Victim's Advocate: Angie Bartoni Case Flie # 12 (Angie Bartoni Case Files)

by Marshall Huffman

  I had to be very careful. I was mesmerized by his hands. They never stopped moving and I found myself watching them. It was starting to look like I was at a tennis match. Look at this hand first then that hand and back to the other one. Stop it Bartoni.

  I could see Dan grinning just over the agent’s left shoulder. Big help Roberts.

  “Alright then, do you have a specific plan of attack? Anything you want us to do?” I asked, “Tell me about Agent Conroy. What is her specialty?”

  “She is a Analyst. Not just any profiler, she specializes in revenge killers.”

  “Specializes? You mean you have different types of profilers for different types of criminals?” I asked.

  “We do. Computer criminals, financial criminals, serial killers, and the list goes on and on. We have found that it takes a more sophisticated type profiler to really get a handle on these types of cases. This guy falls under revenge killers. He is specific in his targets. He is not randomly killing people or kidnapping women for sexual assault. This is what Agent Conroy does best. She is quite good at it,” he assured me.

  Well I guess you learn something new every day. Pendergrass’s team seemed to handle whatever was thrown at them but I guess the world was moving on and the FBI had to adapt. It explained why she wasn’t in the same physical condition as the others.

  I took to the white board that we had set up. We had made some changes since the last round of killings but essentially there was nothing earthshakingly new. One thing I didn’t need a profiler for was to realize that he was branching out from gangs. Now he was going after people that he felt had somehow escaped the system.

  I saw Conroy studying the board intently. I didn’t say anything, just waited. I knew at some point she would point out that we were missing something she thought was important.

  “Has anyone come forward since the gang killings?” she asked after a few minutes.

  “Not a soul.”

  “And you have re-interviewed the witnesses?”

  I wanted to say ‘Duh, why didn’t we think of that?’ but instead I said, “We did and got nothing.”

  “Strange. Usually someone starts showing guilt for withholding information.”

  “You are certainly welcome to take a run at them.”

  “Yes. We may do that. Something about the FBI asking questions tends to change their perception.”

  Sure, whatever that was supposed to mean.

  “Dan, would you mind getting them the latest list of people we have talked to?” I asked.

  He handed over a file and I passed it to Conroy. She glanced at it and looked up.

  “That is a lot of witnesses,” she said.

  “It took a lot of man hours as well as you can imagine,” I replied.

  “And not one person spoke up?”

  “Oh they all spoke up alright, just in different languages so to speak. The original report we sent to you included the comments and descriptions we took down. There was no common thread, no clear description, nothing matches except that it was a man. At least no one said it was a woman but I kept expecting it. They are all covering for him. He is their hero.”

  “Some hero,” she muttered.

  “To them he really is. He has cleaned up a high crime area. The people think we are the ones to blame for the crime because we don’t do a very good job. Along comes this guy and crime drops to almost nothing. Why would they want to turn him in?”

  “How about because it is the law?” she said firmly.

  “Hey, you’re preaching to the choir but that doesn’t change a thing,” I replied.

  She didn’t say anything else but turned back to the board. You know, I want to give her a chance. I’m a real tolerant person…okay, that may not be entirely true, but still I wanted to give her a chance. So far though, I wasn’t particularly impressed with her attitude. I had news for Agent Conroy, tacking the FBI label on wasn’t going to make these people change their story. Not at this point in time.

  “I would like to have a review session each evening at 5:00 p.m. if that is alright with you,” Special Agent Farling said.

  “Sure. Dan and I have no other case at this point,” I told him.

  “Good. Agents Peel and Conroy are going to go with me to visit the crime scenes to get a feel for the area. You are more than welcome to join us,” he said.

  “No, you go ahead. We have a few other leads we need to check out. I doubt they will give us much but I don’t want to overlook anything.”

  “Yes. I’ve heard that about you and your partner from Regional Director Pendergrass.”

  “Regional Director? Wow, that’s great. He is fantastic. In fact, his whole team is impressive.”

  “He has said the same about you and Dan. He is my boss now so…” he let the sentence trail off.

  Ah, that explained a few things. They were uptight because Pendergrass had told them they had better be impressive or he would have their collective butts. Director Pendergrass. No one deserved it more. I wondered about Cyndi and Marsha. Did they get promoted or just shifted around?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “May I speak with you and Detective Roberts?” Agent Farling asked.

  “Sure, what’s on your mind?” I asked.

  “It’s about this case. Director Pendergrass told us that you were top rate detectives, the best he had ever worked with. This is our first case as a team and frankly we don’t want to screw it up. We know you are pros and we don’t need to start bossing you around. I guess what I am saying is that we are here to help and will do whatever you need us to do,” he said.

  “Look Agent Farling, we are no different than anyone else. We get up, come in and start working the case. We have no special powers, we are luckier than some but we screw up like everyone else. Don’t worry about us. Let’s just focus on getting this guy. Don’t waste time trying to impress us and we will return the favor,” I replied.

  He stood there for a few seconds before replying, “Alright. I guess I should tell my people to relax,” he said.

  “By all means. I think you will find that Dan and I are pretty easy to work with,” I said, “Right Dan?”

