Once Shadows Fall: A Thriller (A Jack Kale and Beth Sturgis Thriller)

by Robert Daniels

  Jack tightened his lips and continued to look out the window.

  “How long’s this been going on?”

  “A few years,” Jack said.

  Pappas wondered if a few years coincided with his leaving the FBI. One plus one didn’t necessarily equal two. Things were rarely as simple as that.

  They eventually reached Wellington’s Bar. Jack’s car was still in the parking lot where he left it. He thanked Pappas and started to get out. The detective put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.

  “You remember how this works, right? Partners watch each other’s backs. We even look out for consultants.”

  “Sure,” Jack said.

  “If you need the meds, great, but it’s nuts washing them down with Scotch. I need to have your word that won’t happen again.”

  “You have it.”

  “All right,” Pappas said. “I’m taking what you say at face value. I’ll look out for you. So will Sturgis. She’s trying so hard to impress you. She’s been staying until ten o’clock every night hoping to get up to speed on all that forensic stuff you seem to know. That’s a good woman.”

  “I know,” Jack said.

  “You run into trouble, you can call me. It don’t matter what time.”

  “I appreciate that, Dan.”

  “This stays between us,” Pappas said.

  “I ain’t gonna mention it to her. But there’s only so much covering we can do before the genie gets out of the bottle. The paperwork’s history. As far as everyone’s concerned, it never happened.”

  Pappas stayed there until Jack started his car and pulled out of the lot.

  Chapter 35

  Dr. Morris Shottner looked over the rim of his glasses and waited for Jack to continue. This time Jack had chosen to sit on the couch instead of the chair he normally used. He didn’t think that was significant. Jack’s eyes, Shottner noted, were bloodshot, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in at least a day.

  “When did it happen?” Shottner asked.

  “As soon as I got home,” Jack said.

  “Any specific trigger?”

  Jack shook his head. “There never is, Moe.”

  “We simply haven’t found it yet.”

  Jack’s smile was meaningless.

  Shottner continued, “I saw your interview on the news this morning. I take it you haven’t been to bed yet?”

  “No, I was too busy having a heart attack.”

  “Panic attack,” Shottner said. “You look like hell.”

  “Thank you for noticing.”

  “Would you care for some coffee?”

  “Please.”

  Shottner went into the kitchen and returned with a china cup and saucer. After Jack had taken a sip, Shottner inquired, “Was the woman standing behind you one of the investigators?”

  “She was.”

  “The same lady who kidnapped you?”

  “The same. Her name’s Beth Sturgis. She’s the lead in the case.”

  “Really? Then why did you do all the talking?” Shottner asked.

  “Sacrificial lamb,” Jack said. “In case things go south. The department can always say their consultant didn’t work out.”

  “I see. And she’s fine with you taking over?”

  “I don’t think it sits well, but she’s new and is going along with the program. She thinks she needs to prove herself.”

  “She picked quite a case to do it.”

  “Not much choice,” Jack said. “The orders come from the top. I’m the official spokesman until further notice.”

  “You appeared to handle the situation well,” Shottner said.

  “Think so?”

  “That was my impression. Can you recall what you were feeling while you were addressing the reporters?”

  “Not much of anything. I was there to do damage control.”

  Shottner was hoping to gain some insight into what kicked off the latest panic attack, but that could only come from Jack, who seemed to have no idea at all. It was no use forcing the issue. Instead he asked, “The woman you rescued, is she all right?”

  “She appears to be,” Jack said. “I called the hospital to check on her. She’ll be discharged later today. I’ve arranged for police protection in case the killer decides to try again.”

  “Wonderful. Is it true she was wrapped as a mummy?”

  “Yes. That was something Pell never did. The killings started off the same, but this one is trying to separate himself.”

  “Individuating.”

  “I just said that.”

  “But not as artfully,” the doctor said. “Having police protection sounds very sensible. Out of curiosity, why do you suppose this man chose her?”

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question.”

  “You think you’ll find out?”

  “Yes,” Jack said without hesitation.

  “Just like that?” Shottner said. “You can understand what makes a person tick?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Jack said.

  It was an odd choice of words. Shottner sat back in the seat, observing Jack for a moment. He waited once again for him to continue, but nothing more was forthcoming. The doctor reached forward and made a note on his pad.

  Chapter 36

  The Soul Eater wandered through Piedmont Park. It was dusk and most of the visitors had gone home to their families or whatever such people do. In the lake, a single toy sailboat remained. A sandy-haired boy of about eight stood on the shore working the levers on a radio control device for the boat while his mother looked on from a bench.

  A young couple walking hand in hand along the path passed close by him with no more than a glance. Why should they do otherwise? He was dressed as a cop and cops were safe. He smiled to himself and kept going. We’re here to protect you. It was all part of being invisible.

  This time it would be more complicated . . . and riskier. But there was no choice. The pressure in him was building.

  Just over the treetops, the sun threw long shadows onto the water, illuminating parts of it like jewels. On Tenth Street, a few cars already had their lights on. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching. The conditions weren’t optimal, but they’d do.

