by S I Taylor
There was a long pause and McKinley thought the line went dead. “Hello?”
“I’m still here, I’m ashamed of this part and this is why I changed my name and moved. I became obsessed with wanting to know the truth. I was angry at him and even if at that point I didn’t want him anymore, I just wanted closure. I needed answers so I started following him and then her. But there was nothing there with them. However, he would follow her and I would notice that he would carry around that notebook I once saw in his bedroom and he would jot things down. I confronted him in a manic state and he pressed charges against me. I almost went to jail once and then I got a grip on myself and realized that he had really moved on. So I did too. I never saw him again.”
“Did he drop the charges?”
“Eventually he did after my parents pleaded for my cause but at that time I had already moved and changed my name. I couldn’t practice psychology with that kind of charge. Sometimes I think about it and I wonder if I was being stalked by him before I made that first move.”
Her voice sounded melancholic like she had reflected on that notion for a long time and now it was just a fleeting thought.
“Maybe yes or maybe not.” He was rapidly writing his notes as to not forget the details.
“Who knows, huh.”
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Stewart. If we have further questions can we keep in contact?” He knew he had everything he needed but he was asking out of mere courtesy.
“Yes, sure. But please don’t use my name or this as a statement. I placed that part of my life all behind me and retelling it took me to some good times but it showed me at my worst.”
“No worries, Mrs. Stewart, I won’t use anything without your written consent.”
“Thank you,” she said and ended the call.
“Knowing what we know now about Wright seems to me that he became infatuated by someone else,” Coolidge said.
“Yeah, Wolf,” Deputy Constantino and McKinley said simultaneously.
Two hours later Deputy Sloan had written a near-perfect affidavit detailing everything that had been mentioned in the conference room—save for Mrs. Stewart’s part—and the reasons why they needed a warrant to enter Wright’s home to look for evidence of his connection with Smith, Ferreti, and now Sterling.
Coolidge and McKinley rushed out of the sheriff’s office and ran two blocks down to the Federal Circuit Court building to get the warrant signed by the only judge who was still in his office today. Even though, there were honorary personnel presiding over cases, they weren’t judges.
They were greeted by a security guard sitting behind a large desk with three monitors in a large lobby decorated with highly polished cream floor tiles, large crystal chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling windows. They came to a stop, as there was a long line to get through the metal detector.
“Fuck, we are going to be here for a while,” Coolidge said.
“Nope, look up there.” McKinley pointed to the far right lane with a bold sign that read “LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICERS AND ATTORNEYS ONLY.” They made their way through the crowd and walked to the LEO lane, showed their FCCA badges, and moved to the hallway where five elevators were located.
The FCC building was crowded, as it seemed everyone in Huntersville had decided to have court hearings, sentencing, or appearances that day. The directory located next to the elevators showed Judge Warren C. Jefferson’s office on the seventh floor. They jammed themselves like sardines in the elevator, holding the manila folder above them to avoid it getting wrinkled. The elevator stopped and they clawed themselves out onto the less crowded hallway of the seventh floor.
They knocked loudly.
“Come in,” a deep male voice said.
Room 7183 was a fairly decent-sized room. No windows, but the walls were decorated with the judge’s many accolades, accomplishments, awards, diplomas, portraits of recognitions from President Obama, President G.W. Bush, President Clinton, and President G.H.W. Bush in that order, along with other photographs with congressmen. On his mahogany desk lay his name plate in gold with black bold letters—“The Honorable Judge Warren C. Jefferson.” His computer screen sat to the left of the desk and his many family portraits portrayed several generations. With a large bookshelf with baseball, football, and basketball trophies in several rows serving as bookends, it was a nice and quaint office.
The respectable Judge Jefferson was an older black gentleman who was a former prosecutor for the state. He’d earned his reputation by giving concrete facts and doing extensive research and background investigations on his clients and defendants. He carried those same values to the courtroom and was always fair and reasonable in his ruling. He was well liked by his team and many other attorneys around the state.
“What brings you two here? I don’t believe I’ve met you before. Are you new attorneys?” he asked as he stood from his massive black leather tufted chair and extended his hands to greet them.
“No, Your Honor. I’m Agent McKinley and this is my partner, Agent Coolidge. We’re working a case—you might have heard it by now on the news if you watch it. It’s the downtown warehouse triple murder,” he said as they both shook Judge Jefferson’s hand.
“Ah, yes. That gruesome scene, as the newscaster said a few days ago.” He gestured for them to take a seat on the two leather chairs in front of his desk. “How can I help you?”
“We have made a breakthrough on the case and we have an arrest affidavit that we need signed, Your Honor,” Coolidge said.
McKinley handed him the affidavit.
“You both caught me just in time. I was on my way home,” Judge Jefferson said as he carefully read the entire affidavit and signed the warrant.
“We’re glad we were able to get to you in time, Your Honor,” McKinley said as he graciously took the signed warrant. They all stood as Judge Jefferson walked toward them.
