Terry felt himself getting off track again, so he steered back into his point.
“Anyway, so the guy’s a total jerk. Employees are scared of him and I hate talking to him, and all that. But you won’t believe what happens next. Several months ago - like back in June or July, I think - he comes up to me and starts accusing me of all this stuff. He starts saying how he knows I’ve been cheating on my wife with my secretary - which never happened - and how he listens to my phone calls and hears the type of stuff I say to Zoey. He goes on about how I’m a piece of shit because of the way I treat her, and how she deserves better than that.”
Terry’s cheeks began to turn red, and he only got more amped up. He was equal parts embarrassed of the situation, and stressed out by it.
“First off, he never met Zoey, so what is he talking about? She deserves better? Like what the hell is that? And accusing me of cheating on her with my secretary? He made it all up! And blatantly started accusing me of this stuff right to my face!”
Gene wanted to say something, but words never surfaced, so he remained silent and continued to listen, while Marco scratched into his pad. Gene sometimes wondered why Marco wrote in such detail, using direct quotes and full lines. It seemed inefficient, but Marco was a detail-oriented person.
“So that’s when I realized the guy is a nutjob. Like he’s gotta be crazy. He doesn’t even know Zoey! And he made all this stuff up and got in my face, spit flying onto my face. It really pissed me off, and we almost got into a fight. But it’s not like I can fire him or report him. We’re fifty-fifty partners in this business so there’s nothing I can do about him.”
Terry paused and sipped his coffee. He leaned in, put his elbows on his desk, and interlocked his hands.
Then, much slower and more quietly, he went on. “So next thing I know, he tells me he’s building a house out on some private property he bought south of here. He tells me it’s an all wood cabin, and it’s where he’s gonna live and work from now on. He cleared out his office and took all his stuff with him that day, and hasn’t stepped foot in this building since. So now he’s a total hermit. He doesn’t go out in public. Ever. And he insists to use Skype for our meetings instead of actually coming to them.”
Gene finally piped up. “So, what does this have to do with Zoey? Do you have any reason for thinking your partner might be involved?”
“Well, yeah. I’m getting to that. Anyway, so I’m watching the news last night before bed and there he is. Y’all had a sketch made and put up on the news, and I swear to God it looks just like him. I don’t know for sure because - well I mean it’s a sketch. But I’m pretty sure.”
Terry started to speed up, becoming animated once again.
“And at first, I was like no way. I thought there’s no way that could be Terry. It didn’t make any sense; I mean he had never met Zoey before. He didn’t know where she would be, or where she lived, or what she was doing. And plus, he’s a total hermit. He hates leaving the house, or so I thought.” Terry stopped again, and looked at Gene as he half-closed his eyes into another overly-dramatic squint. “But then I thought about it,” he said calmly. “I remembered all that stuff he said about Zoey, how ‘she deserves better’ and how he ‘hears the things I say to her’. I figured the guy must be mentally ill. Like crazy, crazy. And he probably imagined all of this shit up in his head, and decided to win Zoey over, or something. I don’t know. I’m sure he probably stalked her for a while before finding out where she would be. He might have listened in on her phone calls, too, if he was telling the truth about hearing mine. But I swear to God guys. I really feel like it’s him. And just in case he does listen to my phone calls, I wanted to make sure he didn’t hear me tell you about it over the phone last night. And that’s why you’re here.”
Terry finally was able to stop talking and catch his breath. It was quite the tale he had woven, and it was almost unbelievable. It was, actually. It was unbelievable. If it were true, it would mean that all of these years, Terry was in business with a crazy man who was obsessed with his wife - who then tapped his phone line and listened to his phone calls, and constructed this plan to stalk and lure his ex-wife. It seemed crazy, like something out of the mind of a mad writer. It didn’t seem real or feasible, and it certainly would be unlike anything Gene had ever seen in his tenure.
Marco realized he had been too wrapped up in the story and left out a chunk of notes. He looked back down and scribbled every major detail.
