Paul replied, “Rachelle, is it the same mask? The Ghost Face mask?”
“God, yes,” she answered. “The same as what hangs on your coat rack.”
“OK,” Paul said. “Get some rest. Thank you.” He grabbed her hand and touched her finger before he thought better of it and pulled away. He nodded to Madison and walked out of the room. He didn’t see the tears come down Rachelle’s face or her lips tighten as her eyes followed him out the door.
Bud was sitting in a chair next to Deborah Lance when she opened her eyes.
“Hey, sleepyhead, today is the big day, going home.”
“Yes,” she smiled at Bud. “What are you doing here?”
“Well,” he answered, “we are here visiting our special girls,” a term he emphasized with finger quotation marks, “and since you were still here, I thought I would speak to you a bit and see if there was anything you may have remembered that would help us.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” she said as she brushed her hair back with her left hand.
“Are you left-handed?” Bud asked.
Deborah looked at him suspiciously and said, “Yes, I am.”
“Me too,” Bud said. “Did you know that left-handed people use the right side of their brain, unlike right-handed people who use their left, which means that only left-handed people are in their right mind.”
She laughed, “You are a funny guy.”
“That’s what they tell me,” Bud replied. “They claim everyone is born right-handed but only the greatest overcome it.”
She laughed again and asked, “What’s your real name, Bud?”
He leaned back in his chair, surprised by her question. “My real name is Donald. They nicknamed me 'Bud’ because Irish American families...”
Deborah interrupted Bud and finished his sentence, “Bud comes from the Irish nickname 'Brud,’ which is short for 'brother,’ so I assume you have an older brother.”
The Detective was impressed and said, “Yes, I have an older brother, Sean. He’s always been a pain in the ass, but he’s my brother. So why would you know about the name Bud?”
“I love to read,” she said. “I love trivia.”
Bud’s eyes lit up as he said, “Really? We have a few things in common.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But I’m not as funny as you.” Bud smiled back at her, and then Paul walked into the room.
“How’s it going?” Paul asked.
“I was just finishing,” Bud replied as he got up.
“Wait,” Deborah said. “Is everything true about Robert? They told me he had an affair with Patty. Did he have me kidnapped? The FBI said no, but I would like to know what you think, Bud.”
Bud looked at Paul then back at Deborah and said, “He did have an affair with her, but as of now, there is no evidence he was involved in your kidnapping. As of now, it looks like Patty was behind this.” Debbie’s eyes became glazed.
“We are going to get all of this resolved, Ms. Lance,” Paul said. “This will be over soon.”
“It may be over,” she answered, “but I have lost my two closest friends. One betrayed me with my other friend, and the other betrayed me for money when she couldn’t get the man I loved for most of my life. This will never be over for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Paul replied. “More than ever, you should want to help get who is responsible for all of this. We lost a cop, almost lost a second cop, we lost a friend, and we came close to losing Rachelle Robinson, a reporter who has been writing about the case. It was her articles that drew out your kidnappers. People have died during all of this, and I believe it was all of this dying that in reality has been a part of saving your life.”
There was silence in the room for a few seconds, which for Bud was rare. Paul continued, “Ms. Lance, if there is anything you know that can help us find John Winters and Phil Smith, I believe we can close this case.”
The young woman recalled and spoke to them about everything that happened to her from day one, from the ordeal she went through during her captivity to the phone calls between Wayne Starfield and John Winters. Bud and Paul were not surprised by anything until she remembered hearing Wayne on the phone discussing the $3 million in cash at the house.
Bud looked at Paul and changed the subject, asking, “Deborah, when you leave here, what are your plans?”
“My dad wants me to come home for a while,” she answered. “I could use some private time at the old Pink Mansion,” she smiled.
“Deborah,” Bud leaned forward, “how did you feel about your dad selling the business? After all, you were going to run it.”
“I didn’t care,” she said. “It’s so difficult these days to run your own business. He got over $45 million for the chain plus 5 percent on profit for the franchise. I’d rather have the time to enjoy my life than work too hard to maintain the lifestyle. I don’t want to sound like a snob, but I grew up watching how hard my dad worked and how much time he was away from me. As much as I would have worked hard to respect my dad’s business and make him proud, I’m not upset about the business being sold.”
Paul asked, “What about Patty Saunders and Robert Simpson? It appears they were upset about the business being sold.”
Debbie looked away and was clearly upset. She looked down at her hands and said, “I loved Patty, and I’ve been in love with Robert since I was a teenager. I don’t understand why they thought I would ever hurt them in any way.”
Paul spoke softer, saying, “Money can create evil things, Ms. Lance. I’m sorry. Listen, you are going home today, you are going to spend some time with your father. I’m sure the two of you have much to talk about.”
As they prepared to leave, Bud turned around and said, “Listen, when all of this is over, I would like to take you to lunch and have a little trivia challenge with you. You seem to be a threat to my throne, so I have to check this out.”
“You are a funny guy,” Deborah said, and smiled.
“Sounds like a yes to me,” Bud answered as he waved goodbye. The smile was still on her face when the door shut.
