“Do we have a problem with it?” Jim interrupted Steve to say that on the record he’d say it was wrong and dangerous and that the police should handle it. “Off the record, however, I think the guy’s a badge. I think he knows exactly what he’s doing, and if he gets a whiff of a killer God help him. The Eagle is a well-trained, methodical thinker. Steve just told me that he thinks The Eagle is a sociopath, not a psychopath. If you ask me, I think he’s a cop with a grudge. Someone hurt him or someone that he loved, and he’s hunting for him. I think that the guys he’s caught so far were just lucky coincidences or flat out accidents. If I’m right, and he finds the man he’s hunting for, God help him. I don’t think law enforcement will even know about it.” Steve and John both remained silent. They all shook hands and went their separate ways, at least for a couple of days.
John called Sara’s cell phone again but got her voicemail and was getting concerned. He left Santiago’s and drove straight to her house. He got there a little past two a.m. Her car was parked in the driveway, and there were no lights on inside. He knocked on the door, but there was no response. There were no other cars around her house, nothing that would tell him that she had guests. He walked back to his truck and grabbed his Maglite and started to walk the perimeter of the house. He walked to the back gate and was able to access the backyard. The back of Sara’s house had large windows that looked out over a lap pool and Jacuzzi. He knew the house well. Sara had purchased it while they were dating. It was a cute little two bedroom, two bath bungalow in a great neighborhood on a corner lot with a guest house behind it right at the corner of Gothic and Aldea in Granada Hills. He walked around the pool and flashed the light into the living room windows. There was nothing out of the ordinary; the house was immaculate, which is how Sara had always been. As he looked into the living room, a memory of Amber came back to him. He saw her sitting on the couch the first time they met. He remembered Sara introducing him to her and the sparks that he felt when their eyes met. He was staring with the flashlight a bit too long because the next thing he heard was, “Freeze right where you are. Drop the light and put your hands in the air.” He complied and as the officers approached he said, “I’m FBI, and I’m armed. My ID is in my back right pocket.” One of the officers ordered him face down on the ground with his arms out to his sides, and he complied. The other approached and slowly removed John’s weapon and dropped it next to his body. He heard the other officer calling for back up. Within three minutes there were six units surrounding the house, and his ID had been taken from him. He sat with his back against the glass windows of Sara’s living room in handcuffs.
One of the officers approached, removed the cuffs, and handed him back his ID and his weapon. “What are you doing here?” “I was checking on a friend. We were supposed to have dinner, and I was late because of a homicide. My friend is an ER doctor at Northridge Hospital; it’s very unusual for her not to answer her phone.” One of the cops asked for her name and barked out to several other officers, “This is Sara Cook’s home, guys. Her friend here, Agent Swenson of the FBI, is looking for her.” John told him that her car was there, but she wasn’t answering the door or her cell phone. “When did you last see Sara, Agent Swenson?” “About seven a.m. yesterday morning. We had breakfast together when she got off shift.” “Did you speak to her after that?” “Yes, briefly, on the phone and via email. I was supposed to have a free night, so I was planning on having dinner with her.” A cop who recognized her name walked up to him and asked, “Are you hitting that?” “First, that’s none of your business, and, second, I hate that phrase.” “I’m sorry if I offended your sensibilities. I’ve asked her out half a dozen times, and she won’t even give me the time of day. What’s your secret?” “She’s an old friend, and she doesn’t date cops.” “You’re a cop.” “Yes I am. I was also a Marine before I was a police officer, and now I’m a federal agent. Sara can’t handle the uncertainty of the police lifestyle.” “I guess you know her really well.” “I do, and I know that something’s wrong.” He had no sooner said the words when he heard an officer call out that he could see broken glass on the kitchen floor.
