Bud made the turn onto Canal just as he caught the back of his cruiser turn right on to the highway. Bud got to 70 miles per hour before reaching the corner of Route 83, and like the driver of the cruiser, he gunned the BMW to 100 miles per hour, weaving in and out of cars. Paul called in for a helicopter to assist in the chase. Although Bud moved at almost 100 miles per hour, they lost sight of the cruiser as two other marked cars joined the chase. They passed the Vietnam Memorial, and Paul tried to stand up in the car to look for the cruiser.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Bud yelled. “Sit your ass down!”
Paul couldn’t see anything, then suddenly yelled, “Shit! Turn around.”
“What?” Bud yelled.
Paul yelled louder. “Turn around! He pulled into the Memorial plaza. Go back!”
Bud pulled off the exit, turned left, and started going up the exit northbound. He drove the mile at close to 100 miles per hour and slowed as he pulled into the left lane to enter into the Vietnam Memorial parking area, and there it was. Bud and Paul jumped out of the BMW with guns drawn as they approached the cruiser. No one was there. They ran up the hill with guns out as the tourists stood back.
They approached the memorial, and again nothing. As they walked back to the vehicles and the parking lot, it was discovered from one of the tourists that their car had just been stolen.
“Damn!” Paul said as he got the make of the car and called it in. “Follow me back to Belle Terre so we can return the BMW to the owner.”
“Shit!” Bud said. “Son of a bitch.”
Before leaving they started checking with the memorial visitors for a description of the driver. Again, nothing of importance.
“This guy has nine lives!” Bud yelled.
“No, he doesn’t,” Paul replied back. “His time is running out. I’d like to know where the hell the helicopter went.”
He directed one of the officers to drive the cruiser to Belle Terre while his partner followed so he and Bud could stay together in the BMW. They drove back to Belle Terre to return the car to the owner, and when they pulled up to the house, the middle-aged woman was angry beyond words. She had called the police to report her car had been stolen by two police detectives. They transferred her call to the precinct commander, who in turn contacted Cronin as soon as he heard Belle Terre and the Lance Mansion. The detective lieutenant called Mrs. Theresa Williams and assured her she would be reimbursed for the use of the car and all liability would be handled by the Suffolk County Police Department.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Paul said to her. “We had no choice. This is my card if you need to reach us or if there is any problem with the vehicle.”
Paul jumped back in the cruiser with Bud. “We have to get the car back for prints. Let’s get another car out here and let the lab boys look at this.”
Bud turned to the backseat and said, “Damn it!”
“Now what?” Paul said.
“The photographs! They’re gone!”
Paul got out and searched the back and underneath. Only the four masks they had gotten from Fun World were still on the back-seat. “Well,” Paul said, “I think it’s safe to say whoever was in the car was in one of the photographs.”
“We have to meet Lindsey, and we have nothing to show for the day but a stolen car and lost photographs,” Bud said as he banged his open hand into the side of the car. “Asshole! That’s what I am today.”
“You feel like an asshole now?” Paul asked. “Wait ’til we get back and explain all of this to Cronin. “I feel like the only thing we are missing is the third stooge.”
They got back in the unmarked cruiser and arrived back at the precinct prepared to face the music with Cronin.
They arrived at his office as the detective lieutenant and Assistant District Attorney Ashley were on their way to meet Judge Green about getting Patty Saunders released on bail.
They entered his office and their boss said, “Well, well, well, I’m sure you two are proud of yourselves today. You leave keys in the car, you take some lady’s BMW to chase the bad guy, you lose him. Anything else I need to know?”
Bud hesitated but spoke up, saying, “The photographs you gave us to show Lindsey were taken from the car.”
Cronin flipped his pen in a violent fashion to show his displeasure. Assistant District Attorney Ashley was smart enough to keep silent and let Cronin handle it.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” Cronin asked.
“Boss,” Paul said, “there is a connection with all this with Robert Simpson and Phil Smith. We have to bring him in again.”
“No!” Cronin yelled. “You have no evidence. Let it be for now, and by the way, Paul, how come you never talk about the Rachelle Robinson connection?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paul asked in a very firm voice.
“Have you read her tweets lately?” Cronin asked. “Not to mention, everyone who knows her or threatens her seems to get killed.”
“That’s not fair,” Paul answered. “We questioned her, and she tells us to talk to you.” As Paul raised his voice, he said, “Now why’s that!”
“Maybe you’re not asking the right questions,” Cronin said, “and lower your voice before I throw you through my office window.”
“OK,” Ashley said, “I don’t need to hear this. I’ll wait for you outside, Kevin,” Ashley said as he left.
“I’ll go with you,” Bud said as he tried to follow the assistant district attorney.
“Keep your ass in my office!” Cronin yelled as Ashley shut the door. “Listen,” the detective lieutenant said, “I need you guys to do your job. The media is itching to destroy our credibility and bring in outside help with this. It may be my career, but I’m not going to let it happen. If this case is not solved within the next few days, you guys will be back in uniform the rest of your careers and mine will be over. You are going to have to accept that things are being done for a reason, and some of it you may not know about for now, but it’s to protect your careers.”