While they were walking down the hallway to Sherry’s room, Bud mentioned, “Interesting about the original $3 million ransom. Only the father, Deborah, and the butler knew it was $3 million exactly stashed at the house.”
“Keep it alive in your brain, my friend,” Paul answered.
As Bud shook his head, he said, “We are going to come to the conclusion that I should have put that bullet up his ass.”
“Now to the next patient,” Paul answered.
Bud replied quickly, “If I spend any more time in this fucking hospital, I’m going to get sick, have to stay here, and then I’ll really be fucked.”
They showed their badges and entered the room. Sherry’s husband and her parents were in the room giving support. Sherry raised her finger to the detectives, indicating she wanted a few minutes with her family before the questions came. Paul and Bud started a small conversation between themselves in the corner of the room to allow Sherry to have privacy with her loved ones. Within five minutes, Sherry’s parents were introduced to them and they left the room.
As Paul and Bud came closer to the bed, Sherry asked her husband to leave so she could speak freely as a police officer and not as a victim. Gabe understood, kissed her forehead, and left the room. As Paul turned his attention to Sherry, he could see the damage Mason had done by kicking her in the head. Her face was swollen with bruises and she had suffered a concussion. Bud turned on his pocket recorder. Sherry told the whole story of what happened in the house, from her walk from the bathroom to the attack in Rachelle’s room.
“I thought I failed in my duty when I heard Rachelle screaming. All I could do was fire my gun, hoping it would make him rush out and not finish her. I don’t know how he didn’t have the time to kill her.”
Paul responded, “It’s apparently in her hyster
ical state it might have given her enough time for you to get your gun and fire. She would be dead if not for you, Officer Walker. You’re a hero.” She looked back at Paul and appreciated the smile on his face as he said it.
Bud concurred, “You’re a hero, all right—the call to 911, shooting your firearm like you’re at some circus!”
“Oh, here we go,” Sherry laughed.
Bud grabbed her hand and said, “Seriously, you’re a hero, and if you were not so banged up right now, I’d give you a hug.”
“Last question,” Paul said. “The masked killer outside on the front lawn, did you see or hear anything?”
“No,” Sherry answered. “I was out like a light after that son of a bitch kicked me. By the way, you guys look terrible.”
“We really have had no sleep since this happened. We have to close this case. There have been only 22 officers in Suffolk County who died in the line of duty since formation of the Suffolk County Police Department. Victoria was the 23rd, you were almost the 24th. The pressure is on.”
“Well, you look like shit,” Sherry answered.
“OK,” Paul said, “time for some rest for you.”
Bud smiled at Sherry and started singing “Sherry Baby.”
Sherry put her hand up to Bud as Paul reached the door and said, “It’s a good thing I understand it’s your way of showing affection or I’d shoot your ass too!”
“Oh, come on,” Bud replied, “let me finish.”
“No, get out of here. It’s white men like you that make me angry at my mom for giving me that damn name.”
They closed the door, and Sherry had on her face what most people had when Bud left the room—a smile. Sherry’s parents and husband were in the hallway as the two detectives walked up to them. They brought Gabe up to date with as much information as they could and Sherry’s mom even asked a few questions about what was going on. The verbal exchange lasted for about five minutes while Sherry’s father remained silent throughout. As they said their goodbyes, Mr. Jonathan Angall, Sherry’s father gently grabbed Bud’s arm and spoke for the first time.
He said, “There are many things I can accept and understand because my daughter, my only daughter and child, is a cop. And I really don’t know everything that is going on here, but what I do know is that people are losing their lives and keep coming back to this hospital. I also know that my only child had a knife stuck through her and was kicked in the head like she was some kind of animal and left to die. You find whoever it is behind all of this, and before you put them behind bars or in the ground, my request is that you make them aware of all the pain and suffering they have caused us.”
Bud looked at Mr. Angall with almost an intimidated look on his face. He couldn’t even think of anything to say except, “Yes, sir.”
Jonathan Angall held on to Bud’s arm and said, “I have your word then,” as he looked in Bud’s eyes.
“You have my word,” Bud answered as Mr. Angall let go of his arm.
As they walked away, Paul asked Bud, “Are you OK?”
“Yes,” he replied. “A quiet man, yet he knows how to get his point across.”
“This is it, my friend,” Paul replied.
“There will be little sleep now; we have to end it. Let me stop in and say hello to Rachelle,” Bud said. “Wanna come back in?”
“No, I don’t think I should,” Paul answered. “Meet you in the lobby in 10 minutes.” As Paul walked to the lobby, he felt his heart beating through his temples. This was a warning sign to him through experience that if he didn’t calm down, he would be having an anxiety attack. He sat down in the lobby and tried to think of other things before the back of his head became soaked. If his hair got wet, he knew he would be in trouble. He went outside the hospital to call his father to take things off his mind.
“Rachelle, my belle,” Bud started singing to the tune of “Michelle.” Both Madison and Rachelle clapped their hands after he finished. “How are you doing this morning?”
“Well,” she replied, “I think I’m doing better than you. You look like shit!”
