The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel

by Torbert, R. J. ;

  “When exactly was this?” O’Connor chimed in.

  “Last summer,” Lance answered.

  “Same time as Simpson,” O’Connor replied.

  Bud looked at Lance and added, “So when she couldn’t tame you, she went after Deborah’s boyfriend, and he couldn’t hold his load, which is the root of all this evil.”

  Paul just gazed over at Bud, thinking, Wow, what a way with words. “How much did you get for the business?” Paul asked.

  “Forty-seven million, plus 5 percent of the profits for Deborah’s lifetime.”

  “So, Deborah is a millionaire for her entire life,” Bud added. “Anything else, Mr. Lance? Do you know the Winters brothers?

  John, Mason, Kyle? Have you ever heard or seen them before?” Paul asked.

  “No,” Lance replied. “I would have preferred Patty blackmailed me instead of this happening to Deborah. Listen, I need to get back to her. We can talk as much as you want later, but no one has been in her room for almost an hour.”

  “No problem,” Paul said. “We will talk later. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  William Lance left the room, leaving the two detectives and the FBI agent to discuss their notes.

  “He’s not involved,” O’Connor started off the conversation. “In fact, he’s a little boring. This thing with Patty was the most exciting thing that happened to him in years, yet he didn’t go through with it because he was afraid of losing his daughter’s love and respect.”

  Bud looked at O’Connor and said, “I’d say that’s a pretty good fucking reason not to bang her. You got to have a lot of love and discipline not to follow through on the one-yard line. Fucking guy was that close to a touchdown and extra point, instead, he went back 10 yards and punted.”

  Bud got up to take a call from Detective Lieutenant Cronin and stepped away from the table. O’Connor looked at Paul and asked him, “Listen, your partner, is he still on medication?”

  Paul laughed and said, “No, he’s not. He may seem like a clown, but he chooses to be this way to see reactions from people. He reads people very well. He’s a good cop and has solved many cases with me, and quite frankly he likes to take the stress out of situations with his words.”

  “You mean like telling Simpson he would put a bullet up his ass?” O’Connor replied.

  “Yeah, like that,” Paul answered. “How did you know about that?”

  “Simpson told Agent Sherman this morning when the FBI questioned him. I asked him not to put it in his report.” Paul thanked O’Connor.

  “I guess we need to help him a little on his people skills, Agent O’Connor.”

  “Call me Jack,” he said, as he put out his right hand to shake. Paul shook it as Bud came back to tell him the Detective Lieutenant wanted them back at the precinct.

  “We’ll catch up later, Jack,” Paul said, getting up.

  “Later, Jack,” Bud said as he shook hands with the agent and walked away. O’Connor just shook his head as he gathered up his crutches to leave.

  When Bud and Paul arrived at the precinct, Cronin quizzed them about their interview with both Deborah and her father. He was satisfied William Lance was not involved at this time.

  “Why would these guys go to all this trouble to kidnap her on the ferry? Why not just take her in Port Jefferson?”

  Paul looked at the chalkboard of notes in his office and said, “Boss, I think they wanted the question mark of the possibility of being in Connecticut and not under our noses in Port Jefferson.”

  “Maybe,” Cronin replied. “Do we think that anyone else is in danger besides Debbie Lance ’til this case is closed?”

  “Rachelle,” Paul replied. “Her articles about all of this, and the repercussions as a result of this, would piss me off if I were them. They have nothing to lose now by killing her. At the very least Phil Smith, who we think has turned on them, would want her dead if the Winters brothers didn’t.”

  Bud interjected, “Maybe if we didn’t look for Phil, he would kill the remaining Winters brothers and save the tax payers quite a lot of money.” Cronin and Paul continued as if they didn’t hear Bud.

  “Let’s get a female officer over to Rachelle’s house,” Cronin said. “You know her well. Convince her to have an officer with her until this thing is over.”

  “Right,” Paul said. “I will be seeing her tonight at Danford’s for the celebration for Victoria. I will convince her.”

