“They won’t be under their care very much longer,” Leo stated.
“And just how do you propose to swing that, ol’ partner of mine?” Lani asked.
“Simple. We kidnap them.”
* * *
It turned out that Anna Kokalis was close friends with a man who was an expert in the field of hypnosis. Leo had no trouble at all convincing her that this was the right thing to do. She had no qualms at all about being a party to breaking the law in order to catch the Ripper.
“But you must be prepared to face some horrible things,” the psychic warned the investigators. “We’re dealing with the devil here. I am firmly convinced of that.”
Connie and Frank were approached and did not want to hear of the plan, in any way, shape, form, or fashion. Not just no, but hell, no!
Leo had busted one of the EMTs at the hospital some years back—before the man became an EMT—and because the guy was basically a decent sort, Leo had withheld the evidence which would have changed the charge to a felony. The guy owed Leo, and Leo did not hesitate to call in his markers. The EMT was pretty shaken up by his part in the plan, but Leo had him between a rock and a hard place, and he could not refuse.
It was going down that night.
“You understand that these people run the risk of dying under the amount of drugs I’ll be forced to use,” the expert warned.
“I don’t care,” Leo replied. “We’ve directly tied both of them to more than a dozen torture/murders. They’re both scum. They want to worship Satan, we’ll send them to Hell with my compliments.”
The man, a professor at a nearby university who refused to give his real name, smiled. “I would not want you for an enemy, Leo.”
“That’s probably a wise decision, Doc,” Leo said.
* * *
It’s been said that money talks and bullshit walks. In this case, that proved out. Dennis Potter owned the hospital where the young killers were being treated. It took only one phone call from Dennis to clear the way for Leo and his team to make their move. A little rescheduling of personnel, and the way was clear.
At midnight, a fire suddenly sprang up at the far end of the corridor where the young killers were housed. In the ensuing confusion and thick swirling smoke—from smoke canisters—they vanished. The cops guarding the young punks saw nothing. The nurses observed no unauthorized personnel on the prison ward. Nobody saw nothin’. It was leaked to the press that probably members of the killing club had broken in and rescued their fellow partners in crime.
Several of the doctors thought that was a pile of crap, but they were urged by older colleagues to keep their mouths shut and their opinions to themselves. They were quietly reminded about talking and walking.
Neither of the young people died, or even experienced any lasting ill effects after the hours-long ordeal under heavy doses of mind-freeing drugs. But they did talk. And what they had to say brought the investigators to the door of the Ripper. The young man and woman were “found” by a Hancock County Deputy Sheriff on his way to work the next morning. They had no idea where they had been, who took them where, or what had transpired while they were gone. Several of the doctors who worked the psychiatric ward suspected what had happened—once they observed the needle marks in their arms—but they kept their mouths shut. In their opinion, the young man and woman were utterly loathsome, unredeemable, and totally lacking in any quality that would ever make them socially acceptable, and that was being kind about it.
Agnes was still suffering from her ordeal at the hands of Dick Hale, and could not write about the strange disappearance of the wounded prisoners, even if she had wanted to, which she didn’t. Besides, Agnes was rapidly undergoing a change of philosophy concerning crime and criminals and what should be done about it and them. The liberal left was about to lose a valuable ally in Agnes. She asked one of the doctors to get her an application to join the National Rifle Association.
It usually takes only one violent encounter to change a liberal to a conservative. It’s called coming face-to-face with reality. Something most liberals have yet to grasp.
A description of the Ripper and accomplice was handed over to a police artist, and soon a composite was drawn up.
Gil Brown and sister. But when they got to Windjammer’s home, the man and his “sister” were gone.
But Gil’s crippled sister had left behind her wheelchair.
On one wall of the den, written in what was later determined to be human blood, was a message:
MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB
LITTLE LAMB, LITTLE LAMB.
ITS FLEECE WAS WHITE AS SNOW.
