Rampage

by Roy A. Teel, Jr.

  John walked in and sat down, and Chris followed. John asked, “You have two weeks off, and you’re calling me to do FBI work?” “Yes…I mean, I have nowhere to be, and I thought I could stay at your place and train you like before and work here at the Bureau until I am ready to go back to Virginia for graduation.” John smiled and said, “I knew you were a good pick for the Bureau. Of course, you can stay at the house. You’re always welcome. I will assign you a temporary ID and weapon. I have a case that I just got into that might be right up your alley.”

  After a half hour of paperwork, Chris was back in John’s office with his new ID and weapon, and John was bringing him up to speed on the school killing and the murders from earlier in the day. The two men sat with their tablets in their hands, talking about the crime scenes when Chris asked, “No witnesses, huh?” “No. At least not officially. I made someone leaving the first murder scene at the high school last night.” “The killer?” Chris asked. “If not, then someone who witnessed the killing.” Chris looked at the crime scene photos from the school and said, “This was really, really personal. He wanted to see this guy suffer. The note is interesting, too…”

  Chris was reading it and said, “I’m not that far out of school. This note was written by someone who had been bullied and tortured by the victim. I would venture a guess that these two murders are just the start of something a whole hell of a lot bigger.” John nodded, looking down at his tablet. Chris continued, “You also can’t count out the possibility that the guys that these two victims ran with aren’t thinking of seeking revenge here either. They may not know who killed their friends, but if there is no outpouring of emotion over their deaths, their friends could do something radical.” John said, “School violence?” “At least. Have you put an alert out to the school to beef up security?” asked Chris. John shook his head. “I don’t want to send a panic into the school at this point. I mean, there isn’t much to go on. We agree that the killings were intentionally brutal and were some type of revenge, but to jump from two homicides to putting a whole school on lockdown is a hell of a step.”

  “Yeah, that’s true, but you also don’t want to be known as the FBI agent that could have stopped a massacre but didn’t. I think an overabundance of caution is a good idea here. If there is a plot, more security and more police presence will disrupt it, at least briefly. And that might be all the time you need to stop it from happening.” John looked on at Chris and said, “You are absolutely right. We might not have a credible threat but better to be safe than sorry. I’m going to call Jim.”

  John hit speed dial on his cell phone, and he heard Jim scream into the phone, “WHAT, WHAT, WHAT?” John stayed calm and said, “Hey, Jim, do you have a few minutes to meet with me and my protégé at my office to discuss the two recent school murders?”

  Jim was standing at the smoker’s bench at his office with his cell phone to his ear. “Let me fuckin’ guess. Chris is in town?” “Yeah.” Jim took a hit off his cigarette and said, “What do you want to talk about?” “Chris has some good ideas on this situation, and I think that we need to raise the DEFCON level at the school for a little while.” Jim took another hit off the smoke and asked, stomping it out, “I see…so you two idiots want to raise the specter of a school shooting or other violence without an ounce of evidence to support it. You do realize that you will start a citywide panic, and every school will follow suit? You do know that it will stretch local law enforcement to the brink and make me put my deputies into the schools. You mother fuckin’ realize that shit rolls downhill, and that it will be my fuckin’ ass on the line for calling this situation out, right? Right? Mother fuckin’, right?”

  John laughed and asked, “So what time can you meet me?” “Santiago’s in one hour…” John said okay and went to hang up when Jim called out to him, “Oh, John?” “Yes.” “Go fuck yourself…you need to be up to your ass in alligators sometime instead of sitting on the fucking sidelines making the rest of us take the heat. Remember this, Mr. Feebie, I won’t be the sheriff of LA in a few short months, then who the fuck are you going to get to do your dirty work?” There was silence. Jim hung up the line and stormed back to his office to get his keys and let his staff know he was going to be out for a while.

  John hung up, and Chris said, “You look less than happy, John.” “Yeah…well, Jim just brought to my attention something that I had not been considering until this moment.” “What’s that?” John shrugged and stood up and said, “Not important. He wants to meet at Santiago’s, and given his mood and what we are going to ask him to support, we want to do it his way.” Chris got up and asked, “Do you drink when you go to that bar?” “Tonic water, Chris. All I ever drink at the bar is tonic water.” The two men walked out and headed for Santiago’s.

