by B. J. Woster
The words ‘Access Denied’ flashed before his eyes and he wanted to throw the monitor across the room, “I should have known that interstate access would be trickier than I wanted it to be. Captain!” He yelled loudly and immediately heard footsteps descending the staircase.
“What gives, Hardwick?” The captain asked; he and Harding weaving through the desks in the bullpen.
“I think I found our perp, but I don’t have access to the file. I need you to call the Chicago PD and request a copy.”
“You found him? Really?” Harding asked, plopping down in a chair across from Hardwick’s desk.
“Yeah, if it’s our guy, I guess he really is a scientist, or was. The information I was able to access is sparse. His name is Daniel Whittaker. Here’s his picture.” Hardwick turned the monitor so that Harding could see the face.
“That doesn’t look anything like the sketch the priest gave us,” Harding replied, looking at the photo on the screen carefully. “That man has dark brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses…I can’t quite make out the color of his eyes. He’s pasty though, which is how I imagine a scientist to be, but he doesn’t look like a weakling. How tall is he?” Harding continued scanning what little information was available.
“Doesn’t say here, but he looks like he could be about as tall as the priest said. The sketch the priest provided showed our perp had longish blond hair and said nothing about glasses. Contacts maybe…shit…are we sure this is our guy?”
“Not right now, but that means that either two scientists were involved in an unsolved murder, the priest got it wrong, or this isn’t our perp.”
“Well, I’ll requisition the file from the Chicago PD. Hopefully, there won’t be any hoop jumping involved.” The captain headed for his office, “Oh, while I’m making the call, you two can resume searching the building.”
“Think we should search this floor?” Harding asked, as they stood to head toward the stairwell. “I mean, it’s mostly open area. Surely we’d have spotted someone tied to an electrical device if they were around here, right?”
“Did you and the captain finish upstairs?” Hardwick asked.
“Yeah, no nooks or crannies that a person could stuff another person where they’d go unnoticed. I think that Wilson is right. There’s no way that Price could’ve gotten a person in here and set up an elaborate death set-up without being spotted.”
Hardwick stopped walking, “He would’ve had to do so without being spotted—or noticed.”
“Now what are you thinking?”
“It’s simple enough to determine whether there was a breach here at the station by examining security footage from the day of the abduction.”
“We don’t know when our officer was abducted, only when we were told to start searching for him or her,” Harding interjected and Hardwick let out a string of curses.
“Okay,” Hardwick backtracked after calming himself down, “we start by reviewing footage from yesterday and today. If we find nothing suspicious, we go back a day further. I don’t think it likely he could hold onto one of our officers for too long without someone noticing.”
“Where do they keep the recorder?” Harding asked.
“Security. Top floor. I say we head up and review the day’s footage first. It may not be a complete time-saver, but it’s better than doing a blind search of a building this size,” Hardwick said, hitting the up arrow on the elevator.
“Like the rest of the squad is doing? And why aren’t we taking the stairs? You getting too decrepit to climb stairs now, old man?”
“Strained my knee playing handball,” Hardwick explained, stepping into the elevator car. “You’re welcome to hike up if you want to?”
Harding laughed and jumped into the car as the doors were sliding closed. They reached the upper level quickly and immediately set to viewing the security footage
They were part way through the footage when the captain joined them, followed by Wilson and Cortez.
“How’d you know we were up here?” Harding asked.
“You weren’t in the bullpen,” the captain explained.
“You already searched every level?” Hardwick asked.
“Just a cursory look,” the captain admitted. “When we didn’t spot y’all down there, we figured you must have had another idea that proved a distraction, so did you find anything of value?”
“I may have, yeah,” Hardwick said thoughtfully. He rewound the footage to 4:35 p.m. “Watch here.” He pointed to the front lobby and then traced his finger along with a man carrying a toolbox.
“Maintenance? What’s weird about that?” Wilson asked.
“Nothing yet, but look now,” he said, fast forwarding to time stamp 7:15 p.m. “The maintenance man returns…”
“I’m not following the significance either,” Cortez interjected.
“Just watch,” Hardwick stated. “He appears to engage in banter with Sergeant Stevens and then…here…look. He meets up with one of our female officers, who appears to be waiting for him by the stairwell.”
“Shit,” Wilson exclaims softly.
“Yeah,” Hardwick concurs. “Now watch,” he says, fast-forwarding to just after the lights go out. “It’s hard to see, but it appears that the maintenance man returns from downstairs—alone.”
“It may be significant in that it raises the probability of someone getting inside, but it does little in providing an identity, or proving that Price placed the latest victim within our precinct,” the captain murmured.
“I didn’t know our cameras were on a separate power supply,” Harding noted off-handed.
“Yeah,” the captain said, “We thought it best in the event of a power outage.”
“It’s a good thing too, or we’d have never known about this. I say we head down to lower storage level. See if it bears fruit?”
“It better,” the captain added, “because I just got a radio update from the officers in the field. They’re nearly halfway through the search and no sign of our missing officer.”
“What’s the word from Chicago?” Hardwick asked as they filed out of the security office.
“What about Chicago?” Wilson queried.
