Stone Cold

by James Glass

  A large, dark figure rushed from the closet. Then everything went dark.

  Chapter 36

  My head throbbed. I tried to find the source, but my hands weren’t cooperating. My eyes adjusted to the bright light of the bathroom. I sat in a chair, stripped of my clothes and my dignity. Then someone walked into my line of sight. Dexter Allen? The man stood a good two inches taller than Francisco and at least fifty pounds heavier.

  My heart pounded. Recalling the phone call from Marti, I wondered if he’d killed them.

  “Rebecca Watson. I thought it time we met.”

  Those eight words sliced through me.

  He must have been the man in the Lumina. I couldn’t believe my stupidity in leading this man to my aunts. Being a detective, you learned to change your routes, leave your home at different times. Somehow, I’d become not complacent, but…distracted. I scanned the tiled floor, trying to maintain some resolve. Nothing came. Heat radiated from my face from the anger at being so careless. “Why don’t you say it for what it is? You’re here to kill me.”

  Then I heard muffled noises from the bedroom. I had to believe my aunties were still alive.

  If I were to survive, I had to free myself. I tried my hands again, then realized my dilemma—they were strapped behind my back. With zip ties. At least he hadn’t used handcuffs.

  The plastic tightened around my wrists as I struggled to free myself. I bit my lip to keep a lid on the pain and frustration.

  You can’t wait to die. You can do this.

  His shrewd gray eyes alighted, like an insect, on my brown hair, then my lips, then my breasts. His black hair was cropped short, revealing a widow’s peak. He stepped closer, his mouth inches from my nose. A chill ran through my veins as if my blood had been replaced by ice water. My body shivered uncontrollably.

  His sausage fingers swept a strand of hair from my cheek. “You’ve got me all wrong, Detective. I know you see me as a monster, but I assure you, I’m not here to kill you.” His breath stunk of onions and garlic. My eyes watered.

  “So why tie me up?” I asked in a barely audible tone. My voice didn’t want to cooperate either. I took a deep breath. “We could’ve met under more civil terms,” I managed to say with some conviction as I continued to twist my wrists at an awkward angle. In order for this to work, I needed to be inconspicuous. Not an easy task, but what was the alternative?

  A smile twisted his face into a funhouse clown expression. His eyes began to darken like a passageway to some unknown oblivion. It felt like he’d stuck a knife in my abdomen and started to carve my insides. My stomach gurgled as he picked up a five-gallon water jug, the same kind left at the other crime scenes.

  “Now, now, you know you would rather it be the other way around—me sitting where you are but in a ten-by-ten cell where you call the shots.” He shook the jug, but it was empty. “Maybe decide a little waterboarding might get someone like me to confess.”

  “And what’s wrong with that? Afraid things might not turn out so well for you?” My wrists felt like they were on fire. The burning sensation reminded me of getting a nasty eraser burn, the kind we gave each other in grade school. The bindings held firm, but my hard work proved productive. Sweat dripped down my wrists, between my skin and the plastic. I stared at him, trying to keep his focus on me and not my ulterior motive.

  “As for waterboarding, we don’t practice sadistic torture to illicit a confession. Doesn’t work. At some point everyone will break and confess to truths or lies. That’s if they don’t drown first.”

  “Don’t struggle. You can’t escape.”

  I ignored him. “You said I got you all wrong. What did you mean?” I asked, stalling. It was a long shot but worth a try.

  Allen sat on the toilet, his head a good foot above me. “These men I’ve killed. You must think I’m some kind of animal.”

  What was the first clue?

  “Of course not. You just need some help. And if you let me go, I promise you’ll get the help you deserve.” I hoped the sincerity in my voice was convincing.

  He studied the tiled floor. Could he be considering my proposal?

  “These men I have killed. I assure you there’s a reason behind it.”

  “I’m sure you believe this, but killing these men won’t solve anything,” I said in my most soothing voice. “Even you must see this. It’s not rational.”

