“He’s not the killer,” Jack said. “Alton Cairo is.”
Everyone turned to him at the same time.
“The doctor?” Max Blaylock said, surprised.
“Gillam altered the security disc to protect his wife. He also never sent the imposter’s security file to the GBI for a background check.”
“What makes you say that, Jack?” Childers asked.
“Because he told me.”
Childers and Spruell looked at each other, then the older detective asked, “But why alter the disc?”
“Gillam was forced into it on the promise they would return his wife. He needed to cover what’s really going on between Howard Pell, Cairo, and the man calling himself Ron Curry, though that isn’t his real name. It is Mathias Lemon.”
“Bullshit,” Spruell said. “You’re basing this on a two-second slice of video and the outline of a book. Talk about a thin case.”
“It happened more than once,” Jack said. “Cairo had a good explanation for his recent increase in visits, but that doesn’t fly for a number of reasons. First, Dan told me Pell was an iceberg when they met. He appeared self-contained, calm, and not at all in crisis as Cairo represented. Next, he said Dr. Raymond increased the medication Pell was taking, but there’s no evidence on the video Raymond ever saw him during this time. The only place Pell went when he left his cell was to their recreation area. Even a doctor who’s not terribly hands-on would want to see a patient before increasing his medical dosage. He’d certainly do some follow-up because antianxiety meds are tricky and have serious side effects if they’re not managed correctly.”
“I’m not convinced,” Spruell said.
“I’m not surprised,” Jack said.
“That’s all you have, Kale? Pell looked calm and Raymond didn’t hold his hand?”
“There’s a reason Charles Raymond didn’t hold his hand,” Jack said. “The same reason nobody in Mayfield does. They’re afraid of him. The people there exercise a great deal of caution around Dr. Pell. During interviews, he’s handcuffed and shackled to a chair. Visitors are warned not to get too close to him.”
“So?” Spruell said.
“So what was Alton Cairo doing going into the cell of an insane killer alone two or three times a week? Cairo is left-handed and six foot two, which fits with what Donna Camp and the Dorseys told us. I’d say Lemon is about five foot eight and fairly wide in the body. Actually, he looks a lot like his grandfather, Albert.”
A look of shock appeared on each of the faces in the room one at a time. Jack placed the security file photo of Mathias Lemon next to the artist’s rendition of his grandfather. He then explained how Tony Gillam had followed him to the motel and discovered his real name, though it meant nothing to him at the time.
Max Blaylock recovered first and said, “Maybe you boys should leave my prisoner where he is and go have a talk with Dr. Cairo.”
An unspoken communication passed between Childers and Spruell. They started for the door. Pappas and Jack were about to follow them out when James Spruell stopped and informed Jack, “We spoke with Lieutenant Fancher again. According to her, your status at the Atlanta Police Department is now officially over, which makes you a civilian again. Go back to teaching, Kale.”
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Childers said. He looked embarrassed. “I’ll keep you in the loop, civilian or not. Detective Pappas is welcome to join us.”
“You go on,” Pappas said. “I’m his ride.”
“Understood,” Childers said.
“Before you leave,” Pappas said, “One of you geniuses ought to tell Tony Gillam there’s a good chance his wife won’t be coming home—ever.”
Chapter 78
There wasn’t much talk on the ride back to Atlanta. Pappas dropped Jack off at his car and said good-bye. They promised to stay in touch.
The light on his answering machine was blinking. Jack ignored it, fed Marta, then played the message.
“Jack, this is Penny Fancher. I just received a call from Dave Childers. They went to Cairo’s home and found the place empty. It’s possible he’s headed your way. Call us immediately if you notice anything out of the ordinary.”
He’s not headed this way, Jack thought. He already knew where Cairo was going.
Jack clipped on Marta’s leash and went outside. As they moved through Brookwood’s streets, his thoughts turned inward. He was consumed by guilt. He had failed Beth. There was no denying it. He should have figured out the game Pell and Cairo were playing sooner. Based on the DNA, he also knew where Mathias Lemon fit in now. If he was right, too bad for Mathias now that their use for him was over.
