His thoughts were becoming confusing. He turned on his laptop, and once it warmed up he signed on to Twitter and wrote, “This is just the START, When you play with someone’s HEART, It’s me you have to FEAR, Our date is getting NEAR.” He closed his laptop while his thoughts continued. What the fuck am I doing?
It was past 8:00 am when Bud got himself ready to leave and meet Paul. However, there was a text waiting for him, telling him he should go see Rachelle himself and that she may be more comfortable speaking without him there. He agreed with Paul, he thought to himself. He sent him a message back that he would meet him in Belle Terre and asked him to get the OK from the boss to look around again. Bud had also been getting emails from the editor of LI Pulse magazine for an interview on the case. Bud had never met Nada during the five years the magazine existed, but he started friendly email correspondence with her about the magazine. He was impressed with it and was surprised when she replied to him. He looked forward to opening the magazine each month not only for the articles but got a kick out of what kind of photo Nada would have on the editor notes page. He even amused himself thinking if only she could sing, she was the type Paul would buy a CD of, she was that pretty. Bud emailed her back and told her he would be in contact with her within 24 hours.
He gave Officer Healey a call to verify he was on the way to Lindsey’s house for school, and he was already at the house waiting for her. He hung up thinking, I should have known.
As he was approaching his car, his BlackBerry buzzed and it was from Cronin, who said, “I need you at the precinct this morning before you get preoccupied.”
Bud answered, “Is 10:00 am OK? I wanted to stop at Rachelle Robinson’s place to discuss her tweet this morning.”
“No,” Cronin replied. “Don’t worry about it. I need you and Paul to be accessible to me. Later, get photographs over to your new best friend so she can look at them after school. By the way, do you have the right officer with her?”
Bud replied, “Boss, the girl will have trouble going to the bathroom, he will be watching everything. He’s the right man.”
“OK,” Cronin said as he hung up and thought, It must be Healey or Lynagh.
Bud called Paul and said he would pick him up in 15 minutes and that Cronin nixed seeing Rachelle. He was already on his way to Paul’s when he got the reply from his partner that he would be ready. Although Officer Healey was a serious person, Lindsey wanted him with her at the school. Although her memory was in the top 1 percent of the population, she was also extremely aware of karma. She believed in her feelings and the waves she felt from people. She felt safe around Healey, and this gave her peace of mind. Rather than unsettle the busload of kids again, Healey put her in his squad car and took her to the Port Jefferson Middle School. Her day began there, and later she would take two advanced courses in the high school for math and science.
Healey reached the school, and proving why Bud had chosen him, scouted the grounds carefully before getting out of the car and opening the door for her. He escorted her into the school and right into her homeroom. He paid no attention to the kids who would turn around to sneak a gaze at the policeman in the back of the room while class was in session.
Between classes, Healey was right beside her and was surprised it did not make her uncomfortable. It seemed that Lindsey embraced it. Some of the kids complained when Healey had to check the bathroom before Lindsey used it. Instead of throwing the girls out when he checked, he went to the boys’ room and made them leave.
During one of the classes, the principal of the school asked if he could speak to him out in the hallway, and Healey obliged only if he could see Lindsey from where they were standing through the door window. The officer was asked if there was any way to tone down the escort. The officer politely told the head of the school, “This girl is not going to be kidnapped or injured on my watch. I suggest you call our boss if you think it’s a problem having a cop in the school. By the way, from what I’ve seen so far just today, it’s probably not a bad idea to have one here anyway.”
Principal Gates realized he was wasting his time and left it alone. “OK, Officer,” he said, “please do your duty.”
“Have a nice day, sir,” Healey responded as he went back inside.
When Paul and Bud arrived at their temporary offices in the sixth precinct, they were told to go right into Detective Lieutenant Cronin’s office. When they arrived, the detective lieutenant gave Bud photographs to show Lindsey. He went through them to find photos of Deborah Lance, William Lance, Patty Saunders, Rachelle Robinson, Robert Simpson, Phil Smith, and added some fillers such as
Paul Powers, Officer Dugan, Sherry Walker, Agent Sherman, Agent O’Connor, Steven Anderson, and Roger Thompson. There were also photographs of the Lance household staff that had been put on vacation since Debbie and her dad had gone to Florida.