  Linda Elliott got home at just a little before noon. She walked in and dropped her purse then sat down on the couch in the living room, exhausted. Her laptop was open on the coffee table, and her computer began to beep, telling her that she had a video call coming in. She reached over and pressed the enter key, and there in front of her was her husband, Gary. A smile broke across her face, and she said, “Are you a sight for sore eyes. Hi baby.” “Hi yourself, beautiful…you’re the one that’s a sight for my sore eyes.” “So when are you coming home, honey? You told me three months ago that your tour was about up…then you agreed to stay on longer. Please tell me you’re calling because you are coming home soon.” Linda had tears in her eyes, and Gary could see them clearly over the web cam.

  “Well, I do have some good news on the home front. I just received new orders. I am to fly back to Washington next month. I’ve been promoted to brigadier general, honey…I finally earned the rank of general.” Linda started crying even harder and said through tears, “I am so proud of you, Gary…I am so damn proud of you. Will there be a ceremony?” “Yes…technically I am a brigadier general as of this morning, but the commandant of the corps is going to formally give me my star in Washington next month. I don’t have any details yet, but I wanted you to know that we finally made it.”

  Linda looked into the camera and said, “You made it, Gary, you made it…I had nothing to do with it.” “The hell you didn’t. Without you at home taking care of things and supporting me, I would never have climbed the chain of command the way that I have. My success is as much to do with you as with me. Is Tim home?” “No, honey, he’s at school, but I know he will be really, really excited, and I know he’s proud of you, too.”

  “Did you get the crate I had shipped home a few weeks ago?” Linda smiled and said, “Yes, I did. Well, Tim got it. I was at work, but he gave me the things you sent home. They are lovely, honey, thank you.” “I love you, and I want you to have nice things. I have been able to collect a lot of rare artifacts over here, and when I clear them through command I will send them on to you. I’m glad you like them. Did Tim like the stuff I sent him?” Linda looked around and said, “He never mentioned that you sent him anything.” “That’s teenagers for you. I sent him some military stuff. He likes weapons, and I was able to get him a few trinkets for his military collection. How’s he doing in school and ROTC?”

  “He’s doing okay...he and his small gang of nerds, as he calls them, have been having a hard time of it at school. Just yesterday, he and some of his friends got into a huge fight, and one of them ended up with a broken nose and lacerations. Timmy got beat up pretty good. I wanted to call the school, but he asked me not to. They all asked me not to.” The picture was getting grainy and a little broken in the dialogue. She heard Gary say, “You have to let the boys fight their own battles, Linda. It’s the only way they build character. When I get home, Tim and I will sit down and work on his fighting skills.” Linda sat back on the couch staring at the screen and said, “Fighting is not the answer, Gary. You know that all fighting does is lead to more fighting until eventually someone gets hurt or even killed.” “That’s why he must learn to fight and defend himself.
He’s the son of a damn brigadier general, goddamn it, a fighting man. I’ll be damned if my son is going to be a pussy.”

  Linda sat back up and said, “Let’s not fight. We get too little time to speak. When will you know about coming home?” “In a few weeks. As soon as I have an itinerary, I will let you know. General Sherman told me that the corps will fly you and Tim and two friends out for the ceremony. I know little else at this point.” Linda heard someone calling Gary’s name in the background. “Honey, I have to go. Give Tim a hug for me and tell him to get tough. I will talk to him soon. I love you and will video chat with you when I know more.” Linda got teary-eyed again and said, “I understand, Gary. I love you, too, and I’m so proud of you. It’s just amazing.” “Okay, Linda, I’m out.” The screen went black, and Linda closed the laptop, laid her head down on the couch, and cried.