Please, God, let her be alive.
The first signs of a panic attack appeared as he turned the corner onto his street. He recognized the pain building in his chest and the shortness of breath immediately.
Not now. Anytime but now.
Just as he’d rehearsed with Shottner, Jack shut his eyes and imagined he was sitting on a quiet beach. To his right was a calm ocean, the water indigo. To his left, clusters of vegetation, grasses, sea grape, and palm trees. The sound of waves dying against the shore reached him. He knew this beach. Knew the familiar clouds. The sand was so bright, it was almost painful to look at. He’d been to this place many times in his mind.
In the distance, he became aware of a solitary figure slowly walking toward him in a white dress. As the waves rolled in to the shore, water splashed across her ankles. The dress reached the middle of her calves. He couldn’t see her face, but there was no mistaking her shape. Beth Sturgis came to him out of the light and placed her hand gently against his cheek.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“Shh,” Beth said. There was no accusation in her face. No recrimination in tone. She looked beautiful. Serene. Her green eyes met his.
“I failed,” Jack said.
“You didn’t.”
Tears began to well up in Jack’s eyes. “I should have been there to protect you.”
“My job. My choices. I knew the danger when I took it, Jack. Don’t you see that? We made a difference.”
Her words had little effect on him. The pressure in his chest worsened.
“We never danced,” he said. “I would have liked that. I would have tried.”
Beth reached out and brushed the hair off his forehead. She smiled.
“I know.”
The thought of her alone with the killer was overwhelming, sapping the strength from his limbs. In that instant, he knew she was dead. The pain of her loss engulfed him so completely, he was certain his heart would break. He dropped to the ground. Felt the warm, powdery sand between his fingers. Overhead, a tern glided soundlessly across the water’s surface.
Beth stroked his head.
“It’s not over,” she said. “You still have a job to do. It’s who you are. What you’ve always been. Everyone matters, Jack.”
He tried to answer, but the words caught in his throat. Unable to move, he watched her turn and walk back up the beach. Sunlight merged with the white sand and the water’s glare until it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. The air tasted of salt.
Beth’s figure receded farther and farther until she was gone. A minute passed and then another. Jack found himself down on his hands and knees. Marta was licking his face and trying to move him with her head. The street was deserted. Silent.
Slowly, gradually, the pressure in his chest eased. His heart rate returned to normal.
I’m losing it. She’s not dead. Can’t be.
Jack pushed himself up and wiped his eyes. The mind was a marvelous, complex thing. If he gave up, gave in to the killer’s game, there was no hope. None at all. He had to believe there was still a chance. She’d been there. Spoken to him. Comforted him. He could still feel her fingers on his face. He closed his eyes, breathed in the heavy night air, and started for home.
“I still have a job to do.”
Chapter 79
The phone was
ringing as Jack came through the door. He lifted the receiver and heard a man’s voice whisper, “Ah, Clever Jack. I’m so glad I caught you. Did you get my note?”
“No.”
“Check your e-mail. You might learn something.”
Jack went to his computer and opened his e-mail. There, at the top of his inbox, was another message from the deceased Betsy Ann Tinsley.
“Are you alone?”
“No. There are cops everywhere. I’m at the police station. Your call was forwarded.”
“I doubt that. I think you’re home. Click the link in the e-mail. It will start a live feed.”
“And?”
“I’ll do the commentary. There’s something I’d like you to see, a special presentation as it were.”
Jack didn’t reply.
“You’re a sick fuck, Cairo. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“How do you know this isn’t Mr. Curry?” Cairo said and laughed a little.
“It’s not,” Jack said. “You can stop whispering. You’re beginning to bore me. The game’s over.”
“Oh, not by a long shot,” Cairo said. “Congratulations on figuring it out. We knew you would, of course. Have you opened it yet?”
