Blue Justice

by Anthony Thomas

  “Hey Jared, what’s up?”

  “April, I need some info and I need it fast.”

  “Ok?”

  “Where is Burncutt?”

  “He is in Capt. Davis’ office right now.”

  “Has he been anywhere today, outside the station?”

  “No. he just came on duty about 30 minutes ago and has been in with the captain ever since.”

  “Okay, good.” I was relieved. “Hey, who is that guy that likes you over in CID?”

  “Oh, you mean, Adam?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “You up to something Jared, but okay--what do you need?”

  “See if you can finagle the name of whose print that is on the hammer.”

  “Sigh. I’ll see what I can do, but you are going to owe me dinner for this one.”

  “I’ll definitely take care of that. See if you can get it for me in the next 15 minutes. I’m on a trail and I need a name.”

  “Ok, I’ll text you later.”

  April was good. I got the text 10 minutes later as I drove into the parking lot of West End Publishing. Carl Minton

  I put the car in park and shut off the engine. I texted her back and told her to send me a photo of him. A few seconds later I had an email notification showing that the photo was there.

  Carl Minton was had thin, light brown hair and pale blue eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if I had seen him somewhere before. I shifted my mind back to why I was here at the publisher’s.

  I walked inside the building. The room smelled of fresh cut paper and ink. The young black guy behind the counter looked up from reading his Play Station 4 magazine.

  “Hello Sir, can I help you?”

  “Yes you can.”

  I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture of Carl Minton.

  “Have you ever seen this man before in this store?”

  “He doesn’t look familiar.”

  “Is the manager around?” I asked cordially.

  “No sir, he’s gone to run errands and won’t be back until after 1:00.”

  “Okay,” I sighed. “I’ll be back around that time.”

  I gave him my card. His eyes got big as a fifty-cent piece.

  “If he happens to return before then, please have him give me a call.”

  “Yes, Sir Detective. I will make sure he gets this.

  I thanked the young man and left. I called Charlotte when I got in the car.

  “Hey, Baby.”

  The sound of her voice saying those two words made me feel good all over.

  “Hey, Honey. I was just thinking about you.”

  “Well, you caught me at a bad time but it’s okay, because I wanted to hear your voice too.”

  My smile grew bigger.

  “Oh, Jared?’

  “Yes, Baby?”

  “Mom is cooking a big Sunday meal and wants you to come to dinner.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll look forward to it.” I flipped my mind back to the case.

  “Baby, I need you to use your news sources and look up a name of a guy.”

  “Is he the suspect?”

  “Hold your horses, Baby, I can’t let this one slip out the bag yet, too many people will probably get in trouble.”

  “Ok, I’ll get right on it after I finish this column on The Reaper.”

  “Okay. And call me as soon as you got it. The trail is hot and I don’t want to lose any momentum.”

  “I love you,” she said, very softly.

  I whispered back. “I love you too.” The girl could change the subject in a heartbeat.

  * * *

  A fuming Burncutt stood in front of Captain Davis’s desk.

  “Captain, I don’t need Jackson on this case anymore. If you would just order him to give me everything he knows and allow me to secure his phone, I could then…”

  “Then what, Burncutt? Do you think the killer wants to talk with you?”

  “But Captain, I…”

  Captain Davis slammed his fist on his desk. “That’s enough, now you two need to work together. This case is not about egos dammit! We have a serial killer out there on our streets adding to his body count. The Mayor is on the Chief, the Chief is on the Assistant Chief and the Assistant Chief is on my back. Now get with Jared! Share this information from CSU and NAIL this guy!”

  “Yes, Sir,” Burncutt replied, defeated.

  Detective Glass was sitting at her desk texting when Burncutt came out of the Captain’s office.

  “How was it?” she asked.

  “Never mind, did you follow up on the thumb print and that flier?”

  “Yes, I did.” She placed her phone in her coat pocket and turned to her computer monitor and tapped a few buttons.

  “His name is Carl Minton, age 28, address unknown. Last known address was in the Baldwin County Jail for petty crimes like shop lifting. He has one assault case in which he nearly cut a guy’s head off.”

  “Ok good, we need to get this guy’s picture out to the media and rely on our watchdog citizens to help us locate this guy.”

  She looked up at Burncutt.

  “Detective, shouldn’t we be sharing this information with Detective Jackson?”

  “Just do as I say, OK! I’ll take care of Jackson. I have to go take care of something. I’ll call you later,” he said.

  Puzzled, Glass turned toward her computer and picked up the phone and dialed the media relations department.

  Burncutt hastily walked to the elevator.

  * * *

  A dark colored van with tinted windows was parked outside the Chronicle. The driver of the van had on a baseball cap, dark sunglasses, and a bandana to conceal his face. His phone buzzed. He tapped the word, “OKAY!” and hit send.

  Charlotte exited the rear door of the building and walked to her car. The van stopped behind her car. She screamed and put up a struggle but the chloroform knocked her out cold. He opened the door and quickly pushed her limp body inside. He quickly got in the driver seat and the van sped out the parking lot.

  He pulled out his phone and sent a text. “OK, got her.”