“You get to the grounds of the mansion, take a look around. Meet Healey at Lindsey’s house after school.”
“Boss,” Detective Johnson replied, “I think we need to speak with Rachelle about today’s tweets.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cronin replied. “I spoke to her; it’s under control.” He looked at Paul. “Patty Saunders is being arraigned today. I want you in the courtroom when it happens. In the meantime, catch up on some of your reports, stay in touch with Allan’s family, and let us know when the wake is and funeral arrangements.”
He started to walk away when Paul replied, “Isn’t that what you have a secretary for?”
Cronin turned around and said, “Yes, but I want you to do it. Get right with it or go home.”
Paul just stared at the detective lieutenant and decided to go to his desk rather than lose a stare-down with him. Cronin went to the conference room where Assistant District Attorney Ashley and Patty Saunders’ attorney, Al Simmons, were waiting for him.
He sat down and said, “Good morning, gentlemen.”
Bud was still at his desk when Paul got back. Paul said, “Maybe this isn’t for me anymore.” He took out his badge and held it in his hand. “Hey! Hey! Hey!” Bud said. “Stop this shit!”
Paul looked at him and said, “This case has changed me.”
“It’s changed all of us, Paul,” Bud replied. “And I’m not going to let you ruin your career because you have gotten yourself in too deep.”
“He has me finding out about wakes and funerals and to be a witness in an arraignment, Bud.”
“OK, Paul,” Bud replied, “have the secretary do it, but who do you think Allan’s widow wants to hear from? The arraignment thing, he has his reasons. We have to trust him, Paul. You are the best at this I’ve ever seen, especially when it comes to interrogation and the courts. Cronin knows what he is doing.”
Paul put his badge in his pocket and said, “I’m not going to make the call, I’m going to see them in person.”
“OK,” Bud replied, “but keep in touch so you can be back for the arraignment.”
Cronin and Ashley explained the deal to Simmons. As of now she was in for life. They would cut her a deal if she agreed to be let out on bail and be a spy and/or bait to flush out the killer or killers.
“Gee, let me think this one over,” Simmons said.
“A, go to prison for life, B, accept bail and probably be killed and if not go to jail for 25 years. Gosh, you guys certainly know how to make a sweet deal.”
“With good behavior, she’ll be out in less than 20,” Ashley said. “Let me talk to her,” Simmons replied.
“We need to know today,” Ashley said. “The body count is climbing, and we have to speak to the judge if your client accepts the deal.”
Simmons waved as he left the room, and as he walked by Bud without acknowledging him, Bud began singing “You Can Call Me Al” by Paul Simon. Simmons stopped in his tracks to look at Bud, who was amused with himself that he remembered the lyrics so well. He even moved a little to make believe the music was
playing. He really started moving as he got into the chorus of the classic song. Simmons stood there with his mouth open as he watched the detective perform the song for another 30 seconds until he stopped.
“Are you proud of yourself?”
“Yes, I am,” Bud said. “It was a great video. I just loved it when Chevy Chase lip-synced the words.”
Simmons frowned and asked, “Are you having a breakdown?”
“No,” Bud replied, getting serious and losing his smile. “It’s the bad guys who will have the breakdown, or the bad girls, for that matter. Have a nice day,” Bud said as he walked away and sat at his desk.
Simmons went off to meet Patty Saunders to discuss the deal. Bud saw Cronin walk back to his office and told him about the LI Pulse interview request, and Cronin denied it unless the questions were sent in writing and they were answered by Bud and Paul under his supervision, and he wanted to add questions and answers as he felt were needed.
“I’ll ask her, boss, but I don’t know if that’s acceptable to her,” Bud said.
Cronin was getting ready to make a call as he answered Bud, “Sorry, that’s the only way we will do an interview for this case. Where’s Paul?”