“Wow, uh, well can you provide me with any proof, or evidence? Or anything? A Facebook picture, or do you have his address, or anything to help us obtain a search warrant?” Gene was stumped. He didn’t know how to appropriately react to it, so he filed it away in disbelief and resorted to the routine he would use in any other case. Gene hadn’t known what to expect, and thus had never formed any hypotheses on what could be the big news; but he never imagined it would be this. Especially considering the source.
“Um, no. Not really. He didn’t have social media. No Facebook, no Twitter, nothing. He hated cameras and he hated people, so why would he try and socialize even more than he had to? And no, he never told me the address of the place he moved to. All he told me is that it was south of Dallas.” Terry paused and shot his eyes up at the ceiling, thinking for a second. “Oh yeah; I do have his old address, but honestly I have no idea if he still owns the place. He’s probably sold it by now.”
Gene and Marco looked to each other, both equally as stumped at what to do next. No address, no social media or notable friends or acquaintances; not even his own business partner knew much about him. And once again, as they had been through the entirety of the case, they were stuck at a dead end.
“Oh, you know what!” A light bulb may as well have appeared over Terry’s head. “I think I do have a photo of him. Yeah, hold on.”
He turned his attention to his computer monitor, and typed more quickly on his keyboard than Gene had ever seen. A few more clicks of the mouse, then he turned his monitor to face the detectives.
“Here you go.” Terry craned his neck around so that he too could see the picture, and circled the cursor around a photo on the screen. “This is our company website. We took this photo the day we moved into these offices, and put it up on our company site and Facebook page. Here he is. He’s not smiling, but that’s him.”
Terry put his index finger and thumb on the screen in a sort of pinching gesture, then quickly flicked his fingers apart to zoom in. Apparently, this monitor is touch screen, too. Go figure.
“Here he is. I’ll print it off for you so you know what he really looks like.”
While Terry fidgeted some more with the keys to take a screenshot and print the photo off, Gene reached into his side pocket of his jacket and pulled out a printout of the sketch made. He held it up next to the monitor to compare, and he could certainly see the resemblance. The most striking similarity was in the eyes. Evil and unblinking. But the most chilling characteristic of those eyes, was just how blank they were. Like there was no life inside; no soul lived there. But if a soul had ever lived there, it had long since burned out, leaving behind the shell of a human.
“I can see the similarities,” Gene said, only half engaged in what he was saying. He was still more focused on the photograph, and how similar the two really looked. “What about the old address? If he still owns the property, we can get a search warrant. Maybe we can turn up some info or maybe an address for his new place.”
“You’ll be able to get that from my secretary. It shouldn’t be hard to find. Old pay stubs, receipts, et cetera.” Terry held up his hands, raised his brow, and then plopped his hands back down on his desk with a thud. “Well, guys, that’s all I got. I hope it was a help. And if that creepy bastard is the one who took my ex-wife, I only hope he gets the proper sentence. Let me grab that photo off the printer, and if you have any more questions at all, you’ve got my cell now. Please keep me updated.” With that, Terry got up out of his chair and exited the office.
Just a moment later, he returned with the photo and a sticky note with an address on it.
“Here. That’s his old address. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Gene was without words for a while. He didn’t know what to say to Terry, or to Marco for that matter. Never in his career had he received such a groundbreaking bit of information just by chance, and in such a nonchalant manner. It was almost too easy to ID him. Nothing had ever simply fallen in his lap. But here it had. The entire case had come about by sheer dumb luck.
Originally, the bar hunt had ended in a dead end, after visiting more than a dozen bars. Then a call from Terry put them on the right track, and to a place they never would have found otherwise. After interviewing the right people (finally) they were led to who they thought was their guy, but wasn’t. Then they viewed the scene outside the bar from two different angles, but even then, some expert camera dodging drove them into another brick wall. On a shot in the dark - a last ditch effort - they had a sketch drawn. And for days, it seemed it would turn up nothing, and the case was over and dead. And then Terry called again, with the single most important information they had received yet.
