“Yes.”
“Okay, I'm going to ask you some questions. Did you and Denzel Todd kill Patricia Arnette on the subway?”
“Yes.”
“Is this the man that attacked you?” Eldridge held up the photo of Jeremiah.
Ian nodded. “Y-yes.”
“Had you ever seen him before today?”
“No.”
“Did you or Mr. Todd have a gun that day?”
“No, b-but D-Denzel told everyb-body he d-did.”
“Do you have anything else you want to say?”
“Just, just that I'm s-sorry I d-didn’t stop him,” said Ian as tears poured from his eyes. “I was sc-scared.”
Eldridge looked up as a priest arrived to administer the last rites, surprised Ian was Catholic. Moving aside, Eldridge and the doctor watched, heads bowed, as the boy drifted off to sleep, unable to complete the sacrament. The priest continued with the blessing, Ian’s heart monitor beeping erratically, and after a few moments, flat-lining. The doctor stepped forward and turned it off, allowing the priest to finish in silence as the entire ward looked on as a young man, with the wrong friend, paid for his mistake with his life.
Somber, Eldridge left Rikers Island jail and climbed into his car, sitting for a moment as he collected himself. In his job he had seen death, too much death, but usually he arrived after the fact, the corpse long cold, and almost always someone he had never spoken to. On rare occasions he was there when death took someone, sometimes by his own hand, and that moment, the moment of death, always disturbed him, and would remain something he would never grow accustomed to.
He sighed and started the car. As he drove to the television studio he left a message for Vinny to check the subway victim's DNA against the hairs found in the SUV, wanting to confirm what he already suspected, and what his killer was already convinced of, that Jeremiah Lansing and Patricia Arnette were half siblings. As he searched for a parking spot at the studio he received the final photo from the subway. It was Aynslee. He ran into the building and pushed his way through the end of day throngs and onto an empty elevator.
Aynslee looked up to see who had opened her door without knocking. Hayden! “Detective Eldridge!” She smiled and rose from her chair. “I'm so happy to see you.” She looked at his face, jaw squared in anger, cheeks slightly flushed. Uh oh, he looks pissed!
“Care to explain this?” he asked as he held out his phone. She looked at the picture displayed on the tiny display. It was her, but she couldn’t make out any details.
“What's that?”
“You were on the subway the night that Patricia Arnette was killed.”
Aynslee fell back into her chair, the picture of her rushing from the subway, Blackberry to her ear, snapped into focus as a flood of emotions overwhelmed her. Like a movie, those few minutes replayed themselves in her mind, each face becoming clear as if it had happened yesterday.
“Oh my God,” she exclaimed, gripping the arms of her chair, her knuckles turning white, as the realization dawned on her. “We were all on the subway that night!”
“Yes.” He seemed to calm down slightly as he showed her a photo of a young man and slightly older woman. “And so was he,” he said, pointing to the man. “Jeremiah Lansing and Patricia Arnette were brother and sister. She was killed the day they met for the first time.”
“What do you mean first time?”
“She was given up for adoption before he was born. He searched for years and finally found her. They met that day for the first time. On their way back from that meeting, she was murdered in front of him. He has been killing everyone he can identify from the YouTube video. As of a few minutes ago, he's killed everyone on that tape except for an unidentified senior citizen and yourself. Earlier today he managed to somehow infiltrate Rikers Island and kill Denzel Todd and Ian Temple, the two men who killed his sister.”
“How—how did he do that?” asked Aynslee, terror gripping her. If he can kill in there, nowhere is safe!
“We're still working that out, but he's a computer genius and we think he may have used that to somehow get himself in and out.”
Aynslee's throat went dry and the room closed in around her, Hayden’s voice becoming distant as she became dizzy. She clenched the arms of her chair tighter. Get a grip! She steadied herself and focused on the bottle of water sitting on her desk. She reached forward and took a drink. “He's going to come after me, isn't he?” She couldn’t hide the fear in her voice. And she didn’t care. This was no time to put on an act of false bravado.
“I think we can be sure of that.”