Jack clicked the link. After a short delay, a browser opened and a picture appeared on the screen of a table with four rings attached to it. A naked man was shackled to the rings, arms and legs spread wide into the shape of an X. He recognized Mathias Lemon from his file photo. Poor schmuck. The camera was steady, mounted high. Shooting down from the front. On a tripod, Jack guessed.
There was no sound, but it was obvious Lemon was screaming. His head thrashed from side to side. His mouth was open. The tendons in his neck stood out like cords, knotting convulsively.
Alton Cairo said, “Tell me what you see.”
“Your partner, Mathias Lemon, Albert’s grandson.”
Cairo hesitated. “You surprise me, Jack. May I ask how you knew?”
“Tony Gillam followed him to the motel he was staying at, hoping to retrieve his wife. He was registered under his own name.”
Cairo looked at Mathias and shook his head. “Well, the choice in partners was somewhat limited.”
“You have a funny way of treating your partners, Doctor.”
“Soon to be our ex-partner, I’m afraid.”
“Who’s our?”
“I suspect you know the answer to that.”
“You and Pell make a great pair. Two raving lunatics.”
The camera continued to record as Cairo stepped into the frame. Jack watched as Cairo set the phone down. He glanced back at the lens and smiled. In his hand was a scalpel.
“Howard is no lunatic,” Cairo said over the speaker. “He’s a genius and far more insightful than you’ll ever be.”
“Bully for him.”
Cairo moved to Lemon’s side. His eyes were fixed on the knife. His head was turning violently from side to side. Jack could hear his screams in the background. Hysterical.
Cairo placed the tip of the scalpel about four inches below the man’s navel and cut upward. Lemon’s entire body jerked as a line of blood appeared. He continued to scream.
Cairo then switched to Lemon’s rib cage and cut horizontally. His actions were sure and precise as a surgeon. Pell had done a good job coaching him. Blood flowed from the incision. A second cut was made above the navel across Lemon’s stomach completing a large H shape on his torso.
“You’re still there,” Cairo said. “I can hear you breathing. Another panic attack on the way?”
Jack didn’t answer.
“Yes, we know all about them. And we know all about your daughter, too. Morgan, isn’t it?”
Jack said nothing.
“Come, come, Jack. I’ve given you what you need to solve the puzzle. Don’t tell me you’re squeamish. This is what you did to Howard. Does it bring back any memories? He thought you might like to see how it should have been done. In a little while we’ll see how Ms. Sturgis handles the procedure. Surely you’re not afraid to look.”
Cairo reached down and took both flaps of skin on Mathias Lemon’s stomach and pulled them back, exposing his intestines. All the while, he continued to scream and thrash his head from side to side.
Jack knew what was coming next.
Cairo’s hands lifted out the man’s intestines, then laid them on his chest. The camera picked up the horror on Lemon’s face as he looked down and saw what was being done to him.
“You remember this part, don’t you?”
Jack said nothing.
“You left Howard to die out there in the woods at the bottom of Cloudland Canyon.”
“You’re insane.”
“Am I?”
“Certifiable.”
“We’ll see. I have a much more interesting fate planned for you and Ms. Sturgis. Now please pay attention. Normally, after the organs are removed, we store them in Canopic jars along with items the deceased valued in life. Then everything is placed in this chest.”
Cairo bent lower and studied Lemon’s face for a moment, then said, “Still with us, Mathias? Well, it won’t be much longer.”
He patted Mathias’s hand and then inserted a cannula into the femoral artery of his inner thigh. Attached to the needle was a long tube. Blood began to flow down the tube into a pail under the table.
Cairo continued his narrative. “As you know, the records from the early Egyptian dynasties are very spotty. I’ve been studying them for years. It’s something of a passion with me. Unfortunately, they didn’t leave us a how-to manual on the mummification process. What we do know is sketchy and largely based on conjecture. Nevertheless, over time, I’ve made significant progress.