EVERYWHERE THAT MARY WENT,
THE LAMB WAS SURE TO GO.
FUCK YOU, LEO!
Chapter 32
The detectives went over the house, and forensics came in and fine-toothed the home. They could find nothing to tie in Gil Brown and his sister to the killings.
“Then why did they run?” Connie asked. The Bureau had rejoined the hunt now that it had once more become legal. Sort of.
“They’ve tired of the game,” Leo said. “They want it to end. I guess. Hell, I don’t know.”
“But we checked out Gil Brown and his sister,” Brenda bitched. “All the way back to birth.”
“Sure we did,” Lani said. “But we checked out the real Gil Brown and sister. I’ll bet you a month’s pay, they’ve been dead for a long time. The Longwood boys took their identity. They found a brother and sister whose parents are deceased and with no close relatives. Will you backtrack that, Frank?”
“I’ll get on it right now.”
The Bureau found a cousin and flew him into La Barca that afternoon on private jet. He was shown recent snapshots of the Browns. He shook his head. “The resemblance is startling. But that is not Gil and Gayle.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.”
After the cousin had left, Stacy said, “Well, I know damn well that Gayle is female. I’ve been to the rest room with her dozens of times over the years.” Stacy returned to the KSIN studios to prepare to resume broadcasting. The stations were due to hit the air the following morning.
“Female,” Brenda said softly.
“Oh, she’s female, all right,” Leo said. “But she didn’t start out female.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Ted said.
“Talk about a twisted case,” Connie said. “This one is going down in the annals of crime. You can bet this one will be reviewed at the Academy . . . over and over for years to come.”
“Let’s hope it’s reviewed favorably,” Lani said. “And the only way we can insure that, is to catch the killers.” She snubbed out her cigarette. “But so far, they’ve made fools of us.” She stood up and paced the room, talking as she walked. “We all agree they’re still in the county. We all agree they’ve decided—for reasons we’ll probably never know—to play out the last act right here. We all agree they have probably kept many of their . . . souvenirs from past killings.” She grimaced. “Faces, skins, etc. And we all agree that we have not, as yet, found their central location.”
“A massive search, Lani?” Ted questioned.
“Has to be,” Leo answered it. “House-to-house. Let’s work up the grids and get to it.”
* * *
Sheriff Brownwood and the chief of police left only a skeleton crew to work the calls, and put everybody else going house-to-house in La Barca. At first, they demanded to see proof of where the residents worked. They had to stop asking that when civil rights and civil libertarian organizations stepped in and threatened to go to court, claiming the question was unconstitutional... a violation of privacy. The newspapers ran pictures of Gil and Gayle, and begged the public’s help in finding the demented brother and sister before they could kill again. The broadcast news media cooperated and ran pictures of Gil and Gayle. After four days of exhausting searches, the cops had zip. Nothing.
On a Friday morning, the fifth day of the house-to-house
searching, the investigators met at the office before they hit the streets.
Leo punched the flashing button and lifted the phone.
“You having fun, poopsie-whoopsie?” the voice asked.
Leo gave Lani the signal to start the trace. “Oh, it’s been just one great, big laugh after another.”
“I’m so happy for you,” the voice said. Leo could not tell if the voice was male or female. It was being electronically altered.
“I suppose I have to say that I wish you and your brother, or sister, whoever you are, would turn yourselves in.”
“I’m Jack, Leo baby. Jim is right beside me. I’m sorry that we don’t have time for you to speak with my brother. But I know you’re tracing this call. I’ll save you the trouble. It’s a pay phone on Chestnut. Well, suffice it to say, there will be a surprise for you later on this afternoon. Have fun, pig. Ta-ta.” The connection was broken.
Uniforms raced to throw up a loose circle around the suspect area, but turned up nothing. Leo had anticipated that. None of the team had to ask what kind of surprise lay in store for them. They all felt they knew: another body.
