Chapter 32
Thursday, August 25th, 11:30 AM
CHERYL WAS HAVING a hard time coping with the harsh environment at the women’s detention center.
As someone who always thought of herself as a gentle soul, and loving toward others, she found the level of animosity toward her, as well as the system in general, to be bewildering. But even more so, her being a murderer, and therefore rightfully confined to this place, was beyond her comprehension.
She lay on her side on the small bunk, and glanced over at her cellmate who was slouched on her cot, leafing through a magazine. The tough looking woman had said her name was Bull, obviously a nickname, and not very feminine.
Bull noticed Cheryl’s gaze. “You been havin’ more nightmares, girl?” Her voice was husky, like sandpaper, but not unpleasant.
Cheryl shook her head. “Not today . . . I’m afraid to go to sleep, though.”
Bull sat forward and rested her tattooed arms on her knees. “Don’t let it get you down, honey. We all have nightmares in this place. Just gotta learn to cope, that’s all.”
Cheryl nodded. She’d spoken a lot with Bull in the last couple of days, and realized the woman with the rough exterior wasn’t as bad as she looked, and Cheryl was glad for her company.
“It’ll get better. And once we get outa this place and get to a real prison, life ain’t so bad. They take pretty good care of us.” Bull grinned. She was missing a tooth in front, the rest stained and crooked. “TV, books and such, and the food ain’t so bad either. And you get a job to do to keep busy. Keeps your mind from wandering so much. You’ll see.”
Cheryl shuddered. The thought of spending perhaps the rest of her life behind bars was more than she could bear, and wondered how Bull could be so cheerful in her situation. “You’ve been in prison before?” she asked.
“Yup. Did four years awhile back. Made some friends. Knocked a few heads, and it weren’t so bad.”
“Why are you back again?” Cheryl couldn’t imagine how anyone could face a possible prison sentence so lightly.
“Beat a guy up. He wouldn’t open the cash register, so I helped him do it.” She winked. “But I’m innocent, you know. It never happened.” Bull laughed. “Least, that’s what my mouthpiece says. Never admit nothin’, cause you never know you might get off.”
“I don’t think I’ll get off,” Cheryl said. “They saw me . . . do it.”
“Well, keep your chin up. You never know.”
Cheryl nodded, but didn’t feel as optimistic as her cell-mate.
Bull looked thoughtful. “So, when do you see this shrink you were tellin’ me ‘bout?”
“Today . . . soon.” Cheryl was pleased the judge had ordered her to see a psychiatrist. She hoped he would be able to find the reason she could have performed such a despicable act.
“You lookin’ forward to it?”
Cheryl nodded.
“I truly hope you get the answers you want, girl. You don’t seem like such a bad sort, and not the kind as belongs in this place.”
“You don’t really belong here either, Bull. Don’t you sometimes wish for a . . . normal life?”
Bull laughed. “I’m ‘fraid it’s too late for me, girl. This is my destiny and I’m too old to change. Ain’t no going back. My daddy was a con. He died four or five years ago. He said he didn’t want me to end up like him, you know, but with my momma not around, and daddy in jail half the time, well, I had to take care of myself. You know what I mean? Weren’t nobody gonna do it for me.” She sighed. “So, here I am.”
“That’s so sad,” Cheryl said.
“Oh, I’m over the sad. Now it’s just life for me.”
A voice called, “Open sixteen.”
Cheryl looked up from her bunk toward the sound of the voice. She heard a clunk, and then her cell door buzzed open and two guards entered.
“Stand up,” one said, looking at Cheryl.
“Don’t you move,” the other held up a warning hand toward Bull.
Bull leaned back. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Cheryl climbed from the cot and peered at the stone-faced guards.
“Turn around.”
Cheryl felt cold metal as a pair of cuffs snapped onto one wrist, and then the other. She was spun around and pushed in the direction of the door, each guard holding one of her arms.
“Good luck, girl,” Bull said.
They marched her from the cell and the door clanged shut behind them. They prodded her into another room, a garage, where a paddy wagon was waiting. A side door in the van was open, and Cheryl was helped inside the small cubicle. She sat on the hard bench, and then the van shook as the door slammed. She was in a space about three feet square, and could only sit and wonder what was next.
She knew where she was going; to see the psychiatrist. But she thought he would’ve come to see her, and didn’t know she would be taken in such an uncomfortable manner.
The cramped space smelled stale, and of old sweat, but she welcomed the change from the dreary cell where she’d spent most of the last three days.
She heard the rumble of the engine, a grinding of gears, and the vehicle jumped forward. The cuffs hurt her wrists, but Cheryl blocked out the discomfort and closed her eyes.
She heard the whine of the tires on asphalt, and felt the occasional jolt as the vehicle came to a stop, and then leaped forward again.
In a few minutes, the van came to its final stop and the engine died. She heard two doors slam, and then her cubicle was opened.
“Step down.”
Her cuffed hands made it hard to keep her balance. She took a cautious step, stumbled, and a guard caught her arm and jerked her upright. “Be careful.”
“Sorry. I . . . I tripped.”