  “Rational! Is that what you think?” Allen’s head flushed. Red splotches appeared on his cheekbones. “These men didn’t bother to be rational when they sent me to prison for a crime I didn’t commit.” There was a long pause. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. Allen looked softer and infinitely vulnerable. “My wife left me. After fifteen years of marriage she called it quits because they got to her. Made her believe I could’ve actually orchestrated something so horrific. And when she took her life…”

  He wiped his face with the back of his hand. “You were right when you said waterboarding breaks everyone at some point. How do you think they got me to confess to a crime I didn’t commit?”

  This didn’t seem possible. I’d spent time in the detention facility in Guantanamo Bay. Even watched a number of interrogations. They didn’t use illegal tactics.

  Beads of sweat rolled between my wrists. With any luck one of my hands might be able to slide through. I needed to stall him some more.

  “So who conspired against you and why?”

  “I’m not here to discuss that with you.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “We all must be judged for our actions. God put us on this earth to love one another, not hate. Because man couldn’t get that right, God sent His only son to die for our sins.”

  An awkward pause fell between them. My own relationship with God had been a little murky since my father's death and all that had transpired in the years afterward.

  “Okay, but what does that have to do with me?” My fingers had started to go numb. “You think youʼre meting out justice? Look, Dexter, you served your time. Maybe you were innocent, but not any longer. Let go of the past. Turn yourself in.”

  “Not gonna happen, Detective.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Has anything ever happened in your life you can’t let go of? Well, trust me, there are some things not forgotten and eventually they must be dealt with.”

  He had a point. I couldn’t let go of my past. My mother had abandoned me and that hurt since the day she left. It took years of counseling to help me overcome the nightmares of my stepfather raping me over and over again. It wasn’t until I met Michael that I discovered sex could be a wonderful experience. At least it was until I discovered he’d been cheating on me.

  Stay focused on the here and now. The longer you keep him talking, the better your odds. Treat him as a witness instead of a monster. You’ve done this a thousand times before. “I want to help you prove your innocence, but in order to do this I need your help. Give me something to go on. I can’t simply snatch evidence out of thin air. For starters, why did you let the judge live?”

  “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

  “C’mon, Dexter. Work with me here. I’m on your side.”

  He paused.

  “I let Wiggins live because what he did was the worst of them all. The man should’ve thrown out my case due to the coerced confession. Instead, he chose to ignore the facts.” He bent over and reached into a black bag. I hadn’t even seen it. My investigative skills sucked right now. Maybe it was because my survival instincts had taken over. Allen pulled out a brown folder and flipped it open.

  “This was Judge Wiggins’s way out. The man could’ve stopped Williams in his pursuit to hang me out to dry. But the judge had a weakness. A weakness the captain used to blackmail Wiggins into sending me to prison.”

  He closed his eyes as if recalling a memory. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

  He opened his eyes. I’d seen this look on killers many times as I sat across the tab
le from them.

  Allen closed the folder and set at the floor on my feet. “I’d hoped we could’ve met under different circumstances. But, alas, we’ve come to a crossroads. Too bad it’s come to this.” He lifted a jug, walked to the bathtub, and turned the spigot.

  My hand started to slide, but not enough to get free of the bindings. I relaxed so he wouldn’t know. He returned and grabbed the second jug. When he turned, I leapt to my feet and shoved him. Because his focus was on filling the container instead of on me, he lost his balance and fell into the tub.

  There was a knock at the front door.

  “Call the police!ˮ I yelled, running out of the bathroom. “There’s a burglar in the house!”

  With my hands still bound, I had to turn to get at the lock. Fingers still numb from loss of circulation, I fumbled with the deadbolt. Relief poured over me from hearing the click. I twisted the knob and pulled the door open—freedom only a step or two away.

  The security chain held firm. In my rush to escape I hadn’t noticed.

  Shit!

  I was mere feet from escape but may as well have been from here to the moon. My only regret was leading Allen to my aunties. He would kill my aunties because of my stupidity.