  “Well I am. She can be kind of touchy,” he replied.

  I had no choice but to slug him on the arm. Farling smiled for the first time and actually laughed. The tension was pretty much laid to rest at that point. Now we could get down to work.

  Sometimes posturing can get in the way of results but often pressure can be a big deterrent as well. I think Farling was feeling pressure from the advanced image that Pendergrass had engrained about Dan and me.

  Oh, another thing I learned was that they prefer not to be considered profilers but Behavioral Analysts. I’m not sure I get the distinction but nevertheless that is what they would rather be considered. I guess it’s another one of those political correct things where the meaning is exactly the same but it is just called by a different word. Kind of silly if you ask me.

  Right now Agent Conroy, our behavior analyst, was re-reading each case and coming up with a…what? Profile? Behavioral pattern? Now I’m confused. Anyway, that is what she’s doing. The two geeks, please don’t tell me I have to quit calling them that, were in seventh heaven trying to pull every last drop of information from each of the victims to see if their paths crossed at some point.

  I honestly didn’t think that would do much good but it seemed to make them happy and kept them busy. This wasn’t about crossing paths. This was about a guy who was getting revenge for something he perceived as a serious wrong that was perpetrated by the legal system. I didn’t need a computer or a behavioral analyst to tell me what I already knew. His letter to me made it pretty clear.

  ***

  Captain McGregor came over and quietly said, “I just got a call from the prosecutor’s office. They attempted to deliver a subpoena to Keenen and Latisha Jawan. When they got there the front door was slightly open…”

  “And they found them dead,” I finished.

&n
bsp; “Exactly. So far no one knows about what they found. I want you to get over there and check it out before the news finds out about this and goes nuts.”

  “I should take the FBI with us.”

  “Yeah, I hate to but you should. Just don’t make a big show of it.

  Dan went to get Agent Farling and his people while I hit the ladies’ room and grabbed a Diet Coke. We decided to go in their SUV rather than take two cars.

  “Do we even know if this was done by the same person?” Agent Conroy asked.

  “Not yet, but I certainly expect it to be confirmed.”

  “Why is that? It isn’t exactly his MO,” she replied.

  “Yes, it is. He is killing people who have beaten the system or whom he feels have done irreparable damage to others. He is seeking revenge on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves.”

  “But it is my understanding that this couple hasn’t been convicted of any crime yet,” she insisted.

  “You are missing the point. He doesn’t care if they have been convicted. That has never been a concern. The gang members weren’t convicted of their latest crimes either but they are dead just the same. The focus is on what he perceives as an injustice being made right,” I told her.

  “But this is different. I don’t see this as fitting his behavior pattern,” she insisted.

  I decided it was a waste of time to argue. She would learn soon enough. I couldn’t be one hundred percent certain but my gut was telling me it was the same guy.

  It was easy to find the place. It was the trashiest house on the block. It looked like someone had started a junk yard. I wondered how the neighbors put up with such a dump. It had to affect the value of their property. Maybe they were afraid to speak up. Whatever the reason, it was a pit.

  We walked carefully up the sidewalk to find the door still cracked open. I put on my gloves and opened it the rest of the way. The smell hit us like a ton of bricks. Obviously they were quite ripe and this had happened a few days ago. I put some camphor under my nose and gave some to Dan and the others.

  The inside was no better than the outside. Trash and junk were strewn all over the place. The one thing that seemed out of place was a fifty inch High Definition Television perched on a card table.

  Beer cans, whiskey bottles, and take-out food containers littered the floor. Several bags of trash were piled in one corner. Geez, how could anyone live like this? The smell alone would be enough to make you at least clean up the garbage. Obviously it didn’t bother them.

  The bodies were easy to find. They were lying a few feet inside the front door. Keenen was missing most of his groin, the inside of his thighs and his hands where he had placed them while holding his crotch. Latisha had a pretty big hole in her stomach and had taken a while to die by my guess. She probably bled out. She had tried to crawl to the kitchen but had made it only a few feet before she couldn’t go on.

  “Same guy,” Dan said.

  “Undoubtedly,” I replied.

  “Detective Bartoni,” Farling said pointing to a clipboard on the couch, “It has an envelope with your name on it.”

  “Oh crap,” I said picking it up.

  “Careful with that,” Conroy said.

  “We won’t find anything on it. This guy is no dummy. He knows we will have it sent to the lab.”

  “Still,” she said but I just let it pass.

  I wasn’t feeling the love, particularly with Conroy. Maybe she was over compensating but it was starting to get on my nerves.

  “She knows what she is doing,” Farling interjected.

  I used my penknife to slit the top open and extracted the piece of paper. It was the same as last time, regular copy paper that you could get anyplace.

  Detective Bartoni et. al,

  I know you are going to get hit really hard in the press once they connect the dots. I am truly sorry for that but this work must be done. I have taken the liberty of writing to the major newspapers explaining my actions and how diligent you have been in trying to track me down. I hope that helps in some small way.

