The Warriors Series Boxset I

by Ty Patterson

  ‘Oh yeah, he spoke a few times about how they’d always traveled. But most of the time he was about his father. That old man really screwed him.’ Matches grinned as if to say, see what I did there.

  ‘Nothing about family?’

  ‘He didn’t have any. I’ve got brothers, we used to talk about them.’

  Something flickered in his eyes. ‘This one time, he was piss drunk. He woke suddenly from his bed. He said it must be good to have brothers. That’s all he said.’

  Zeb left fifteen minutes later with one last glance at Lanky and Matches.

  They probably don’t recognize me. It was dark the night they attacked me in Sunset Park. Even if they did, keeping quiet makes sense. They’d lose face in front of Big Boy. Three of them, one of me, and I got away.

  He’d recognized Lanky and Matches the moment he’d entered the warehouse and had braced himself for a showdown. Luckily for them it hadn’t come because Chang and Pizaka were staked out close by and would’ve have brought the heat.

  Zeb made a sign in the air for the cops to stand down and headed back to his ride.

  If the twin doesn’t exist, we’ll have to wait for the killer to strike again, make more mistakes.

  But there’s still New Jersey, Georgia, Alabama, and Tennessee to check out.

  ‘Good riddance to Lowell Rausch. I shouldn’t be saying this but he was trouble.’ Emily Pennance was a sprightly seventy-year-old who bustled about serving them green tea.

  They were in Camden, New Jersey, one of the poorest cities in the country. Campbell Soup was once manufactured in Camden and while the company still had its headquarters in the city, manufacturing had left its shores a long while ago. The city, just nine square miles of it, now told a story of urban rot – high crime, open air drug markets and abandoned apartments.

  ‘I don’t get many visitors and when I do, it’s an occasion.’ Her silvery hair framed intelligent eyes as she assessed Zeb and the two women with him.

  She smiled at Meghan. ‘He’s something isn’t he?’ She laughed when Meghan gaped at her. ‘You see a lot when you’ve lived as long as I have. Your friend is a walking volcano.’

  Zeb moved in his seat and brought her attention back.

  ‘The Rauschs lived on this street for a year, two doors away from me. The house in between was always empty, never had takers. Even with one whole house separating us, I could hear the screaming and shouting on a daily basis. The father made all the noise, the son was quiet, subdued.’

  She looked at Zeb fiercely. ‘I heard Lowell Rausch died horribly. He deserved it. That boy went through Hell. I used to give him cookies and tea, he used to sit quietly here and cry. In that very same seat you’re occupying. He never once said anything about his dad. He was scared. He used to tremble.’

  She placed her cup back and wiped her eyes. ‘One day he knocked on my door and fainted. I had enough and called the cops. That was the last time we saw Lowell Rausch. The state took away Ivan and I didn’t see him again either. I knew he’d gone to a foster family and had run away from them to New York. I read about his death. It made the local news here.’

  Zeb looked at her searchingly. ‘The boy spoke about anything, ma’am?’

  ‘No. He was homeschooled and sometimes used to bring his work. I used to help him wherever I could. I’ve been lucky to travel a lot in my life. All across our great country, London, Paris, Germany. My son’s in the army. I visit him. Ivan listened to my stories quietly. Once he said he only knew the inside of a car, the side of.... He stopped himself. But I’m guessing he wanted to say the side of a bat.’

  Beth balanced her cup carefully. Bone china, with a delicate design. ‘Lowell Rausch spoke with you, ma’am?’

  Emily Pennance snorted. ‘That man said less than five words to me in all the time he was here. He knew I disliked him.’

  Zeb brought her back to Ivan. ‘He say anything about his mother? About growing up?’ Any siblings?’

  ‘Nope. She didn’t exist for him, which’s true. She died during childbirth, didn’t she? No brothers or sisters. He was an only child.’

  Her eyes sharpened. ‘But both father and son are dead. Why’re you interested in them?’

  Zeb looked beyond her at the photographs on the wall. Her son in his uniform, in various countries. In some of them, his mother stood by him and beamed proudly. The living room was small, befitting a single home family, but was neat and smelt fresh. An oasis from the chaos outside.