“Hopefully you two find the suspect and the necessary evidence against him.” Judge Jefferson patted McKinley on the back. “Good luck and may justice prevail.” He gathered his briefcase and walked them to the door.
McKinley and Coolidge looked at each other and their overjoyed expressions spoke louder than their words. They rushed down the hallways, passing several people along the way, entered the crowded elevator once more, and raced to their vehicle in the sheriff’s parking lot and headed to Wright’s residence.
They quickly arrived at the residence and parked in front of the building. They entered the building and surveyed the area. They noticed the stairwells to the left and the elevator directly in front of the main entrance. There wasn’t any living space on the main floor, but there was a security desk with a sign on the desk indicating that the security guard would be back shortly and was out doing his daily routine check.
“Coolidge, take the elevator and I’ll take the stairs just in case. We don’t know which route he takes, so splitting up will cover both at the same time.”
“Good idea, see you on the eighth floor,” she said.
“I know, I come up with those from time to time,” McKinley said, boosting his own ego.
“No, dummy. I meant it was a good idea that you suggested that you take the stairs and I the elevator, since going up eight flights of stairs is not fun,” she teased.
“Ha, very funny.” He turned around and raced down the hall to the only stairwell in the building. He unsecured his Glock from its holster, getting it ready for anything, but since he didn’t want to alarm any residents, he kept it out of sight. He opened the door and ran the entire way up, glad that he didn’t have to use his gun or slam into anybody. He met with Coolidge, who was already by the entrance of apartment number 808.
“Had fun there going up those stairs, huff man?” she teased. “You look like you could cough up your lungs. I thought you were two hundred pounds of lean muscle. Where’s that stamina and confidence now?” She laughed at her own joke.
“Shut up, Coolidge, I’m fine. Knock on the door. By the way its two hundre
d and fifteen pounds of lean muscle.”
She stopped laughing and knocked rapidly on the door as they waited for a sound, a movement, anything that indicated that someone was home. She knocked louder, causing the next-door neighbor to come out. A young kid peeked his head from out of his apartment, looking left and right as if he was expecting something.
“Oh, I thought it was the delivery guy with my food,” he said.
“Sorry to disappoint you, kid,” Coolidge said.
“Yeah, whatever,” he snarled and slammed his door shut.
“Guess no one’s home,” she said.
“Guess not,” McKinley added.
“Good. Now it’s time for the fun stuff.” Coolidge removed a folded apparatus from her jacket to reveal a crowbar.
“Where did you get that?” he asked her, surprised.
“I asked Deputy Constantino how the locks in the home were and he gave me this thing. He said that it was the best for these types of doors. It slips through small cracks and then inflates to push the locks open,” she said nonchalantly. “Keep watch while I work.”
“Glad you think of everything.”
“I know. One of us has to be the brains of the operation. You have the looks, but you can’t have it all, McKinley.”
He grinned as he watched her work on the door. “Guess my stamina and confidence are back,” he said.
She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and kept working. “You’re lucky my concentration is on this door and not on you, otherwise a very nasty remark would have been your answer.”
He grinned. “Good, now concentrate.”
“Voilà.” She pushed the door, turned toward McKinley, and the door eased open. “You’re welcome,” she added as if she’d just made a huge discovery.
“Stop gloating and let’s get inside.” They entered cautiously, both with their weapons at eye level, scanning the area, taking cover behind walls, peering around every corner, signaling to one another that the rooms were cleared before they proceeded to the next room. Once every room was cleared of any possible danger, they started to thoroughly inspect each room. They skimmed over the living area, since it was open and what they needed was more than likely in the bedroom.
McKinley signaled to the kitchen counter and two cups sat there. “Looks like he had company,” he whispered.
She nodded.
“Coolidge, you go to the right and I’ll go to the left hall,” he whispered.
They nodded at each other and split up.
A few minutes later. Coolidge called out. “McKinley! You might want to see this.”
He rushed out of the bedroom into the hallways. “Which room, Coolidge?”
“The second one to your right,” she responded.
He entered the room and saw Coolidge sitting in front of a computer monitor, staring at an image. When she realized that he had entered she unglued her eyes from the screen and looked at McKinley. “I’m going to rewind the video so you can see it from the start,” she said as she stood. “You’re gonna want to sit for this,” she said with slight disgust in her expression.
He nodded as he looked at her, concerned. A million thoughts were crossing his mind. He was unsure of what the video would prove, but one thing he did know was that it would close this case for good. He occupied the seat and placed his hand on the mouse, guiding the arrow image on screen, and pressed play.
Chapter 43
“I can’t believe she thought I would’ve had access to cameras inside the warehouse,” Nixon said. If the feds with their state-of-the-art equipment couldn’t find anything, his homemade gadgets were surely not a match.
He was annoyed that he had to waste time strangling Joey and dumping his old body in the alley way. He didn’t want any evidence of Barbara or Joey being there. He’ll have to hack into the apartments’ security camera to remove the footage, but for now, he will indulge himself with her instead.
He looked at Barbara, and his eyes softened. But then when he thought about her rejection once more his anger peaked.