  “Go over there now and talk to her,” Cronin said. “Let’s make it happen now. Bud, get a female officer assigned over there within the next couple hours. I have a meeting with the district attorney and the chief in an hour. Both of you, get lost. Tomorrow, Paul, work with Agents Sherman and O’Connor to tie up loose ends, and let’s find those two assholes. Bud, what’s on your agenda?”

  “My plans are to watch Paul’s interrogation of Simpson and question both of them based on my notes from it,” Bud replied.

  “Good, good,” Cronin replied. “Now get out of here.”

  “Drop me off at Rachelle’s, Bud. I want to speak to her about a few things,” Paul said.

  As Detective Powers went to the parking lot to wait, Bud got ahold of the desk sergeant to look at what officers were on duty for the next 24 hours. His finger stopped at Officer Sherry Walker, a young African American officer who Bud had met a few months prior. Nice, but a tough cop. He had the desk sergeant get ahold of her to have him patch her through to him in the car as he was driving to Port Jefferson.

  He was in the car with Paul for five minutes when the call was put through. “Officer Walker,” Bud said, “you have just been assigned to protective custody. Meet us at the house at the top of Prospect Street, Port Jefferson. You are one lucky cop. Who knows, maybe you will be on the news when this is over.”

  She answered back, “Is it you I have to protect?”

  “Ah, a smartass,” Bud replied, “Very nice. OK. Just meet us there.” It took Bud about 12 minutes to reach Rachelle’s house. It was about 5:00 pm, and they were all meeting at Danford’s at 7:30 pm.

  The door was answered by Madison, who greeted both detectives warmly. They stepped in, and within a minute, Rachelle was walking into the foyer to greet them both with a hug and a kiss. They were now more than cops to Rachelle; they were not only friends but were bonded together by this chain of events that would forever link them together. Paul looked at Rachelle and wanted to stroke her hair but got control of himself. He wanted to ask her about protective custody but decided to take a more firm approach.

  “Rachelle, we have assigned an officer to stay with you ’til this case is over. She starts in an hour and will be with you until the morning, to be relieved by another female officer.”

  Rachelle just looked at him and Madison and said, “Do I have a say in this?”

  “Rachelle,” Paul replied, “you have a say, but if you said no I would assign her outside on the street, and I think she would be more comfortable just being in here with you than out there on your front porch. It would also be less stressful on me.”

  “Why is that?” Rachelle asked.

  Madison could tell from Rachelle’s facial expression that she was looking for Paul to express feelings for her, but he kept it as professional as he could. The detective stuttered for a few seconds but managed to explain the job itself would be easier knowing someone was with her.

  Rachelle looked at Madison and said, “What do you think, Mad-die? You live here also.”

  Madison was quick to answer, “I say yes, do it. Besides, I can go on my date tonight and have less stress also.” She winked at Paul.

  Rachelle looked at Bud and said, “You’re very quiet through all of this.”

  “I just don’t want to be an influence one way or the other, but I will tell you this now that you asked. There is no downside to having an officer here, and speaking of stress, quite frankly, I think it will relieve you of so
me, and you might like Sherry.”

  “OK,” Rachelle said. As if there was such a thing as perfect timing, the doorbell rang. Madison answered the door, and it was Sherry with a piece of luggage.

  “Hi there,” she said. Bud introduced Sherry to everyone, and Madison showed her the pull-out sofa in the den.

  “No worries,” Sherry said. “I’m all set.”

  “Paul,” Rachelle remarked, “follow me; I want to show you something.” He followed her to her side office next to her bedroom. While they were still in the hallway, they could hear Bud singing “Sherry Baby,” by the Four Seasons, to her.

  As soon as they got to Rachelle’s office, she turned around and looked at Paul. “Do you really want this for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why can’t you tell me why?”

  “Because I’m a cop trying to solve this thing first, and truth be known, you know why.”

