by Joe Conlan
During his drive home, he devised a plan for the search convinced it would be necessary. He would conduct a systematic perquisition beginning at the most obvious place, the front gate and working his way around the perimeter of the property. He hadn’t advanced more than twenty feet up the driveway with his homing instrument held high above his head when its high-pitched squawk breached the dead silence of the night. The closer he progressed toward the gate, the louder it squealed. When he crossed over the ravine, it reached its highest pitch meaning she had to be nearby. He put the tracking device in the pocket of his coat and scanned the area around the gate with his portable magnetic floodlight. Unable to locate her anywhere on flat ground, he shined the light down into the ravine. Directing the beam downward along the ridge closest to the gate, he spotted Annie lying in an awkward position toward the bottom of the decline. Without thinking twice, he dropped all of his equipment except for his handheld flashlight and the medical supplies in his pockets and rushed as fast as the conditions allowed to her side. At the speed he ultimately attained, he was lucky to not have joined her in oblivion.
It was a minor miracle he arrived at the base still upright, though he almost planted the heel of his boot in Annie’s face as he skidded to a halt. Shining the flashlight on her face, the first thing he noticed was a large scab on her forehead and dried blood running in a trail down her nose to the tip of her chin. He placed his index, middle and ring fingers over the radial artery of her wrist and could barely detect a pulse. It was quite obvious she had suffered serious injury besides exposure and was on the brink of death. He hurried to remove some chemical hot packs from his first aid kit and place them around her neck and hands, doing his best not to rustle the body. Having fallen such a great distance, there was always the possibility she fractured her cervical spine. Even more importantly, jostling of an exposure victim could cause cardiac arrest.
From what he could tell after a rudimentary examination of her neck, it didn’t seem to be broken. As a precautionary measure, he carefully placed a brace around it. It was going to be a hazardous climb back up the ravine. He had to do his best to keep her body as still as possible as he carried her. Another fall would most likely be fatal. Leaving his flashlight behind, he gently picked her up and began the ascent up the steep incline. Several times, he lost his footing but was able to keep his balance. Upon reaching the top, he started toward the cabin moving as quickly as he dared keeping Annie’s neck as secure as was feasible.
Shem had left the front door open in anticipation that he would be carrying her. Once inside the cabin, he laid Annie on the sofa facing the fireplace and quickly started a fire. He removed all of her and his clothing and laid on top of her to transfer the warmth of his body to hers. Her skin was as cold as the icicles hanging from the eaves of his roof. After ten minutes or so, he ran to the supply room to get more hot packs and applied them to her neck, armpits, chest, side and groin. He then covered her with blankets and slipped a dry sleeping bag over her body up to her neck.
Shem was well versed regarding the recommendations that a person with severe hypothermia be taken directly to the nearest hospital. They had equipment far superior to his to elevate body temperature. He would do just about anything to keep her alive for his selfish purposes, but, emergency room treatment was obviously not an option. He was going to have to rely on his own abilities to care for her. His knowledge of medicine and especially the therapy for exposure to extreme cold was almost as sharp as any other subject he studied or read about in the past. Living in the extreme temperatures of the higher elevations and the nearest hospital being more than 100 miles away, he had the medical supplies for just about any health issue manageable by a layperson. They included equipment to administer care for hypothermia and start an IV. If anyone could nurse her back to health, he knew that he could. He would do everything in his power to make sure she survived even if it meant not leaving her side until she was on her feet again. When she was back to one-hundred percent, there would be no more risk taking, no opportunities for another attempt at escape. He would take her life his way, and experience the orgasm of a lifetime in the process.
“Sir, Attorney Alan Shipman is on the line for you,” Director Bynes heard through the intercom located on the cradle of his phone. Bynes was in his twilight years as the top man with the Federal Bureau of Investigations. His plan was to announce his retirement before the year was out. So far, this wasn’t the type of day he would miss. He had already been reamed by the President of the United States this morning for a botched mission to capture a high level drug dealer keeping his home base right under the President’s and FBI’s nose in the nation’s capital. A call from former Special Agent in Charge Daniel Falcone’s attorney wasn’t what Bynes needed at the moment.
“Tell him I’m not available.”
“I already tried that. He’s insisting. It’s about Daniel Falcone. He says it’s extremely important.”
“That’s what everyone says. I don’t have time for this shit.”
“Yes sir, I’ll do my best.”
A minute later, Bynes’ secretary was back on the intercom.
“Mr. Bynes, I can’t get rid of him. He says you’ll want to hear what he has to say. Better you first than the media.”
“God Damnit, alright, alright, put him through.”
Bynes loosened his tie hoping he wasn’t wasting his time agreeing to talk to Shipman. Seconds passed then his phone rang. The Director lifted the receiver to his ear.
“Bynes here. This better be worth my while Mr. Shipman.”
“I think it will, Director. I’ll get straight to the point. Two hours ago, Cassie Bryan, Annie Bryan’s mother received a package and letter purportedly from her daughter. I’m sure you’re aware Miss Bryan’s been missing for a couple of weeks now.”
“I’m aware.”