He was going to videotape himself with Barbara the night of the murders but he didn’t anticipate Junior going inside. He was supposed to drop her off unconscious and he would take care of the rest.
Instead, Junior’s horny dick couldn’t stay in his pants long enough for him to go to one of his whores and decided to go inside the warehouse with her.
The camera Nixon had set up inside hours before had automatically turned on when they flicked the lights on and started to record everything.
He was to keep the jewels and give the drugs to Junior so he could sell them himself. Junior wanted to have money of his own along with the money his father gave him. He was planning on double-crossing his father but his untimely death prevented that from occurring. His stupid action led Nixon to kill his associates too.
There couldn’t be any evidence. Marlo, Jody, and Blake were not around to pin anything on him and now Santino would be next on his list. But Quincy, he’d keep Quincy alive for now. He had proven to be loyal so far but eventually he would be next. He had been the only person who was allowed to touch Barbara and he disliked that. In fact, the more he thought about it the more he decided that Quincy had to die.
Barbara’s head was pounding. She fluttered her eyes open, but they were heavy. She could barely make out the room she was in, and she felt as if the room was spinning. She tried to move, but her hands were bound above her head. The cold air in the room chilled her body and she realized she was only wearing her bra and panties.
Why was she back in this place? Why was she reliving this nightmare? Where was Nixon?
“Nixon!” she tried to scream but her voice came out groggy and echoed in the room. She felt paralyzed and only now did she realize that she was suspended from the ceiling as she slowly regained her motor functions. She thrashed, but only caused the restraints to chafe her wrists, tearing at her skin.
“You finally woke up, beautiful,” Nixon said from a distance. He slowly walked toward her, his features coming into view.
She sighed in relief. “Good, you’re here. Get me down from here.”
“In a minute.”
She wondered what was wrong with him. “What are you doing?”
“The only thing you let me do. Admire you.”
“What? Get me down.”
“Not yet.”
“Hurry! Whoever got me here will come back.”
He just stood there looking at her until finally she realized what was going on.
“Wait, how did I get here?”
“I brought you here.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you. I love you.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Barbara, the minute I saw you I fell for you. But you were always too busy, wrapped up with other useless men, avoiding me and my feelings, and pushing me away. I tried to give you space, to give us time, but you somehow always pushed me. Every time I wanted to come close you pushed me further away but kept me at arm’s length as your personal assistant—your puppet.” He walked around her.
Swish.
A sharp sting came across her back as a lash collided against her skin. She hissed in pain and he came, caressing her body and kissing the spot where he’d caused pain to erupt.
“I told you we couldn’t be more than friends and I explained why,” she said softly.
“No! You’re selfish. You had me waiting. You never intended anything with me, and therefore you forced me to do what I did. Before your mother died, I wanted you to come with me. I wanted you to live with me, I wanted to take care of you. But you didn’t want me.”
“I had an ill mother and I wanted to take care of her. I couldn’t leave her alone. She was in constant pain, she was dying.”
“Be quiet!”
Swish.
Another lash ripped her skin and she silently screamed. He kissed her wounds.
“Don’t interrupt me. I’m the one in control here. I own you. I
knew you couldn’t keep up with the payments and again I offered to help and once more you denied me,” he said as he clenched his teeth. “So I wanted to punish you but didn’t know how. And the idea came to me after you moved from here.”
“From where?” she asked, trying to make out where she was.
“Don’t you recognize the place?” he said. “True, it’s not as nice as my place and it’s a bit dusty, but I bought this place once it was in foreclosure. I knew that one day we’d be together and you’d enjoy living in your childhood home with me. We would create nicer memories together. I wanted to surprise you but again I was rejected,” he snarled.
In the back, she could hear faint footsteps approach her and a set of bigger but softer hands began to caress her breasts and then lips kissed hers. She moved her head away.
Slap.
Those same hands slapped her and brought her to look at him. “Hi, Barbara. Miss me? Because my dick misses being inside your pussy,” Mr. Riley seethed, and hunger gleamed through his eyes.
She spit saliva in his face. He slowly took a handkerchief from his left breast pocket, unfolded it, and wiped his face.
Slap.
After he placed it back in his pocket, he slapped her and assaulted her lips, leaving them raw and bloody. “I always liked your feisty attitude, Barbara,” he said.
“He and I came up with this plan and with your living arrangement. I wanted you to suffer. I wanted you to come to me. I knew what you had to do when you couldn’t pay rent. Yet you never came to me and you never wanted my help. You pushed me away again,” Nixon said.
Swish.
And another swing of the whip crashed onto her skin and her scream got louder. She felt sweat and blood trickle down her back.
“I thought that after the first time you almost got caught you’d come for my help. I wanted you to need me. I called you to come but instead you pushed me away. That’s when I decided that I needed to break you. I got Mr. Riley here to pay Iggy a visit and I knew how eager you were to leave that neighborhood. The deal seemed too good to pass up and knowing that you would need me for this job, everything just fell into place,” Nixon continued.