“What is it we don’t know about?” Paul asked.
“Everything will come out in the wash. The most important thing is to find Phil Smith before he kills again. Get the car over to the lab for fingerprinting, get over to the mansion, and see if you can figure out what he was up to.”
“What about the photographs for Lindsey?” Bud asked.
“I’m going that way later and can take care of it after I get a new set of photos,” Cronin replied. He added, “I’ve got to go see Judge Green about the Saunders arraignment.”
“Don’t worry, boss,” Bud answered. “No way she’s getting bail.” Cronin didn’t answer as he walked by both of them.
“Boss,” Paul said as Cronin turned around. “Are we OK?”
Cronin made a face before walking out, telling Paul they were.
“A real tough guy,” Paul said as they looked at him meet up with Ashley. As Cronin went to the front desk of the precinct, he called Gina to have Officer Dugan bring him another set of the photos at the Riverhead Courthouse, where he would be meeting with Judge Green. They drove to exit 73, took the exit and made it to the courthouse within 25 minutes. They were brought to a little room to discuss the case. Patty Saunders’ attorney, Al Simmons, was already waiting for them in the room.
“Let’s talk,” Ashley said. “We have about 10 minutes before Judge Green gets here.”
“She’ll do it,” Simmons said, “on two conditions.”
“Let’s hear it,” Ashley said.
“First,” Simmons replied, “she wants to have a conversation with Deborah before she’s out.”
Cronin spoke up, saying, “She’s down South taking a vacation.” Simmons replied quickly, “She will speak to her on the phone.”
“What’s the second?” Ashley remarked.
“She wants it on the record that she initiated the kidnapping of a frie
nd in order to get ransom. She made a deal that no one would get hurt whether the ransom was paid or not. While she recognizes that she is responsible for the repercussions of her actions and it will probably make no difference in the eyes of the jury, it will in the public’s eyes, and she wants it known there was no intent on her part the way this has escalated.
Cronin and Ashley whispered in each other’s ears for a few moments, then Ashley answered Simmons, “We will recognize in court her intent, as long as you recognize it won’t make a difference in the eyes of the law as to the kidnapping. Also, this deal is contingent upon her flushing out Phil Smith and anyone else who may be involved. The people of the state of New York will ask for a reduced sentence for the murders and request manslaughter in the second degree. The kidnapping charges stay. It’s a good deal, considering everything that has happened. We now have the murders of two good, innocent people as well as the six dirtbags that have been killed in the past nine days. She should take the deal.”
Simmons opened his briefcase and said, “You realize, of course, she is also putting her life at risk by doing this.”
Cronin spoke again. “I would say she doesn’t have much of a choice. She can stay in jail the rest of her life or try and help solve it and be out of jail in 20 to 25 years.”
“Let’s not jump the gun,” Ashley spoke up. “This is all contingent upon Judge Green being OK with this. He is not exactly the easiest judge to deal with, as we know.” There was a knock on the door, and it was Officer Dugan bringing Cronin the envelope full of photographs. Both Ashley and Simmons did not ask about what had just happened. The detective lieutenant put the envelope down on the table without saying a word.
“So,” Simmons said, “how is the singing detective doing?” The grin on his face was not appreciated by Cronin and neither was the question in front of the assistant district attorney.
“I have no idea who you are talking about,” the detective lieutenant answered. The grin came off of Simmons’ face quickly.
Cronin turned to Ashley and said, “What’s the story with this judge?”
“Serious judge,” Ashley replied. “No one has ever seen him smile or crack a joke. Very old-fashioned. About 65 years old, looks about 75. We need to be careful, but quite frankly this is an unusual request, and I don’t know any judge who wouldn’t have reservations about doing this.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Cronin sorted through the photos during this brief intermission. He stared a little longer at the photos of Robert Simpson, Phil Smith, and Paul Powers. His thoughts filled his head with so many scenarios that he was starting to get a headache. He pulled out a few more photos as Ashley went through some papers and Simmons pushed buttons on his BlackBerry. Cronin looked at all the photos again and marked an X on the back of one of them. He then picked them up and tapped the table with them so they were all even as he shoved them all in the envelope again. He then picked up his phone and called Officer Healey at the school to see how things were going with Lindsey. There were no problems at the school, and Cronin told Healey to stay with her longer today until he got there to show her photographs. He would see them in about two hours. He hung up with the officer and started getting restless.
“The nice thing about being a judge,” Cronin said, “is that everyone has to wait for you.”
“Welcome to my world,” Simmons answered as he put his Black-Berry down.
“They’re busy,” Ashley said.
“Don’t use that word around me,” Cronin said, looking at both of them. “Busy is a four-letter word. When someone tells me they’re busy, it insinuates to me that I’m not busy, and I am busy, so tell me many things but don’t tell me you’ve been busy.”
