James Beamer Box Set

by Paul Seiple

  Michelle stopped singing at the chorus, frowned, and hopped off the rack. “I don’t like it when it’s soupy.”

  “They’re getting in the car, boss.”

  “Wear these,” Norman handed black ski masks to Sanford and Hella.

  “I’m not wearing this. What’s the fucking point? My face is everywhere.” She held up the mask with a red sad face spray-painted on the back. “Really?”

  “Put the masks on now.” The urgency in Norman’s tone signaled the end of discussion.

  Sanford put his mask on. “What now?" His words, mumbled through the fabric as he didn't have the mask adjusted yet.

  Hella fumbled with the mask for a few seconds before giving in and slipping it over her head.

  “Sanford, I want you to take out the woman. Don’t kill her.”

  “Got it, boss.” Sanford cracked his knuckles.

  Norman grabbed the giant’s forearm. “Don’t take her lightly. She’s ex-FBI. She is well trained.”

  Sanford nodded that he understood. The sad face on the back of his mask, moved up and down, nodding as well.

  “And Hella, I need you bring my granddaughter to me.” Norman paused. “Safely.”

  Michelle slid into the passenger seat of the Accord. Barbara secured the seat belt around her. “Give Linus a kiss,” Michelle said pushing the stuffed bear in Barbara’s face.

  Barbara laughed and pushed the toy away. “Not before a bath. You dropped him on the floor a few times in the store, honey.” She stood up, bumping into something behind her. Barbara turned to see a huge man wearing a ski mask. She slammed the door, shouting to Michelle to lock it. Michelle screamed and locked the door.

  “What do you want?”

  Sanford cocked his head, not unlike a dog that didn’t understand a command. Barbara tried to take a step back, but she was against the car. She reached into her purse.

  “The bitch has a gun,” Hella said. “Do it now,” Hella reached for the door handle. “The brat locked the door.”

  In a blur, Sanford raised his right fist from his waist, catching Barbara under her chin with the backside of his hand. The blow lifted Barbara a few inches from the ground. She landed against the car with her head banging into the passenger side window. The force shattered the glass. Barbara slumped to the ground. Sanford kicked her in the stomach and then punted her purse across the parking lot.

  “Looks like you are good for something after all, Sasquatch,” Hella said, reaching through the broken glass and unlocking the door. Michelle grabbed her wrist and sunk her teeth into Hella’s flesh. “Jesus Christ.” Hella pulled back her arm. “You better not give me rabies.”

  “Get the kid now,” Sanford said. A sudden pain in his right shoulder caused him to stumble forward. He turned to see a man in uniform holding a stun gun. Sanford shook out his arm and laughed. “You’re gonna need Zeus’s lightning bolt if you’re planning on stopping me.”

  “Don’t move, I’ll shoot again.”

  Without another warning, the security guard fired another shot at Sanford. The jolt hit him on the right side of his chest. “Get the damn kid,” he said to Hella before lunging at the guard. He wrapped his massive arms around the man. “Didn’t your momma tell you not to play with guns?” Sanford shook the man like a shark attacking its prey, bouncing him off cars.

  Hella opened the door and tried to free Michelle from the seat belt. Michelle slapped the back of Hella’s head. “Let me go.”

  “Don’t make me hit you, brat.”

  The seat belt unclicked and Hella lifted Michelle out of the car. Michelle grabbed the ski mask and tore it from Hella’s head. Sanford dropped the lifeless body of the security guard as two more ran towards him. A crowd of people gathered just outside the store. Sirens rang out in the distance.

  “I got her, come on,” Hella said, racing across the parking lot holding Michelle who was kicking and punching.

  The thrill of a fight caused Sanford to pause and clench his fists. The sound of sirens released the adrenaline from his body. He turned and ran to the Cadillac.

  “Get in,” Hella said, slamming on the brakes, inches from running over Sanford. He fell into the back of the car with Norman. Tires screeched and the car disappeared in a cloud of dust.

  The security guards gave up chase and ran back to the Accord to find Barbara unconscious. Surrounded by shards of broken glass was a stuffed bear. Just to the left of the bear was a ski mask with a sad face spray painted on it.