“Once the fluids are completely drained, I’ll attend to the heart, liver, brain, and such. Did you know they used to remove the brain through the nose using a hook? ’Fraid I haven’t mastered that part yet.”
“There’s a special place in hell for people like you,” Jack said.
Cairo ignored the comment and continued, “The really interesting part,” he said, “is the wrapping process. I don’t think Mathias Lemon will mind if I begin.” He picked up a roll of linen, cut off several long strips, and started to individually wrap the fingers of Lemon’s hand.
Jack didn’t need to see anymore. Using mouse and the arrows at the bottom of the screen, he killed the feed. The last image he saw was Cairo’s smiling face. Behind him, Lemon had stopped moving.
“Still watching, Jack?”
“Fuck you.”
“Such talk from a professional man. Surely you can do better than that.”
“Count on it,” Jack said, and killed the video feed.
Chapter 80
After the call ended, Jack shut his computer, went into the kitchen, and splashed some cold water on his face. He’d seen worse. What he was feeling went far beyond anger or frustration. It was hate, pure and simple. He leaned down and rinsed the bile from his mouth with tap water.
Jack went into his bedroom and dressed in black jeans, black shirt, and solid leather shoes with rubber soles. A 9 mm HK and an illegal switchblade he’d owned for years made up the balance of his outfit. He said good-bye to Marta and went in search of the monster.
Whatever else Cairo might be, he was not stupid. The information he fed them about “Curry” having to make repairs to the house he inherited coupled with his gratuitous comments about the traffic on Ponce de Leon Avenue getting worse and worse and his reference to Beth still being alive was an invitation.
If I can’t come to you, come to me.
When Jack borrowed the deputy’s computer, he’d accessed the Fulton County Clerk’s online records for properties sold in the Old Fourth Ward. He knew the streets. What he was searching for were any homes sold in the last year. He found what he was looking for in fewer than thirty minutes. A second search pulled up the newspaper article he found at the library. A copy of the article was lying on the seat next to him.
Working d
ay and night, investigators from Atlanta’s police force tracked down lead after lead in their pursuit of Albert Lemon. The indignation of the city’s residents had risen to rage with the discovery of the mutilated body of nine-year-old Charlotte Sewell. The girl’s legs had been amputated. She died of shock and blood loss. Other injuries were inflicted by the madman too horrible to recount on these pages.
As good fortune had it, a tip provided by a responsible citizen of the Fourth Ward alerted detectives to the fact that Lemon might be living someplace on Linwood Avenue near Cleburne Avenue. An intensive search was undertaken wherein it was found that Lemon’s maternal grandmother, deceased ten years earlier, had in fact owned property in the neighborhood. Police cautiously approached the house only to find it apparently abandoned, shuttered, and locked.
They were about to give up when Detective William P. Denney observed a trash receptacle that contained food items of a recent nature. Upon attempting to enter the killer’s lair, the officers found the house had been booby-trapped with explosive devices.
A terrible fire resulted, taking the lives of three of our finest along with the killer who was burnt to death.
Lemon was last seen on the roof before it collapsed in the blaze. At least two witnesses to the event confirmed the madman’s last words were “Death was only the beginning” and that he would one day return.
The city can now breathe a sigh of relief as it begins to heal.
*
None of the locations Jack found online bore Cairo’s name. That would have been too obvious. Out of curiosity, he checked under Howard Pell’s name. Nothing there either. He finally found what he was looking for in an executor’s deed. Marshall Pell, as executor for the estate of Amanda Pell Pittman, deceased, had sold a home on Leland Avenue to a Three G Investment Group some ten months earlier. The time frame fit. Marshall was Howard Pell’s brother.
Jack had no idea who the Three G Investment Group was. Didn’t matter. The other pieces of property owned by the estate were sold the following month to different buyers. According to the deed descriptions, one was a lot with nothing on it. The other was a barber shop. He eliminated both as possibilities.
Once Shadows Fall: A Thriller (A Jack Kale and Beth Sturgis Thriller) Page 34