The first and last murder victims were from Hurricane and three more bodies had just been discovered in his area, so Chester was determined that he and the BAU agents who’d been working the case from the beginning should have the lead. They had the most victims, had been working on it the longest and had the most information about this gang. But, Chicago law enforcement claimed dominion because the killers were now in the heart of Chicago. It seemed that should take precedence, public safety was a huge factor as they had nearly 3 million people to worry about. The fact that Chicago’s mayor proclaimed his city’s law enforcement would capture this gang on national television intensified the struggle for case control.
In addition to the unwieldy assortment of officials involved in the case, this private group called ‘Protect and Serve,’ with strong, though informal, links to Chicago Police, was in charge of security for the Comar Children’s Hospital, where the last two murders and an attempted kidnapping had just taken place. At first Chester and Lou thought that the group calling itself ‘Protect and Serve’ was not official and they should be excluded. However they seemed to have some sort of protective history with this female doctor the killers were after and in fact it appeared they had her hidden away somewhere. These Protect and Serve guys also had ties to some secret Jewish vigilante group that was pulling strings and staying one step ahead of the police. But no one was talking about them. Chester could not imagine how they were going to get anything done so encumbered were they by all of these official and unofficial people. It was hard enough to track down these killers without dozens of people tripping over each other in the process. The chain of command was unclear and there were too many groups scrambling for control of the investigation. Now they had these two unofficial groups pushing their way into the middle of things. He wanted to throw them out but it seems they were well connected with the Chicago PD and well ahead on much of the current investigation. They seemed to have the doctor; they seemed to know about the killers’ connections in the city and maybe even where they were hiding. Chester had no idea how all this had happened. Who were these people?
To complicate matters, the news media had invaded the city; they were swarming around the hospital and every law enforcement agency, interviewing, bribing and eavesdropping, making confidentiality impossible. That’s why the group decided to meet in this busy eatery. They needed to meet outside of official turf in some ordinary place. They wanted to blend into a crowd, just a bunch of hungry guys getting together for lunch. Their growing sense of urgency was palpable. They were sitting on a powder keg and they knew it. This frozen metropolis had been thrust into the role of host to a nation-wide manhunt. Three killers were running rampant in the city, a massive shooting spree could erupt, and women could be kidnapped and murdered. Public disclosure was a sensitive topic. If they revealed too much to the public, gun sales would go through the roof so John Q citizen would be armed and dangerous. People would be shooting each other left and right. Women would be afraid to leave their houses. Police would be flooded with emergencies and diverted from their task of finding the killers. Hospitals had been alerted to prepare for a public disaster. The police presence on the streets had been doubled. All officers were assigned to pull 12 hour shifts. Jurisdiction had to be resolved at this table and right now. Every minute was critical.
In the end Chester and Lou decided to keep their eye on the target. They would work with whoever seemed to have the best information and the strongest approach to capturing the Parkland Killers, regardless of their official status or lack thereof. If these strangers were in the best position to stop these killers even if it meant breaking jurisdictional protocol, they would work with them. The Parkland Killers would leave Chicago in one of two ways, in handcuffs or in body bags. It didn’t matter which.
CHAPTER 64
VISITATIONS
The room was dark and silent except for the continual soft beeps of the monitoring equipment around the bed. The air had a hint of antiseptic mixed with a heavy dose of MR. CLEAN. The blinds were pulled shut. The door to the room was slightly ajar. The hallway outside the room was empty. One lone guard sat dozing in his chair, an open copy of SPORTS ILLUSTRATED on his lap. It was 2 AM. Marie slumped in a chair by the bed staring at the monitors and the clear plastic tubes coming in and out of the patient immobile under the folded white sheets. She had not awakened since she was admitted several days ago. She’d lost a lot of blood, but several transfusions later she had not regained consciousness. Mr. and Mrs. French were asleep in the waiting room where they’d been since their daughter was admitted. The lines in their faces were etched with anxiety; their eyes were bleak and red-rimmed. Marie thought they would require medical treatment if their daughter didn’t improve.
“Come on, Monica,” she whispered, “we need your help, kiddo, please wake up and help us.”
The police and the FBI were looking for leads as to where the gang might be staying in Chicago. Monica had been held captive for over 30 hours. She could have seen or heard something important. Marie needed to talk to her. She needed the patient to wake up and help them. Marie leaned forward in her chair and rubbed the girl’s arm talking softly. “Monica,” she said, “it’s safe to wake up. You are safe now. You are in a hospital. Your parents are here. They are worried about you. They love you. You can wake up. No one will hurt you now. You are safe.” She went on in this vein for about 10 minutes when she heard a sound. It was a moan or a sigh. That was a good sign. If Monica was making voluntary sounds that was a very good sign. “Monica,” she continued, “My name is Marie. I’m with the FBI. I need your help, Monica. Please wake up and help me. Please, Monica, I need to talk to you.”
The eyelids flickered, but didn’t open.