  Twenty-Eight

  Richmond, Virginia

  Jill Tanner stood on the sidewalk outside of the Sacred Heart Church talking to a uniformed officer when Mack pulled the rental behind a news van. “This doesn’t look good,” he said, opening the car door, only to have a microphone shoved in his face.

  “Do you know anything about the Priest Killers?” The man asking the question looked as though he had wallowed in perfection —a full head of hair with a neat part, straight glistening- white teeth, and a chiseled chin. Not a wrinkle in his suit. The straightness of his tie made Mack chuckle at the thought of the reporter carrying a level in his shirt pocket.

  “Sorry. Dan Gallagher. Channel 12 News. Do you have information about the two they are calling the Priest Killers? Rumor has it they are claiming to be possessed by the Devil.” He shoved the mic in Mack’s direction again.

  “How do you get your hair to stay in place like that?” Mack asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Seriously, how do get your hair to stay so perfect when you’re so busy shoving your head up people’s asses?”

  “Cut.” the reporter made a slicing motion over his neck. “We are on live television, you can’t say that.”

  “Say what? Ask a question? Tell the truth?” Mack said.

  The reporter turned his back to us and mumbled “asshole” under his breath as he sulked away.

  “I see you’re making a good impression,” Jill grabbing Mack's arm and escorting us by two men in cheap suits.

  Homicide detectives, I thought. “What’s it look like in there?”

  “I haven’t been in yet. I thought I’d give Reid some time.” Jill pointed to the cop in front of the house. “Talked to Officer Jagger though. Bad scene, but he's seen worse. One deceased. I’m assuming that’s Reid’s brother.”

  “I didn’t know Reid had a brother,” I said.

  “Hell, I’ve known Reid for seventeen years and I didn’t know he had a brother,” Mack said.

  “If you’re with the media, I’m going to have to ask you to move to the media pool,” an officer said, making a motion with his arms as if he were herding sheep.

  “We’re not media,” Jill said.

  “They are with me,” Reid said, walking up behind the cop.

  “Sorry, Mr. Hoffman.”

  “Let’s go inside,” Reid said.

  We trailed Reid as he weaved through a sea of reporters who were all shouting questions. It sounded like a radio station losing its signal. Two cops, giving their best British Royal Guard impressions stood at the entrance of the church. They parted without saying a word.

  “I’m assuming you know that the victim is my brother.”

  We all nodded as we walked down the hall flanked by stained glass depictions of angels. "The last time I saw Eric was at our father's funeral."

  The next day Reid enlisted in the Army. Eric never believed that their mother was murdered. He blamed her for splitting up the happy family. The hatred that feed off Reid wouldn't allow him to take care of his younger brother. Shame was the reason he left for Vietnam without saying goodbye. For an eighteen-year-old, Reid couldn't think of a better outlet for his aggression than war. Deep down, he felt he should be there for his brother, but rage was too strong of a force. The Thorntons, friends of Reid's father, cared for Eric after the funeral. They adopted him on his fifteenth birthday.

  As Reid confessed his family secrets, I realized there was a deeper connection between us. Reid looked at me through the eyes of an
eighteen-year-old kid that wanted to erase mistakes from the past. Without saying the words, I knew that he felt guilty about how things turned out with his brother. This wasn’t just about catching the monster that murdered his mother. Reid wasn’t there for his brother when he needed him the most. That tore at him just as much as losing his mother. Making sure that I had a happy life was his way of trying to lift the weight of guilt that pulled him further into the abyss every day.

  “Lick did the damage. Eric nearly had his head ripped off.” Reid walked into the confessional. “This was probably Cline’s work.” He pointed to the upside down cross on the wall. “I’m gauging that she has a flair for dramatics. On the plus side, that means she’s probably driving Wallace crazy.”

  “Did he leave you any love letters this time?” Jill asked.

  “Eric is the clue,” Reid said. “Blood for blood. If my calculations are right there’s only three players left in this game — Wallace, Myself, and you.” Reid pointed at me. “In the end, if there is only one standing, it has to be Michael.” Reid looked at Mack. “Thanks for all of your help. You’ve been a good friend for a long time.” He turned to Jill and stuck his hand out to shake. “You’ll make one hell of a cop, if that’s what you want. But when this is over I think the Bureau would be lucky to have you.”