As she was held by both arms and helped along, she took a glance around. They appeared to be in a lane-way, perhaps behind a mall, or a plaza. She was pushed toward a door in the brick building. Wherever they were going, it appeared they were taking the back way in.
Once inside, they moved down a long hallway, and then up a set of stairs and into a small lobby. A door straight ahead had a plaque on it. “Dr. William Lamb, Psychiatrist”.
She was helped into the room and pushed into a chair. She caught her breath and looked up at a receptionist who was eyeing her warily.
“Dr. Lamb is expecting you. He’ll see you now.”
Chapter 33
Thursday, August 25th, 11:41 AM
LISA KRUNK PROWLED around in front of the precinct after the rest of the reporters had gone back to edit their stories.
Don was slouched on a bench, his head back and his eyes closed, his hands resting on the camera in his lap.
Lisa had hoped to be able to talk to Detective Corning, or the Lincolns, and was disappointed they hadn’t come from the police station yet.
The traffic mess had subsided and vehicles flowed freely. Officer Spiegle’s big job was done for the day. As Lisa saw him head back to the precinct, she stopped pacing and hustled to intercept him. “Come on Don,” she said, beckoning impatiently.
Don jumped up, tossed the camera onto his shoulder, red light glowing, and trudged after his boss.
Lisa cut Spiegle off at the bottom of the stairs. She gripped the microphone, white-knuckled, and determined. “Officer Spiegle, I’m Lisa Krunk, from Channel 7 Action News. I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may?”
Yappy looked at the microphone shoved in his face, and then at the red light on the camera, and drew himself up, his chest puffed.
“Sure,” he said, smiling for the camera.
Lisa had had some luck with Spiegle before, and was hoping he may have some tidbit of information she couldn’t get anywhere else. There was a reason she was number one, often commanding the top story on the evening news, and always willing to do what it took to get to the top.
“Officer, I understand your efforts are helping to crack this case, am I correct?”
He glanced back and forth from the
red light to the mike, and then back at Lisa. “Uh . . .”
“I was wondering why you didn’t take part in the press conference?”
Yappy pushed up the brim of his cap and scratched his forehead. “I . . . uh. I had other important work to do,” he said, settling his cap back in place.
“Of course. I realize you can’t do more than your share.”
The cop grinned and straightened his tie. “Yup.”
She had finished massaging his ego. Now it was time to attack. “Detective Corning hinted there may have been some drug use among the killers. Can you tell the viewers what drugs were found to be in use?”
Yappy squinted at the red light. “There may have been some LSD involved . . . I think.”
“In all three cases?”
He cocked his head. “I think so.”
Lisa pushed on. “I understand the perpetrators were part of a conspiracy?”
“Um . . . I believe so.”
Lisa loved this. Even though this dumb cop had no idea what he was talking about, she would be able to use it. She continued, “Are there others involved in the conspiracy? Perhaps more murders yet to take place?”
Yappy looked confused and thought a moment before answering, “We think so.”
“So, should the citizens be afraid?”
He shuffled his feet and glanced around. “Well . . . I guess it’s something to be afraid of.”
“What precautions should the people take?”
“Uh . . . don’t go outside, and don’t answer the door until I . . . uh, until we find out what’s going on.”
Lisa’s wide mouth tightened into a triumphant smile. This is what she’d hoped to get. It made for good TV, a bit alarming perhaps, but alarming is good. Good for ratings.
She pressed on, “And what of the first killer, Cheryl Waters, has she confessed yet?”
“Nope. Not yet.”
Lisa glanced up. The Lincolns had exited the precinct and were coming down the steps and she wanted to talk to them.
“Thank you, Officer Spiegle. You’ve been very helpful.”
“Yup,” he said. He turned to wave at Jake and Annie, and then wandered around the side of the building.
Lisa caught Don’s eye and motioned with her head toward the Lincolns. Don swung the camera their way and continued to film as Lisa wheeled around and hurried to intercept them at the bottom of the steps, her microphone in front, ready.
Don moved slightly to the left, his camera continuing to whir.
Lisa pushed the mike at Annie. “Annie Lincoln, you and your husband have been involved in some high profile cases lately. I would like to ask you a couple of questions, if I may? Can you tell me a little bit about this one, and what leads you are investigating?”
The camera whirled.
Lisa smiled a thin wide smirk.
Annie looked at the mike three inches from her nose and spoke without hesitation. “Detective Corning has released all the pertinent information. Any further investigations we, or the police, are doing, are strictly off the record until further notice.”
The mike swung over to Jake. “What about the LSD found in the system of the killers?”
Jake and Annie exchanged a glance. “We have no comment,” he said.
“Can you tell the viewers anything else?”
Annie leaned in. “I’m sorry, we have nothing else we can tell you. I’m sure Detective Corning will be releasing more information to you as the investigation continues.”
Lisa’s thin lips tightened in resolve, indignant, and determined. The microphone was poked closer to Jake. “Can you tell me about the conspiracy?”
Jake frowned. “What conspiracy?”
Lisa felt smug. She raised her head, her sharp nose sniffed. “The police believe there may be more murders planned. Do you know when, or where that may be?” Lisa waited and tapped her foot impatiently.
