Johnny Revenge

by Remington Kane

  “No, Mr. Raines made him responsible for our hotel accommodations and limos. It’s a job I could do in an hour. The rest of the time, Max draws a salary for doing nothing; it might as well be an allowance.”

  Owens asked Rhonda several more questions about Max and her employer, then put an end to the official questioning as their salads were served.

  “Enough about the Raines, tell me about you, Rhonda.”

  “Are we in pleasure mode now?”

  “I’ve been in pleasure mode since I first laid eyes on you.”

  Rhonda laughed, and the date began.

  * * *

  Outside the restaurant, Max Raines stood across the street in the shadows of an alleyway. He had overheard Rhonda’s earlier phone conversation with Owens, including the mention of going out to dinner. When Rhonda left for the day, Max had followed her to her apartment, then, to the restaurant.

  Could the FBI be on to me? Max wondered, and the thought chilled him.

  Across the road, Rhonda seemed to be taken by the FBI agent, although she’d barely acknowledged Max’s existence.

  Damn slut.

  Max would have to get Rhonda alone soon and find out what she knew. There was no way he was going to prison again.

  * * *

  Early the following morning, Erica left her hotel room and went down to the lobby to speak with the front desk. Whoever had been in the room before her had left an expensive watch in the room safe. She had decided to hand it over in person rather than calling for someone to retrieve it. When she had finished her conversation with the desk clerk she turned and saw a sight that pleased her.

  It was her partner and Rhonda Wheeler kissing goodbye. Apparently, Rhonda had given Owens a lift back to the hotel in her car, a red Toyota Camry. It looked as if they had spent the night together. They had yet to spot her, so Erica went back up to her room to give them privacy.

  As she was packing to leave, a text message came in. They had been planning to return to New Hampshire to interview Jude Rowland again, but were being called back to Washington.

  Erica was about to make a call to find out why when another text came in from the office of her supervisor. It stated that there had been a development in the Wildcard case.

  A development? What’s that mean?

  The knock on her hotel room door startled Erica. It was Owens. He had said goodbye to Rhonda and received the same texts.

  “Do you think there’s been another murder?” Erica asked.

  “I’m not sure what this means,” Owens said, “but let’s check out and head to the airport.”

  * * *

  They had boarded their flight before they were able to reach their supervising agent, Chuck McVie, by phone. McVie had been in meetings since seven a.m. but was now able to fill them in on what had been happening.

  “The body of a call girl was discovered in Espanola, Florida. She had been dead for days and had been stabbed to death. Although there are inconsistencies with previous murders, the pattern of stab wounds indicates that she could be the thirty-sixth victim of the serial killer known as Traveler.”

  “Traveler,” Erica said. “I’ve heard of him. He’s killed all across the country, hasn’t he?”

  “Traveler has killed in twenty-eight states over a period of sixteen years. This latest murder came only three days after the last one.”

  “That sounds like he may be escalating and having difficulty controlling his urges.”

  “Exactly,” McVie said. “The agents on the case are worried he might go on a killing spree at a sorority house or some other institution where young women gather.”

  “I thought Traveler only killed female prostitutes,” Owens said.

  “That may have changed, and it concerns your Wildcard case.”

  “How so?” Erica asked.

  “At the scene of this latest murder, a small can of black spray paint was found lying in the grass outside the victim’s home. A thumb print on that can came back as belonging to Harriet Holbrook.”

  Erica and Owens had been looking down at her phone as they listened to McVie. Upon hearing Harriet Holbrook’s name, they stared at each other in shock.

  “Harriet Holbrook was Wildcard’s first victim,” Owens said. “That spray paint must have come from her home.”

  “That’s the theory,” McVie said, “it may mean that Traveler and Wildcard are the same man. Get back here, you two. We need to reevaluate these cases. The head of the Traveler investigation is coming to talk to you. This development is unprecedented.”

  The call ended, and left Erica stunned. The serial killer named Traveler had begun murdering prostitutes when Jude Rowland was still in high school. If Traveler was Wildcard, then Jude Rowland was innocent.

  “Something weird is going on,” Owens said. “Why would a monster like Traveler be targeting book reviewers?”

  “He wouldn’t, and yet, it appears as if Traveler killed that prostitute, and Harriet Holbrook’s thumb print was found at the scene.”

  “What’s that add up to?” Owens asked.

  Erica sighed. “It means we’re back to square one.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  WASHINGTON DC

  Supervisory Special Agent Chuck McVie ran a hand over his short blond hair before plopping his hulking six-foot-six frame into the chair behind his desk.

  Inside his office with him were Erica and Owens. They were joined by another Supervisory Special Agent named Grant Whitford. Whitford worked out of the Dallas field office and was in charge of the agents hunting for the serial killer nicknamed Traveler.

  Whitford was Chuck McVie’s opposite. He was thin, dark-haired, and no taller than Erica. Physical appearance aside, Whitford was a force to be reckoned with. At only thirty-one, he was on the fast track to someday become the FBI’s director. Catching Traveler would only accelerate that.