“Will you protect me?” she asked, almost embarrassed by how meek it sounded.
“We will do everything we can. But first I want you to tell me what happened on the subway.”
Aynslee took a deep breath and closed her eyes, remembering that night on the train. “I was heading home after doing the evening entertainment report. There were maybe a dozen people in the subway car with me. I was sending some emails with my BlackBerry, sitting near the back. Two guys got on and they definitely seemed to be on something, or at least that's what it seemed like. Anyway, these two got on and one of them was really loud. He knocked one guy's newspaper, flipped somebody's hat off and then one of them, the loud one, sat down beside the girl—Patricia was it?” Hayden nodded. “—sat down beside Patricia and put his arm around her. She said something like 'Get your hands off me, creep' and then he jumped to his feet and started yelling at her, things like 'what, you think you're too good for me, you're better than me?', that type of thing. So she gets up and tries to go to another car with this other guy that was sitting across from her, but the loud one—”
“That would be Denzel.”
“Yes, Denzel, yells 'don't you walk away from me, bitch' and shoves her from behind. She flew forward and hit her head on one of the seatbacks. She fell to the ground and this Denzel guy started to laugh. The guy she was with—”
“The one in the photo I showed you?”
“Yes, he yelled at them and that's when this Denzel guy shoves his hand in his pocket and starts making like he's got a gun and yells that he'll shoot anyone who gets in their way. Well, the guy in the photo, I think he fainted because he just collapsed to the floor. Then this Denzel guy said something like 'she's my bitch now and I'll do to her what I want'. Then he kicked her, hard. She screamed and then he started kicking her over and over. I was in shock, I couldn’t believe what was going on, I was so terrified. I didn't know if he had a gun or not. So he keeps kicking her and then tells his friend to kick her as well. His friend,” she paused. “What was his name?”
“Ian.”
“Yeah, well it didn't look like he liked what was going on, kind of reluctant, you know? Anyway, he did a few half-hearted kicks and then when the train was coming to the next stop he pulled his friend away, but his friend went back and stomped his boot down as hard as he could on that poor girl's head. I swear I could hear her skull crack. I just knew she was dead. Anyway, I'm embarrassed to say this, but I just ran with everyone else.”
“You didn't stay to talk to the police?”
Aynslee dropped her head in shame. “No. I was going to call the next day but then that video hit the Internet and the terrible things people were saying about us, the ones on the subway who didn't help, well, it just made me think that I didn't want to get involved, to be one of those people that everyone was vilifying. Do you understand?”
She could tell he was no longer angry, his soft, caring features had returned, the face she so yearned to hold in her hands looked at her for a moment before speaking.
“I understand a little better, now that I've been looking into this further. Due to the lack of witnesses, nobody knew about the threat of a gun. This is an important factor. People have a duty to assist another person in distress, but not if it means putting their own lives at risk. It makes me wonder if Jeremiah even remembers the gun?”
“This Jeremiah, he's the brother?”
“Y
es, I'm assuming half-brother, but we believe he's our killer.”
“And that was the first time they had ever met?” Tears filled her eyes. “How sad, no wonder he's gone mad.”
“And if he fainted, then he's probably ashamed and embarrassed by what happened and blames himself for her death.”
Aynslee looked at her watch. “Oh my, God, I'm on in half an hour. I need to get ready.”
“Miss Kai, I need to place you in protective custody immediately.”
“You'll do no such thing, I have to go to air.”
“Your life is in danger.”
“Listen, he's sent a video of every killing to me so far, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, the old lady is still alive, right?”
“We don't know,” he replied. “Perhaps we just haven't found the body yet.”
“No, we know she's still alive because he hasn't sent me a video yet.”
He frowned. “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
“Yes. I need to go to air.”
“Not a word about what we've spoken about. He can't know that we know who he is.”
Aynslee blew a breath out between her lips hard in frustration. “Fine! Now get out of here, I need to get ready.”
“I'm going to have a squad car out front and an officer shadowing you. They'll be here in about half an hour.”
