“He’s an unusual man,” Beth said.
Cairo kicked a branch out of the way as they walked, then said, “May I ask what it is about Mr. Curry you’re looking into?”
“I can’t say at this point.”
Cairo smiled without humor. “Just curious. The recent murders in Jordan have put everyone a bit on edge. Do you feel you’re close to an arrest?”
“Honestly, yes,” Beth said.
“I can assure you a great many people will be happy to hear that. What happened is just horrible. Did you learn anything useful from your talks with Howard?”
“He thinks Jack Kale framed him for murder and killed the people we found at Underground Atlanta.”
“Ah, Jack Kale,” Cairo said. “He’s a name I recognize from my therapy sessions. Howard’s quite fixated on him. I take it Mr. Kale is not considered a viable suspect?”
“Hardly. The earliest bodies we found are about eighty to eighty-five years old, Doctor. They’re likely the work of a serial killer named Albert Lemon who operated in Atlanta during the early to mid-1900s.”
“There’s another name I recognize. Lemon is a favorite of Howard’s. Perhaps I should let you do the therapy.”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much good at it,” Beth said. “I don’t need to understand criminals, just put them away.”
“And is that why you went into police work?”
The question was unexpected. She thought for a moment, then said, “I suppose so. That and the belief I could do some good. Does that sound silly?”
“Not at all. It’s quite admirable,” Cairo said.
“I do have a question,” Beth said. “Can someone like Pell be cured?”
This time it was the doctor’s turn to pause.
“We’re making advances all the time, not only in the psychotropic medications we prescribe, but in our therapeutic techniques. While I’m reluctant to say no,” he stopped to look up at a window on the third floor where a solitary figure was watching them, “I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
Beth followed his glance. The chill that seized her stomach stayed with her until she was well onto the highway.
Chapter 58
Jack returned to the North Precinct to find the mood upbeat. A kind of charged anticipation hung in the air, the kind every cop feels when a case is about to break. The reason was one Walid Zirmann.
Working overtime, Stafford and Mundas continued to canvas the neighborhood where the Dorseys had been kidnapped hoping to find a witness to their abduction. They found Mr. Zirmann, or rather he found them.
Zirmann was the owner of a convenience store on Dresden Road and lived in the area. He saw the detectives’ car and approached them to complain about a cop who thought he was above the law. Zirmann explained he was on his way to work when he saw a policeman get out of a black van on the day Pam and Aaron were taken. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have paid much attention to it, but the cop had parked his vehicle on the wrong side of the street. Thursdays were reserved for street cleaning and trash pickup in the neighborhood. If he had to obey alternate side of the street parking, why didn’t the police? Public-spirited Walid had gone so far as to take a picture of the van with his cell phone and was thinking of posting it on Facebook.
Unfortunately, Walid’s camera had captured only a portion of the license plate. Stafford, Mundas, and Pappas were trying to run down various combinations of the license with the DMV.
“Where’s Beth?” Jack asked.
“Piedmont Park. They have a security camera on the old stables. She’s checking the disc to see if it might have caught the killer.” He pointed to a small Middle Eastern–looking man sitting in a chair at Mundas’s desk. “Walid over there saw the guy who was driving the van and says it was a cop.”
Jack looked at Walid, who stood and smiled back at him. He motioned for him to sit. Walid looked very pleased with the attention he was getting.
“I think I’ll run up there and see if I can help her,” Jack said, seizing on the opportunity to speak to Beth alone.
“Good idea,” Pappas said and went back to his computer screen.
En route to Piedmont Park, Jack’s walkie-talkie beeped to show a BOLO for the black van had gone out. On arrival, the manager told him he had just missed Beth.
“Did she say where she was going?”
“Something about grabbing a bite to eat at the Flying Biscuit.”
“She find anything useful on the camera?”
“I guess. She left here in a kind of a hurry.”
Jack thanked him and started walking. He dialed Beth’s phone but the call went to voice mail. The restaurant she was heading for was on Tenth Street, only a short distance from the park entrance.