  He stopped to watch the toy sailboat. The boy noticed him and explained what kind of boat it was. The Soul Eater pretended to be interested. After a few minutes, the boy’s mother decided it was time to go and called to her son. The child’s shoulders slumped, but he didn’t argue. He adjusted the control levers causing the sailboat to begin a lazy turn back to shore.

  The mother was plump and wearing jeans that were about a size too small when she bought them. She got up and walked to where they were standing.

  “Aaron couldn’t wait to try out his birthday present,” she said.

  “At that age, neither could I,” he said. “Haven’t changed much over the years.”

  “Boys and their toys,” she sighed, smiling.

  The Soul Eater smiled too, just to show what a regular guy he was. Of course they were safe with him. He explained to the boy, “Your mom’s right, son. It’s getting dark.”

  The mother felt obliged to explain they normally didn’t stay out late, but she had made an exception because it was a special occasion.

  “Understandable,” said the killer, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Do you live nearby?”

  “On Barksdale Drive,” she said.

  “That’s not too far. I’ll walk with you to your car.”

  “Oh, please don’t go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all, ma’am. Nothing like a police escort.”

  As they walked, the woman kept up an incessant stream of conversation. In five minutes she managed to talk about the weather, clothes, her job, and being a mother. He found himself getting annoyed. Would she ever shut up? Her son said nothing. Perhaps he was intimidated by the presence of a policeman. More likely, he wanted to get home and play with his XBox or PlayStation.

  After crossing Tenth Stre
et onto Taft, the woman pointed and told him her car was at the end of the street. Of course, he knew that. He’d watched her park. His van, stolen earlier that day, was in the driveway directly behind her. It was too risky using the same vehicle again.

  The Soul Eater’s hand moved to the Taser on his utility belt. He wasn’t certain if a young child would survive the jolt of electricity, so he’d taken the extra precaution of bringing along a cloth soaked in chloroform. It was now in a plastic bag in his back pocket.

  There were lights on in several houses along the street. It was possible someone would see them walking together, which made the risk even more delicious. Wouldn’t the newspapers have a field day with that? He could just see the headlines: “Is the Scarecrow a Cop?”

  As they neared the woman’s car, she reached into her purse, removed a remote-entry fob, and pressed a button. A polite beep of the horn and flash of the headlights followed.

  “Looks like we made it safe and sound,” she said.

  “Not quite.”

  Chapter 37

  Detectives Stafford and Mundas were speaking with Beth and Pappas when Jack returned to the office. He searched his memory trying to remember which was which and gave up.

  Beth informed him, “We have a possible lead. Mundas spoke with Betsy Ann Tinsley’s neighbor. She told him Betsy Ann and Sandra Goldner recently joined the Parkwood Health Club.”

  Jack turned to Mundas and asked, “Why is that important?”

  “I’m Mundas, sir. He’s Stafford,” the other detective said.

  “Sorry.”

  The real Mundas continued, “Because Jerome Haffner and Donna Camp are also members of that club.”

  “Tinsley and Goldner lived in Jordan. You’re telling me they drove forty-five minutes to Atlanta to get a workout?” Jack said.

  “The Atlanta club runs a mixed doubles tennis league,” Beth said. “That’s where Betsy Ann met Haffner. According to Goldner’s brother, she talked Sandra into a trial membership. Apparently, it’s a good way to meet single guys.”

  “Interesting,” Jack said.

  “Four people at the same club’s a helluva coincidence,” Pappas said.

  “I agree,” Jack said. “Any chance a judge will issue a subpoena for their list of members? I’m reluctant to ask the club management at this point. If the killer is there, it might spook him.”

  Pappas commented, “We can always sic Beth on them. She can terrorize them the way she did that guy at McKeachern.”

  Beth gave her partner a flat look and asked, “If they won’t cooperate, do we have enough as it stands now?”

  “Dicey,” Jack said. “Maybe you could kidnap the manager and force him to ride around with you until he cracks.”

  “It’s a she,” Beth informed him, taking the ribbing in stride. “There has to be some way around this. We need that list. If it’s not a member, it may be an employee.”

  “Let’s start with the state licensing board,” Pappas suggested.

  “Explain,” Beth said.

  “Parkwood has a cafe where they sell sandwiches, salads, and cocktails. If you work in a place that sells alcohol, you have to go through a background check. We make nice to the board secretary, I’ll bet we can get their employee list in a few minutes.”

  “How do you know they have a cafe?” Beth asked.

  “I used to play tennis a few years ago,” Pappas said. “They have eight courts.”

  The surprise must have shown on Jack’s face because Pappas added, “Pretty good at it, too.”

  *

  Beth made the call. In under an hour, an e-mail arrived from the Georgia State Licensing Board. Jack was just finishing his first cup of coffee. The list contained all of Parkwood’s employees.

  She handed it to Stafford and told him to start running criminal background checks. Mundas was assigned the DMV records in the hope that one of them might own a white van like the one seen in the town of Jordan before the first killings.

  Jack watched Beth as she was speaking. She was becoming more comfortable with her role as the case lead. If she was nervous or uncertain, she was covering it nicely.