  ‘We think Rausch had one more son. A son who turned bad.’

  He ignored the surprised looks from the twins and told her everything. A clock ticked in the background as the old woman absorbed their theory and then said slowly, uncertainly. ‘Isn’t that rather farfetched? Couldn’t the DNA be wrong?’

  ‘It could, ma’am. But that database is pretty secure and we have cross checked the sample several times. For someone to hack into the database and alter it ... that would take some doing.’

  ‘Isn’t there any other way the DNA could point to a dead person?’

  ‘There’s one other way. If someone received a bone marrow transplant, then the recipient would have a blood DNA of the donor. However, we know Ivan wasn’t one. A donor has to be eighteen to donate bone marrow, it’s a specialist procedure that few hospitals undertake. We’ve checked out the timelines, the hospitals. Ivan didn’t donate.’

  Emily Pennance nodded and quoted Sherlock Holmes. ‘When you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’

  ‘That’s right, ma’am. However, we still have to uncover the truth and get our man.’

  She walked them to the steps as they left and smiled when Beth ran her eyes down the street. Bombed out apartments, deserted stores, litter on the sidewalk.

  ‘First the jobs go, and then hope follows. Me, I create my own hope.’

  Zeb watched her in the mirror as she grew smaller. ‘One helluva lady.’

  Beth grumped. ‘But no luck with our killer. He’s still at large.’

  Meghan fastened her seatbelt and turned around to smile brilliantly at Zeb.

  ‘Not for long.’

  Beth eyed her suspiciously. ‘You’re sounding awfully confident. What’s changed?’

  Meghan’s smile grew wider. ‘I didn’t know about that bone marrow stuff till The Wise One spelled it out, I’m confident we’re on the right track.’

  ‘You’re hoping, sis. Hope is never the basis of an investigation. That same Wise One has drummed that in us.’

  ‘You’re forgetting one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘If the killer is a ghost, we’ve got the best ghost hunter.’

  Zeb ignored their banter and punched a button on the dash to accept a call. ‘Yeah.’

  Beth rolled her eyes at him. Phone etiquette 101 had escaped Zeb.

  Pizaka’s voice filled the SUV.

  ‘We got a call from the killer.’

  Chapter 17

  Waiting. Watching. People coming, going, drinking coffee. Office workers, men in dark suits, women in lighter jackets, students, men wearing saggers.

  Everyone in the fucking world, but them.

  The killer crushed his coffee cup and threw it in a bin in disgust.

  I could’ve killed two others by now. One on my list was very good. Just half an hour from here, alone, worked in an office. I could’ve crushed his head. Instead I’m here sitting in my van, watching the world.

  Waiting is good. Waiting puts more time between the killings. Less opportunity for mistakes.

  I don’t want to wait. I want to face them.

  He slid out impatiently from the van and marched to the café. Once inside, he scanned swiftly and turned out to leave when the barista called out.

  ‘Not having your usual?’

  He flushed and walked to the bar, stammered. ‘I was just looking for someone.’

  ‘They’re not here. They haven’t been in a few days.’ She smiled at his embarr
assment as she handed his drink. ‘All the guys have been asking.’

  The killer mumbled his thanks and slinked out.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  Now she’ll remember you. She might warn them.

  He drew a deep breath and drank the fiery liquid and as it went through him, his frayed nerves calmed down.

  She won’t and even if she does, I am just one of many other men asking about them.

  Maybe I should pay her a visit, once I’ve dealt with them. Teach her to mind her own business.

  That cheered the killer and he went back to his van.

  To wait.

  The idea struck him as father and son walked past, the son throwing catches at his dad.

  If they’re out of town, bring them back.

  ‘He asked for you specifically. He went through the hotline, wanted to speak to you, wanted to know where you were and when they refused to say, left this message.’

  Pizaka’s finger hovered over the play button and paused when Meghan stopped him. ‘How do you know it’s him?’

  ‘He asked us to go to a Starbucks in Brooklyn, on Seventh Avenue, go through their trash. There would be an envelope for us.’