“Monica I need you to help me catch those men. Please, wake up and help me.” Again the eyelids flickered and finally opened to reveal unfocused hazel eyes. The patient was disoriented and confused. Marie hastened to reassure her and orient her to her present situation. Within a few minutes, the patient looked around the room, made eye contact with Marie and nodded her head that she was becoming aware. Breathing a sigh of relief, Marie asked Monica how she felt, if she needed water or pain medication; then she began her interview. It turned out that Monica overheard a phone call Jake had made from the motel room when Custer was out getting food and Slim was in the shower. It was to someone named Ray. He called Ray his buddy and said he’d see him soon. They worked out some kind of pre-arranged signal for a pick up somewhere. Ray was to drive to some hospital and find something out for him….something about a garage. She didn’t remember anything else. That was enough. Marie now knew they had to find this Ray person and that he was the Chicago contact who was helping the killers stay out of sight. She stopped at the nursing station to report on Monica’s progress, stopped in the waiting room to talk briefly with the worried parents and strode to the elevator. By the time she walked out of the hospital lobby, Will Schmidt had confirmed that this matched the information they had on Raymond Fisher.
It was 3 AM. In another state, in another hospital room Hattie Raines lay staring at the ceiling, tears running from the corners of her eyes. It was too much for her. She couldn’t make sense of things. She was alive, she knew that, but she felt dead inside. It was too much for her to handle. They told her Earl was dead. How could that be? He was her husband. He couldn’t be dead. That just wasn’t possible. They were married. He was fine, just fine. It seemed just minutes ago he was talking to them FBI people, hollering at them to get off his property. She was the one who told him to let them come on in. She had gotten her husband killed. If those FBI people hadn’t come, maybe Jake wouldn’t have come. Who was it they said shot Earl? One of those boys Jake went around with? Jake had been up there with her in her bedroom. Why was that now? She thought for a minute. Oh it was about that jewelry stuff. That FBI woman took it away somewhere. And that was why Jake was mad at her. That FBI woman said it would be okay. She promised nothing bad would happen. And here all t
his happened. She shouldn’t have believed that lady. This was all her fault. She tricked Hattie into giving her that stuff and Jake was mad at her cause of it. She wasn’t sure though. She agreed to give that stuff to the lady. The lady said Jake was maybe the one killing all those girls. It was Jake who had hit her and been so mean to her. He said such mean things to her, horrible hateful things. She couldn’t believe what he’d said to her. He was always such a nice young man. She thought he loved her. He brought her all that jewelry and stuff.
They told her it was cause of Jake she was here in this hospital, he’d hurt her. She’d never been inside of a hospital before. Never even visited one and here she was. All cause Jake got mad at her. Hit her and threw her across the room, she remembered that now. It was unreal to her. She couldn’t believe it. She always loved that boy. She was the only one, really. No one else even liked him very much. She couldn’t believe he’d do her like that… and those horrible friends of his... they were mean to her Earl. One of them shot him. Shot him in his very own kitchen. The kitchen his great, great, great grand-pappy built. It don’t seem right, she thought. How dare they come into Earl’s house and shoot him in his very own kitchen. It’s not right, she thought again.
It was all too much for her. She had no idea what would happen now. Would Jake come back and kill all of them? Would the police catch him and send him to jail? Had he really done all those things that those people accused him of doing? All those things she heard about … them killings and all. Had Jake done all those things? No, she couldn’t believe it. He was a nice boy. Something changed him. Maybe it was being an adventure capitalist. He should have stayed and helped Earl on the farm. That venture stuff was too much for him. She sighed. She didn’t know what she would do now that Earl was gone. Her Earl… they’d been together most of her life now. She weren’t but 13 when they met. He was her life. He told her what to do. She and him, they built a life together on that farm. What would she do now that he was gone? Earl?’ she looked at the ceiling of her hospital room.
“Earl,” she whispered to the ceiling, “tell me what to do, Earl. I need you to tell me.” She closed her eyes and listened for his voice. She listened for his words, his ideas. Earl was always the one in charge. She needed him. She couldn’t go on without him. “Earl,” she whispered again, “I’m waiting for you. Don’t let me down, Earl, I need you. Come and tell me what to do.” She closed her eyes and waited.
Minutes ticked by. Finally she whispered, “Well, maybe you just ain’t ready, yet. Maybe you’re busy with something else up there. You come on when you get the time, okay?” She never really thought about life without him. Earl was bigger than life, his ideas and his schedules. What would happen to the farm without him? Her children, they were all settled down in their lives and wouldn’t want to come and live on the farm with her. What was she going to do now? What would happen to the farm? The animals? They had to be tended to or Earl would be mad. And what about the crops? They had to be weeded and planted and all or Earl would be mad. What would they do now that Earl was gone and not there to take care of all those things? What would happen to her?