  The stubby, round-shouldered security guard was too late. He waddled to the street to try and get the tag number of the van. The van had disappeared into the late evening traffic.

  “Officer 3 to Base! It was a dark colored van-newer Chevy model-with tinted windows!”

  “Were you able to get a tag number?”

  “Negative, negative-call 911. Ms. Reed has been kidnapped!”

  “10-4!”

  Within minutes, the whole parking lot was full of patrol cars and helicopters were circling the whole county. News helicopters were also doing their part in the search for one of their own.

  I heard the news by a call from headquarters.

  “No! Not Charlotte—damn it! It’s me you want, not her,” I vented. I could hardly contain myself as I drove like a mad man in the traffic. My heart was beating fast. I blasted the siren and blew my horn at the slowing responding drivers on the road. The dispatcher had put out that a dark colored Chevy Van, possibly black, was the suspected vehicle. I examined every van on the road, on my way to the Chronicle. I pulled in to the parking lot next to Cpt. Davis, who was talking to the security guard that reported the kidnapping.

  “Jared?” The Captain sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  Fighting back my tears, I looked at the security guard. “What happened, what did you see?’

  I grabbed him before I knew it. “TELL ME!”

  The Captain grabbed me and pull me to the side. The security guard was just as upset as I was. I guess he felt my pain.

  “Jared, we got everybody on this, ok?” said Captain Davis. “We will find her.”

  I walked over to my car and got in. I didn’t know what to do. I drove out of the parking lot and darted into traffic not caring if I caused an accident or not. I got a few horns and middle fingers blasted at me but that all didn’t matter right now. He had Charlotte.

  I pul
led out my phone and plugged it into the charger. This time, I hoped he would call. The Reaper.

  I drove until I started seeing things repeat themselves. I had circled the whole county looking for something—anything-- that would give me a clue as to where she might be. I pulled into the Walmart parking lot.

  It was getting and I had to call Charlotte’s parents. It was times like this I wish somebody else could do my job. But I had to do it. They had to know. The phone rang and her mother picked up.

  Chapter Seven

  For the last three days, I had been staying with Charlotte’s parents. Though I feared for their safety as well, still, I felt some part of Charlotte near me. Gloom had set in around the house. The spark of sunshine that they and I shared was not there. Her dad, Jimmy Earl, had not been outside to tend to the chickens or the field since Charlotte’s abduction. Ruthie just sat on the porch all day and most of the night, rocking back and forth humming church hymns. Every now and then I would go over the case with them, just to keep us talking.

  We would jump with excitement every time my phone rang, only to be disappointed that it was just Capt. Davis checking up on us. I guess he was trying to be reassuring but he put us right back into anticipation every time.

  When I thought of Charlotte being somewhere cold, dark, away from everyone who loves her, my soul would ignite into anger. But it was that quiet anger, something between anger and despair. My love was trapped somewhere--out there, against her will--and there was nothing I could do.

  I walked out on the porch. It was raining again. I saw a flash of lightning in the distance and then heard a roll of thunder. The rain added to my depression. I sat down on the swing and rocked slowly, looking out into the sky. I said a prayer. I was so deep in thought that I didn’t hear Ruthie come outside.

  “I brought you some coffee.”

  She rested her hand on my shoulder. I took the cup from her.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Reed.”

  “Any time,” she said.

  She sat down in her chair and rocked slowly.

  “It’s a storm tonight.”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is.”

  She turned to face me and placed her hand on my knee.

  “Honey, its go’n be all right, you hear. God is working and I know he will keep her safe and bring her home.”

  I dropped my head and looked into the cup.

  “I just wish I was there, wherever she’s at.”

  “I know,” she said.

  I stood up and walked to the edge of the porch. Mrs. Reed started humming another church song. I knew this song well. I Got A Feeling That Everything Is Gonna Be Alright.

  I could feel the drizzle of rain dancing on my face. Rain is good sometimes. It’s a sign things are going to grow. It cleans the earth. I took that rain as some sort of confirmation that everything was gonna be all right. Jimmie Earl was inside watching the news. He turned the volume up.

  “Breaking News, we now have a photo of the serial killer who calls himself The Reaper. Police are asking that anyone who has seen this man or have made contact with him, to contact the Tuscaloosa Police Department or Crime Stoppers….” He turned the volume down.

  I studied his picture on the screen. I’m gonna get you, you son of a bitch!

  * * *

  She always woke up feeling nauseated with a slight headache, like she had many times before. Dazed and confused. She didn’t know how long she had been held, but that she had seen the same man with a bandana covering his face who always brought her McDonalds and a can of Sprite for food. The only toilet she had was a urinal pan under the bed. Some considerate soul had left her a roll of tissue.

  She tried many times screaming for help and even asking the guy why was she abducted but there was no response. Finally on the second time he came with food, she asked again, “Why am I here?” This time the man mumbled, “Bait for your boyfriend.”

  “Jared?” she muffled. Though she was shocked by his comment, still she was weak. She had to eat. She couldn’t remember when she ate last—or if she had at all since she’d been brought here. And each time she ate, she didn’t remember anything until she woke up again.

