by James Hunt
Once Samuel was secured with handcuffs, Jim made sure that the man’s pants were hiked up high enough to keep him covered.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” Samuel said, repeating the words with little conviction. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Save it for your attorney,” Jim said, and then he hurried Samuel out of the parking lot back toward his cruiser, throwing him in the backseat.
Once Samuel was secured in the backseat, one of the parents from the playground walked over hesitantly.
“Is everything okay?” the woman asked.
“It is now,” Jim answered.
Jim didn’t want to get into too much detail about what happened and what Samuel was doing. He knew it would only cause grief for the parents in what was most likely a safe neighborhood. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause a panic that wasn’t necessary.
The woman nodded tentatively, but Jim could tell that he hadn’t completely convinced her everything was fine.
Once the mother returned to the flock of parents waiting to hear what she had to say, Jim got back into his car and called dispatch to let them know he was bringing in a suspect.
“I told you I didn’t do anything!” Samuel said.
Jim turned around, his face set in stone with an angry glare. “You’ve stolen more from children than you could possibly imagine.”
It might’ve been the expression on Jim’s face or the fact that Samuel realized that his future was now over. Whatever semblance of a pathetic life he had hoped to continue had come to an end. And Jim had everything he needed for the search warrant to get into Samuel’s house, where he was hopeful he would find Nate’s son.
12
Once Jim had Samuel put through processing and the man was booked on charges of purchasing and possessing child pornography and exposing himself in front of minors, Samuel was put into the box, which was what the detectives at the precinct called the interrogation room.
Samuel requested a lawyer be present before he was questioned, and Jim was currently waiting until Samuel’s representation showed up.
“Smart one,” Mullocks said.
Both Jim and Lieutenant Mullocks stood at the monitors where they could view the inside of the interrogation rooms. The reason they were nicknamed “boxes” was because there were no windows in the room. And they were small and suffocating—by design. Anybody they brought into that room they wanted to make sure felt the pressure of the moment.
The room made the walls feel like they were closing in around them and made suspects nervous. Jim and other detectives preyed on those nerves during the interrogation. Nervous people made mistakes. And in a career where the burden of proof was on the state, Jim would take whatever advantage he could get.
“How’d you find this guy?” Mullocks asked.
Jim hadn’t told the lieutenant the truth about why Samuel had been brought in. He, of course, told her the reason for the arrest, but how Jim came to hunt Samuel down had been a lie.
“Tip came in,” Jim said. “Someone said they believed someone was touching kids at the school where this guy worked. I didn’t get a name, and the cell number was just a burner, so I couldn’t trace it.”
Mullocks frowned. “Are you serious?”
Jim looked to his lieutenant, his mouth dry. “What?”
Mullocks crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “The day you’re a better liar than me, I’ll hand in my gun and my badge.” She studied the monitor. “If you want to go the tip route, that’s fine. But just make sure the paperwork is clean.”
Jim swallowed but said nothing else.
“Do you have a search warrant for the house yet?” Mullocks asked.
“It’s with the judge now,” Jim answered. “I already have a SWAT team on standby.”
Mullocks nodded with exhaustion. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you want to tell me about this guy?” She looked to Jim. “Anything about that man who came in to see you this morning?”
Jim couldn’t hide the red in his cheeks, but he couldn’t come clean now. He was already too deep into the mess. “Just an old friend who wanted to say hi.”
“Right,” Mullocks said, unconvinced. “Just be careful, Jim. Captain Kierney wasn’t bluffing this morning about consequences.”
Jim considered his reply but dropped some of his pretenses. “I know what I’m doing, Lieutenant.”
Mullocks shook her head. “Sure you do.”
“Jim!” Sergeant Hale shouted from his desk. “You got your warrant. Just came through.”
“Thanks,” Jim said, and then she turned back to the lieutenant. “I have been doing this for a long time, you know.”
“Not as long as me, Jim,” Mullocks said, her tone slightly depressed as she turned to him. “But I trust you. I want you to remember that road is a two-way street.”
It pained Jim to keep his secret from the lieutenant, but he couldn’t betray Nate. The pair had too much history together.
“Go,” Mullocks said.
Jim nodded and then grabbed the warrant from the desk sergeant. He then headed toward the side exit where the SWAT team had gathered, awaiting instructions on where they were to go next.
“Team’s ready.” The SWAT Sergeant, Carlos Hernandez, was a lean muscled Hispanic man with a chiseled, clean-shaven face. He was a former Marine. “You ready to tell us where we’re going?”
Jim held up the search warrant so Sergeant Hernandez could see the information. “We need to clear the house quickly. I think the suspect might have a child inside. That’s our priority once the house is secure.”
Sergeant Hernandez nodded. “You riding with us?”
“I’ll follow in my cruiser,” Jim answered.
“All right,” Hernandez replied. “We’ll meet you there.”
Jim was juiced with adrenaline as he jogged out to his police car. He watched as the SWAT team loaded up into the back of their armored vehicle, and once he was in the car, he called dispatch to confirm a forensic van would meet them at the location once the house was secure.