It was too much for her. She turned her head to look around the room. Her children were all there. Slumped over in their chairs like they was little babies. Her four kids. She had good kids, she did. They’d all been upset over her being here. They were all crying for their Papa. Earl, he was such a good father to his kids. Always playing with them and talking to them, teaching them things. Course there was many nights he wasn’t in such a good mood, but that was ‘cause he was just tired, is all. People got grumpy when they worked too hard. And Earl was an old man now he needed more help on that farm. She thought about the farm for a few minutes. Wondered about the animals and if someone was taking care of them, feeding them and all. She’d have to remember to ask them. She was sure one of her kids took care of that. They was such good kids, really. No mother could ask for better kids. She tried to move a little and felt that pain again. It was a real bad pain in her lower area. She didn’t really know what happened to her. She didn’t remember all that Jake had done to her and didn’t understand the doctor, too well. He wasn’t from around here, he talked different. It was English she knew that but she couldn’t get his words too well. Anyway she’d ask her girls. They’d tell her. Her daughters were good that way. They’d help her understand what the doctor said. That’s the way women were. They talked to each other and helped each other. She felt a jolt of fear as she remembered Jake grabbing that paper from the bottom of that drawer – that court paper she taped up under there. He had this crazy look on his face, waved it in the air like some holiday flag. He said it was Reggie he was after. He was happy he had a lead to finally get Reggie. After all these years, she knew the truth. He was after Reggie. He did want to hurt her, he told her as much. The child had been telling the truth all along. He was doing things to her. He was a monster and she had protected him. She knew it now. She knew for sure it was true. She had protected him over her own daughter her own flesh and blood. What was wrong with her? How come she did it like that? She was the monster. She didn’t deserve to live. She wished she were shot like Earl and could lie peacefully beside him in the cold ground at the Raines Family Farm. It was over for her. She was ready to die. She had deserted her own little girl, her precious little baby, and let that monster get away with it. She was a horrible mother, a horrible person. Poor little Reggie Lee, all alone with that horrible monster of a cousin and she let it happen, she…Hattie Raines. For the first time in her life, she was consumed with guilt. Grief and guilt. Tears streamed out of her eyes as she turned away from her sleeping kids and wept.
CHAPTER 65
STAKEOUT!
It took Will Schmidt 45 minutes to develop a complete field track on Raymond Fisher. Convicted of ‘murder for hire,’ he had been released a few months back after serving 15 of a 20 year sentence at the Pennsylvania State Correctional Facility in Greensburg. He shared a cell for a year with Jake William Gennett. Fisher is living on Chicago’s South Side with his Aunt Bernadine Grant, who’s nearly blind and his brother JoJo, another sterling citizen who, like his older brother, lived life outside the long arm of law. By the time Marie’s helicopter landed on the roof of the Chicago Bureau of the FBI, Lou and Chester had met with the Chicago Police Department team working on the case and arranged for surveillance teams on the Fisher row-house. A rusted red truck owned by the A & C Oil Company pulled up to the front of a newly painted row-house some 8 houses down from the Fisher’s. Two men in work clothes were fiddling with hoses and fuel gauges. The Broznakov family had been evacuated so that police could use the top floor of the house as a listening post for their cameras and eavesdropping equipment.
On the opposite side of the street, about 4 doors down from the Fisher house, sat an old U-Haul truck. Concrete blocks were stacked where its front tire should have been. The truck appeared to be deserted, but from time to time slight movements were noted. From the front of the truck tiny flashes of light shot out from behind a beige curtain hanging behind the front seats. From the weathered seams of the old truck, whiffs of freshly brewed coffee drifted out. The police knew someone was in that truck, they just didn’t know who. Several calls to local U-Haul Companies revealed nothing. After some research it turned out that this particular vehicle was no longer an official U-Haul truck. It was registered to the owner of a small gas station in Louisiana. CPD was tracking it down. It had been sitting there for over a day before the police arrived to set up their surveillance. The timing made no sense. So far as they knew law enforcement agencies were on the same page. After some discussion at Margie’s Place, it had been agreed that all agencies and organizations would operate cooperatively. That the BAU would compile information and direct activities but CPD and CBI would lead different aspects of the operation, the other parties, Protect and Serve and Chevra Hatzolah would have no official roles but would coordinate their efforts with the officials. It had been agreed that the CPD woul
d take lead on the surveillance and issue regular reports. They couldn’t figure who was in that truck. So far no one had moved anything in or out of it. The tip of a small round antenna, nearly invisible, protruded from the snow in the center of the roof. Other than that there was nothing to indicate what the U-HAUL was doing there.
Around the corner facing the Fisher house sat The Pretty Puppy, a pink mobile dog grooming salon. Barks and yaps could be heard as the van rocked back and forth with excited activity. On occasion, the door swung open and a freshly groomed dog would parade past with bows in its hair. It seemed to the stakeout cops there must be a lot of dirty dogs on this street because the van had been there most of the day. The procession seemed endless. From the top floor of the Broznakov’s house, they stared as another sparkling Yorkie, this one with a blue bow in its hair, pranced by. They placed a call to their commanding officer, “Either Petco’s having a sale on dog shampoo or we have another surveillance team out here,” he said.
Relentless (Elisabeth Reinhardt Book 1) Page 36