They rushed the front door and entered the house. Within five minutes, the house was lit up like a shithouse in the fog. They found a broken vase with two dozen long-stemmed roses but no sign of a struggle. John looked around the scene very carefully; he found the note that came with the flowers. He asked for a pair of crime scene gloves, and one of the officers handed them to him. “It’s not a crime scene at this point, Agent Swenson. It’s at best a missing person. I bet she just went out with a friend.” “How do you explain the broken vase and the roses?” “I don’t know. Maybe they fell off the counter when she left.” John shook his head. He took the card and put it into an evidence bag. He noticed the open packet of rose food on the edge of the counter. That’s when he picked up the odor, the sweet odor, “Oh, this guy is good. Mask the chloroform smell with the roses.” He picked up the rose food packet with a pair of tweezers. As he was placing it in the evidence bag, he saw the faint edge of a transponder chip in the single sugar-sized pouch. He placed it into his evidence bag and looked around for any other clues. He took a sample of the water on the floor from the vase which was almost completely evaporated and a scraping of the dried liquid. He said, “We have a missing person’s case here. Who wants to take the report.” The first officer on scene reminded him that they couldn’t make a missing person report until she had been gone for twenty-four hours. John nodded, took his bag of evidence, and announced he was leaving the scene. He told them he would file a report if he did not hear from Sara by morning.
As he was walking toward his truck, he heard a shrill little voice call his name, “John…John…is that you son?” He turned around to see Sally Owens on the corner with her walker. “Oh, Mrs. Owens, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you over there. I can’t believe you recognized me.” She smiled and said, “You’re a hard fellow to forget, Officer Swenson.” He smiled and apologized for all the commotion. She asked if everything was okay, and he explained that Sara was missing. “Oh my,” she said, “that’s terrible.” “Mrs. Owens, did you see Sara today?” “Why yes, yes I did. I saw her drive up this morning and go into her house.” “Did you see anything out of the ordinary?” “Well, now that you mention it, I saw a truck delivering her some flowers earlier this afternoon.” “Do you recall if there was a name on the truck?” “Yes. Evans Florist. They’re on Sherman Way in Reseda.” “Did you notice anything else out of the ordinary?” She thought for a moment and said no. “Thank you, Mrs. Owens. Why don’t you get some sleep. The police are working on it.” She smiled, and John turned and went back to his truck. He knew there was foul play, but he didn’t want to tell the black and whites. He learned a long time ago that street cops are clueless.
He started down Gothic toward Kennedy High School when he realized he needed to get back on the freeway. He turned around just passing Sara’s house when he saw Sally Owens waving a handkerchief in the air. He stopped his truck in the middle of the road and jumped out. “Is everything okay, Mrs. Owens?” “Oh, John, I’m so glad I caught you. I totally forgot.” She handed him a piece of paper. “This car was parked in front of my house for a long time this afternoon. It seemed suspicious, so I wrote down the license plate number.” He unfolded the paper and saw that Sally had written ‘black Mercedes’ and the license plate number. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.” “Thank you, Mrs. Owens. This will help a great deal. You get some sleep now, but please don’t mention this to anyone else. I will handle it.” She nodded in agreement, and he helped her back into her home. He got back in his truck and started down the street toward Balboa Boulevard. He plugged the plate number into his dash computer, but he knew before the information came back who the car belonged to. Walter Cruthers.
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘The house was a labyrinth, and
as he looked over the data, closely
memorizing every twist and turn,
he felt like a mouse in a maze.’
Jim got to Barb’s at two a.m. and let himself in, resetting the alarm behind him. The house was dark except for a lone light emitting from the kitchen. He tossed his keys in the basket next to the door. Barbara was sitting at the old butcher block table sipping scotch with the uncorked bottle in the middle of the table. He didn’t say a word as he took a highball glass from the cupboard and filled a bowl with ice. He threw a couple of cubes into his glass and into Barb’s, poured himself a drink, and sat down across from her. There was silence between them as Barb stared off into space. He took a smoke out of his shirt pocket and offered her one. She took the cigarette, and he lit it for her and then lit his own. “Are you still pissed at me?” “No…I really wasn’t pissed at you.” “You want to talk about it?” “There’s not much to talk about.” “How did he get you, Barb?”