“Fine, whatever you feel is necessary, but I need to get ready. And, Detective,” she paused and looked him in the eyes. “Thank you for helping me. I mean, I'm sure you don't have to come down here every time I get one of those videos, you could send someone else or just have me email it to you. I appreciate that you take the time to come and see me.”
“I'm just doing my job, Miss Kai.”
She stepped a little closer to him. “Why don't you call me Aynslee, it's my name too.”
A smile flashed across his face for a moment, but it quickly returned to his usual formal expression. “That wouldn't be appropriate, Miss Kai.”
Aynslee waved her finger at him. “I'll break through that cold exterior one of these days, Detective.” She detected the corner of his lip curl slightly, revealing a hint of a smile.
“I'll have those uniforms here shortly, Miss Kai.” And with that he left her standing there, more determined than ever to have him, and even more impressed at the level of confidence she now felt. It must be the new job! Or the look?
“Oh, Eunice, what to do, what to do!”
Eunice Henry muttered to herself as she rocked in her chair, knitting yet another scarf for yet another niece or nephew. “There's nothing to worry about, you've got food, you've got water, you've got all the basic necessities of life. You can hold out until Friday.” Her knitting needles clicked together as her skilled hands never dropped a stitch. Frustrated, she tossed her project aside and reached over to check the phone again. And again no dial tone. “Sugarollie double-plum fairy! Darned phone company.”
She hadn't left her apartment in twelve months. After witnessing the attack on the subway, she had gone straight home, locked the door and hadn't set foot outside since. Anything she needed could be delivered, it was New York after all, and she had family to do the rest. She never answered the door unless she expected someone or recognized them through the peephole. There were times, even just yesterday, when strangers would knock on the door, sometimes insistently, but she would ignore them. Her distrust of people in general overwhelmed her, an all-consuming problem she knew she would never overcome. Not after seeing that poor girl beaten to death on the subway that day.
But her lifestyle had one flaw. She needed a phone. And today her phone wasn’t working. She couldn’t call anyone to get it fixed nor go out to tell anyone it needed to be fixed. And worst of all, she wasn’t expecting anybody for several days.
She started at a knock on the door. As usual, she ignored it but became very quiet. They'll go away, they always do. Again the knock.
“Mrs. Henry, this is Verizon, I'm here to fix your phone!”
She looked at the door. “Oh my, what to do, what to do?” she whispered to herself. “Well, you have to answer it, you need your phone. But you don't know who he is. How do you know he's actually from the phone company? You could ask to see his ID? Yes, but those could be faked. Well, your phone is out and how would some criminal know that?” She nodded to herself and rocked to her feet. “You're right, how could he know? Coming!” she called.
Shuffling to the door, she looked through the peephole and saw a young man smiling. Oh, he looks sweet, just like Jamie. She began the long process of unlocking, unbolting and unchaining her myriad of devices aimed at keeping intruders out, and herself in. With one chain remaining, she turned the knob and opened the door. “Can I see some ID, please?” she asked, peering through the narrow opening. The young man stepped back and suddenly kicked the door hard, ripping through the chain and hitting her square in the shoulder. She tumbled backward and landed hard, a searing pain shot through her entire body as the man stormed in and slammed the door behind him. She tried to speak but the pain was so intense, she couldn’t. Having broken her hip once before, she knew she had done it again.
The man gripped her wrists and hauled her to her feet, sending excruciating jolts of pain up and down her body. She yelped in agony as he carried her and dropped her unceremoniously on her couch. The soft cushions provided little relief, but she managed to see through the pain and focus on her attacker.
“What do you want?” she cried.
He held a cell phone in front of her and pressed a button. A video played, a video of that horrible day a year ago, and when it finished, it froze on an image of her, climbing out of her seat. She looked at the cold expression on his face, and she knew why he was here. As he drew a gun and pointed it at her, a strange calm washed over her, a sense of peace, acceptance of her fate. She knew she was going to die, and it was okay.