Despite some of the challenges that came with working in law enforcement, Jim was always amazed at how things came together during a raid like this one. It was like the entire department was just waiting on the edge of their seats for something big, and when that call finally came through, it never disappointed. Now it all came down to the execution of the moment.
Jim flipped on the lights for his cruiser, the reds and blues flashing as he weaved through traffic at a breakneck pace. Cars pulled over to the side of the road and the only time Jim took his foot off the gas was when he neared an intersection, slowing to make sure the rest of the vehicles stopped for him. He gripped the steering wheel tight, his hands aching.
Jim was laser-focused. He had always been able to push everything else aside when the moment seemed its most critical. He didn’t know why, but he was thankful for the skill set. It had been the single most important personality trait that had molded him into one of the best detectives the city had ever seen.
Once they arrived in the residential neighborhood, Jim turned off his lights as they approached Samuel’s house. It was standard protocol for a raid since they were unsure if anyone else would be in the house when they arrived. Jim didn’t think Samuel was working with anyone, but the team wouldn’t take any chances.
Jim and the SWAT team pulled up to Samuel’s house with quiet stealth, and Jim joined the SWAT officers as they hurried to the front door. Jim normally would have allowed SWAT to go in first and handle the logistics, but because of his attachment to the case, the fact that Jim was working to help a friend, he joined Sergeant Hernandez at the door and would be one of the first people who went inside.
Hernandez held up his hand, silently counting down from five, and when Hernandez made a fist, the battery ram was shoved against the door, breaking the lock and the frame as the door exploded inward and the officers rushed inside.
Jim was certain there would be no other ad
ult in the house, but until the home was cleared, the team acted as though there was still a threat inside.
“Livingroom clear!”
“Bathroom clear!”
“Bedroom clear!”
“Kitchen clear!”
“Garage clear!”
With the home secured, everyone relaxed slightly, save for Jim, because there was no sign of the kid anywhere in the house.
Sergeant Hernandez caught his breath and turned to Jim. “Orders, Detective?”
Jim cleared his throat. “No sign of life in the sweep?”
“No bodies,” one of the officers answered.
Jim turned in a semi-circle, feeling disoriented, and then checked the rest of the house himself. But with each empty room, Jim’s anxiety worsened. Had he missed something?
“Detective?” Hernandez spoke as if it weren’t the first time he’d said the word. “We need orders, sir.”
Jim cleared his throat and realized everyone in the room was staring at him. “We hold the house until forensic arrives,” Jim said. “I need two men to help me search the perimeter of the house and the backyard.”
“We need a ground scanner?” One of the SWAT officers asked.
Jim paused. The ground scanner the officer referred to was used to search the soil for possible human remains. “No. I don’t think we’ll need it.”
The SWAT officers exchanged a look, but Jim ignored them. He didn’t think Samuel was capable of killing anyone. But if Nate’s son weren’t dead, and he wasn’t here, then where the hell was he?
Once the forensic team arrived, Jim dismissed the SWAT team.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” Sergeant Hernandez said.
“Me too,” Jim replied. “Thank you.”
Jim hung around the house for a little while longer wanting to see if forensic would find the smoking gun, and when he heard a commotion coming from the bedroom, Jim believed they had found it.
One of the forensic techs found a hard drive stashed under the suspect's bed. He had plugged into his mobile laptop and what they found on the drive caused everyone to look away in disgust.
“Jesus,” the tech said, whispering to himself.
All of the images on the hard drive were of children. It was a mix of boys and girls, but there were definitely more boys. Each of them stood naked in front of a wall in various poses. The pictures scanned onto the hard drive were actually Polaroids, and it didn’t take long for another tech to find the polaroid camera Samuel had used.
There were dozens of children, and while Jim spied a very young Donnie Smerconish, Jim saw no pictures of Nate’s son, Tim.
“What a sicko,” the technician said.
“Log it into evidence,” Jim said. “And make sure you do a thorough sweep of the house. Fibers, hairs, anything you find, you tag it. Understood?”
The tech nodded, and Jim stepped outside, the images still fresh in his head. He was disturbed by the pictures but more concerned with the fact that there was no sign of Tim. But Samuel was still waiting to be questioned back at the precinct. Jim wanted to make sure that he exhausted every avenue before he gave up hope because he knew where there was smoke, there was fire.
Jim returned to the precinct, eager to speak to Samuel. He hoped the man had his lawyer because Jim’s patience had frayed. He knew there was more to the story than what Samuel was letting on. There had to be because Jim was running out of time and options.
All eyes were on Jim when he returned, but he remained focused on heading to the interrogation room where Samuel’s lawyer was waiting for him.
Jim entered the interrogation room alone, but half of the bullpen, along with the lieutenant, watched the monitors, the footage streaming from inside the room.
