CHAPTER 58
With their lights off, two patrol cars rolled into the gravel lot at Camp Seneca. Soundlessly, five men exited the vehicles. A sixth man stayed back to cover the road.
Sergeant Fess Scottler had the command. “All right, boys, flashlights off, fan out, and let’s move down toward the waterfront. Best to stay off the path and keep to the woods. I figure this guy has no idea we’re onto him, so he’ll probably take the easiest way up from the docks and walk right up the road. I know this place well. He has to pass by the basketball courts, so if we don’t run into him before, we’ll take our positions over there and just wait for him. I want two men on each side of the path doing a military roll out as we proceed down the hill. I’ll follow fifty yards behind and shore up the rear.”
In silent acknowledgment, the men spread out and advanced through the woods, leaving the walkway empty and inviting.
The trees along the path provided good cover, while the sounds of the forest masked their movements. In synchronized fashion, one officer held his position as the next pushed forward. Once in place, the next one rolled out, moved past, and advanced further. Both groups continued this pattern on opposite sides of the path, always staying at least ten yards deep into the woods. Scottler maintained his distance fifty yards back.
The men were only halfway down the hill when the moon disappeared and a thunderstorm erupted. Suddenly, rain exploded from the clouds, and the wind picked up. In no time, the rain began blowing sideways, drenching the entire team. Puddles of water appeared from nowhere, further slowing their progress.
CHAPTER 59
As I’m making my way up the dirt path toward the basketball courts, the sky goes black, and it starts to pour. Right out of nowhere, the clouds open up like somebody just turned on a faucet full-force. That’s the way it is around here. One minute, everything’s all calm and quiet; the next, it’s storming like a hurricane. I remember times like this when I was a kid and we’d be hanging out at the canteen when the first sounds of thunder rumbled in. We’d run like maniacs, laughing and hollering all the way back to the bunks, trying to reach them before the downpour. Usually, we couldn’t make it, but we really didn’t care. And by the time we did get inside, we were as drenched as if we’d jumped in the pool with our clothes on. Then we’d strip down, dry off, and put on these soft yellow and green Camp Lakewood sweatshirts and shorts and gather around the windows, waiting for the lightning flashes while we counted the seconds until the thunder boomed. Those were some good times, and I had totally forgotten about them until now. Funny how just being up here like this is bringing back all these memories.
The rain is whipping at me and stinging my eyes. I’m getting soaked, and I can barely see. Moving up the path, I raise my forearm and hold it across my forehead to keep the rain from my eyes. It doesn’t help much, so after I pass the courts, I head into the woods, hoping the trees will block some of the rain.
I try to keep going, but I have to stop because it’s almost pitch-black, the clouds are blocking the moon and the trees are making it even darker. I can’t see more than five feet in front of me. I stand there, looking around while trying to get my bearings, when, out of nowhere, I hear footsteps splashing up ahead. I still can’t see shit, but my heart starts pounding like it knows something that I don’t. I crouch down behind this tree, hold a deep breath, and try to concentrate. The rain is slapping against the leaves and making a racket, but it’s got a pattern to it, so I block it out and focus. There it is again—movement in the woods up ahead.
Either someone’s out here or a big-ass animal is nearby. My first thought is that it’s a deer, but you can never be too careful because there are bears around here, too, so I figure I better just stay put.
It doesn’t take long before the sounds come right up to me. I actually sense people moving around before I see them. Then, in a flash, a shadow passes and stops. Seconds later, another one rolls past and keeps going. Now, get this: these guys are literally five feet away from me, and they walk right by like I don’t even exist!
I hold my breath and actually hear my heart hammering inside my chest. I try to calm down and keep watching as the shadows disappear in the direction of the basketball courts. Suddenly, lightning flashes; the whole forest lights up; and I see two guys making their way further down the hill. Seconds later, the ground shakes from a thunder blast.
