I don’t review this stuff unless there’s a problem.”

“Are we looking at the original disc?” Jack asked.

“It’s an exact copy,” Gillam said. “Detective Sturgis asked me to make it for her, but she never picked it up. There’s another one for the next month after this.”

“Where are the originals?” Jack asked.

“In the security locker.”

“May I see them?”

“Why? They’re identical. I made the dupes myself.”

“Just curious.”

Gillam turned his palms up. “You’re the boss.”

“Before you get them, can we run the originals side by side with the copies you made on the two monitors here?”

“Sure,” Gillam said. “But would you mind if we continue in the morning? It’s after six. If I’m late again, my wife’ll kill me.”

Jack was willing to stay there all night but didn’t have a choice. “That’s fine,” he said. “We’re just trying to cover all the bases, not give you a hard time, Tony.”

“I feel bad. I’d let you stay but the hospital regs won’t allow it without a supervisor present.”

“Does nine o’clock tomorrow suit you?”

“No problem. Thanks, man.”

“Will Dr. Cairo be in then?” Jack asked.

“I think so,” Gillam said. “I’m not real sure of his schedule. You want me to check with personnel?”

“Are they still open?”

“Shit. They closed an hour ago,” Gillam said. “Sorry. If it’s important, I can call Danita at home. She knows that stuff off the top of her head.”

“Danita?”

“Danita Ritchey. She’s in charge,” Gillam said.

“It can wait until the morning,” Jack said.

Everyone stood and headed for the door.

In the hallway, Pappas said, “I have a question about the nurse. Tell me his name again.”

“Ron Curry,” Gillam said.

“You said he’s at Ellenwood. Why’d he leave?”

“Ron was a contract employee. He’s with some company that has a deal with the state. Bill Tomlinson replaced him.”

Pappas said, “I don’t recall seeing Curry’s name on the employee list.”

“Probably an oversight. He was already gone when Ms. Sturgis made her request. Their employer sends us the fingerprint and DNA cards. I turn them over to Danita. She forwards them to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. If there was a match, I guess they’d have told you, right?”

“Right,” Pappas said. “Just curious.”