  Whitford sat on a sofa that was to the right of McVie, while Erica and Owens were settled in straight back chairs in front of the desk. Looking over at him, Erica noticed the gold wedding band Whitford wore. The last time she’d seen him, Whitford had been single.

  Erica and Grant Whitford had been lovers six years earlier and had parted as friends. They sent each other a secret smile upon greeting. There was no reason for Owens or McVie to know about their former relationship.

  McVie tossed his square chin toward Whitford. “Given this newest development, Grant’s team is taking over the investigation into Wildcard.”

  “Are you positive that this latest murder can be attributed to Traveler?” Erica asked.

  “There are discrepancies, but several facts of the case fit his pattern. With the link to your Wildcard case established, my people will be handling both investigations.”

  “We’re being cut out?” Erica asked.

  Whitford had opened his mouth to answer her when his phone chirped, telling him he had a text. He looked down at his phone, then excused himself and left the office.

  “Sorry, but I need to respond to this immediately.”

  Once Whitford had gone, Erica and Owens spoke to McVie, as they expressed their desire to stay on the Wildcard case.

  “It’s not up to me now that Whitford has possession of it, and he’s working on getting a task force formed. I think you’ll agree that an entire task force might have better luck than just the two of you.”

  “No, I do not agree with that,” Erica said, as her face flushed with color. “Brad and I have made great progress on this case. We’ll make much more if we’re allowed to stay on it. There’s also a new suspect we want to look into.”

  “Who’s the suspect? I haven’t had time to go over your latest report yet.”

  “Max Raines, he’s Jake Raines’ son. He went along on the book tour, which puts him near the scene of several murders. He also drives a white van.”

  “I’ll pass that along to Whitford. Anything else?”

  “We still think that Jude Rowland is our most viable suspect,” Owens said. “Of co
urse, that’s changed if Traveler and Wildcard are the same man.”

  McVie’s desk phone rang. It was his assistant with news. When the call ended, McVie let out a sigh.

  “Whitford was called away on another matter. He apologized and said he’ll be in contact soon.”

  “Are we still on the Wildcard case?” Erica asked.

  “That’s up to Whitford now that a link to Traveler has been established. In the meantime, work your other cases.”

  An exasperated Erica left McVie’s office with a feeling of dread. The odds were good that they were being cut-out of the hunt for Wildcard. Bradley Owens didn’t like it either, but he’d been similarly disappointed in the past and knew how things worked.

  “There will be other big cases,” Owens said, as they walked toward their desks.

  “I know, Brad, but damn it, I wanted this one, and we made progress on it in a short time. I also find it hard to believe that Traveler, a serial killer of prostitutes, could also be Wildcard. Wildcard’s murders, as ugly as they are, they still show an inventive and even playful mind behind them. As far as I know, Traveler is little more than a butcher.”

  “I agree, but there’s no way around the fact that they’re now linked together.”

  After greeting the agents whose desks were closest to their own, including Erica’s friend Colleen, Erica and Owens settled down and turned on their computers.

  They were working on three other active cases involving homicides. With the Wildcard case in limbo, they decided to re-interview witnesses in a case involving the murder of two teenage girls from Maryland. The girls, sixteen-year-old cousins, Shannon and Sharon, had been abducted from a park in front of witnesses. Their bodies were found in a neighboring state. The autopsies confirmed that they had both been raped numerous times by more than one individual before being shot in the back of their heads. One of the girls had also been tortured with cigarette burns to her face.

  * * *

  As they drove along toward their first interview, Erica asked Owens about Rhonda Wheeler.

  “I take it you two got along well?”

  Owens grinned. “Yes, we did, and guess what? Rhonda grew up nearby in Falls Church, and her family still lives there.”

  “Maybe the next time she visits you two can get together.”

  “I would like that very much.”

  “She won’t say anything to her boss about your interview, will she?”

  “I asked her to keep quiet. I also told her that we would be looking into Max Raines. Now, that may not be true.”

  “Even if we’re off the case, Whitford’s team will look into Max. He might even be a more viable suspect than Jude Rowland.”

  “That’s only true if Traveler and Wildcard aren’t the same man, if they are, then Max Raines and Jude Rowland are both too young to be our killer.”

  “Jake Raines isn’t too young, and the evidence led us right to him.”

  Owens tapped the steering wheel with his fist.

  “Damn it. I wanted this case.”

  “Me too,” Erica said.

  * * *

  On their fourth interview of the day a witness to the abduction of the two teenage girls recalled a detail she hadn’t spoken of before. At the time the girls were taken by a heavyset man in a ski mask, there was another man in the park performing magic tricks. If a passing car on the street hadn’t backfired, those gathered might not have turned away from the magician to view the armed abduction.

  Erica went over her interview notes when they were back in the car.

  “A magician? Why does that sound familiar to me?”

  “None of the suspects were magicians, at least not that I remember.”

  “Ah, here it is, in my interview of one of the girls’ ex-boyfriends. He mentions that they had a, and I quote, ‘Lame-ass magician at Shannon’s sweet sixteen party. It was like her mother thought she was still a kid.’”

  “I think we need to talk to that magician,” Owens said.