“I followed up on that hunch I had and got a hit. It led to an open case in Chicago.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Wilson muttered.
“I gave the sergeant there the case file number. He said he’d be in touch soon,” the captain replied.
Hardwick hit the down elevator button and Harding laughed, “He’s too old to take the stairs.”
“Laugh it up, Chuckles,” Hardwick quipped.
“Well, it was installed for the handicapped,” Cortez laughed.
“Yeah, well since you two are in such tip-top shape, why don’t you run on down the stairs, and I’ll meet up with you,” Hardwick said, preparing to enter the car.
“Sorry, Hardwick,” the captain interrupted, “bum knee or no, you’re going to have to take the stairs with us.”
Hardwick didn’t respond, and eyed the captain quizzically.
The captain sighed, “I still think it highly unlikely that Price was the maintenance man, or that he managed to stash his victim here in the precinct; however, with that being said, the probability of him doing so is greater now in my opinion than it was an hour ago. And since the elevator runs on electricity, we can’t take the chance.”
Hardwick nodded, “Understood.”
“Well, let’s head down to see what we find. Last one down is a rotten egg,” Harding quipped.
“Wow, really?” Cortez replied, shaking his head. “I thought you had to be out of puberty to work for the Atlanta PD.”
“Come on, y’all, let’s show a little respect for the investigation,” the captain snapped, shaking his head in bemusement; however, none of the detectives, nor the captain, truly believed that they would find anything in the precinct.
Chapter 36
Just shy of two hours after leaving Atlanta, Price crossed over the border into
Tennessee and immediately began considering where he’d stop and hole up for the night. He normally avoided motels after he started his abductions because he worried that motels would be on the list of high-priority searches when attempting to locate a perpetrator; especially when it was known that the perp was from out of town. That’s why he always borrowed an apartment while he did his work. When he first arrived in a new city, however, he didn’t have to worry about local law enforcement discovering him, and took advantage of more comfortable accommodations. He grinned when he spotted a Cracker Barrel near the motel and decided he’d eat breakfast there the following morning.
“First things first though, I need to check-in and then see where the investigation in Atlanta stands.”
“Can I help you, sir?” the concierge greeted.
“I need a room for one night. Non-smoking. Do you have a king-sized bed available?”
“One moment and I’ll check for you.” The young man started punching at his keyboard. After a few minutes, he looked up with a smile. “I do have a king-sized bed available, yes. If you will fill in this form, I’ll be happy to get you registered. If I could just get your credit card, please?”
“I’ll pay with cash,” Daniel replied instinctively.
“Very good, sir, but I’ll still need a card on file. We won’t, of course, make any charges—”
“Unless I damage the room or rent porn videos, yes, I know,” Daniel interjected, pulling out his Visa. He slid it across the desk and then picked up the pen and started filling out the form. After what seemed an interminable amount of time, the concierge concluded the computer entries and then slid over an electronic key. “You’ll be in room 117,” he stated politely. “Enjoy your stay.”
Daniel picked up the flat piece of plastic and then departed, pulling his car in front of his assigned room. Without bothering to collect his bags, he went inside and immediately turned on the television. His channel search was a little frantic, because it didn’t register on his departure from Georgia, that he might not be able to pick up the Atlanta’s WAGA news channel.
He flipped channels for a while, but did not find any news broadcasts in progress. A glance at his watch revealed why—it was just after 10:30 p.m. It was past time for some broadcasts, and too early for anything coming out of Atlanta. He tossed the remote on the bed with a sigh and then went to retrieve his baggage. The next half hour was going to be the hardest of his life, waiting to learn the fate of Lucia, and he prayed fervently that she had indeed been located.
Chapter 37
“Anything?” the captain called from behind an old desk chair.
Harding popped up from behind a filing cabinet, “Nothing over here.”
“Someone hand me a flashlight. I left mine upstairs,” Hardwick called. “There’s a closet over here, but the bulb is missing.”
“Figures we’d walk right by a closet; the logical place to hide someone,” Cortez griped, handing Hardwick his flashlight.
“Yeah, but you’re presupposing that there is someone to find,” Harding replied. “The recording may have been just—”
“Everyone get over here!” Hardwick exclaimed the moment the light infiltrated the small room. “Looks like someone cut through the sheetrock. Could be nothing, but I need something to pull it back.”
“You’ve got to be freakin’ kidding me,” Harding exclaimed, as Wilson pushed past him.
“I have a switchblade,” he said, reaching into the room. “That do?”
“Yes,” Hardwick said, snatching the blade and handing the flashlight over. “Aim this over here.”
Hardwick stuck the switchblade along the seam in the sheetrock and tugged, breaking off a section. He closed his eyes and sighed in frustration. He closed the switchblade and tossed it on the ground and then slid his fingers into the opening he’d created, pulling the sheetrock open.
Every man let out a string of curses at seeing the figure strapped to the buffer.
“Shit, shit, shit, I can’t believe I almost took the elevator down. The impact would have pulverized her head. Shit.”