* * *
The uniform assigned to guard Stacy Ryan escorted her home for lunch and checked the front rooms before waving her inside. Stacy smiled at the female officer and stepped into her home.
“Stay here while I check the other rooms,” the uniform said.
Stacy waited in the den. And waited. She thought she heard a thump, but couldn’t be sure. She called out for the police officer. Silence greeted her.
“Denise!” she called again, raising her voice.
Giggling drifted to her. Denise was definitely not the giggling type. Stacy quickly walked to the front door and threw it open. She ran to her car and locked the door, then jerked up her phone and frantically punched out 911. A unit was on the scene in three minutes. The longest three minutes of Stacy’s life. A second, then a third marked unit pulled up. By the time Leo and Lani and their team reached the building, a cordon had been thrown up around the place.
There had been no sign of Denise.
Forty-five in hand, Leo was the first to enter the home. The smell of blood was immediately strong in his nostrils, thick and heavy. He waved the others in. Connie and Frank took the area right off the den, Brenda and Ted stayed in the central part of the home, and Leo and Lani slowly made their way down the hall to the bedrooms. In Stacy’s bedroom, they found the body of Denise, sprawled on the king-sized bed. The walls and carpet were spattered with blood. Denise’s head was missing. They both stood in silence for a few heartbeats.
“She was getting married next month,” Lani said. “CHP guy. Nice fellow.”
Leo studied the body. It looked like the head had been removed with one blow. Probably with a very sharp and very heavy machete, with a lot of force behind it. There were no signs of any hacking. Leo backed away from the bed. Lani had stepped out into the hall.
A loud bang from the far end of the house set them running. Another bang followed the first one. Connie and Frank stepped into the den, embarrassed and angry expressions on their faces.
“Goddamn perimeter bangers,” Connie said, holstering her pistol. “Attached to the doors. These people have a real sense of humor. Denise?”
“Dead. Her head is missing,” Lani replied.
The team from the ME’s office came in and Leo pointed down the hall. The investigators stood in silence. Nobody seemed to want to say anything.
* * *
In the back rooms of a warehouse located near the edge of town, Jim and Jack Longwood sat and planned for their final hours of glory. The years behind them had been wonderful ones. They had succeeded beyond their wildest expectations. Now it was time to think about and savor in anticipation that hot moment they had been born to face.
Jim and Jack owned the warehouse, purchased by one of their attorneys through a corporation that was very real and making money. When Jim and Jack had realized the game was about to end, they had closed the warehouse for repairs and moved all their momentos into the back rooms. Mirrors were placed in strategic locations all about the rooms. Dozens of small tables had been set up, and jars placed on the tables. Faces floated in the clear liquid. Lovely faces, the hair fanning out about them. They were so pleasureable to gaze upon. It almost made the boys weep to think all these lovely faces would soon be destroyed. Jim and Jack loved them all. Some more than others, of course. That was only natural.
And that was about the only thing natural when it came to the Longwood boys.
Leo and Lani and the rest of the team were not that many hours away from finding out just how unnatural the Longwood boys really were. And how prophetic Anna and Karl Muller’s words would be.
* * *
“How the hell do they move around?” Sheriff Brownwood asked the team. “Their pictures are plastered everywhere. We’ve got roadblocks all over the goddamn county. How the hell do they do it?”
Leo had a theory about that, but he wasn’t ready to share it with anybody besides Anna. Not even Lani. It was too wild, too bizarre. Leo wasn’t really sure he believed it himself. Anna believed it, as Leo had known she would. But for now, that theory would stay with the two of them.
No more death pits had been uncovered around the nation, but no cop believed they had discovered them all. Many would lie uncovered for all time. The death toll was staggering, the highest in American history, numbering in the hundreds. Dozens of people were in jail, and dozens more on the run. Anna had said it was her belief that the horror would end with the deaths of Jim and Jack Longwood.