  They did just that two hours later after getting the magician’s name from Shannon’s mother. When they approached the man at his day job in a factory, he had only four words to say to them.

  “I want a lawyer.”

  This immediately set the butterflies to fluttering in Erica’s stomach.

  As the part-time magic man asked for a lawyer, he was staring over at one of his fellow workers. The heavyset man was standing by a forklift as if he were about to get on it. He appeared to be nervous. Owens caught the look passing between the two men and headed toward the guy by the forklift.

  “I’m FBI Special Agent Owens, sir. What’s your name?”

  The forklift driver opened his mouth, closed it, then climbed onto the forklift. Owens bolted toward him and managed to grab the guy by the wrist as he started the machine’s engine. Owens yanked on the man’s arm just as the forklift began moving. It caused the driver’s foot to slip off the accelerator pedal and the machine jerked to a stop.

  Having given up the idea of driving away in the forklift, the suspect leapt off and ran toward an exit. Owens had fifteen years on the man, but he ran regularly and was in better shape. He caught up to the forklift operator before he could reach the door. Meanwhile, Erica had taken out her weapon and was keeping the first man, the magician, from fleeing.

  * * *

  The two suspects were taken into custody. The magician was the smarter of the two. He eventually realized that once he was forced by a court to give up his DNA, he would have no defense. He sold-out his friend by confessing and making a deal for a lighter sentence.

  The success made Erica feel so good that she had almost forgotten the disappointment of being removed from the Wildcard case, almost.

  As she left for home that night, it was with a feeling of having made a difference. Two more predators were off the street, and perhaps the lives of more girls were spared.

  It was nearing midnight as Erica drove home. After turning onto the avenue where her mother’s restaurant was located, she saw multiple red & blue police lights. As she got closer, she could make out an ambulance.

  Something bad had gone down at her mother’s restaurant. Erica had a sick feeling that she knew who was behind it, as the face of the paroled murderer Angel Alvarez passed through her mind.

  Chapter Fifteen

  WASHINGTON DC

  Erica’s heart was beating wildly as she parked her car nearby and rushed toward the restaurant owned by her mother.

  One of the older cops on the scene recognized her. He was a black homicide detective named Harrison Coleman. As a rookie, Coleman had been the partner of Erica’s father. He rushed toward her while smiling.

  “Erica, it’s all right. Your mom and sister are safe.”

  “What happened, Harry?”

  “I just got here myself after hearing the call on the radio, but I spoke to Carlotta on my way over. She and Cassie are all right.”

  “Thank God, but what was the trouble?”

  “There was an attempted robbery. An employee named Angel Alvarez was involved somehow, but I don’t have the details yet.”

  Erica cursed under her breath and walked with Harry past the police line while flashing her FBI credentials.

  It was after hours, so no customers were present. They were met by a female detective named Holland who was in charge of the scene. Detective Coleman knew her and introduced Erica.

  “Your mom and sister are in the office, Agent Novac. They’re a little shaken up but okay.”

  Coleman stayed behind to speak with Holland, as Erica rushed down a corridor and through a set of swinging doors that led to the kitchen.

  Angel Alvarez was visible beyond a counter and seated on a chair. Erica could see him only from the chest up due to the height of the metal counter, but she assumed he was handcuffed. There were two uniformed cops near Alvarez as well as another detective. The glare Erica sent him bordered on hatred.

  Alvarez stared back at her with a blank-eyed gaze. As she moved c
loser to the office, Erica saw a pair of E.M.T.’s working on a man who was lying on the floor amid blood. As she moved past him, she saw that he had received a serious stab wound to his side and was in a lot of pain.

  “Erica!”

  She looked up to see her mother standing in the office doorway. When Erica reached her, she enveloped Carlotta in a hug.

  “Thank God you’re all right, Mom. Where’s Cassie?”

  “She’s fine. She’s in the ladies’ room.”

  “What happened here?”

  Carlotta took in a deep breath and released it slowly before speaking. Erica looked at her mother’s hands and saw that they were shaking.

  “We stayed late after closing up. I wanted to do an inventory and Angel volunteered to handle some extra cleaning. We had a lot of grease splatter earlier and it ran down the sides of the counters.”

  Erica made a face of disgust as she thought she knew where the story was headed.

  “Alvarez volunteered so that he could be alone with you two after closing hours, to rob you?”

  Her mother looked perplexed by the question.

  “Erica, Angel didn’t try to rob us, he saved us. That man on the floor over there pushed his way inside when I was taking out a bag of trash from the office.”

  “I thought he was Alvarez’s accomplice?”

  Carlotta reached out and took her daughter’s hand. “Honey, Angel’s trying to turn his life around, and he really did save us.”

  “Tell me what happened?”

  “Like I said, that man pushed me back inside. He had a gun, Erica, and he pressed it against my ribs. Cassie was in the office preparing the night deposit. There’s very little cash these days since most people pay with their credit cards, but that was what the man was after. He never saw Angel, because Angel was down low cleaning the grease off the cabinets. Angel heard him though, and he snuck up on the man. Angel used a cast-iron skillet to stun the thief and make him drop the gun. It wasn’t enough to knock him out though, and they struggled.”