“OK,” Ashley replied. “Take it easy.”
“Just stating the facts,” Cronin said. “Are you a busy person?” Cronin asked, looking at Ashley.
“Yes,” the assistant district attorney said.
“We all are,” the detective lieutenant replied. “Have you ever heard me tell you I haven’t returned your call because I’m busy?” Ashley looked around the room for acceptance as he said no. “You’re damn right,” Cronin said. “Don’t insult me with the word busy. It’s about priorities. Speaking of which, my priority is solving this case, and I have now been waiting for this judge for 20 minutes.”
“I’ll see what’s going on,” Ashley said as he held his hands up. “No,” Cronin said, “let’s wait another five minutes. You just pushed a sore button with me.”
“I can tell,” the assistant district attorney answered.
Simmons was sitting there actually enjoying the exchange between them. There were about 20 seconds of silence before Judge Green stepped into the room. He was a gray-haired man, hair combed back neatly, and about six feet tall. And Ashley was right, he looked about 75 years of age as he walked slowly to his chair, sat down, and started to talk.
“I apologize for the delay, gentlemen. Things have been a little challenging today. I’m sure all of you are as busy as I am, so let’s get right to it. What exactly is this about? You have 10 minutes.” He had already made points with Cronin by his comment that all must be busy.
Ashley stood up and reviewed the entire eight days as an outline that included eight murders with one, possibly two, perpetrators still on the loose. This took the entire 10 minutes that Judge Harold Green had given him, but he sat silently as the assistant district attorney continued to make his pitch to release Patty Saunders on bail for $1.5 million to flush out the remaining killer or killers. When he finished, the judge sat with a stoic look on his face for about thirty seconds before he spoke.
“So let me get this straight. You want me to release someone who is responsible for kidnapping her best friend, which has indirectly led to eight murders in the last eight or nine days, because we think it will flush out who we want in this entire mess? Do I have that right?”
Ashley spoke again, saying, “You would, of course, be giving a realistic bail of $1.5 million to avoid suspicion.”
“Oh,” the judge said. “Thanks for that bit of information.”
He sat silently again and looked at Cronin before asking, “As the detective in charge of this case, what do you think of that idea?”
“I think it’s a damn good one, Judge, which is why I brought it to the district attorney’s office.”
The judge looked at Simmons and stated, “I assume you and your client are accepting of this.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Simmons answered.
“Why?” the judge asked.
“It’s her best chance to have some kind of life other than prison,” Simmons answered.
The judge looked confused by everyone’s agreement on this and brought his attention back to Ashley. “I assume your boss is OK with this?” he asked.
“Yes, Judge,” Ashley answered.
The judge sat idle for another few seconds before commenting, “Maybe when we release her we should put a big bull’s eye on her backside to help whoever is killing everyone find her.”
Simmons started laughing as he remarked, “Ashley said you never crack a joke,” as he continued laughing.
“I don’t,” the judge answered as he looked at Simmons with a stern look. The attorney quickly stopped his giggling as the judge looked at Ashley.
“The nature of this crime is shocking, and a release on bail may cause a public outcry that will reach levels we have never seen before. The violence level here is beyond anything seen on Long Island, ever. More than the Long Island Sniper case, more than the Smithtown murders. Ms. Saunders is a cunning woman who it appears will do anything to anyone to get what she wants. I need to be convinced the safety of the public will not be in danger if we do this and that there is no other way to solve this case.”
Cronin spoke, saying, “Judge, I agree with what you are saying. However, I worked the Long Island Sniper case; this case, as you mentioned, is
much more complex than that and the other murders.
I can attest to you that this case is dependent upon you releasing her on bail.”
The judge was silent as he contemplated a bit more before saying, “We are not on Candid Camera or, what do the kids say today, being punked, are we?”
Simmons started laughing again as the other three stared him down to force him to be quiet.
“No, Judge,” Ashley said. “This is for real.”
Judge Green spoke again. “And who in the hell is going to guarantee the bail and put 10 percent down to the bail bondsman?”
Ashley began to speak, but Cronin interrupted him, saying, “It’s anonymous.”
“Anonymous?” the judge said.
“Anonymous,” Ashley said.
“Anonymous,” Simmons said weakly.
“Is there an echo in here?” the judge asked. “You guys are willing to risk your careers on this?”
“Yes, sir,” Cronin answered. The judge looked over the file that was handed to him on the Saunders case for a few minutes before looking up at them again.
“I want to talk to the district attorney, and I will give you my answer in 24 hours. There are many things to consider here, and before I open Pandora’s Box, I want to think it over a bit. I realize this case is esoteric in regards to the norm, but I need to evaluate the law and the possible repercussions from it.”
“Judge,” Ashley spoke up, “while I respect your feelings and your comments, under the law, everyone is entitled to some kind of bail.”
The judge stood up and said, “Yes, however, the law also allows me to have a bail so high it’s impossible to release her. Let me think about it.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Ashley answered.
The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel Page 35