“He went to Allan’s house instead of calling.”
“Good idea. Take him with you to the grounds of the Lance house, but he needs to be back in three hours for the arraignment. You have a date with Lindsey.”
“On it, boss.”
He met Paul at Allan’s house and met with the family, where they were told the wake and funeral would be delayed because the medical examiner and the district attorney’s office wanted another 24 hours. Paul and Bud spent some quality time with Allan’s family, and Paul told stories from high school. Allan’s wife, Linda, asked Paul to speak at Allan’s wake, and he was honored to be able to do it.
They left Allan’s home with the family’s appreciation and headed over to the Lances’ Pink Mansion with the permission of William Lance, which included the security code to open the gates and access the house. They drove up to the gate, and Bud pushed 2131, waited for a second buzzer, then pushed the same number backwards—1312— and the gates opened. “This should be fun,” Bud said aloud.
As Officer Healey sat in the back of the class in silence, the teacher, Ms. Meghan, was impressed how disciplined he was while the kids were working. He never uttered one word and he was eyeballing the room, the doors to the classroom, and Lindsey. One of the boys reached over to Lindsey and whispered to her, “Your cop friend looks like a robot. I saw an old movie called Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and he reminds me of the mean cop.”
Lindsey giggled and looked back at Healey, who winked at her then set his sights on the boy, who had a smile on his face. Healey pointed his finger at the boy and gave him a stern look, which prompted the boy to turn around quickly toward the front of the class. As the bell rang to change classes, Lindsey got up and went into the hallway, knowing Officer Healey was within 10 feet of her. As they walked in the hallway, there were many stares and whispers as the uniformed officer strolled behind her with a holstered gun tucked underneath a very light windbreaker. There was no need for the light jacket in late June, but Cronin did not want his gun visible to middle school students, especially after what had happened on the school bus. Cronin wanted a little more discretion in the hallways of the school. The principal had also expressed his concerns to the superintendent to relay the message to the Suffolk County executive, who in turn had called the police commissioner. It seems that not only did no one want to take a chance something could happen to Lindsey with the threatening letter, Suffolk executive Marshall Collins relented on the request when he found out the police escort was related to the Lance case. As a courtesy, and respect to the former county executive, Collins in turn contacted the superintendent and told him the principal would have to deal with it for a few days.
During recess, where the kids had lunch and access to go outside in back of the building, Healey told Lindsey he preferred she stay indoors, and she complied without any problems. She noticed how he had the iPhone5, unlike the other cops who were still using BlackBerry’s. The day was going smoothly until they had gym class. There seems to always be someone in the crowd. The kids were doing relay races and then began dodge ball. There appeared to be one boy who needed attention and wanted to show off in front of his classmates. He took great pleasure in trying to hit Lindsey with the ball and made quite a few remarks about her appearance in gym shorts. Healey was getting restless watching the game as the boy continued, each time he got the ball, to throw it at Lindsey. Finally, he did hit her, and it struck her between the head and her shoulders. Once the game was over, the kids were going to their lockers, Healey asked Lindsey to hold up as he approached the boy.
“What’s your name, son?”
“Marvin,” he said. “What’s it to ya?”
“You’re a tough guy, aren’t you?” Healey asked.
“Yeah, so what?”
“You like singling out girls, do ya?” the officer asked.
“No, just Lindsey.”
Healey went closer to Marvin as the gym teacher was getting closer and said, “Son, I’m going to check on your father’s status with tickets, insurance, or any other problems going on. Then I’m going to ask him why he raised a son that likes to bully girls, and I’m going to do it in the classroom in front of all of your friends and classmates. How does that sound, tough guy?”
“Ugh!” the boy answered. “What if I don’t do it anymore?”
“Then I won’t do it,” Healey answered. “Your choice.”
The boy walked away as the gym teacher reached them and asked, “Is there a problem here?”
“Not anymore,” Healey answered.
He went to the front of the girls’ locker room and waited for Lindsey to come out changed and showered. He had checked it out before the girls entered to be sure there was no other way in or out. She came out about 15 minutes later as they headed off to the rest of her classes.