This is not good at all. I’ve got to get out of here real fast, but I can’t move until those guys are far enough away that they can’t hear me. I wait another minute or two before I turn and head up the hill.
I make it another twenty feet before I get slammed to the ground and lose my wind.
CHAPTER 60
They fingerprint me then handcuff me to a chair inside this room with one of those mirrors. I’m not stupid; that’s a two-way. No doubt there’s a bunch of cops standing on the other side, just staring at me. What do they think—I’m a moron or something? Anyway, no one comes in to talk to me so I just sit there waiting. I know what they’re doing, keeping me here all by myself, thinking it’ll drive me nuts and make me want to confess to something I didn’t do. Well, the hell with them. I’m not saying shit. As soon as someone walks through that door, I’m asking for a lawyer.
A half hour goes by, maybe more—no one comes to talk to me. Where the hell are they? Why don’t they come in here and talk to me?
Another half hour or so goes by, and still nothing. Now I’m starting to get real pissed off. They can’t do this to me. I’ve got rights!
So you know what I do? I start screaming at the top of my lungs. “Help! I can’t breathe—help!” Then I try to stand up, and the chair comes with me because I’m handcuffed behind it. I start banging it on the floor, and I fall over sideways. Two seconds later, a cop comes racing through the door.
“Easy now, son,” this big old cop says to me as he lifts me up and sets me right.
“You can’t do this to me!” I shout. “I got my rights. I want a lawyer.”
“Yes, you do have rights, and you are entitled to a lawyer, but we also have procedures here, and all this takes time. So you’ll just have to wait until we process you. In the meantime, I’m Captain Parker, and you are a guest at my facility. I expect my guests to act accordingly, so try to control your outbursts.”
“A guest. Is this how you treat your guests?” I pull at my handcuffs.
“Procedure, I’m sorry. We’re still gathering our information, and until we have a complete story, we have to keep you this way.”
“Hey, man, you’ve got nothing on me. This is bull.”
“Well, Mr. Sullivan, that’s not exactly true. We’ve got a lot on you, and the evidence is mounting as we speak.” The cop steps around to the other side of the table and sits down across from me.
“Evidence? What kind of evidence?”
“Sorry son, you’ve invoked your right to counsel, we can’t talk to you unless you agree to talk to us without your lawyer being present.”
“So get me a lawyer then.”
“Okay, I’ll contact legal aid, but before I do I want you to know that I’d be willing to tell you what we’ve found if you give me something in return.”
“And what would that be?”
“Tell me about your friend Troyer Savage first.”
That takes me by surprise. “You know about Troyer?”
“Yes. And we also know about the bartender from Manhattan and the girl from the motel in New Jersey. Oh, and by the way, we also have your friend Aurora Storm in custody.”
When he says that, it just blows me away. I do my best not to show it. “Well then you have to know that Troyer is the one who did all of this, not me. It’s all because of him that I’m even sitting here in the first place. The guy has gotten me into so much shit in the last couple of weeks you wouldn’t believe it. Just ask Aurora. She’ll back me up.”
“Well, then, why don’t you tell me all about him.”
I eyeball Parker and squint at him.
I think he’s playing me and trying to get me to talk without a lawyer. “If I clue you in about Troyer, what’s in it for me?”
“Well, son, you have the right to remain silent, and you are entitled to a lawyer, and anything you say can and will be used against you. But if Troyer is the culprit, then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
“I don’t know, man; this sure doesn’t feel right. I watch CSI, and every time they talk, they get screwed royally.”
“Look: Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us all you know about Troyer? Don’t say anything about yourself, and you should be fine. And you know what, if Troyer is our man and you help us to capture him and put him away, I’m sure I can get the DA to drop our charges against you.”
“You could do that?”
“I could.”
Now, this cop doesn’t seem like any cop I’ve seen on TV, and he really sounds like he can help me. I think for a minute, and then I say, “Okay, if you tell me what kind of evidence you’re talking about, I’ll tell you what I know about Troyer.”