  I pray that my work serves two purposes. One is to get the criminals off the streets. People like the Jawans serve no useful function in life and need to be eliminated. Obviously the courts would not have dealt out the proper justice. The second purpose is to send a message to the legal system. If you fail at your sworn duty, others like myself will ensure that justice is done. In my eyes, they contribute to the problems we are facing. Since they cannot or will not do the job properly, others will take up the cause.

  You are too good a detective not to catch me at some point. Having the FBI involved will do little to speed up the process. I look forward to meeting you in person. Until that time, I feel I must continue this course of action.

  “Oh dear, this is going to cause a lot of commotion,” I said after I finished reading it.

  “Big time,” Dan agreed.

  “Most unusual,” Conroy said.

  “I’ve seen the police taunted before but this is different,” Agent Peel said.

  “Agent Peel is right. Usually a letter or note left behind is intended to let us know how much smarter they are than the authorities. Seldom does it give them credit. He is saying that he knows at some point you will get him.”

  “He obviously knows of your work. He is telling us he admires how you go about your job,” Farling said.

  “I’m bothered by the part where he says ‘others will ensure that justice is done’. That implies he may be recruiting others to do the same thing,” Conroy said.

  I, for one, thought that was a load of horse manure. He wasn’t recruiting people. This was personal. He was doing what he felt he had to do to make atonement for the lack of action by the courts. This wasn’t about building a death squad to go around killing people. I also doubted that he admired our work. He just knew that Dan and I were tenacious and wouldn’t stop until we hunted him down. It wasn’t really about admiration.

  “We need to call this in,” Dan said.

  “I hate for you to do that, the press will be all over it and all hell will break loose,” Farling said.

  “It is too late for that. If he sent a letter to the newspapers, they already know. It isn’t, if they find out ,but when,” I replied.

  “I guess you’re right,” he conceded.

  “Call it in Dan,” I replied.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Within a half hour of calling it in, news truck filled the streets. The ME was already grumpy from not being able to even get close to the scene.

  “Nice of you to have a place for me to park Bartoni,” Sorenson said when he came in.

  “Thanks. It was the first thing I thought about,” I replied.

  “You know I hate walking,” he grumbled.

  “It will do you good. Maybe you can walk some of that meanness out of you.”

  “Sure, like walking will get rid you of your smart mouth,” he shot back.

  Oooh, careful Bartoni, he really is grumpy today.

  “What do you think?” I asked trying to ease his hostility.

  “Deader than doornails. Same guy,” he replied.

  “How do you know?” Conroy asked, coming up.

  “Who the hell are you?” Sorenson demanded.

  “FBI, Behavioral Analyst,” she said.

  “Behavioral Analyst? Well their behavior is pretty much done for. And they were shot by the same method.”

  “You can tell that from here? You haven’t even looked at them yet,” she said.

  Was this woman crazy or what? The last thing in the world she wanted to do was get into it with Sorenson. He would eat her alive. I could tell it was coming when he took his glasses off and started to clean them on his tie.

  “Yes I can, FBI Behavioral Analyst, whatever the hell that is. I knew the moment I walked in the house. Anyone with half a brain would realize that a Medical Examiner can pretty much tell what happened by just being observant. He was shot not once but twice in the groin. She was
shot later in the stomach. I don’t have to go over and poke and prod them to know that. How long? Probably three days ago judging from the looks of the bloating and smell. Anything else you want to know?” he said, putting his glasses back on.

  She stood there with her mouth open. Obviously she wasn’t used to being talked to by local officials in this manner. What she was going to learn was that if she pulled that crap on Dan, Captain McGregor, or me, it would be the same thing. We are not enamored with or in awe of the FBI minions they send.

  “I’ll have you know that we are with the FBI or did you miss that part?” she said.

  This lady is a jerk. She can’t seem to get it through her head that she is barking up the wrong tree.

  “I don’t care who you are with. Unless this is your crime scene, I don’t answer to you. In fact, I’m done talking to you. This is still a local crime until I am informed differently.”

  By this time several people were listening and unfortunately Farling had stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air. It was left to me to defuse the situation.

  “Look Agent Conroy, Doctor Sorenson has seen all the other crimes perpetrated by this individual. Just like the ME, I knew as soon as I saw them who had done it. The note wasn’t what tipped me off. The way he goes about killing them told me who we were dealing with. I agree with Doctor Sorenson,” I told her.

  “Well he doesn’t need to be so abusive,” she insisted.

  “You haven’t seen him abusive yet. When he gets that way you do not want to be around. I’ve seen abusive, this was not it,” I assured her.

  She did one of those head bob things, tossing her nose in the air and stormed off, I assumed to go talk to Farling about how rude Sorenson had treated her. She had no idea.

  “Twit,” Sorenson said as she stormed off.

  “You are in fairly rare form today Doc,” I said.

  “FBI. How do you know from here? Geez,” he said.

  “Let it go. She is a bit difficult to deal with. We haven’t crossed swords yet but we have pulled them. It is probably just a matter of time,” I told him.

  “Anyway, he was shot in the groin. The second time he was holding on to that area and it took most of his hands off as well. I’m pretty sure our guy shot the wife in the stomach to make her suffer or he would have just shot her in the head and have been done with it.”