  Rachelle stared at Paul, still wanting to hear why from him, but understood. She asked, “Do you want to look at what I’m writing for the Newsday and Now papers? As soon as this thing is over, all this will be published. I’m so excited about it.”

  “Well, I’m glad you are waiting a bit. Thank you,” Paul remarked.

  They started to walk back to the foyer, when Paul suddenly turned around and hugged Rachelle. He held on to her and Rachelle closed her eyes, with a sigh of relief on her face. As they reached the foyer, Rachelle thanked Sherry for coming.

  “Are you going with us to Danford’s tonight?” she asked.

  Sherry looked at Paul and Bud and said, “Not if these two are going to be there. I think I will wait for you here, as long as they bring you home.”

  “No problem at all,” Paul said. “OK, we shall see you at the upstairs club in a couple hours.”

  As they left the house, Bud was singing again, and Sherry answered the call. “Bud, you’re a cop ruining a perfectly good song to the status of shit. I should arrest you for it.” Bud waved his hand up, acknowledging her as he walked away.

  “Seems like you met your match,” Paul said, laughing at Bud. “Yeah, yeah, kiss my ass,” Bud replied with a smile.

  “I’ll meet you at the club,” Paul answered. “I’m going to walk down the hill to my place.”

  “Later, my friend,” Bud replied as he got in the car. As Paul walked down the hill, passing the museum shop and the Port Jefferson Historical Society house, his thoughts turned to John Winters.

  John Winters slammed his hand down against the desk. The vibration was so hard that the objects on the desk popped up for a millisecond. “I should have never gotten involved with amateurs,” he said.

  Mason walked over to him and said, “If we are going down, the least we can do is take as many as we can with us.” John looked out of the abandoned window they were at.

  Mason continued, “Starting with that bitch that wrote and started this. Take her out, then we go after Phil before he gets us. After we finish off the girl, maybe we need to lay low for a few days. We might get lucky and Phil will get captured or killed by the cops.”

  John nodded and said, “It’s going to be him or us, but it’s the girl that forced all of this.”

  Mason smiled and replied, “She will die, John.”

  “We can’t stay here too long,” John replied. “We have every FBI agent and cop looking for us. Make sure no cell phone use. We need to make sure we finalize all plans before we separate. We’ll stay here a couple nights then move to a motel until we are finished. Pay for everything by cash. I put aside about 20 grand the past few years in envelopes just in case something like this happened.”

  “John,” Mason replied, “that’s good, but 20 grand is good for a couple of months, maybe a little more. What’s next?”

  “After we take care of business, we leave and start a new life with a different look. Our life is over here, including the equity on the homes. This is why people are going to pay for my inconvenience.” As he slammed the desk again, he said, “You get ahold of that pretty little thing, and you tear her apart from limb to limb. Then we get Mr. Phil Smith and we will remind him who the boss is. You know where she lives, but don’t forget they may have someone watching the house. Most likely they are keeping an eye on pretty Miss Debbie-two-shoes at the hospital as well. We may not get out of this, but I want a few people before I go.” He sat down on the chair, took a piece of paper, and started writing names down in order: Rachelle Robinson, Phil Smith, Debbie Lance, Bud Johnson. He started scribbling all over the names once he was satisfied that this was the list of names he wanted before his own life was over or taken.

  Paul decided to stop at the restaurant before going upstairs. He asked for Joey Z, who sat down with Paul.

  “Has Rachelle told you when she will be back at work?” Paul asked. “She told me Friday,” Joey answered, “but I have extra help scheduled with Tina and Emily in case there’s a problem.”

  “OK, good,” Paul answered. “I’m concerned about her, but there’s only so much you can say to her. Listen, if she does come to work, there will be a female police officer outside just in case. She will be looking at who’s coming in or out, and if you see a complete stranger and want to bring it to her attention, let her know.”

  Joey Z hesitated for a bit then replied, “Listen, I love Rachelle, she belongs here, but we have a business to run here. If you think there is a possibility someone will try to harm her while she’s working in here, it’s not good for her and it is not good for the business.”