“Sorry, Tom, but it doesn’t work that way. You have to give me something first; then I’ll tell you what I know.”
At this point, I’m really conflicted. I mean, I really want to tell this cop about Troyer, but I ’m afraid that if I do, somehow it’s going to be used against me. After all, that’s how those CSI shows always go—and I’m a lot smarter than that. “This shit is way too much for me. I know I’ve done nothing wrong, so I’m just gonna wait until I talk to a lawyer.”
Parker looks back at the two-way mirror, then looks back at me. “You know what, Tom, maybe we can compromise a bit here. I’ll give you some information and then you tell me about Troyer? You can always call a lawyer after that.”
I tilt my head sideways and look into his eyes. They say the eyes tell all, so I figure maybe I can see something that’ll help me make a decision . . . but they don’t. I can’t read anything other than a cold-steel, dark-eyed stare. I swallow hard and nod. “Fair enough, tell me what you’ve got.”
Parker turns and looks at the mirror. Then he stands and begins pacing on the other side of the table. “Okay, Tom, the victim tells us that while she was working at the front desk at the Port Jervis Lodge, you grabbed her from behind and choked her. She blacked out, and when she came to, she found herself inside the trunk of a car. Minutes later, the car stopped and you pulled her from the trunk. She screamed, you dropped her, and she fled. A motorist picked her up by the roadside and upon investigation we discovered a tire iron in the vicinity. We ran it for prints. I’m sure you already know that the prints are yours. We’ve got you dead-on for attempted murder and kidnapping.”
With that, my entire body goes limp, and I just collapse into myself. I can’t look weak or guilty, though, so I think fast and quickly force myself to sit straight up and act like it’s no big deal. “I can explain that. When I packed the car, back in Cape May, the tire iron was lying in the trunk, so I picked it up and moved it. I’m sure that’s how my prints got on it.”
Parker looks at me crossways and says, “That’s the story you’re sticking with?”
“It’s the truth. Troyer is setting me up.”
“Okay, Tom—fine. So tell me about him. Who is this guy, and why do you think he’s setting you up?”
“That’s not an easy question.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s like this: I met him a couple of months ago when he saved my ass outside this bar in Brooklyn. But with all of the shit that’s come down these last few days, I’m starting to think we must have known each other before. I get this feeling that he’s been planning this for a while and for some strange reason he’s trying to set me up. Otherwise, why he would be doing all this to me?”
“I see what you mean. Go on.”
Parker gives me this sympathetic look, and I proceed to tell him the short version of everything from the night Troyer pulled that MMA shit, to the night he sliced the bartender’s throat, to kidnapping Aurora and then leading me to her and running away when he saw that she had escaped. I don’t say anything about the Indian girl from the motel, even though Parker seems to know all about it.
Parker just keeps writing shit on this pad in front of him while looking up at me every few seconds. Finally, he puts his pen down and pushes the pad away. “Okay, Tom, I get what you’re saying, and I promise we will investigate all this. Meanwhile, we’re still searching Camp Lakewood. So far, there’s been no sign of Troyer Savage. And, if he was there, as you say, we will eventually find him.”
“I hope so, because he’s the key to all of this. I’m an innocent victim.”
“We’ll see, Tom. But procedure requires me to put you in a lineup. If you’re telling the truth you have nothing to worry about. If not, and if the motel clerk identifies you, charges will be filed. And if we can’t find your friend Troyer, you will probably be extradited to New York City to be charged in connection with the disappearance of the bartender. After that, you will also have to face charges in Seaview.”
“A lineup? For what? I had nothing to do with any of the crimes you’re talking about. Can’t you just tell them what I’ve said and let me go?”
“I’m sorry, but things don’t work that way.”
“Well, I’m not going into any sort of lineup right now. My head feels like it’s been crushed in a vice. I need my migraine pills. I’m really getting nauseous.”