After a few minutes, he spotted the familiar figure of Beth Sturgis in a black pantsuit about five blocks ahead. Crawling along behind her was a black van, the same make and model the cops were now looking for. Was it possible? Her appearance at the press conference that morning had placed Beth squarely in the public eye.
Jack picked up his pace. He couldn’t be certain but it looked as though the van was shadowing her. He’d told the chief as the pressure on the killer increased, the time between his kills would shorten. Beth’s statement about being close to an arrest could have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. If this was the killer’s territory, they were right in the middle of it.
Jack pulled his walkie-talkie out and called the central switchboard.
“Connect me with Glen Sheeley.”
Sheeley answered within thirty seconds.
“This is Kale. I’m on foot, heading south on Piedmont Road at Fifteenth Street. Detective Sturgis is up ahead of me and about to turn onto Tenth Street. There’s a black van following her that may be the UNSUB. I think he’s going to make a move on her.”
“On our way.”
“Silent approach,” Jack said, breaking into a jog and drawing his weapon.
“Roger that.”
Beth was nearly at the corner with the van still maintaining its distance. He could just make out the silhouette of a man behind the steering wheel.
Ahead on Tenth Street, he saw a police cruiser’s light bar come on as it swung about in a U-turn. There was no reaction from the van. It continued around the corner after Beth as Jack accelerated into a full run.
He didn’t need to shout for people to get out of his way. Seeing a man with a gun charging up the street cleared the path. Running for all he was worth, Jack rounded the corner and was startled to see what looked like every cop in Atlanta on the scene.
The van was completely surrounded with at least twenty guns trained on it. An astonished Beth Sturgis stood on the sidewalk watching her brethren flood the street. Jack showed his shield and approached the van keeping his gun trained on the driver, who had his hands up and was shouting something through the glass. Two more uniforms, each holding shotguns, were cautiously approaching from opposite sides. Officers crouched behind patrol cars, revolvers drawn and aimed at the driver.
When Jack opened the door and hauled the man out, he finally heard what he was screaming.
“Hal Loehman! I’m Hal Loehman, with the National Star! I’m a reporter!”
No one was taking any chances. Loehman was placed on the ground and handcuffed. Glen Sheeley’s unmarked cruiser came flying down Tenth Street and screeched to a halt as a SWAT officer hauled the man to his feet.
“My ID’s in my wallet!” Loehman yelled. “Jesus Christ, I’m a reporter.”
The cop handed Sheeley the wallet and waited. Beth stuck the file she’d been reading under her arm and joined them.
“Jack, what—?”
“He’s a reporter,” Sheeley said.
“I saw him following her,” Jack said.
“It’s true,” Loehman said. “At the press conference, she said an arrest was imminent. I was trying to get the story.”
Jack let out the breath he’d been holding as a flush built in his face. Loehman was conside
rably shorter and wider than the descriptions the victims had given. He was also mostly bald and had to weigh at least 275 pounds.
“Jack?” Sheeley asked.
“Let him go.”
As soon as he heard that, Loehman recovered some of his bravado. “You’re lucky I don’t sue for false arrest. I won’t ’cause I like to get along with the cops.”
The officer holding his arms turned him around and released the cuffs.
Loehman said, “Haven’t you people heard of freedom of the press down here?”
The cop gave him his best deadpan stare and said, “You’ll want to move your car, sir. You’re blocking traffic.”
Sheeley gave the order to disperse and motioned Jack over to the side. Beth joined them.
“Well, you got our blood pumping there, pal,” he said.
“I apologize.”
“No apology necessary. You did the right thing. Unfortunately, this went out over the air. Don’t be surprised if the chief gives you a call.”
Jack nodded. “Sorry again.”
Sheeley put a hand on his shoulder. “Not to worry. We don’t win ’em all. Next time’s the charm.”
Before Jack could reply, his cell phone went off. He turned the screen around and showed it to Sheeley, who shook his head. It was Noah Ritson’s secretary calling to advise him the chief wanted a few minutes when he had a moment. Jack told her he’d be there in the morning.