“Two things. First, there was a surgeon’s saw in the package. The blade has red stains which appear to be dried blood. Second. In the letter, Annie wrote that she was kidnapped by the serial killer, Damien Drysdale and that he admitted to the murder of Deborah Falcone and her parents. She says the saw was the weapon used to murder Deborah Falcone. Cassie Bryan confirmed the handwriting as her daughter’s.”
“Where’s the letter now?”
“I have it locked in my office safe.”
“Are you trying to tell me a woman being held captive by a deranged serial killer made a nice little neat package and maybe took a stroll to the local post office to mail it? Is this some kind of a hoax? I have better things to do than listen to this crap. Try to sell your bullshit to someone else. I’m a busy man. You have a nice day.”
“I wouldn’t hang up, Director. I can’t explain how Annie did it or guarantee it isn’t some kind of a hoax. I can only tell you her mother swears the letter was written in her daughter’s handwriting and showed me a sample. If it wasn’t Annie who wrote it, it was someone who was able to copy her handwriting exactly. I can assure you I’m going to pursue this. If it is real, a woman’s life could be saved and an innocent man is in prison. Do you want to deal with the repercussions later or look into it now?”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Shipman. This is a matter for the local field office.”
“Daniel asked me to take it to you. I had an attorney/client telephone conference with him at the prison after Mrs. Bryan came to my office with the letter. He believes Annie is perfectly capable of something like this. He wanted to give you a chance to get all your ducks in a row, if it is real. The media will go crazy with the story. He didn’t want me to hand the letter and saw over to Agent Leland until you knew about it. His main concern is Annie. He wants to help.”
Unlike the last time Daniel was in this courtroom, it was as calm and quiet as Saturday confessions at a Catholic Church. The room was occupied by a total of five people including the bailiff and court clerk. It felt like he had taken one on the chin when he saw Leland was attending on behalf of the FBI. If the new Speci
al Agent in Charge was there for support of the motion, it was completely unnecessary and most definitely unwanted. If the message was we’re truly sorry, Daniel wasn’t interested in hearing it from Leland. The wound was too raw. Seated at the defense table, hopefully for the last time in his life, Daniel turned back toward the gallery where Leland was chatting with the federal prosecutor, Norman Dallas. Leland caught Daniel’s movement in his peripheral vision and couldn’t help but turn in his direction. The two men stared into each other’s eyes. A weak smile formed on Leland’s lips as blood rushed to his face. He barely nodded his head in greeting. Daniel remained expressionless continuing his stare. After a few seconds, Leland couldn’t take it anymore and looked away. He had completely lost track of his conversation with Dallas who was not oblivious to the interaction between the former colleagues.
Since Alan Shipman had delivered the saw to the FBI’s crime lab two weeks ago, many good things followed for Daniel. During their initial telephone conversation, Alan was able to convince Director Bynes to get involved. Daniel admired Bynes and was sure the feelings were mutual though it was pretty clear the possibility of horrendous publicity for the FBI had a great deal to do with the Director’s decision to help. In the end, it was the right one. The DNA test of the blood on the saw was placed on the front burner. Five days later the results came back as a positive match for Deborah Falcone. There were also fingerprints lifted from its handle matching the prints on file for the serial killer. An FBI handwriting expert compared a true sample of Annie’s handwriting with the letter received by Cassie Bryan. The conclusion was that Annie did, in fact, write the letter enclosed in the package with the saw.
Daniel wanted to celebrate and feel the relief and joy such news would bring to a prisoner falsely accused. A dark cloud still loomed over his head preventing it. Annie, the woman responsible for proving his innocence, continued to be in mortal danger. The Bureau was doing everything in their power to find her with the new information provided by the postmark and the name she provided in her letter. So far, there were no further leads according to Cassie Bryan. The frustration caused by not being able to help was now tripled. Everyone knew he was innocent, but procedures had to be followed. It could be days, perhaps weeks before he was free. Director Bynes made a personal call to the trial judge and requested a special favor to expedite Daniel’s hearing on his Motion to Overturn the Conviction. Daniel hoped the Director’s influence would speed up his release from the prison. The federal prosecutor surely wouldn’t be an ally.
Norman Dallas initially resisted the motion. It required a heated face to face conversation with Director Bynes and a phone call from the President of the United States to finally change his mind. Bynes enlisted the Chief Executive’s help after his first attempt with Dallas failed. Together, Bynes and the President convinced Dallas that the consequences had the potential to turn out much worse. For now, he wouldn’t be considered for the appellate justice position he so intensely coveted. If Annie became the serial killer’s next victim and Daniel was ultimately proven innocent over Dallas’ insistent objections, the federal prosecutor’s chances to become a Supreme Court Justice would have been completely obliterated.
Daniel shifted his gaze toward Dallas. The prosecutor did not reciprocate. He made his way to his table staring straight ahead. He was obviously not pleased to be a part of this process. The only apology he would eventually utter was brief, generic and on the record. He had no interest in approaching Daniel in a personal setting.