  “You’ll put in a good word for me, huh?” Jill smiled.

  Reid turned to me. “Same goes for you. But I understand if you want to stay home all day and have tea with Michelle.” He let a short laugh break the tension. “You know, most of my life I’ve done the wrong things. I can’t erase them. I need you to go back to your family. Raise that beautiful little girl. Scare the hell out of all of her future boyfriends. And exercise. You’ll need it to keep up with that wife.”

  “I’m not going to let you do this without me,” I said. “What about Lick and Cline? You’ll need help with them.”

  “I’m not giving you a choice. Lick and Cline are no more use to Wallace. If he hasn’t already, he will throw them to the wolves, and head back into the shadows to wait for me. ” Reid turned to Mack. “Take him back to my house.”

  “I haven’t come this far to…”

  Reid interrupted me. “You haven’t come this far to have your daughter grow up without a father.”

  I wanted to argue, but Reid had a point. The more I learned about my father, the more I thought his vendetta wasn’t against me as much as it was Reid. I had complete faith that if Reid found him, he would end him. And if Norman came for me, I needed to be there to protect my family. “I’ll save you a seat for tea.”

  Just as Reid started to smile, his phone rang.

  “Reid,” he said answering the call. The smile faded. “Is she all right?”

  The terror that distorted Reid’s face chilled me. Michelle? Reid's math was off. There were more than three players left in this game. My daughter made number four.

  Twenty-Nine

  Richmond, Virginia

  “She’s alive,” Yemana said. “But in bad shape.”

  “How bad?”

  “She’s in a coma, Reid. There’s swelling on the brain. The doctors are doing all they can to reduce the swelling.”

  “I’m in Richmond, I’ll be there soon.”

  “There’s more. Barbara was assaulted in the parking lot of a Pantry Pride. They took the little girl.”

  Shock from the news made Reid forget that Barbara was watching after Michelle. Reid put his fist against his forehead. How could he have been so stupid? The priests, his brother — it was all a smokescreen to hide the one thing Wallace wanted — his granddaughter.

  “Reid? You there?”

  “Yeah. What else do you know?”

  “A ski mask with a sad face on it was left at the scene. I've seen the photos. It's identical to Sad Face.”

  Ian Glenn Palmer was known as the Sad Face Killer. During his three year killing spree, he murdered fourteen teens throughout Virginia. All of the victims were couples stopped at make-out spots. Witnesses noted that the killer wore a ski mask with a frowning face painted on the back. When Reid caught Sad Face in 1983, Palmer said he painted the face on the mask so the last thing the victims saw before death was his pain.

  “Any witnesses?”

  “A couple of security guards. Apparently one of them tangled with the assailants. Didn’t turn out too well for him. He is on life support. The other guards described a man, well over six feet tall wearing a ski mask. And a red-headed woman who lost her mask during a struggle with the kid. No doubt it’s Cline and Lick. The guards said they sped off in a red Cadillac. I’m trying to find it now.”

  “Whereabouts?” Reid was purposefully vague in an attempt not to alarm Michael.

  Yemana knew what he meant. “Not yet. I’m checking all abandoned locations in Arlington. There’s no way they can get out of the city. Roadblocks are everywhere. We will find the girl.”

  “I’m on my way,” Reid said.

  As soon as he hung up a fax came across the machine in Yemana’s office. It read, 225 Walter Reed.

  Thirty

  Richmond, Virginia

  “What is it? What do you mean is she all right? Did something happen to Michelle?”

  Reid turned to me. His eyes prefaced the bad news. “Mack, I need you to take Tanner and go to Buckingham Correctional. Find out what Ian Palmer knows about Wallace.”

  “The Sad Face Killer?” Jill asked.

  “What the hell is going on, Reid?” I asked

  “You’re coming with me. Wallace put Barbara in the hospital and kidnapped Michelle.”

  A rage burned through me, heating me to the core. Sweat beaded on my forehead. The sour taste of bile rushed into my mouth. “If he hurts my daughter…”

  “He won’t,” Reid said.