Bud interrupted, “I know, I know, that’s what they tell me.” He looked up at the television and saw Suze Orman giving someone an approval for a vacation. “You like her?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Rachelle said, clapping her hands. “One day I will get to see the whole program to the end.”
“Well,” Madison said, “I think you need some time away from here for a bit, so you will have some time.”
“My younger sister looking out for me,” Rachelle said as she looked at Bud.
Bud nodded as he smiled at Rachelle and said, “OK, we gotta go catch some bad guys. Paul is waiting for me outside.”
“Oh,” Rachelle answered. He gave her a kiss at the top of her head and walked out with Madison to the hallway.
He told her, “The house will have a 24-hour car outside until the case is over.”
“OK,” Madison replied.
“One more thing,” Bud asked, poking his head back in the room to speak to Rachelle. “Did you notice if the white mask being worn during the stabbing had a blood splatter on it?”
Rachelle squinted her eyes as she thought. She said, “I saw red, but I was so scared I really didn’t think about it.”
“Thank you,” Bud said as he left the room again.
When Paul reached his father, he was surprised when his dad said he had flown up to New York and was now on his way to Long Island to see him.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
“Paul,” his dad answered, “I have the Woolworth Reunion in a few days anyway, so I needed to spend time with you.”
“Dad, we have a case that is all over the national media.”
“Listen, Paul. I want to have dinner with you a couple nights. No big deal, but one day you are going to be a father, and when I see you, I’m going to play back the message you left me on my voice mail, and then I want you to tell me if you would not have done the same thing if your son left a message like that to you.”
“OK, Dad,” Paul said. “I guess I was feeling a little down.” Bud heard the last part of this conversation as he walked up behind Paul. Paul finished with, “OK, you will be at the apartment in a couple hours? I’ll see what I can do. OK, see you then.”
“Listen,” Bud said, “I have to get back to the precinct, then I need to get some shuteye before Cronin starts looking for us. See your dad, get a couple hours shuteye too. Maybe we need some rest. It’s been forever since I shut my eyes.”
“I agree,” Paul said. “Give me a call at 4:00 pm, five hours from now.”
Bud dropped Paul off at the front of Z Pita, and Paul went in to talk to Joey Z about Rachelle. After 10 minutes with the owner, he left and made his usual cut through the alley between the buildings to get to the back of his apartment. The alley always gave him the creeps, but the 10 seconds it took to walk through the alley saved him 10 minutes of walking around the buildings.
Paul went upstairs, played his messages, and got to the one from his Dad: “Son, it’s your father. I got your message. I love you too. I know things are challenging right now, but you will get through this. You are a good cop, a better person, and a great son. I’m proud of you.” Click. Paul played it three times before he leaned over on his bed and fell asleep.
Even though Bud had very little sleep, he pulled the interrogation that Paul had with Simpson for two hours. He went to the vending machines, selected the microwave popcorn, heated it up, got a soda, and started viewing the interrogation while having his popcorn. He made notes while watching and eating, played back a few segments, and started playing it again. He then requested the tech manager to play the hospital video of the masked killer going in and out of the hospital room to kill Kyle Winters. He scratched his head a few times and started writing additional notes. He went back to the Simpson interrogation again and viewed the last five m
inutes of it again. The tape finished, and there was silence. Exhaustion had caught up with Bud, who had fallen asleep in the video room—popcorn, soda, notepad, and pen all beside him.
Agent O’Connor, limping and with a cane, met Cronin at the Port Jefferson Now offices to meet with Steven Anderson, who showed them Rachelle’s desk and computer. As Cronin poked around, he kept one ear open to listen to O’Connor’s questions to Steven Anderson. Her work habits, good, bad, problems, past assignments, future assignments, the book she was writing, the letter that came to her from Phil Smith.
Yes, Cronin thought to himself, he’s very thorough. The detective lieutenant did not find anything else unusual or any unexpected surprise at her desk. It appeared that Rachelle was ambitious and a hardworking woman who did not want to be intimidated or forced not to have the life she wanted to lead. Cronin asked Steven Anderson questions about himself, such as his years at the paper and the places he enjoyed spending time while he was in the village.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Cronin said. “All I ask right now is that no one, including Rachelle, use the computer on her desk ’til we have someone look at it.”
“Fine,” Steven Anderson said. “No one has been on it except for
Rachelle and the other cop.” Cronin and O’Connor stopped in their tracks.
“Other cop?” Cronin said. “Do you have a name?”
“Yes, hold on a second. Detective Paul Powers.”
“Did he show you his badge?” Cronin asked.
“Yes, of course.” Anderson replied.
“When?” the detective lieutenant asked.
“Two days ago,” Anderson replied.
“How long did he spend on the computer?” O’Connor asked. “About 30 minutes,” the editor replied.
“Thank you,” Cronin answered. “No one goes on the computer ’til I give you a call with who is coming. OK?”
“No problem,” Anderson replied.
As they left the building, O’Connor asked, “What do you think?” Cronin looked at the agent and said, “I think it’s strange he didn’t ask us about how Rachelle was doing.”
The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel Page 20