  The door burst open. Moonlight spilled into the room. A man with a birthmark the shape of Texas appeared, pointing a gun.

  Heavy footsteps echoed down the back hallway.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot,” the man yelled.

  The footsteps faded as Allen ran through the house. The back door slammed opened as the man who had been about to waterboard me for fun and games got away.

  Chapter 37

  Twenty minutes later, Tess and Marti’s front yard lit up like a Christmas tree as fire trucks, ambulances, and police cruisers lined the street and perimeter of the property.

  My wrists had indents where the zip ties had dug into the skin. At least the feeling had returned to my fingers. Lieutenant McVay stood next to the dining room table, flipping through the pages of the file Dexter Allen had left behind. In the midst of the chaos, he'd run out of the house without it.

  McVay’s yellow and green striped tie made me think of Juicy Fruit gum. A police radio squawked. A crime scene tech walked by carrying several plastic evidence bags. My aunties’ house had become a beehive of activity.

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Marti protested with two paramedics. “I’m fine and that’s that, so leave me alone.”

  Harry stood next to her. He looked up and smiled at me. He’d saved my life. Probably theirs, too.

  Tess put a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Marti. Let’s go. Besides, we can’t sleep here tonight.” She turned to me. “Are you coming with us, Becca?”

  I rubbed my wrists. “No, but I’ll drop by the hospital later and check in on you guys. By the way, you two are spending the night with me. I’ll sleep on the couch and y’all can take the bed.”

  “I can drive you in my car,” Harry suggested.

  “I’d recommend you ride with us,” one of the paramedics said. “If you show up at the hospital in an ambulance, you get seen right away. If you defer and take a civilian car, it may take several hours before you’re seen by a doctor.”

  Tess nodded then turned to Marti. “C’mon, Sis. Let’s get checked out.”

  Marti grumbled under her breath as the two paramedics escorted them outside. I was grateful Dexter Allen didn’t physically hurt my aunts. And very grateful for Harry, a surprisingly unassuming man, who followed the gaggle out the door.

  I’m sure he was heading straight to the hospital.

  “It looks like Judge Wiggins did his homework,” McVay said. “There’s a bank transfer of fifty thousand dollars from Captain Williams’s account to Lee Green’s.” He picked up a sheet of paper. “This is a letter of reprimand written from the captain counseling Ned Hogan for having sexual relations with another man.” He flipped a page. I heard him gag, then manage to say, “Along with two photographs of Hogan engaged in homosexual activity.” He closed the file. “If Dexter Allen was set up like the paperwork suggests, I can’t blame him for wanting revenge.” He set the file on the table. “But murdering them doesn’t seem like justice.”

  “I don’t know if it was his plan to kill them when he first went to prison.”

  He raised a brow. “What do you mean, Rebecca?”

  “Revenge may have been his motive all along, but I don’t think he decided to kill them until his wife committed suicide.”

  “You really think that?”

  “I don’t know, but it certainly seems plausible. When he spoke to me about his wife, he got all misty-eyed. I think he truly loved her. Maybe he thought they could work things out once he was a free man.” I tapped the folder with a finger. “The question we need to be asking is who is Dexter Allen going to kill next—Hogan or Williams?”

  McVay rubbed his hand across his lips. “Francisco called earlier and said Hogan has a couple of officers placed outside his farm. So my guess would be Williams.”

  “It seems logical. Williams returns tomorrow from his trip from wherever. It’s possible he doesn’t know about the murders.”

  McVay snapped his fingers. “Maybe Allen’s counting on Williams not knowing.”

  “Right,” I said. “We should call Southcom and give them a heads up. I also want to drive there and speak to Williams in person.”

  McVay shook his head. “No way. As of right now, I’m placing you into protective custody. There’s no guarantee Dexter Allen has even left the area.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  He picked up the file. “Besides, you need to be in court tomorrow.”