“All rise, the United States District Court, Southern District of Florida is now in session, Judge Clarence Jackson presiding.” Judge Jackson entered the courtroom through his private door and took his seat behind the bench. A man who had his own aspirations for advancement, he was more than pleased to grant this favor to the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. It was always a very good thing to be owed a debt of gratitude by such a powerful man.
“I understand we have an agreement here on the Motion to Overturn the Conviction?” Judge Clarence inquired.
Alan Shipman immediately stood and responded in the affirmative.
“Mr. Dallas?” the Judge turned toward the prosecutor.
“We do, Your Honor.”
“Before I pronounce my judgment, does anyone have anything to say?”
Robert Leland, now standing at the prosecution table with Dallas meekly raised his hand.
“Go ahead Agent Leland.”
“I just want to offer my sincerest apologies to Agent Falcone personally and on behalf of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. I wish I could turn back time.” Leland looked over at Daniel who did nothing to acknowledge the statement. Daniel actually had to stifle a powerful urge to tell Leland to go fuck himself. Shipman had already warned him against showing any resentment toward the participants in the courtroom. If Leland was waiting for a response, Daniel had no intentions of complying. Feeling Leland’s discomfort, Norman Dallas stood and reiterated the apology on behalf of the prosecutor’s office. He wasn’t expecting any response from Daniel nor did he care. Later, he would say the right things for the benefit of the press. At the moment, there was no need to cater to anyone since the hearing was private and closed to the media. With the serial killer still at large and Annie in his clutches, it was a no brainer to keep the hearing top secret.
“Based on the newly discovered evidence which clearly proves my client’s innocence, we’re moving to overturn the conviction for all three counts of murder, effective immediately,” declared Alan Shipman.
“I don’t take the reversal of a jury verdict lightly,” Judge Jackson responded. “However, I have read the entire motion and the brief filed in support and I have to agree with Mr. Shipman. Since the only living family members of the victims are Agent Falcone and his two children, there is no one else to consult. All parties having agreed, including the prosecutor and the arresting agency, I hereby order the conviction for all three counts of murder against Daniel Falcone to be overturned. I can’t release you now Agent Falcone. There are procedures that have to be followed. You’ll be returned to the Federal Prison in New York where they will process your release. On behalf of the federal government and the State of Florida, my heartfelt apologies for what you’ve been through. No system of justice is perfect, but I continue to believe America’s is the best in the world. Good luck. I wish you and your family all the best.”
The American Airlines Boeing 777 skidded to a perfect landing on Miami International Airport’s runway four. The moment it arrived at its designated gate, Special Agents Christopher Frye and James Mancini were first in line waiting to disembark. According to the telephone call both men received from Leland earlier in the morning requesting their post-haste presence in Florida, they finally had a major break in the case of the nameless serial murderer regarding his whereabouts. For an unknown reason, Leland was unwilling to discuss the details over the secure FBI cell phone. As soon as the door to the airplane was lifted, the agents rushed through the jet way into the terminal and continued at a brisk pace toward the exit. A chauffeur had been sent to pick them up and was already parked outside the building’s exit waiting for them.
Upon loading into the back seat of their ride, Frye instructed the driver to employ the rotating blue police light and siren for the trip to the field office then phoned Leland to warn him of their imminent arrival. According to the new Special Agent in Charge’s secretary, Leland was on an important telephone conference and unavailable to take the call. Eager to get the information they had been anticipating for hours, Frye and Mancini encouraged the chauffeur to drive faster than protocol normally dictated. Less than fifteen minutes later, they burst through the entrance to Leland’s waiting area to find the secretary’s desk vacated. Frye was about to knock on Leland’s door when he heard muffled shouts coming from behind it. Due to a healthy dose of curiosity and on a modest hunch Leland was up to no good, Frye surreptitiously motioned for Mancini to wait, placed his ear up against the door a
nd eavesdropped on Leland’s conversation. It became apparent rather quickly that the new Special Agent in Charge was on the phone.
“What the fuck Clifton? You owe me. I’m the reason you still have a job at the Herald. I need you to do this for me. It’s imperative. Otherwise, our relationship is done.” There were several seconds of silence then, “You wouldn’t have had the Falcone story if it wasn’t for me. I made you. Now, when this comes out next week, I want it written my way. I’m not gonna take the fall for this.”
Frye had heard enough. Without knocking, he opened the door and entered Leland’s office with Mancini following directly behind. Leland turned toward them and immediately hung up the phone.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Have you ever heard of knocking?” bellowed Leland.
“Who was that on the phone, Robert?” Frye demanded
“I don’t owe you any explanations. And I don’t answer to you.”
“I know exactly who you were talking to. It was Clifton Harris from the Herald. So now we know who the leak was you son of a bitch.”
“Fuck you, Chris. I’m the boss here. You have no right to make those accusations. You’re treading on thin ice.”
“Bullshit, Robert. I know exactly what’s going on here, and I can prove it. You’ve had it in for Falcone for a long time now. I know about the Carol City murders you and Dallas held back. If that case was explored, Daniel wouldn’t have been prosecuted.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Get out of my office unless you can get a hold of yourself.”