by John Scanlan
Tim held a stack of papers that encompassed a small amount of the various tips that had been received via the telephone tip line. In the early days of the taskforce, when there was a lot of information to check and the killer was striking regularly, each group would be assigned different tasks, and the results of those tasks would be discussed the following day in briefing. If any information was looked at as useful, it would be marked on one of the large dry erase boards; the other information would be filed.
Now the taskforce was left with mainly following up on tips that had been phoned in or going over old information. Each group would take a stack of the tips, which were transcribed on paper, along with any biographical data if a name was passed along by the tipster. If the group felt like the tip could possibly be legitimate and helpful, they would pass that information along to Lieutenant Greer. If he felt it was noteworthy he would call a special meeting to discuss it. If not, the tip was filed. Nothing was thrown away.
“All right, we got this guy who claims he saw Elsa McMillian’s killer leave her house and is just now calling it in two years after the fact. We have this woman who said her neighbor told her some things about when the South Florida Strangler will strike next, and we have another guy who said his cousin, well, just looks like a serial killer. And those are just the top three tip sheets. Who do you want to see first?” Tim asked as he and Tony walked out of the restaurant and back to their car.
“The chick who knows when he’ll strike next. Maybe she’s hot.”
CHAPTER 11
Anne walked into the examination room and sat on the table. A medical assistant took her blood pressure and asked her a few questions, then left after the advisement that both Dr. Morris and Dr. Hernandez would be in to see her shortly. She sat with her short legs dangling off the edge of the examination table, holding her purse in her lap. Her hip was extremely sore after the walk from her home to the bus stop, then from the bus stop to the doctor’s office. Different thoughts crossed her mind as she waited. What she would prepare for dinner that evening, what Louis was doing on that particular day, and if he would join her for dinner.
She thought about her neighbors, whom she disliked. She had seen them on their porch that morning as she walked to the bus stop. They never really bothered her or said anything to her as she passed, but she knew they were selling drugs or who knows what else, and she would get concerned for Louis’s safety. When she saw them she remembered how the neighborhood was when she and her late husband had first moved in. It was friendly, upper middle class, and white. Now criminals overran it. She worried they would attack Louis one day or steal the car. He would be devastated by that. He was such a good boy, she thought, and she didn’t like street thugs like that bothering him.
Dr. Morris entered the room. “All right, Anne, how are we feeling today?”
“Not too good. It’s getting harder and harder for me to walk.”
“Well, I think we are all set to do this procedure. Dr. Hernandez will be in here in a second. He will set everything up for the surgery and post-surgery exams. Everything will be fine.” Dr. Morris was in a very good mood this particular morning, which was unusual because he usually preferred to scold Anne for one reason or another. Today, however, he was very comforting and reassuring.
Anne was alone again. The thought of another surgery didn’t appeal to her. She knew it would be expensive and worried about how she would pay for it. She worried about not being able to be mobile for a while after the surgery. When she had her hip replaced the first time Louis had just been arrested and was preparing for trial. That surgery had been planned since before his arrest, and though she wanted to, she knew she couldn’t put it off.
She knew Louis had been going through a lot mentally and emotionally having been accused of a crime he didn’t commit, and so she hadn’t wanted to further burden him with looking after and helping her. She was working at the hospital at the time and was able to have co-workers and friends come by and help her out for a few weeks. But now she had no idea who she would turn to. She was hesitant to ask Louis to help her; she knew he had his own life and she didn’t want to be an encumbrance. She just could think of no one else to turn to and she knew she would have to enlist his assistance at times, although she dreaded asking him for it.
She also worried about the surgery itself. She was getting older and had a heart condition: What if she didn’t wake up? What if this was it for her? She worried about Louis. Who would take care of him if she passed away? Before she could ponder these questions further, Carlos walked in.
“Why, hello there. It is good to see you again. How is everything?” Carlos smiled as he looked at her and spoke.
“Oh, everything is fine, I suppose.”
“Dr. Morris tells me we are going to go ahead with the surgery. That’s good, it’s a good thing. Do you have any questions about it?”
“I’m just curious why this is happening and if it will happen again. When I had the first surgery they said it would last forever. That was only twelve years ago. I don’t know how much time I have left, but I really don’t want to have to do this again.”
Carlos smiled and paused for a second before answering. “Well, the doctor who told you it would last forever was wrong. He should not have said that. What happens is the hip replacement implant is made of both metal and plastic, and over time they both wear down. Think of it like a car tire. The more you drive on it, the quicker it wears down. A woman your age at that time was not expected to be as active as you have been, and so the doctor probably assumed you would have gotten twenty years or more out of it. The implant you are getting now is made from a higher quality metal and plastic. I can guarantee you will not need another.” He smiled again. “Now, let me ask you, I know you walk to and from the bus stop almost daily, what about around the house, do you do all the household chores or does your son help you out?”
“I do them. Louis lives in his apartment, he takes care of it and I take care of the house.”
“Doesn’t he ever come over and do things for you at the house? Like clean up after dinner or lock up at night?”