Sherry was getting restless in the hospital. However, the doctors were not ready to release her for at least a few more days. She was reading the newspaper about the Steven Anderson killing when she received a surprise visit from Rachelle and Madison.
“Hi there!” Rachelle said as she approached the bed and gave Sherry a hug. Sherry was excited to see Rachelle and thought she looked terrific.
“Listen,” Rachelle said, “I know I said this on the phone, but I owe you my life. Thank you!”
Sherry smiled and said, “I’m just happy I found my gun.”
Madison came over to the bed also and thanked Sherry and grabbed her hand while expressing it.
“Forget about me,” Sherry said. “How are you doing, and what is going on with your tweets?”
Rachelle smiled and answered, “I’m doing OK. I start seeing Dr. Hunt tomorrow, a couple times a week. I guess a therapist will do me good.”
Sherry noticed Rachelle didn’t answer in regards to the tweets, but she let Rachelle continue. “It’s been crazy, and now Steven is gone. I just don’t understand why or what he has to do with this. I’m writing notes on all of this. I’m going to write a book and do articles for Newsday on the case when it’s over or if I get out of this alive.”
Madison spoke up at the remark, saying, “Don’t talk like that. You have a protection detail with you everywhere you go; nothing is going to happen.”
Rachelle looked at Madison and said, “I may make it through this alive, but I know something will happen. Listen,” she went on, “I’m not here to be depressed, I came to give you some company.”
As Bud and Paul searched the grounds of the Lance Mansion, Bud was texting Deborah where he was in the house. They were exchanging funny messages as Bud walked around the back. Paul was inside the house making sure everything was secure. They met up in the front 45 minutes later and walked over to the guesthouse. The door had bee
n jarred open, and Paul and Bud took out their guns and walked in the entrance with guns pointed. They moved cautiously to the den as Paul looked to the right and Bud concentrated on the left. Paul yelled “Clear!” as Bud did, and they moved toward the back of the house. As they moved toward the back, they heard running out the front that came down the stairs. They ran to the front as a man got in Bud’s unmarked car and started it.
“The keys!” Paul yelled. “Did you leave the keys in the car!”
“Yes!” Bud answered. They started running down Cliff Street and found another vehicle driven by a woman. They flashed their badges and took over her car. She was yelling, not clearly understanding what was going on, as they jumped in her car. It was a BMW 328 convertible, and Bud pushed the pedal down.
“Good thing we are in Belle Terre! Could you imagine doing this in a Ford Fusion?”
They went down Cliff Street at 65 miles per hour and saw their unmarked cruiser take a left on East Broadway and a right on Belle Terre Road. The chase was on.
“Who the fuck is this?” Bud yelled over the wind. Paul started calling it in that an unmarked vehicle was stolen and they were in pursuit. The Ford cruiser was crisscrossing and cutting off cars as it zigzagged to lose the pursuers. The cruiser hit 90 miles per hour as it traveled down North Country Road and suddenly turned right into the back entrance of Mount Sinai Schools. The cruiser cut through the road at a solid 60 miles per hour as the driver tried to lose the BMW in pursuit.
“Come on!” Bud yelled. “You son of a bitch! You’re going to kill someone!”
“Don’t lose him!” Paul yelled. Paul took out his weapon to see if he could get a shot off but decided to wait until they were off school grounds. The cruiser went through the red light on Nesconset Highway, and three cars barely missed him by turning and slamming into cars off the side of the road. “Fuck!” Bud yelled. Paul was calling for medical vehicles to the corner of Nesconset Highway and Chestnut Street. Bud had to stop, then go and wiggle around vehicles to make it onto Chestnut. He pushed the BMW to 70 miles per hour on the street as they continued the chase. The cruiser reached Canal Road and made a left and drove at 75 miles per hour to Route 83 Patchogue–Mount Sinai Road and made a sharp right and floored it to almost 100 miles per hour, going south toward the Long Island Expressway.
The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel Page 34