When Jim stepped inside, he saw that Samuel had been crying. His face was red, his eyes puffy. The lawyer who sat next to Samuel on the other side of the table wore a cheap suit and sported a terrible comb-over. He was a thin man with beady eyes and a small, circular mouth. When he finally opened his lips to speak, he was very reserved and quiet. Almost like he was whispering.
“My client is ready to answer your questions, but let’s keep it civilized, Detective,” the lawyer said.
Jim sat down and studied Samuel for a moment across the table. “Civilized.” He repeated the word in the same tone and manner in which the lawyer had spoken. “Is that what you are? Civilized?”
“Detective, I am warning you,” the lawyer said, though his tone suggested there was no real threat in words. “I have explained to my client that he is under no obligation to speak to you.”
“And yet here he is,” Jim said. “I have a feeling something is bothering you, Samuel.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Samuel said, muttering to himself.
Jim leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “But you did take some pictures, didn’t you?”
Samuel winced, but he continued to keep his head down.
“We found the hard drive, Samuel,” Jim said. “I know what you’ve been doing to those children in your afterschool programs.”
Samuel remained silent, shrinking in his chair.
“Do you even have a clue about how many lives you ruined?” Jim asked. “Is that something you take into consideration when you choose your victim?”
The lawyer started to raise his voice. “Detective, this is bordering on harassment.”
Jim knew he was pushing the envelope, but he didn’t care. Samuel wasn’t a man anymore. He was an insect, and Jim had the heel of his boot against the creature’s head. But Jim understood he needed to tread carefully. His conversation was being recorded, and he needed to keep mention of Nate’s son off any official documents.
“You’re going down for the pictures,” Jim said, shifting gears. “Your lawyer knows that, and you know that. But what I want to know is what else you’ve done.” He leaned forward on the table, inching closer to Samuel, invading the man’s space. “Because I don’t think a guy like you can simply take pictures.”
Samuel finally made eye contact with Jim. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jim’s patience continued to fray, but he remained calm, collected. “These kids are going to testify against you. And they’re going to tell us everything you did to them. So why don’t you save them, and us, some time and you tell me what else you did, okay?”
Samuel tensed. “You think you’re better than me?”
“I know I’m better than you,” Jim answered. “But that’s not what we’re here to discuss.” Jim stood and stepped around to Samuel’s side of the table. “How many did you take back to your house?”
“You don’t have to answer that,” the lawyer said.
“Did you ever abduct anyone whose picture you didn’t take?” Jim asked. “Maybe someone you wanted to do something more with?”
“Detective, you need to back off,” the lawyer warned.
Jim knew that eliciting an emotional reaction in the interrogation room was important. It was when people were emotional that they tended to break down. And years of being in an interrogation room had given Jim the unique ability to know when somebody was about to crack. Samuel was on the brink of losing it.
“We already have forensics combing through your house,” Jim said. “What else are they going to find, Samuel? Souvenirs? Videos? A body?”
Both Samuel and the lawyer snapped their attention up to Jim, each of them sporting a different level of concern.
“A body?” Samuel asked.
“Don’t say anything else,” the lawyer said, starting to pack up his briefcase. “This interview is over.”
“The pictures got boring after a while, didn’t they?” Jim asked. “You needed more of a thrill, right? Something else to get the juices flowing?”
Samuel fidgeted. He bounced his knee like a jackhammer, the quick up-and-down motion smacking underneath the table every few seconds. “You can’t prove anything,” Samuel said. “People will come t
o my defense. People will come to protect me, you’ll see.”
Every criminal Jim had ever interrogated always had a pressure point. It typically revealed itself during the interrogation once Jim had enough evidence to really dig into somebody. And Jim suddenly realized that this man’s behavior elicited a reaction of shame. He knew what he was doing was despicable. And wrong. Yet he did it anyway.
A lot of the pedophiles they brought in had a level of arrogance to them. They were more upset about being caught than being arrested for the crime they had committed. But Samuel seemed more worried about his reputation. Jim could use that against him.
“You really think that all of those people who had your back before are still going to protect you after they find out what you are?” Jim asked.
Samuel’s expression slackened. He looked up from the floor as if realizing that this was suddenly going to go public for the first time.
“This is absurd,” Samuel said, starting to laugh. “Do you have any idea how highly sought after I am? My reputation will be able to withstand whatever you throw at me!” He grew defensive. “I always did a good job. Every place I work, I always make sure that all of the children learn something. I make sure they know they are special.”
Jim grimaced. Part of him knew that Samuel believed in what he was saying. “You have a sick way of showing a kid they’re special.”
Samuel pounded his fist on the table. He raised his voice and pointed a thin, long finger into Jim’s face. “You don’t have a right to say anything about me. You don’t have a right to judge me about what I do in my life. You have no idea what it’s like.”
“Well, I would have to agree with you there,” Jim said. “I assume you spend a lot of time in picking your victims. I imagine it’s not too hard considering you have access to all of their files.”
“We don’t have to sit here and listen to any more of this,” the lawyer said. “Samuel, I strongly advise—”