“No, he rarely comes over for dinner anymore and he is never over after dark. He’s a very private person.”
“Well, I think we are all set, let’s set a date, shall we?”
After a date was agreed upon and more small talk was made, Anne was ready to make the trek back to the bus stop and head home.
“I am so sorry, I cannot give you a ride home today I have other patients to see.”
“Oh, that’s OK, I was planning on taking the bus anyway.”
With that, Anne walked out of the office and Carlos could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was very excited and anxious. This was it; he had waited six long months for this. Since this alter-ego had taken shape he had never gone this long without gratifying his dark callings. He was addicted to the sense of control he got from it. He liked outsmarting and fooling both his victim and the police, flexing his superior intelligence and watching everyone scramble in his wake. He didn’t really enjoy the community being paralyzed with fear that he might attack them so much as he enjoyed the community being paralyzed with fear that he could not be caught or stopped. Yes this was it, today was the day—that old feeling was back.
Carlos hadn’t really planned on taking such a long hiatus, it just sort of happened that way. After his last victim he felt so badly about neglecting Julia that he decided to surprise her with a cruise. When they returned he took his requisite break from murder and lived honestly, but after a few months his demons began calling again and he started looking for new victims. He perused the patient files, did neighborhood and background checks, but no one seemed to meet his criteria. Another few months went by and still no one struck him as being “the one.”
Then Carlos got word from his mother that his father was very ill and he spent weeks tending to him. He had seen his father, Miguel, just a few months prior but hadn't noticed any symptoms.
Carlos was devastated. As hard as Miguel had been on him as a child, Carlos loved his father deeply. He cared for his father daily, until his death only one month after Carlos had been made aware of his illnesses. Carlos took Miguel’s death very hard and felt strong feelings of guilt for not diagnosing his own father when he had seen him prior to being on his deathbed. He could have at least eased his pain sooner, made him more comfortable. It was a huge blow to his ego and confidence. Maybe he wasn’t the doctor he thought he was. It took months before Carlos regained just a bit of his old swagger.
When he met Anne, he had not yet begun reviewing files again looking for his next victim. Maybe he was being anxious in choosing her, one of his own patients. Maybe he was being lazy. Or maybe she truly had spoken to his subconscious and she stood out for a reason. Maybe fate really was crying out for her to be his next victim. Now he felt like he was ready again.
The rest of the day, while at work, Carlos remained in his office. He had no patients scheduled to be seen, despite what he had told Anne, and so he kept the door closed and went over his game plan, again and again. It was precise, it would work, he was sure of it. He would only make one change from his dry run two evenings ago. He would take the bus to the same location, yet he would turn onto the street before J Street so he could come up J Street from the opposite side. He did not want to pass the drug house twice. The more he thought about his interaction with them during his dry run, the more he feared they would be able to put together what he had done. Even though they couldn’t identify who he truly was, perhaps someone would have remembered his car from when he drove Anne home. Perhaps the police would discover it belonged to him and begin to show his picture around the neighborhood. It was just too much of a risk. If he was spotted by them and approached he still felt good about being able to get past them without issue, he just preferred to avoid the interaction if he could help it. He knew this change was a gamble having not checked out the other street completely, but he had a good feeling the evening would play out exactly as he planned.
Carlos returned home from work around five-thirty as he usually did.
Julia had been home all day lounging around the house. She had slept until noon and she was just now showered and dressed nicely.
“Hello, my love,” he said as he spotted her on his way down the hall.
Julia looked at him for a second then looked back down at the magazine she was reading.
“Hey,” she said back unenthusiastically.
“I am sorry, my dear, I have to be the on-call surgeon tonight so I am going into the office around eight.” Carlos had used this excuse before. Julia never questioned it and so he continued to use it, assuming she didn’t know he was never on-call with the hospital because he technically was not employed by them. The truth was, Julia didn’t care one way or another and never really considered it.
Julia’s mind began to race upon hearing the news that she had the entire evening to do as she pleased. It was a Monday, and she was hesitant to go out on the town because she feared it would be a waste of her time. She certainly did not want to sit at home alone, however, so she considered her other options. She stood up and walked into the kitchen, where Carlos stood drinking a bottle of water. Their eyes met. She did not really want to speak with him, she just needed to know his location in the house as she had lost track after he walked in and told her of his upcoming absence. Now she was on the spot, in an awkward situation and she knew he would soon be on his way up the stairs and into the bedroom to change his clothes. “I am really in the mood for pizza tonight, what about you?” She said almost seductively, a far cry from her cold and uninterested greeting to him.
“Sure, I could go for some pizza, where did you want it from?”
“Sal’s. Would you mind getting it now if I called it in? Please?” She looked into his eyes and smiled for the first time.