  She looked around the small room. There was nothing but a chair, the bed she was lying on, and a door with a small window in it. There were no windows. She was wearing a blue medical gown like the ones patients wear when they are seeing their doctors. Paint was peeling from the walls. The place looked like a building that had been condemned.

  She walked to the door and peered through its window. She could see light and that the room was big. But she could not make anything out.

  “Help!” she screamed. But only the walls were listening.

  “Help, somebody help!” she yelled again beating the door with the bottom of her fist.

  She soon tired herself and slumped to the floor. She might have lost consciousness; even her waking moments seemed like a dream, and a bad one.

  She heard a car door slam. She backed away from the door and onto the other side of the bed. She assumed it was only one person because she only heard one door slam. She looked around for something to use as a weapon. Her vision was still fuzzy and the room was dim in what must have been late afternoon light. She looked around on the floor only to see the urinal pan under the bed.

  It was too late. Whoever it was that slammed that car door was coming inside. She got up and lay down in the bed and pretended to be sleep. She peered out the corner of her eye and saw that the man was peeking through the window in the door. He unlocked the door. She heard a sliding click sound. A deadbolt, she thought.

  The door opened and the man wearing the bandana appeared. He walked over to her and shined a flash light over her. She kept her eyes closed. She calmed her breathing. He then placed a bag on the chair and walked out. She heard the sliding lock again and keys jingling. She rolled over to see what was in the bag. It was a Jack’s Hamburger, plain, with small fries and a can of Sprite.

  Her stomach growled. She hesitated for a moment, thinking that it might be poison, but soon her growling stomach prevailed. As she ate, she began to piece things together in her mind. Her food was still warm, which meant she was still either in the city or close to it. The slammed car door, so close, meant she was on a ground level floor.

  She hurried up and ate. She knew the man would come back to check on her again and take out the trash.

  She started feeling light headed. She held the burger up to the dim light and saw a residue of white powder. Probably sleeping pills, she thought. She knew there was a reason she was sleeping so much.

  She wrapped the rest of the burger up and placed it in the bag. She ate the fries because she was going to need her strength. After she finished everything, she bent the can in the middle and tore it in half. She then reached under the bed for the urinal pan and filled it as much as she could.

  She thought to herself, “It’s now or never.” She sat on the bed and slumped against the headboard. She needed him to think she was drugged again and out cold, so she kept her mouth open and slowed her breathing.

  The keys jingled again. Out the corner of her eye she saw the man looking through the window. The dead bolt clicked. The man stepped inside. He shined his flashlight over Charlotte again. Then he turned to walk out the door. Charlotte jumped up and splashed him in his face with the urine and then used the half of the can of sprite she tore to rip into the man’s neck. He screamed in agony as the blood flowed down and around his neck.

  He cursed. He called her every name she had ever heard and then added a few she hadn’t. She hadn’t killed him but she had hurt him pretty bad. It gave her a chance to get outside into the big room. She darted out the door and quickly looked around for a weapon. She saw a heavy-handle straw broom. She hit the broom against a chair and broke the straw head off. By that time her kidnapper had clear his eyes with the bandana and saw her with the broom handle in her hand. He walked toward her. She had seen his face before, but where? She wondered. She backed
herself to the door that led to the outside.

  He reached out to grab her. She shifted her body to one side and kicked him in the groin. He belted out in pain. Charlotte wasted no time. She beat him in the head with the broom handle until he was out cold. She then reached in his pockets and found the car keys. She ran out the door and got in the black van that was parked outside. She fidgeted for the right key. She got the van started and sped away. She looked back to see that the building they held her in was an old day care center that was on the outskirts of the city. Nobody had been there in years and the county never got around to tearing it down.

  Chapter 8

  I got the call from Capt. Davis. Charlotte was safe! Some Alabama troopers that were posted up on Hwy 69 noticed a black van fitting the description of the BOLO and executed a traffic stop. They said Charlotte got out of the van and ran back to the troopers’ cars yelling she was Charlotte Reed and she had just escaped her kidnapper. Troopers put it out over the radio and gave details of the location that Charlotte gave them. I put the announcement on speaker phone for her parents to hear.

  “SWAT is probably there now as we speak. But she is safe and sound.” Capt. Davis said with happiness in his voice.

  “Where is Charlotte?”

  “We are waiting for you at DCH Regional. She is getting checked out. By the time you get here she will be ready to go.

  “It’s just a formality. She’s fine.” I said looking at her mother.

  “Tell her I’m on my way.”

  Her mom went through the house praising Jesus’ mighty name. I even whispered a praise myself. Her dad sat down in his chair in the living room and lit his pipe and wiped his eyes. With tears in her eyes, Ruthie reached her hand out to me as if she was pushing me to go and get her baby.

  “Go on son,” Jimmie Earl said. He laid his double barrel shot gun on his lap. “We ok.”

  I smiled and raced out the door.

  It took fifteen minutes to get from her parents’ house to the hospital. Under normal circumstances it can take up to 25. I parked my Crown Vic in the parking lot where the ambulances drop off patients. I flashed my badge at the security officer sitting at the desk.