  It was half past noon, and Karen was sitting in her office with one of her patients in a counseling session. The name plate on the door said it all, ‘Dr. Karen A. Faber, MD., Psychiatrist.’ She was finishing up with her patient when she received a text message. She saw the look of disapproval on her patient’s face upon hearing the phone buzz but didn’t say a word other than to continue her conversation. It was twelve thirty p.m., and the session hour was coming to a close. She told the patient that she was making great progress and that she would see her again next week.

  Karen saw her out and then went back into her office and tidied up some paperwork and read her message. It was an urgent text from one of her young patients asking to speak to her right away. She picked up her office phone and called back the number in the text. A young female voice answered the phone in a quiet manner. “Hello.” “Hello. This Dr. Faber. I’m returning an urgent text. Who am I speaking to?” There was silence, and the female voice said, “My name is Vickie.” Karen was confused and said, “Okay, Vickie…the text message I received came from one of my patients. Is she there?” “Not exactly, Doctor Faber. I sent you the text from her phone.” The female voice was low and quiet…almost a whisper, as if she were trying to hide from someone. “Who are you? Why do you have my patient’s phone, and why on earth are you contacting me?” There was a pause, and the voice responded, “All really good questions. I can’t talk right now. Can we make an appointment to meet?”

  Karen was getting angry and said, “No, we can’t make an appointment to meet. Who are you? What are you doing with my patient’s phone? Where is she?” “Again, all good questions, doc, but I’m afraid I’m not in a position to speak about this right now. I borrowed your patient’s phone because I knew you would respond to her text. I know you can’t talk about her situation. I need to speak to you because she is in danger, grave danger, and I think you are the only person who can help her.”

  Karen sat for a moment saying nothing then said with a calm voice, “If my patient is in danger, she should call me and make an appointment, and we can talk. I don’t know who you are, but if you are worried about her safety, you should call the police and tell them what’s going on.” Vickie was silent then said, “I’m her friend. I don’t want her to get into more trouble than she already is. She won’t talk to you about this, doctor. I know all about what trouble she is in and how much deeper she is prepared to go. Can we meet?” Karen said, “I will agree to meet with you on two conditions. First, that you meet me here in my office at the Northridge Hospital Medical Building, and second, that you keep the conversation to my patient and her situation. I will not talk about her treatment. Are we clear?” “Yes ma’am. What time can you see me?” Karen pulled up her calendar and said, “I have a half hour at three thirty this afternoon. Can you do that?” “Yes…I will be in your office at three thirty. Now, you have to do something for me.” “What’s that?” “You can’t tell anyone including your patient that you met me. Nothing can be said, and it’s a matter of my life and my death.” Karen was shaken by the revelation. “What you tell me is confidential. I cannot disclose it to anyone. Do you want to tell me something about this secret meeting before we meet?”

  “Not over the phone. It’s not safe. They could be listening. I’ve talked too long as it is. I will see you this afternoon.” The line went dead before Karen could respond. She hung up the line and sat back in her chair for a few minutes then picked up the phone and called Sara.

  Chapter Six

  ‘“In this world, there are no

  do overs, and you are going to

  learn that mother fuckin’ fast.”

  The sea was choppy and the surf higher than normal. There was a storm brewing just off the coast of Baja, California, and it was sending some very large swells to the Southern Pacific coast. There were a few surfers in the water, but for the most part they were either camped on the beach or on the deck of Santiago’s, drinking beer and sharing surf stories. Chris and John arrived to find Jim had beaten them, as usual. He was sitting out on the deck off in a corner by himself. He was smoking a cigarette, and John frowned when he saw him, and Jim said, “Fuck you…Javier made me this little oasis, so I can enjoy a drink and a smoke, asshole. So, what’s so goddamn urgent that you would drag me out here? Not that I’m complaining about being here. I’m complaining about our conversation on the phone.”

  John and Chris sat, and Javier brought John a large tonic water and brought Chris a glass of water. Chris looked up at the old Mexican and smiled and asked, “How do you know I don’t want something else?” Javier pointed to John and said, “You might…but you work for him, sí?” Chris nodded. Javier said, “Then I know John…you work for him, you no drink alcohol when working. You want a soft drink?” “Do you have Coke Zero?” Javier let out a loud laugh and looked at John and said, “You grooming this one in your image?” John smiled, and Javier disappeared then reappeared with a can of Coke Zero and a glass with ice. He poured the drink then turned and brushed several of the surf rats away from the men, so they could speak in peace.