  Chang’s eyes showed amusement. ‘Bet that was the most exciting day in that Starbucks. A whole bunch of cops locked down their store and went through their trash. Bomb disposal guys were at hand too. Just in case.’

  Pizaka looked at him impatiently. Finding a serial killer was serious business. Hollywood wouldn’t insert levity in the scene.

  ‘We got the envelope.’ He passed one to Meghan who handled it gingerly. ‘It’s alright. It’s been dusted, printed, been through all that.’

  She gasped when she withdrew a sheet of paper with dried blood on it.

  ‘Sandoval’s blood. The caller’s proof.’

  His finger jabbed the play button.

  Breathing came over the phone and then a muffled voice.

  Carter, I saw you on the screen. You said you’d get me. I keep looking around my shoulders, man. I can’t see you. Some trouble finding me? How’s your friend? He’s the only one who got away. He should consider himself lucky. Or maybe not. I might go after him again. Or maybe I’ll come after you.

  An ambulance sounded in the distance, grew louder, died away. The breathing came back. A chuckle.

  That wasn’t one of my killings. Honest. I haven’t killed in some days. But then you know that. But hey, listen, this is why I called. I will. Tomorrow. Catch me if you can.

  Pizaka read the question in Zeb’s eyes. ‘Nope, those fancy tricks work better in movies. Identifying the caller’s location from the background noise. All we know is that he called from somewhere downtown using a disposable phone. Hundreds of ambulances there.’

  Chang straightened. ‘We got that yesterday evening. Today we’ve flooded the streets with cops and cars.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Not much more of a flood to be honest, we’re already flat out. We’ll keep our eyes peeled for this guy as well as the cop killer.’

  ‘Any luck with that?’

  Chang shook his head in frustration. ‘As much as we’ve been having with BBK. It sucks when there’s no motive, no evidence, no repeat kills.’

  The sample of blood drew Zeb’s eyes. ‘He tried.’

  They knew he was referring to Sandoval.

  Chang held the door open for them as they left. ‘You’re welcome to go in a cruiser tonight. Zak and I’ll be in one.’

  ‘Thanks, but we’re heading out to Georgia and the other states. See where that leads us.’

  Pizaka mocked him. ‘I thought you’d be hitting the street tonight, in your Batman avatar.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll kill today. It’s a power game for him. I think he’s waiting for something else or someone else.’

  The killer positioned himself on a bench with a good view of the café. It was afternoon, a hoodie, faded jeans, Tee shirt, a bag of peanuts and a book completed his guise. Stuffed between the pages were photographs of the sisters.

  Not that I’ll forget how they look.

  Cruisers swung through the street every few hours, mounted police appeared a couple of times.

  You see me, but you don’t.

  He chuckled and the old lady seated on the bench looked at him strangely and inched away.

  Relax, babe, I’m not interested in you. I could kill you, but you’d die too quickly. One thwack you’d be gone.

  Street lights turned on, the killer snoozed for a while, shadows crept over the neighborhood. The killer walked down the street to the mirrored glass building on Columbus Avenue. He tried to peer through the glass inside and snorted at himself.

  Don’t be stupid. If they’re inside, they’re probably high up, looking down.

  He fought the urge to look down, hide his face.

  They don’t know who I am.

  Don’t be so confident.

  Zeb swung by the hospital so that the twins could meet Broker and update him. He hung outside and when the twins had disappeared, he headed to the food stall.

  Bernie’s Hot Dogs, the sign read. Bernie had brown hair plastered to his forehead and moved swiftly, economically, as he served the long line.

  ‘You’ve been here long?’ He asked Bernie when he was being served.

  ‘Close to eight years now. Mine was the first truck to be licensed to serve here. No other truck got one.’

  ‘Monopoly, huh? That’s good.’

  Bernie’s teeth flashed. ‘Yeah, but it’s not as if I’m rolling in it. Costs a helluva lot more these days to make a decent living. You want some chili?’

  Zeb nodded. ‘You notice anyone hanging out the last few days? Anyone who looks like he doesn’t belong. Doesn’t fit.’