“I came home from work. The house was armed. I unset the alarm and dropped my keys in the basket. I had a bag of groceries and was planning on surprising you with a steak dinner. I know how much you love a good porterhouse. I was putting the groceries away when I heard a man clear his throat. At first I thought it was you. I turned around, and he was sitting right where you’re sitting now.” “What did he look like?” “He was dressed in all black.” “What color were his eyes?” “He was wearing a black mask, but it wasn’t like a ski mask or a costume mask. It was flat black, almost like latex. His eyes blended with the covering like he had a film over them.” “How tall?” “He was sitting the entire time; he told me what to do, and I did it.” “So what did he tell you to do?” “He placed a pair of zip tie cuffs on the table in front of me. He asked me to please turn and lay facedown on the floor.” “Did he really use the word ‘please’?” “Yes…I have to say he was very polite and apologetic while abducting me. He took my wrists and put the cuffs on; he asked if they were too tight, and I told him no. He told me he didn’t want to hurt my wrists. I did as he asked, and I felt him tie my feet and then put a blind fold on me like one of those black out masks people use for sleep.” “What then?” “He apologized for Jill’s death.” “Huh?” “He gently lifted me off the floor and put me back on this chair. He told me that Jill’s death wasn’t his fault; it was her own.” “Okay, you’re losing me.” “Do you want me to tell you what he said or not?” “Sorry. Go on.”
She took a deep drag off the cigarette and a swig of her scotch. “He wanted me to know the truth about Jill’s death. I didn’t say a word. He told me that Jill had met him at the gym the night after canceling dinner and invited him out for coffee. He accepted, and she drove. Instead of driving to the local Starbucks, she pulled her service weapon and told him they were going for a ride to Sumner Mill Works. When they arrived, she ordered him to walk to the main entrance of the mill. That’s when she said, ‘I know who you are, and I know what you’re going to do.’ He told her he didn’t understand, and she ordered him to his knees, but he didn’t comply. He heard the whir of a bullet passing his ear before he heard the sound from her weapon. He ran to hide and watched her go back to her car to get her Maglite. As she searched for him she said, “I know that you’re The Iron Eagle, and I know that you’re planning on killing my grandfather. He was only doing what you’ve been doing by trying to clean up the streets. He’s fed up with the prostitutes and the junkies, so he’s been eliminating them. I’ll make you a deal, you come out and I’ll take you in…that will go a long way toward advancing my career.”
Barbara paused to take another drag off her cigarette and swallowed the last of her scotch. Jim got some more ice and poured them each another glass. “Go on,” he said calmly. “He said that Jill was in such a hurry to kill him that she didn’t follow proper procedure in clearing him of any weapons. He told me that as she drew nearer, he pulled his weapon and prepared to fire, but it wasn’t necessary. She was so intent on looking for him that she didn’t see the ravine on the opposite side of the wood where he was hiding. He told me he saw the ravine and made a noise to draw her attention; she turned in his direction but lost her footing and fell down an embankment, landing neck first on a concrete block. She had struck her throat and was struggling to breathe.” “Some of this rings true to the crime scene, but she had been strangled, and The Eagle left his calling card. Why would he do that if he was the intended victim?” She took a drink and stubbed out the cigarette. Jim offered her another, and she took it, only this time her hand was shaking. “I asked him that very question. He said she was still breathing and able to talk, and that she became really distraught and told him that she was certain he was The Eagle and that he knew about her grandfather and his friend, Stewart Roskowski. He said he took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and told Jill that she was correct. That he was The Eagle. And he thanked her for the tip about her grandfather and Roskowski.
“He said she started to cry while gasping for air, and he didn’t want to see her suffer. He told her that she was dead as a result of her own bravado and strangled her to end her misery. He left his calling card to draw her grandfather to the scene.” “Did he say the name of her grandfather?” She shook her head. “That explains a lot.” “What does it explain?” “It’s a long story.” “Did he say anything else to you?” She nodded and told him that he had no intention of harming her and apologized again for Jill’s death. “He said he had wanted to explain it to me for some time, but it was a little difficult to do given his situation.” Jim finished off the last of his drink as did Barbara, and he took the glasses to the sink and washed them out. “What I don’t understand is why he took me at all if he meant me no harm.” Jim spoke while drying the glasses with his back to her, “He took you to hurt me.”