  Jim took a drink of his beer and asked, “Okay, so we have two murdered kids, a note that makes no sense, and several others with long and brutal rap sheets on ice at the coroner’s office. How the fuck do you think we should handle this?” John was looking out at the surf as he responded, “Very, very carefully.” Chris chuckled, and Jim looked over at him and asked, “You think this is funny stuff, chuckles? Do you think this is a fuckin’ game? This is serious ass shit, Mister ‘I want to be an FBI agent.’ Let me tell you something, kid. This is the real world. This is not some course at Quantico where if you fuck up you can do it over. This is real life and death shit, and you only get one shot at getting it right. This is not some fuckin’ video game where if you fuck up you get a do over as many times as you like. In this world, there are no do overs, and you are going to learn that mother fuckin’ fast.”

  Chris sat silent with his head down as John turned back around and said, “I found some information on some of the kids that the Donaldson kid bullied. There were four names that were prominent in school records and some police reports.” Jim took a hit off the beer and asked, “So…what are the names and what kind of police reports?” “There was a temporary restraining order issued against Donaldson filed by a kid named Jerry Pinskey two years ago. Donaldson plead no contest to battery against him, and the judge dismissed the case with a TRO and a stern warning.” Jim took another drink of his beer. “Yeah…so how does that put Pinskey at the crime scene? If this kid is such a pussy that he needed a restraining order to keep Donaldson away from him, I think it is very, very unlikely that the same pussy kid is going to kill the guy he took to court.”

  “There’s another kid, Timothy Elliott. He was a part of the complaint as well, and he was protected by the order as well as two others, Alan Marks and Mark Rubio.” Jim took a deep hit off his smoke and said, “Well…we have a motive then for any one of these guys. He was a bad ass dude…he was going to get it one way or another. I read the jacket on him, and he was eighteen.”

  Chris broke h
is silence and said, “All of these people you mentioned are over eighteen. They are all seniors at Rosedo High School, and they all have the same M.O. They are nerds, class outcasts, who are part of the school’s ROTC program. They are computer guys who run in their own tight-knit little group.” Jim laughed, taking a drink of his beer and said, “Jesus, you really did do your homework.” “Yes, sir. If there’s one thing that John and the Bureau have driven into my head over the past year or so it’s to read, read, and read. Never take anything for granted. The smallest detail could be the difference between solving a crime and saving a life or losing a suspect and someone getting killed.”

  Jim started clapping his hands together slowly with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Good for you. You took a line from your boss’s playbook.” John said, “I think we haul the four of them in and talk to them.” Jim nodded, and Chris asked, “What about putting them under surveillance?” Jim laughed and asked, “Based on what? You got a few thousand dollars burning a hole in your pocket, son? That’s what you’re asking…you’re asking the taxpayers, both state and federal, to pay some cops to sit on their ass making overtime pay by watching some kids that we don’t have even the slightest proof have done anything wrong!”

  John nodded and said, “It’s not that easy, Chris. We don’t have probable cause to set up surveillance on them, and there is no way that the higher ups would sign off on something like that. We bring the four in for questioning. Depending on what we learn, we move from there.” Jim polished off the rest of his beer then stood up, stubbing out his cigarette in the palm of his hand. “Okay, so who’s going to pick these guys up?” John looked up at Jim and said, “I think having the FBI pick them up is a little heavy handed. Let’s have LAPD pick them up, and then we will watch the interrogation through the one-way glass and see what we think and move from there.” Jim nodded and said he would call over to West Valley and talk to Lieutenant Riggs McEllen. “He worked with us on the cop killings last year. He’s a good guy. He’ll know how to deal with this.” The men all agreed and went their separate ways. Jim was dialing his cell phone calling Riggs as he walked to his car.