  Bernie squeezed generously on the bottle and reached out for a shaker that sprinkled pepper. ‘Whole world hangs out here. No one belongs. Those that come here want to be elsewhere. The ones inside, want to get out.’ Bernie’s philosophy came free if you bought his hot dogs.

  He looked up and met Zeb’s eyes. ‘Who you looking for? You’re not just yapping are you?’

  Zeb slid Ivan Rausch’s photograph. ‘Looking for someone like him. Similar likeness.’

  Bernie shook his head. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell. Leave this with me if you can.’ He tacked the photograph to the inside of his truck at Zeb’s nod and waved away Zeb’s thanks.

  They flew to Chatanooga Metropolitan Airport in Tennessee the next day.

  ‘We’ll pick up wheels at the airport. Dalton, in Georgia, is thirty miles from the airport.’ Meghan looked once outside the window of the Lear and turned to Zeb. ‘Broker had an idea. We should check out pawn shops in Manhattan and Brooklyn and also listings on the online auction sites.’

  Zeb looked at her questioningly. ‘For?’

  ‘For his satphone.’

  Broker’s satphone hadn’t been found and they’d assumed the killer had probably taken it with him.

  All their satphones were encrypted and locked and required an iris scan to be unlocked. The phones wiped themselves out and died if strangers attempted to use them. The phones still had expensive circuitry in them and held some value at pawn shops.

  Zeb nodded in acknowledgement. ‘The killer might sell the phone. Good thinking. You’ve -– ’

  ‘Yeah, I told Chang. He said he’ll get someone to check this angle out. What’s up, sis?’

  Beth hadn’t stopped bouncing in her seat ever since they’d boarded the jet.

  Her hair flew as she shook her head at Meghan’s query. ‘If the jet were to go down now, I want my last memory to be of this leather.’

  Meghan’s eyes sparked at Zeb. ‘See what I have to put up with?’

  Dalton, ‘Carpet Capital of the World,’ produced more than half of the world’s functional carpet and floor coverings till recently.

  Way back at the beginning of the twentieth century, Catherine Evans Whitener, Dalton’s First Lady of Carpet, used candlewick embroidery, a tufting technique to make bedspr
eads. That mushroomed into an industry as the demand for those bedspreads exploded. In the golden years that followed, the mills that produced the world’s carpets couldn’t find enough workers. The roads to the city were jammed with out-of-town bargain hunters.

  The dream run came to a halt when the new century commenced. Along with it came the recession and the housing boom ended almost overnight. With no new homes being built demand tanked. The town’s unemployment rate doubled at the same rate as the factories and retail outlets emptied.

  ‘We’re coming out of it slowly.’ The speaker waved his hand around to indicate the town. ‘These things don’t change overnight.’

  Rafe Keptowski had been the Chief of Police when Lowell Rausch was arrested. Now retired, the old cop thirsted for company and treated them to cup after cup of steaming black coffee and stories to go along with the beverages. He thrust a plate full of cookies in front of them. ‘Baked them myself. Learned cooking when Mary died.’

  He beamed when Meghan bit into one and closed her eyes in pleasure. ‘Y’all had better clean that plate up before you leave. Now, how can I help you, son?’

  He pursed his lips and thought for a moment when Zeb briefed him. ‘He had just one son. I don’t see how another can turn up out of thin air. This’s a small town and I met Lowell Rausch within a month of their moving to Dalton. I made it a point to introduce myself to new residents. There were just the two of them. One father, one son.’

  He broke off and frowned as he tried to dig up decades old memories. He shook his head finally. ‘No, son, can’t help you more than that. You’ve spoken to Tim? Tim Barrow, he was the warden then.’

  ‘Next on the list.’

  Barrow didn’t have anything more to add, neither did the landlord where the family had lived. The mill where Lowell Rausch had worked had shut down years back.

  Meghan punched the side of their rental in frustration and growled. ‘Now what? We’ve seem to be doing more sightseeing than unearthing anything useful.’

  ‘We’ll head to Crossville, Tennessee. You’ve got the address for the garage haven’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. I’ve also spoken to Jane Hempel’s dad. He’s in his nineties now, but still remembers his daughter. He didn’t want to meet us, but said if we happened to be in town....’