Gene came to the realization that this entire case had fallen into place in front of them; the puzzle had connected itself. And if not from sheer dumb luck (and one extremely helpful ex-husband), then Zoey Edmund may never be found. But now there was hope.
Gene snapped out of it and returned to the conversation. “Yeah. What’s his name, I mean? I’ve got a picture of the guy, but no name.”
“Oh! My bad.” Terry chuckled. “Slipped my mind. His name is Alexander Hart. Alexander. Do not call him Alex. The weirdo fuckin’ hates being called Alex.”
SIXTEEN
Marco sat passenger while Gene weaved through downtown Dallas traffic, quickly making a beeline for the courthouse.
“We’re going to get a warrant right now. We can get it quickly from the judge I have in mind, given the situation. We’ll be in that creep’s house before lunchtime.” Gene’s face said calm, but his driving pattern told a different story. Accordingly, Marco held onto the handle above his door, bracing for impact at any moment.
On the elevator ride down from Terry’s office, Gene had called some guy from the city that Marco had never heard of and found out that the home had never been sold, and it still belonged to Alexander Hart.
“What’s the big hurry for then, Gene? If we’re gonna get it so quick anyway, how come we have to speed there?”
“Well for one, I’m sick of stuff falling into our laps. This whole damn case has just sprung on us by luck. All of it, if you think about it. And maybe it’s ‘cause we haven’t been in that big of a hurry. Well not this time. If there’s a girl to rescue, I wanna rescue her. And if there’s not a girl left to rescue, then I wanna catch this son of a bitch before he gets someone else.”
Gene was unblinking, not taking his eyes off the road for a second. He was fully locked in.
Marco thought about it, and Gene was right. They turned up nothing from their interviews with Terry and Mrs. Bishop originally. They resorted to bar-hopping semi-randomly on a blind hunch, and turned up nothing. A tip from Mr. Edmund set them on the right track, and after things looked up, they went south again, leading to only more dead ends. Everything always led to a dead end, but they were always bailed out. Then, the same frustrated fire that burned in Gene’s unblinking gaze lit itself inside of Marco. He let go of the handle above and instead placed his hands on the dash, kind of hoping Gene would go faster still.
Gene did not respond, and the rest of the drive was silent, outside of the tire squeals around corners and cars honking every few seconds.
They pulled up in front of the courthouse and rushed in, Marco a little in front of Gene. He held the door for his old partner and decided to let him lead, considering he was relatively unfamiliar with the building, and with the faces that walked throughout the building.
Marco stuck closely to Gene’s heels as they walked, now past the security checkpoint, Gene waving at what seemed like every other person, calling their names individually. Eventually, they came to a wooden door that was placed next to a plexiglass window, which was engraved to say JUDGE STEPHANIE MENDEZ.
Gene knocked three times in perfect rhythmic succession. They were firm yet effortless, and the other end of the door a voice shouted for them to come in.
Gene hadn’t taken two steps through the doorway before a smile graced the face of the surprisingly young Judge Stephanie Mendez.
“Gene! What a surprise! What’re you doing here?” She got up from the expensive-looking chair and quickly rounded the desk to give Gene a hug.
“Oh, just here on business. You’re not busy right now, are you?”
“Business? You mean you actually still do work around there?” She laughed and threw a playful elbow jab into Gene’s gut, but he wasn’t in the mood to play.
But he shrugged it off anyway and decided it would be best to play back. “Only when I have to,” he smirked back. “I actually need a search warrant. On the double. Long story, but we’re closing in on the guy you may have seen on the news. Suspect who’s suspected to have been involved with the disappearance of Zoey Edmund. We got a solid lead on his name and we have an address for an old residence he still owns. Gonna go check it out.”