  “How do you know?” I asked

  “It’s not his M.O. He’s never hurt children. He grabbed her to get you and me in the same place at the same time. “

  “We have to get Michelle. What do we do?”

  “I need to see Barbara and then we give him what he wants.”

  “What am I going to tell Rebecca?” I asked, walking into Virginia Hospital.

  “We will find Michelle,” Reid said. “And she’s going to be just fine.”

  A breaking news bulletin about Michelle’s kidnapping and the Priest Killers was on the television. It had already made national news.

  “Mr. Hoffman, I’m Dr. Fagen.”

  “How is she?”

  “Improving, but still not out of the woods. We’ve been able to reduce the swelling which has alleviated a bit of the pressure on her skull. I can’t say for sure that there isn’t permanent damage. And her jaw is broken along with three ribs. Your wife is one tough cookie though.”

  “I want to see her,” Reid said.

  “I’ll wait here.” I gawked at the television. The news scroll read, Michelle Callahan, daughter of television actress Rebecca Aaron, kidnapped. Possibly by the Priest Killers.

  How would I feel if the news of my daughter’s kidnapping was delivered to me by some robotic anchor on the nightly news? That’s what crossed my mind when I watched one of the security guards that fought with Lick being interviewed. There was no way Rebecca didn’t know. I would want to rip off anyone’s head that crossed my path if I had to hear that Michelle was kidnapped from a breaking news report. And I was much more reserved than Rebecca. She had to be on a warpath across the country.

  Reid came back after about five minutes.

  “How is she? I asked, pulling my attention from the animated gestures of the security guard describing Lick.

  “Still out of it.”

  “If you want to stay with her, I understand. She’s your wife. I can get my daughter back.” I almost convinced myself that was true. I had to. This wasn’t a fight-or-flight scenario. There was only one solution — to fight. Knowing my daughter’s safety depended on me meant that I’d chase the Devil into the fires of Hell.

  “The best th
ing I can do for Barbara now is to get that son-of-a-bitch off the streets.”

  The Firebird pushed sixty in a forty-mile-per-hour zone. Even at that speed, it felt like moving in slow motion through the residential neighborhoods of Arlington. The car slowed to a halt in front of Reid’s house.

  “We don’t have time for this,” I said to Reid as he pulled into the driveway.

  “I just need to get a few things. Then we are going to canvas every street until we find the bastard.” Reid stepped out of the car.

  I heard a woman screaming.

  “Calm down,” Reid said.

  “You, get the hell out of my way.” Rebecca pushed by Reid and stepped off the front porch. She zeroed in on me. “How could you?” She slapped my head as I got out of the car. “How could you put our baby girl in danger?” She slapped me again.

  “I was trying to protect her.”

  “Excellent fucking job of doing that. I swear to God, if your psycho father hurts my daughter I am going to kill both of you.” She reared back to swing again. I grabbed her wrist. “Don’t fucking touch me.” She jerked away.

  “Rebecca, listen, we are not safe as long as my father is alive. I thought bringing her here was the best option.”

  Rebecca stopped and turned toward me. “And now? Do you think it was the best option now?”

  “Wallace would have taken her from your home,” Reid said.

  “Then why weren’t you two at my home waiting for him? Protecting her?” Rebecca wiped tears from her eyes, smearing the already strewn makeup which made her look like a raccoon. “Why the hell are you on a wild goose chase when you knew where he’d go?”

  “We didn’t know, Rebecca,” I said. “I didn’t even know he was alive until three days ago.”

  “But you knew?” Rebecca looked at Reid.

  Reid didn’t answer, but nodded yes.

  “Fuck!” Rebecca stomped the concrete sidewalk, breaking the heel of her right Gucci pump. I reached for her as she started to fall, but she pushed me away. “I said don’t touch me. You’re never going to touch me again.” She took off the broken heel and tossed it on the lawn. She took off her other heel and flung it in my direction, barely missing my head. “We’re going to find my baby girl and then I’m done with you.” Rebecca started to cry. “I just can’t...with you. You’re not safe.”