Annie leaned toward the mike, “We’re unaware of any conspiracies. And now, we have no further comments. Please excuse us.” Jake and Annie turned their backs and strode away in the direction Spiegle had gone.
Don followed as Lisa ran after them. “Just one more question,” she called.
They ignored her.
Lisa stopped and frowned as she watched the Lincolns go. She’d always found it hard to get much from those two. As well, she’d tried the families of all the victims, and Cheryl Waters, and yet had been unable to secure an interview.
But, she could make do with what she had for now. She turned to face the camera.
“We will bring you breaking news as it happens. In an exclusive report, I’m Lisa Krunk, live for Channel 7 Action News.”
Don shut the camera off and lowered it.
“Come on Don, let’s go,” Lisa said, spinning around and striding down the sidewalk toward the van.
Chapter 34
Thursday, August 25th, 12:05 PM
HANK LEANED FORWARD in the guest chair in front of Callaway’s desk and rested his arms on the laminate top.
The cop looked up from his monitor and shook his head. “Still no ID on either of the John Does, Hank. I’m doing what I can, but we have no record of them in the system nationwide, and nobody has come forward to identify them.”
Hank leaned back, folded his arms and glanced around the precinct. There were more than enough cops hanging around here. If he had a bit more help, perhaps he could get a break. He stood and said, “Thanks, Callaway.”
“Yup.”
Hank crossed the precinct floor and tapped on Diego’s open door. The top cop looked up from his paperwork.
“Can I see you a minute, Captain?”
Diego tossed his pen onto his desk, sat back and motioned toward a chair. Hank dropped down and slouched back.
“What is it, Hank?”
“I need some more help. I need more uniforms on the streets. I can’t do it all myself, and I haven’t come up with any leads.”
Diego wove his fingers together behind his head and worked a crick out of his neck. He eyed Hank closely a moment before speaking. “I haven’t got any guys I can spare, Hank. You know that. I wish I could hire more cops, but the budget just won’t allow it.”
Hank motioned toward the precinct floor. “Look Captain, we have a bunch of guys there, and a dozen more writing parking tickets on the streets. How about giving me some of them to help with a little canvassing?”
Diego shook his head. “Can’t do it Hank.”
Hank stood and paced a moment, and then turned suddenly, faced Diego and frowned. “Captain, the way I see it, it’s a matter of priority. If we could spend a little less time chasing morality breakers and running after citizens who drive a little too fast, we might have the resources to catch some real criminals.”
Diego shrugged a long shrug and took a deep breath. “I want to get to the bottom of this as badly as you do, but we need to feed the budget.”
Hank sank back into the chair. The budget. It was always about the budget. “Can’t you forget about money for a few days?” Hank raised his voice a notch in exasperation, “You were out there, at the press conference—you heard the questions—the people want some action on this. They don’t care about the budget. You've got to be realistic. The police have a job to do, and that job is getting criminal scum off the streets.”
Diego waved a hand in the air as he spoke, irritated at Hank’s outburst. “Hank, we’ve had three shootings and have three perps. One is in jail, and two are in the morgue. What makes you think there are more out there, and if so, how is patrolling the streets going to help us?”
Hank closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out in a slow stream. He leaned forward and frowned. “Because these shootings are all related. I know they are, and so do you. Something, or someone is behind all of this, and the only chance of a lead right now is to find out who those two are in the morgue.”
Diego picked up his pen and twiddled with it. He seemed to be thoughtful.
Hank continued, “And th
en, there’s David Haines, who’s missing.”
“That’s for Missing Persons to handle.”
“It may be related. I have a feeling it is, and that’s why I have the canvassers showing around a picture of him as well. If anyone saw him yesterday, I want to know about it.”
Diego’s brow wrinkled as he eyed Hank. “All right. I’ll give you King. He can help you out on this.”
Hank snorted in disgust. “King? Simon King?”
Diego shrugged. “I can spare him. There are two other detectives in the narcotics division. They can handle it for now, and King can partner with you on this one.”
“I don’t work with a partner, Captain, you know that.”
“You can for now. King may be new, but he’s all I can give you.”
“I can’t work with King,” Hank said flatly. “Nobody can. There’s a reason he was transferred here. Nobody in Toronto could get along with him either, so they dumped him here.”
Diego laughed. “Not quite true, but if I know you, Hank, you can tame him.”
Hank shook his head slowly and exhaled. “All right. You’re the boss, but I don’t answer to him, and if he gets in my way . . .”
Diego interrupted, “And I’ll give you two more cops. Just for a few days, and I hope to see some results by then.”
“You’ll get results, Captain.”
“What are the Lincolns doing about this? Anything promising from them?”
Hank shrugged, “They’re as stumped as I am right now, but Jake’s going to hit the streets as well, and Annie’s pretty smart. They may come up with something useful.”
“Just make sure they don’t get in the way. We can’t be watching out for them as well.”
“Come on, Captain, that’s not fair. You know they’ve been a big help to us in the past. Sure, they may get paid to do what they do, but they genuinely care about catching the bad guys as much as we do. And half the time, they’re helping people who didn’t even hire them.”
Diego sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Justice for Hire Page 13