He turned around and saw the perplexed look on Barbara’s face. “He told Steve that he had taken the people that we loved the most as insurance for his escape before killing the kid. He got to Molly, her friend, and then you.” “That makes no sense. We’re divorced. We hadn’t even talked in nearly five years.” Jim put the glasses back where they belonged and sat down in the chair. “I think he was banking on me still having feelings for you and wanting to protect you.” “Was he wrong?” “Did I come breakneck speed into the ER looking for you?” She smiled. “You big softy!” “You know how I feel now, but, had it been a few days earlier, who knows!” She stood up and walked over to him and pressed her chest against his. “And what do you think would have happened if you hadn’t loved me and come looking for me?” He looked down at her beautiful blue eyes looking into his, her red cheeks and perfect lips. He bent his head forward and kissed her and said, “Your cute little ass would still be at County, or you would have had to take a cab home.”
She frowned and kissed him back, then whispered “You left me, you son of a bitch.” “Ah…but I came back for you, you nasty little prig.” She laughed and grabbed his ass and said, “Come on. I need a good fucking.” “What you need is a good spanking,” he said laughing. She grinned and said, “You’re right. You need to put me over your knee and give my ass a good whipping.” She took off up the stairs, her t-shirt rising and lowering as she ran panty free. “I’m taking the whole weekend off, young lady. You’re gonna be sore and walking bow legged come Monday.” “I sure as hell hope so,” she said as they disappeared into the bedroom.
Steve found Molly and Gail curled up together on the couch in the living room asleep with the television on. He went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat down in the breakfast nook looking out at the street lights. He took a piece of paper that was laying on the table and a pen and started jotting down some notes. ‘Jill Makin, Barry Mullin, Stewart Roskowski, Francis Statler, Billy the Kid...’ he looked around the kitchen and whispered to himself, “You’re an efficient and merciless killer. Who the fuck are you?” He put the pen down when he heard a sleepy voice enter the kitchen; it was Gail, and she asked if he had just gotten home. He nodded. “Long day.�
�� He finished off his juice, “You could say that. How was your day?” “It was nice.” She pulled three empty wine bottles and a gin bottle from under the sink and said, “It looks like it will just be you and me in bed tonight. Molly really tied one on.” “Did you two drink all that?” She shook her head, “I had a bottle and a half of wine. Molly kept the party going and polished off the rest of the wine and the last of your gin before passing out on the couch.” “Hmm…” “Oh, don’t be too hard on her.” He nodded. “I don’t get it. How can you be so relaxed?” “It’s all about perspective, Steve. First, I knew that the man who was in this house the other night wasn’t going to hurt us.” “How could you know?” “I’ve been down that road. I would have known. I also know that life is finite; we all have a date with death, so live for today for tomorrow we die.” He laughed, as did she. “What are you drinking? “Orange juice.” “Straight?” He nodded. “Oh, now that just won’t do.” She grabbed a bottle of vodka, another glass, and the orange juice and said, “follow me.” “What about Molly?” She looked into the living room where Molly was asleep in a blanket and yelled, “MOLLY, STEVE AND I ARE GOING TO HAVE DEPRAVED SEX. YOU WANT TO JOIN US?” There was a loud snore from the couch. “I don’t think she wants to join us.” He walked behind her up the stairs, “What if she wakes up and comes looking for us?” “Well, depending on when she finds us, she will either find me sucking your eyeballs out of your head using your cock as a straw, or you fucking me up the ass because I want it really, really bad, and Molly’s only an occasional fan. Or perhaps she’ll just find the two of us spent and asleep when we’re done.” Steve was following blindly after her. “That okay with you?” “I’m sorry, what…I stopped listening after you said you were going to use my cock as a straw.” She laughed as she pushed him down on the bed and undid his pants. His eyes rolled back in his head when she took him into her mouth.
Rise of The Iron Eagle (The Iron Eagle Series Book 1) Page 27