“You knew her, didn't you?” He didn’t respond but she could see it in his eyes. “My boy, you must do what you must do. I am truly sorry for what happened to that young girl. I can offer only my age as an excuse, albeit a poor one. I can see you are in pain and if my death brings you some sort of peace, then I am willing to give my life for it. Was she your girlfriend?” Still, no response. “Your sister?” This time she saw a reaction, a slight increase of moisture in his eyes. “That's it, isn't it? She was your sister. I am very sorry, my dear, for your loss. You must have been very close.” Leaning forward, she tried not to wince from the pain. “Tell me, son, is there anything you would like me to tell her?”
This got a reaction. Her attacker hesitated, a look of uncertainty on his face. “I—” he began then stopped.
“Yes? It's okay, dear, you can tell me.”
His eyes filled with tears. “Tell her that I wish I had gotten the chance to know her. That I'm sorry for not helping her.”
Eunice was a little puzzled by his statement. Gotten the chance? Did he not know his own sister? She smiled gently. “I will tell her, dear, I will tell her.” He raised his gun again, his hand shaking. Eunice closed her eyes, waiting for him to pull the trigger, silently praying. When the shot didn't come, she opened her eyes to see what was wrong.
He was gone.
Eldridge arrived at Jeremiah's apartment building and was more than a little stunned to see Shakespeare walking toward his car, having put in what amounted to a full day's work, but something told him they were both taking this case personally. He honked his horn and Shakespeare waved at him, walking toward the car as Eldridge parked.
“So, why was your lady friend on the wall?” asked Shakespeare as Eldridge rounded the vehicle.
“She was there that day. Just like the others, she just watched it happen.”
Shakespeare grunted. “Chances are she's on the list then.”
“Agreed. There's only her and the old lady left.”
“Is she in protective custody yet?”
“She refused. I've got a couple of u
niforms on her, though. She should be safe for now since there’s been no video of the old lady yet. If he follows the pattern, he should send that first.”
“If he follows the pattern. Big chance.”
“Have you ever tried to convince a reporter not to go to air?”
“Yeah, like trying to convince Vinny to forget what happened.”
Eldridge decided not to bite. “Are the lab guys still in there?”
Shakespeare nodded. “They're still processing, probably going to be awhile. What are you looking for?”
“Well, this guy’s been working on this for a year now so he might have a lead on who the old lady is. If we can get to her first, she might stand a chance.”
“Didn't help the last guy.”
“Yeah, but hopefully no screw-ups this time.”
Shakespeare nodded and walked toward his car. “Okay, I'm off, there's a Philly melt with my name on it somewhere.”
Eldridge waved as Shakespeare pulled away. Across the street a small throng of onlookers watched the couple of squad cars plus the CSU vehicle, most likely hoping to catch a glimpse of a dead body. Ever since CSI started airing, the CSU guys had been getting a lot of attention. Eldridge thought half the city expected Garry Sinise to come strolling out and solve the case in forty minutes plus commercials.
A shock of blonde hair caught Eldridge's eye. He looked closer but didn't see it again. He walked toward the apartment building entrance, all the while keeping his eye on the crowd across from him. Then he saw it again. Just a flash of blonde behind several people. Normally he wouldn't have paid it any mind, there being several blondes in the crowd, but this one stood out. Where everyone was jockeying for position, trying to get a better view, this one was in behind. Eldridge turned and walked toward the crowd when he saw the blonde hair again followed by the face of Jeremiah, looking directly at him. Eldridge, stunned to see his suspect standing maybe fifty feet from him, stopped in his tracks. Jeremiah smiled at him then bolted.
Eldridge ran as hard as he could, slowly gaining on his suspect, when Jeremiah ducked into an alleyway. He heard the sound of an engine turn over as he rounded the corner, almost running headlong into a small motorcycle as it tore from the alley, Jeremiah perched atop it. Eldridge lunged at him, but Jeremiah ducked over to the other side of the bike and roared onto the street. Spinning around, Eldridge sprinted after him, but it was no use, Jeremiah bobbed and weaved amongst the traffic and quickly left Eldridge gasping for breath in the middle of the road.
Depraved Difference (A Detective Shakespeare Mystery, Book #1) Page 24