“If anyone is culpable here,” the captain interjected, “it’s me. I’m the one who naïvely believed Price wasn’t capable of this level of infiltration, that he couldn’t pull this off. Not here. Not beneath our noses. And because of my naïve assumption, I arrogantly presumed I could ignore the warnings to leave the electricity off. My ignorance nearly got my officer killed. I’m no better than the two officers I fired.”
“Sir, she isn’t dead. We got to her in time,” Cortez offered in sympathy. “That’s what we should focus on. And you stopped Hardwick from squishing her like a bug, remember?”
Hardwick picked the switchblade back up, slipped inside the opening, and then set about carefully cutting through the layers of duct tape. When he’d freed her body and head, he carefully lowered her to the ground. He wasn’t worried about the remainder of the tape, rather with getting out of that area.
“Someone lean in and grab…Officer Mendocino,” Hardwick continued after reading her name plate, “beneath the arms and pull her through. Be careful of the loose duct tape surrounding her head; don’t let it get hung up on anything.”
Wilson leaned in and grabbed hold of the officer. “Someone might consider calling an ambulance,” he called behind him, “she’s pretty out of it.”
“On it,” Cortez replied, racing upstairs.
As soon as Mendocino was clear, Wilson dragged her out of the closet, laying her on the corridor floor. He immediately did a check of her vitals. “She’s breathing steady; just unconscious. If someone will grab a pair of scissors, I’ll start cutting away this duct tape,” he offered.
“Use the switchblade,” Harding offered.
“Might be safer to use scissors. I’m going to have to cut off a lot of her hair and if I have to get close to her scalp…”
“I’ll grab a pair,” Harding offered and ran off.
While he waited, Wilson started working to remove the tape surrounding her abdomen. “Now that we have a potential suspect, we should move heaven and earth to find that son-of-a-bitch before he has a chance to strike at us again.”
Hardwick collapsed against the wall, his relief nearly more than he could take. “We should get forensics down here,” he muttered after a few minutes. “I looked around a bit. There’s an IV drip in there that needs analyzing. You said she was okay?”
Wilson nodded, “Just a bit sticky,” he added, pulling the remainder of the tape away, just as Harding returned.
“We should also call in all officers now, so that we can shift our focus to finding Price,” Harding said, his hostility toward the perp thick.
Hardwick shook his head, “No, he’s gone. He probably fled as soon as the power went out.”
“What makes you assume that, especially when we were wrong about this?” the captain asked sharply.
“He didn’t just spoon-feed us clues this time, he all but handed our officer to us on a silver platter. He contained the search area to within reasonable bounds and by instructing us to keep the power off until the search was concluded, he ensured her safety, knowing that we’d not likely endanger one of our own.”
“But we did,” the captain muttered.
“Yeah, we did,” Hardwick sighed, “but fortunately she wasn’t harmed by our arrogance or our stupidity, and he wouldn’t know that.”
“So then, what do we do now?” Wilson asked, carefully trimming the tape from Mendocino’s hair. She may not have intended it, but she was going to have a pixie cut by the time he was through.
“We thank our lucky stars that he’s gone from our district, and then we flood every police outlet with an all-points bulletin, identifying our prime suspect.”
The captain nodded, “Okay, I’ll get that done as soon as the paramedics take care of Officer Mendocino.”
“They’re en route. Five minutes out,” Cortez said; his breathing heavy from racing up and down the stairs.
“Cortez,
you, and Harding can go and inform her family of what’s transpired, and escort them to Piedmont hospital. Then all of you go home and get some rest. Come tomorrow morning, gentlemen, we begin an overhaul of our precinct. I want brainstorming that will cause thunderstorms in the area. We will go over every infinitesimal detail of every search we conducted and will generate a plan to improve upon our performance. We will train and re-train, until we are better than a well-oiled machine. This will never happen on my watch again.”
“Do you think we’ll hear from Price again?” Cortez asked.
Hardwick nodded, “He can’t wash his hands of us entirely until he knows Officer Mendocino’s fate. He’ll call. I’m tempted to see if he’ll do something rash, if I tell him we failed.”
“Like what? Turn himself in?” Wilson replied sarcastically, snipping and tossing aside the remainder of the tape. He sat back on his haunches and sighed loudly.
No one responded to Wilson’s sarcasm, merely sat staring at the officer lying on the floor, her hair in taped clumps nearby. It took a few minutes before the shock wore off.
“Captain,” Hardwick said softly, “I know you want us to head home, but I think I’ll stay to finish some paperwork. Something tells me that we haven’t heard the last from this guy.”
“Yeah,” Cortez added. “Mind if we send a couple of uniforms to inform the Mendocino family? I’d like to stay too.”
“Yeah, me too,” Harding added.
The captain eyed his officers for a moment and then nodded. “We’ll see this finished—hopefully—and then get some rest.”
The men stood to follow the paramedics, who’d arrived and, after a quick assessment, loaded Mendocino onto a stretcher and headed up the stairs. Hardwick nearly punched the up button on the elevator, instinctively favoring his aching knee, but after nearly killing a fellow officer, he wasn’t certain when he’d be able to use an elevator again—anytime soon. A glance at the faces of his fellow detectives revealed they were of the same mind. They all walked up the stairs, the events of the last two weeks weighing heavily on their hearts and minds.