“Of course, my dear,” he said and walked back out the door. Julia quickly picked up her cell phone off the kitchen counter and called in an order at Sal’s Pizzeria for a cheese and pepperoni pizza, then ran upstairs. She reached the bedroom and opened a drawer on her nightstand. She moved some magazines and books out of the way and pulled out a small key. She shut the drawer and entered her large, walk-in closet. In the back of her closet she had several jewelry boxes, some with small locks. She unlocked one of the jewelry boxes and pulled out a different, smaller cell phone and powered it on. She had three voice mail messages that she checked. Two were from a man she had met while out Friday evening and had given her number to. The other was from a wealthy, older man whom she regularly met up with when he came to town. He would take her out for dinner and drinks and the two would stay in a lavish hotel. He told her he would be in town the following weekend and for her to call him when she got the message.
Julia had developed a system over the years for keeping her extramarital affairs a secret. She had her main cell phone number, which she used regularly and Carlos knew about. She also had a disposable, pay-as-you-go cell phone she had purchased using cash at a local convenience store. Every month she would purchase phone cards to use from different convenience stores, and always with cash.
She didn’t really know why she went to such great lengths to keep her affairs a secret from Carlos. She had no love for him, they had no children, and she had signed no prenuptial agreement prior to their marriage, so in the event of a divorce she would get half of everything anyway. She often questioned it aloud to herself when she would have to painstakingly hide any traces of her secret life. He had never given her any reason to think he was a violent man, but she feared something else.
She had grown so accustomed to doing what she wanted when she wanted and not having to work for it. She knew that the money she would get in any divorce settlement would not be enough for her to sustain her current lifestyle, and if she were to marry or date any of the wealthy men she had had affairs with or would meet after a divorce she would never be able to get away with what she got away with now. She had the perfect situation with Carlos, and she did not want to give it up.
She realized, as she pondered her evenings plans, that she had not seen her current boyfriend in almost a week, so she dialed him. She left a message on his voicemail for him to call her and stop over that evening. She instructed him to leave her a voicemail message and that she would be able to check it around eight p.m. She shut off the phone and locked it back up, then went back downstairs.
She had been seeing her boyfriend for a while now, but she wasn’t enamored with him, and she used the term boyfriend very loosely. She had been with wealthier guys and more handsome guys, but for some reason she stayed with him. He knew her situation, most of it anyway. He knew she was married and he didn’t have a problem sneaking around. He did not know, however, that she was also seeing other men when she wasn’t with him or her husband.
Carlos returned home with pizza and the two ate and made small talk as they watched television. After eating his dinner, Carlos began preparing for his big night. He got changed into a pair of dark dress slacks and a light blue long sleeve dress shirt. He put on his designer watch and black Italian leather loafers, kissed Julia goodbye, and walked out the door. The rest of his disguise was in the car already. His dark blue New York Yankees baseball cap sat on top of a black leather jacket in his backseat and his fake mustache was in the glove box, though he did not plan to use it tonight. Latex surgical gloves also were in the glove box, and those he would use. Lastly, his most important tool, a wadded up pair of women’s pantyhose sat under his seat.
He drove to the grocery store and boarded the bus. Night was falling and the anticipation was building. He finally reached his destination and stepped into the night. He took a deep breath. This was it.
He instituted the change to his original plan and turned down K Street. He soon discovered that K Street was not much better than J Street in terms of residents, but he managed to get down it without a problem. After two quick left turns he was on J Street h
eading toward Anne’s house. Not a soul was outside as he crept in the shadows, no one except for the drug house’s occupants. He couldn’t see them as he walked, but he could hear them. They were loud and boisterous. He could hear two different female voices and two male voices, one of which he recognized: the voice of the drug dealer with dreadlocks who had confronted him. He tried to stay concealed in the darkness and was soon standing in front of Anne’s house. He saw the car in the driveway, and through the window in the top of the garage he could see a light was on, just as it had been when he did his stakeout. He put on his gloves and rang the doorbell. He could hear some commotion inside and a faint voice asking who was there. Footsteps got louder and he could hear someone press up against the door and look through the peephole. “Dr. Hernandez?” He heard in a quizzical tone.
“Yes, Anne, it is me. I was supposed to give you medication this morning to take pre-op and forgot. I just remembered and it is very important you begin taking this medication right away. May I come in and give you the prescription?” Even Carlos was surprised by how convincing he sounded. He heard a door chain unlatch and a deadbolt turn. The door opened up and there was Anne in a nightgown.
“I’m not decent for company, so you can’t stay long,” she scolded, though she was touched by his kindness in coming all that way just to give her a prescription. Carlos stepped in and Anne shut the door behind him.
The front entrance opened up into the living room where an old couch and recliner sat in front of a small television. The room was dimly lit, the glow of a light from the kitchen and a small lamp sitting on an end table near the couch the only sources of luminosity.
“Good Lord, why are you wearing a jacket?” she asked, but didn’t really wait for an answer. “Let me get my glasses,” she said as she turned her back and slowly moved to retrieve her eyeglasses from the end table. She leaned over to pick them up but something stopped her from reaching them. Her mind couldn’t process what the problem was quickly enough. She struggled to breathe. Her hands reached up instinctively to her throat where she felt something wrapped around her neck. She was suddenly pulled upward and back. She gasped for air and frantically clutched at her throat. Her eyes grew heavy. She lowered her hands and let them dangle.