  Paul digested what Joey Z said and replied, “I know where you are coming from. I will talk to her tomorrow.”

  “Listen, Paul,” Joey added, “I will speak to her also. This is hers also, and we need her, but I can’t risk the business being harmed and would never forgive myself if someone harmed her here.”

  Paul nodded and said, “I understand, Joey. Hearing it from you, I have to agree. You have to forgive us cops; we are not the best when it comes to running a business.”

  Joey Z grabbed Paul’s hand and said, “You got to solve this thing.

  We want her back, and this town needs to go back to the way it was.”

  “I hear you,” Paul said as he put his free hand on top of Joey’s. “How about dinner?” Joey said.

  “No, not tonight. Thanks. Going to Danford’s for a party Officer Davis wanted us to throw for her.”

  “Nice,” Joey said. “Me, well, I don’t have a life. This is my life, but I wouldn’t trade with you right now.”

  Paul laughed as he left the restaurant to go around the back and up to his apartment. His voice mail was full of messages, mostly from his father, who threatened to come up to New York again because he had not heard from Paul. There was a Woolworth reunion coming up in a week, and his father was attending anyway, so it really didn’t matter, but he was hoping this would be over by the time he came up. The reunion was in the city, so he wouldn’t even see his dad for at least a couple days after, so he figured he had about 10 days for him and Bud to get this case finished.

  One of the messages was from Cronin, whose voice boomed out of the machine: “Don’t answer your cell phone calls and texts? Give me a call before I drive over there and ruin your party tonight.”

  Paul called Detective Lieutenant Cronin, knowing his bark was worse than his bite, at least with the good guys. The bad guys, well, his bite had rabies. No one wanted to be around him when he was foaming at the mouth. A figure of speech, sure, amongst the officers at the department, but as the saying goes, “There’s a bit of truth in everything said in jest.” Detective Lieutenant Cronin wanted to know what Paul thought of Sherry.

  “She seems good,” Paul replied. “A little small but good.”

  “Don’t worry about the small part, she would kick your ass, and she scored higher than you in marksmanship.”

  “Thanks, boss. Is that all?” Paul replied.

  “That’s
it. Enjoy your evening.” The phone went click, and Cronin was smiling that he had pushed Paul’s button as he got his coat to go home.

  Paul took his clothes off while watching Fox News and jumped in the shower to get ready for the evening. While he was under the water, his thoughts went to Rachelle. He thought tonight he would have had an opportunity to be alone with her. Yet again, another circumstance with a guard at the house, it just was not going to happen. He’d known her for more than three years and they had never had a chance to be more than friends. His job, her job, his friends, her friends, his father, her sister, now a murder making national headlines, not to mention almost losing her forever to a bullet that grazed her head. He made up his mind he would speak to Rachelle Thursday about holding off on returning to Z Pita. He wanted her to have a good time tonight, and Paul knew that Thursday was going to be a long day.

  When he stepped out of the bathroom he heard Shepard Smith on Fox News, signing off, which meant it was 8:00 pm. He had gotten into the habit of keeping his television on the Fox channel because of his dad. His father loved Bill O’Reilly, Sean Hannity, and Shepard Smith, and Paul found that by watching the Fox channel he got closer to his dad. They did not always agree on the subjects, but he loved the debates they had. Anthony Powers considered himself a Reagan conservative, while Paul thought of himself as a Giuliani moderate. The debates were fun, challenging, and only got heated a couple of times. Paul learned never to bring up politics with anyone else. People he considered close friends became acquaintances after conversations that involved opinions on the status of the current administration.

  He picked up the phone to dial his dad’s cell phone and got his voice mail. When he heard the beep, he said “Hi, Dad, this is Paul. I was watching Fox News and was thinking about you. I love you, Dad; just wanted you to know. See you soon. This case has got us all a little busy, but like you always said, it’s not about being busy, it’s about the priorities in your life. You were right, Dad.” He hung up the phone.