  “Lieutenant, Allen had his opportunity. I doubt he'd be dumb enough to try again. And as for court, there’s no way the judge will start the proceedings tomorrow.”

  He sighed. “Francisco returns tonight around midnight. If the prosecutor gives you the green light to leave the area, you make sure Francisco’s rump is planted in the passenger seat.” McVay pointed to the door. “Go home and get some rest. There’s already a patrolman there to provide extra security.”

  ****

  Traffic was light as I drove down Highway 90. My mind worked on the questions to ask Williams tomorrow. If he refused to speak with us, maybe threatening to expose him with the evidence from Judge Wiggins’s file would be enough to strap him in the electric chair. It would be hard to verify the information, but not impossible. After all, the bank transfer would be a matter of record. Even after so many years.

  Although this would be a courtesy visit, my plan was to make it an informal interrogation. To make our job easier, we needed to get a background check on Williams. A criminal check would be easy enough, but to get any military infractions, I would defer to Carrubba.

  I pulled into the driveway to my place. A patrol car was parked on the curb. I waved, and he returned the gesture. This was probably overkill by the lieutenant, but it would set my aunties at ease knowing a cop was parked outside.

  Sam rushed me as the door swung open.

  “How you doing, girl?” She kissed me all over the face. Her breath smelled like bacon. The hairs on my arm perked up.

  Someone’s been here.

  “Aunt Marti. Aunt Tess. You guys here?”

  There was a manila envelope on the kitchen counter. My name was written in bold, black letters.

  I looked down at Sam. “The next time my ex comes in, I expect you to bite him in the butt.”

  Sam looked down at the tiled floor. She did this when she knew she’d done something wrong. I patted her head. “It’s okay, girl.” Her big brown eyes stared up at me. “Michael always treated you good. Too bad he couldn’t do the same for me.”

  The door opened.

  Marti and Tess entered. Marti had a white bandage wrapped around her wrist.

  Marti was the first to see the envelope. “What’s that in the…” her eyes widened. “Are you reminiscing on what could have been?
”

  Iʼd never mentioned to them Michael had dropped by earlier in the week. In light of everything going on, it didn’t seem to matter.

  “No, ma’am. Michael’s getting married…again. Apparently, we weren’t legally divorced due to some technicality.” Hopefully my generic answer would suffice. I didn’t want to go into detail.

  She waved a hand. “Good riddance. Tess and I never liked him anyway. Cheater.”

  I gave them each a hug.

  “Besides,” Marti said, moving toward the couch in the living room, “you’ve got that nice man, Jake.” She picked up the remote and changed the channel to Lifetime. Sometimes I worried about them and all the depressing movies they watched. “By the way, how did your date go with him tonight?” she asked, muting the television.

  I rolled my eyes. “Let’s forget about Jake the Jock. I need to bring you up to speed on Dad’s case.”

  Chapter 38

  Tuesday, 9:00 a. m.

  My eyes burned as Francisco and I sat at a long conference table waiting to see Rear Admiral Williams. We’d been sitting almost an hour. Sunlight seeped through barely opened venetian blinds. A galaxy of dust motes floated in the room. Goosebumps formed along my arms as the AC blasted cold air over my head.

  We had left Eugene Falls after Francisco and Carrubba’s plane landed and drove to Jacksonville, Florida. I had dispatch run a background check on Williams, but the man had a clean record. Lieutenant McVay was working on a search warrant to validate the fifty-thousand-dollar transfer between Williams and Green. That left Carrubba back at his office at NCIS gathering any nuggets we might be able to use when we spoke to the rear admiral.

  My patience was wearing thin as I looked into my empty Styrofoam cup. Francisco, on the other hand, was chipping away at his cup, whistling a song I didn’t recognize. Even after five-and-a-half hours of driving, his tailor-made suit looked impeccable. He tore another piece and stacked it on top of several others forming a lopsided pile. He glanced at me, smiled, and went back to shredding away.

  I received a text from Carrubba.