“No shit? I mean, yeah, of course. I’ll issue one immediately… And sorry, who is this?” Her attention turned toward Marco, whom she’d never met.
“Oh sorry, of course. This is Marco Moretti. He’s the young blood I’ve been mentoring for some time now. Ever since he was a uniform, actually. And I’ve been doing his training since he was officially promoted.” Gene stood with his hands on his hips while Marco and Judge Mendez shook hands. “He’s a bright kid, and he’s gonna be a great replacement for me. He likes to work, too. Never late.” Gene smiled and winked at Marco, who returned the smile with one of his own.
“It’s great to meet you, Marco. And if this guy can vouch for you, then I’m sure you must be alright.”
Marco remained quiet, not saying anything more than the minimal, “Nice to meet you, as well.” Then he stepped back a little behind Gene and allowed him to continue.
“I’ll tell you what, Gene. I have a court hearing in like two minutes that I gotta go preside over, but I’ll issue it immediately. I’ll put it in the system and call you once it’s ready. I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go. It’s a civil suit, though, and shouldn’t take much time. This is Priority One. I promise.”
She hugged Gene and shook Marco’s hand again, and grabbed her Judge’s robe from the coat rack that stood next to the door.
“That sounds fine,” Gene said, although with a defeated tone overwhelming his voice. Of course, he thought. Of course this would happen again.
“It was really great seeing you again, Gene. I expect you to keep me in the loop after the search. Leave a note on my desk with all of the information and it’ll be the quickest warrant you’ve ever gotten.” She gave him a hug again and walked out of the room and down the hall.
“Well shit,” Gene sighed. “That’s why I speed. At least we caught her before she went out.”
Marco thought to himself how funny that was. How if one variable had changed, they might not have gotten to see her when they did, and how much the process might have been delayed by. Would it be delayed enough to affect the outcome of the case? Marco wasn’t sure, but he decided it would be better not to dwell, so he evicted it from his head.
“I guess let’s go back to the station until then. Go tell the Cap what we have and wait for a call.”
Gene left the room first, followed by Marco. But neither of the men had the same giddy up in their step that they had before.
---
It was just after ten a.m. when the detectives walked through the doors of their section of the police station. They’d hoped to return with concrete evidence or something to pin this on somebody, but they were forced to se
ttle for this: to lie in wait. And now - once again - the hopes of the case depended on circumstances completely out of their control. First, they needed the warrant to come through sooner rather than later (and even though the judge said it would be quick, they weren’t holding their breath), and then they had to hope there was something at this house to find. Even if there had ever been anything in that house to find to begin with, then every moment spent not searching, is another moment that could be used to destroy any evidence that may have ever existed. And if Terry was not exaggerating, then they needed to find him sooner rather than later, especially if Zoey was still alive. Either way, he had to be kept from hurting anyone else.
Too many variables, too many what-ifs and unknowns. Thinking too much about all of the things that have gone wrong, or things that still could go wrong, becomes baffling at some point. It becomes too complex to think of the way things could turn out in a perfect world. But as Gene learned in his pleasantly long life, this world was far from perfect. Marco was learning this quickly.
Marco went for his office, which was being decorated little by little each day; each day, a new picture being added here and there of his family back in Italy. Gene, however, went straight for the Captain.
Gene liked the system in place for the higher ranks. As it was, the Lieutenant, whom he rarely needed to deal with, was mostly responsible for handling day-to-day work with the officers. He oversaw much of the city’s violent crime that could be handled immediately, and managed the officers directly. When a case draws to a close, the Lieutenant is usually directing an officer on their next move, and in any particularly important case, he may even accompany the arresting officer. Then the detectives reported directly to the Captain, who was freed up to work on more important cases, like the long-term and more complex investigations that the detectives handled. Because of all the responsibility that the Lieutenant took on, it allowed Captain Cole to be much more hands-on than most Captains, or so Gene had assumed. He’d never worked for another department, but as far as he understood, this system was unique.
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