  When she was through, she turned to him and asked, “Can you see any kind of a pattern emerging?”

  “Not really,” Jack said candidly.

  “Even with the bodies we found?”

  “I asked a colleague at school to look at the clothes,” Jack said. “He called me on the way in this morning from the ME’s office to say two of them are approximately a hundred years old. Another dates from around 1930 or so. After that there’s a gap of nearly eighty years before we see the next two. I was told they also recovered a quarter in the pocket of the most recent victim dated 2006. That gives us a baseline to work from.”

  “About the time Howard Pell got started,” Beth said.

  “It’s consistent. I’ve never believed he revealed all his victims or where they were buried. This could be his work.”

  “Well, it’s obvious it ain’t the same guy running around since 1900,” Pappas said. “I’ll jump on the missing persons. By the way, Fancher said the chief wants daily reports.”

  Beth said, “Jack, could you handle that? I want to take Dan with me to Mayfield and speak to Pell again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think he knows more than he’s saying. We should also take a closer look at his visitors list.”

  Before Jack could respond, Ed Mundas came back in the room holding a piece of paper. He was followed by Dwayne Stafford, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

  “What?” Beth asked.

  “George Merkle, personal trainer,” Stafford said. “Hired a little over two years ago. He has a record for assault and was a guest at Mayfield for twenty-four months.”

  Stafford turned to his partner, who appeared equally smug. Beth gave in and said, “And?”

  “I called Parkwood and pretended to be interested in joining. Seems ol’ Mr. Merkle runs their introductory health and fitness program. They use it to entice new members into signing up for lessons. I’d say there’s a pretty good chance that brought him into contact with each of the victims.”

  “That’s great,” Beth said. She turned to Pappas. “Mayfield can wait. Let’s go have a talk with Merkle.”

  Pappas stayed put and gestured toward Dwayne Stafford with his chin.

  “Was there something you wanted to add?” Beth asked.

  “Not if you don’t consider that he drives a white van important.”

  Beth blinked. “Fantastic. Is he working now?”

  “Day off,” Stafford said. “The gal at the front desk told me he doesn’t come in until tomorrow. According to the DMV, his address is still current.”

  “Let me see his photo,” Beth said.

  Stafford handed it to her.

  “Light blue eyes,” Beth said, showing it to Jack and Pappas.

  “Interesting,” Jack said.

  Pappas suggested, “Why don’t you and the professor go? I still need to work up a search warrant for Jerome Haffner’s employer.”

  “Wanna take a ride?” Beth asked Jack.

  Chapter 38

  After some discussion, it was decided they would take Beth’s personal car to attract less attention. Jack told her he had to call his housekeeper and ask her to feed and walk Marta. They agreed to meet in the parking lot.

  Beth had the car running when he arrived. She glanced at him sideways as he got in and then pulled up to the exit, waiting for a gap to open in the stream of cars. Fortunately, rush hour was beginning to die down, but at the ramp to I-285, she had to wait again before sliding into the traffic. Jack quickly learned that she liked to drive fast. Worse, she insisted on looking at him when she spoke, which raised both his blood pressure and his anxiety level. Every once in a while, she would change lanes for no apparent reason. But having a partner meant trusting them, so he held his breath and remained hopeful they would arrive in one piece.

  “Did you reach Mrs. Dougher
ty?” Beth asked.

  “Yep. I also called my daughter. Her junior high class is in New York on a field trip.”

  “New York? I used to go to the zoo when I was in middle school.”

  “Different times,” Jack said. “I wanted to give her some tips.”

  “Such as?”

  “Where the best shopping is. Take the subway instead of cabs—with a friend, of course. Go for a ride on the Staten Island Ferry.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “Her mother already covered the shopping. The rest was accepted tolerantly. At least she managed to keep any annoyance out of her voice.”

  “I knew everything there was to know at that age, too,” Beth said. “Is her summer visit still on?”

  “Sure is,” Jack said.

  “You must be excited.”

  “Nervous. She has a number of friends in the neighborhood, which helps. Getting reacquainted after a gap’s always a little difficult.”

  “Must be tough being separated,” Beth said.

  “It is. What about you? Any family close by?”

  “My folks and my brother live in Charlotte.”

  From his conversations with Pappas, he knew Beth was divorced and she didn’t date cops. It was possible her decision also included consultants. While Jack was speculating on the subject, he noticed something on the back seat that caught his attention, a pair of men’s tennis shoes. Curiosity finally won out. “Your boyfriend forget his shoes?”

  Beth glanced over her shoulder then back at the road. They were getting dangerously close to a car crawling along at the posted speed limit.

  “Those are my brother’s.”

  “He has big feet,” Jack blurted out. The comment sounded idiotic as soon as the words left his mouth. He fought the urge to pound his head on the dashboard.

  “They’re a deterrent.”

  “Against what?”

  “Cops asking me out.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Only if I let it become one. It’s not a good idea to mix social with business. What about you?”

  “I wasn’t mixing anything until you kidnapped me,” Jack said.