“I can get you some aspirin.”
“No, that won’t help. These are prescription, and the only ones that help.”
“Well, where can I find them?”
“In the glove box of Aurora’s car.”
“Fine, I’ll get someone to check out your story. Meanwhile, you just sit tight.”
Parker gets up and walks out, leaving me all alone again.
CHAPTER 61
Stone and Watts witnessed the entire interrogation from the other side of the two-way mirror, watching as Parker exited and came into the viewing room.
“What do you two make of all that?” Parker asked.
Watts answered first. “Well, Captain it’s quite a story . . . if you believe it.”
“Sounds like you don’t.”
“Actually, I’m leaning against,” Watts said, “but still open to the theory.”
Stone interjected. “I’m not convinced, either. My guess is the two of them are in this together.”
“I’m with you, partner, but if we press him now, he could shut down, and then we may never find out what happened to Jamie Houston. Even worse, the way Sullivan tells the story, a jury may still want answers to the Troyer angle. And you know that a defense attorney will distract them with all of that. Collaring an accomplice is good, but landing the actual assailant is what it’s all about. I think Sullivan can lead us to Savage, but more than anything, we need to find Jamie Houston . . . alive or dead. And Sullivan is the key to that.”
Stone nodded and directed her attention to Parker. “No disrespect intended, Captain, but I have a lot more questions to ask Mr. Sullivan. I think we should let him stew for a while though . . . he seems like the type that will crack if left alone. Then I want to have a go at him.”
“No problem, Detective,” Parker said, “but until you do, what is your position on getting him his medicine?”
Stone’s voice had an edge now. “Use it as leverage, of course. Meanwhile we’ll just wait. The DNA from the blood spatter Morgan collected at the home on Gilgo should be back soon, and if it matches our vic, we’re one step closer to solving this.”
“Perhaps, Detective. In the meantime let’s hope my men track down Savage.”
“I never like to rely on hope,” Stone said, “but it’s better than nothing. Anyway, where are you with the lineup?”
* * *
A half hour later, a local drunk, two officers, and Sullivan were paraded into a room separated by a two way mirror.
“Does anyone look familiar, Chrissy?” Parker asked.
Visibly uncomfortable, Chrissy spent a few minutes examining each man, one by one.
After a time, she shook her head and spoke. “I’m sorry, Captain. I just can’t tell. None of these men look familiar. I wish I could help, but I can’t. I never got a good look at him. I just jumped up and ran as soon as I hit the ground. I had no time to look at anything or anyone. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay, Chrissy. We understand. We just wanted to make sure.”
“Well, which one of them do you think it is?” Chrissy asked.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t say. It would compromise our investigation.”
CHAPTER 62
Sitting across the table from Aurora Storm, Stone examined the label on the vial she had found in the glove compartment of the Mustang. “Do you know anything about these pills, Ms. Storm?”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know, like the label is clearly not from a regular pharmacy, and the date on it is from two days ago? Which means you had to be with him when he filled this.”
“As a matter of fact, I was. So what of it?”
“As I said, the label is not from a pharmacy. It is direct from some laboratory or something, and it says ‘Experimental’ on it. So I was wondering if you could shed some light.”
“Well, Tommy told me that he gets terrible migraine headaches sometimes, and that he’s been taking these pills as part of a study he signed up for a few months ago. He said the pills are the only thing that has ever worked to stop the pain.”
“Is that all?” asked Stone.
“Pretty much.”
“Fine, that will do for now, but I’d like you to remain here while I make some calls. Can you do that for me?”
“To tell you the truth, I have no place else to go. And until you release Tommy, I really don’t want to leave anyway.” Aurora stood up. “Two questions, though.”
“Yes.”
“First, do I really have to stay in this room? Don’t you have some place more comfortable? I feel like a prisoner here. And second, when can I see Tommy? I really want to talk to him.”
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