“That can’t be soon enough for me,” Leo had replied. He could not remember ever wanting to put lead in someone as strongly as he did now.
But Anna had cautioned, “Don’t be surprised if your bullets have little effect on these two.” She stared at the two cops. “Believe it. Believe it and you can stop this twin evil. I mean that.”
Lani had experienced chill bumps on her flesh at that. She was silent for a moment, then said, “Have you told the others that, Anna?”
The woman shook her head. “They don’t believe. And because they don’t believe, they are in the most danger. Do I have to explain that?”
Leo and Lani exchanged glances. Neither would admit it, but both were a little fearful to hear more from the psychic.
Anna cupped Leo’s face in her hands and looked deeply into his eyes. Then she did the same with Lani. She smiled and stepped back. “You both believe. You don’t want to, but you do. Just be careful when the final encounter arrives.” She turned and walked out of the room. Two uniforms had been assigned to Anna. One was a driver, the other rode shotgun. Anna was being driven slowly up and down every street in La Barca, and crisscrossing the highways in the county. Anna believed she would find the Longwood boys. It was just a matter of time and patience.
Lani and Leo were riding together when the call came over their radio. “See the man,” dispatch said. “Watson’s garage. Riverside Drive.”
Lani always got a large kick out of that address, since there wasn’t a river within fifty miles of La Barca. She acknowledged the call and Leo turned the unit around. They met with a very badly shaken Mr. Watson. He tried to light his pipe, but his hands were trembling so he finally gave it up and put the pipe in his coverall pocket. He pointed to the rear of his garage.
“In the back. In that old green Olds. The junked one. I hope you have strong stomachs. And don’t ask me to go back there, ’cause I ain’t gonna do it.”
Sitting on the driver’s side, skinned hands on the wheel at ten and two, was the headless body of what appeared to be a young man in his late teens. He had been sexually mutilated. There was a note on the dash.
HERE I GO DRIVING, IN MY MERRY OLDSMOBILE. CATCH US IF YOU CAN, LEO & LANI.
Leo cursed and then said, “Call it in, Lani. Use the phone in the garage. Let’s keep the press away from this as long as we can.”
But some members of the press had been followi
ng Leo and Lani, staying back a block, and they were soon hard on the story like white on rice. While uniforms prevented them from actually seeing the horribly mutilated body, and none of the cops would have anything to say about the body, they quickly found that Mr. Watson was all too eager to talk to them.
“Here we go again,” Lani muttered.
Agnes was back in full swing, but it was a very different Agnes than before. She was not hostile to the police, not nearly so sarcastic in her questioning, and seemed to actually be on the side of the cops.
“It’s a miracle,” Lani remarked.
Leo smiled. “No. Just a person who has finally come face-to-face with reality. We owe Dick a favor.”
A uniform walked up and whispered in Lani’s ear. She sighed and thanked him.
“What?” Leo asked.
“Another body. This one clear on the other side of town. The Longwood boys have been busy. Brenda and Ted are over there now, and asking that we join them as quickly as possible.”
“Bad one?”
“The worst yet.”
“You mean the worst that they’ve seen?”
“No. The worst yet. Period.”
“That would be going some.”
“Gene Clark tossed his cookies.”
Leo shuddered. If Big Gene had lost it, it was bad.
The pair of cops walked to the car, shaking their heads at the dozens of questions being thrown at them from the huge knot of reporters.
The second body found that day was what was left of Paula Darling, Dick’s secretary. At least that’s who they thought it was. The ME’s people were going to have to reassemble all the body parts, right down to the fingers and toes. And this time the Longwood boys had left behind what the press would soon be referring to as their calling card: the nameless face of a woman, long dark hair fanning out, floating in a jar of clear preservative. With Paula’s skinned head sitting on the lid of the jar. The penis of the teenager found in the Olds just moments before was sticking out of Paula’s mouth. The testicles were found in Paula’s left hand.
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