The SWAT commander gave them a sympathetic look, got back in his cruiser, and left.
Chapter 59
Once again they found themselves alone on a street. It was obvious Jack was embarrassed by the incident. Beth knew he’d made the right decision, and she was prepared to tell the chief that. If an officer believed another’s life was in danger, they were obliged to protect it. She would have done the same had the circumstances been reversed.
The silence between them grew heavy. It had been over a day and they hadn’t spoken since the morning he left her house. She wanted to know what he was thinking. Feeling. She wanted to say something to make him feel better. Jack’s mouth was drawn in a tight line.
“What you did wasn’t wrong. The chief will understand.”
“I know that,” Jack said. “I thought you were in danger. I’d make the same call again in a heartbeat.”
“Then I don’t understand. What’s bothering you?”
“We need to talk.”
Oh boy. He’s going to tell me we made a mistake. Shit.
“All right,” Beth said, clasping her hands in front of her.
Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again and glanced up and down the street.
“Would you like to talk someplace else?” Beth prompted quietly.
Several seconds ticked by.
“My place,” Jack said, taking her by the elbow.
Chapter 60
Beth went directly to the living room and sat down. She sat with her knees together. Hands folded in her lap. Jack took a seat at the opposite end of the sofa, one cushion between them. He unclipped the holster and gun from his belt and put them on the coffee table.
“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now.”
“Go ahead,” Beth said quietly.
Jack took a deep breath and began. “Something happened in the tunnel. Something I wasn’t prepared for. Do you remember I mentioned my panic attacks?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been trying to get a handle on them for some time now. In my case, bits and pieces have been coming back for a while, mostly in my dreams. But until I was on the ladder holding that boy’s sailboat, they were nothing but shadows—smoke.”
Beth nodded and let him continue.
“I’ve mentioned Connie Belasco to you.”
“Your partner,” Beth said.
“She was a year or two younger than you are now,” Jack said. “We worked the Scarecrow case. For the longest time, it felt like we were walking through mud. Then things started coming together. Some of the stuff our expert advisor was saying didn’t add up.”
“Howard Pell,” Beth said.
“Exactly.”
Jack leaned forward and aligned the holster so that its long edge was parallel to the side of the coffee table. He looked at Beth and went on. “Little by little, Connie and I began to suspect Pell was leading us around by the nose. It didn’t make sense. She wanted to confront him. I was in favor of giving him enough rope to hang himself. She was always a little impetuous. Somewhat like you, actually.”
Beth had no comment to that. She nodded for him to continue.
“Something Connie said must have spooked him. Pell followed her home and used a Taser to knock her out. Then he started cutting.”
Jack squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as if that could clear away the images he was seeing. Marta got up from where she was lying, walked to the sofa, and rested her head on his lap. He scratched her absently behind the ears. For a moment his eyes settled on the gun before he continued.
“I tried calling her several times that night. Connie was always good about answering her phone. At first I didn’t think much of it. But then I became worried. The more I thought about her not answering, the worse it got. I finally decided to stop by her place and check that she was all right.”
A sheen of sweat had broken out on Jack’s forehead. His breathing was heavy. If he was aware of this, he didn’t show it. Beth watched him carefully. At one point, she thought he might actually become sick right there in the living room. She knew what was coming and forced herself to sit quietly and listen.
Jack gathered himself and continued.
“All the lights were off when I arrived. Her car was in the driveway. At first, I thought she might be out on a date. Maybe that she had fallen asleep. That’s when I noticed the front door was ajar.
“I called her name several times. No answer. Then I heard it. A sound unlike any I’d ever heard before. Almost like an animal was in pain. I went in. Flicked on the lights.”
Jack took in a gulp of air. Then another. Beth didn’t know whether to get him a glass of water or sit still. He solved the problem by resuming his story.
“I found her in the spare bedroom. Pell had cut off her arms and legs. Tourniquets were applied to the stumps. He’d done other things to her face I won’t tell you about. At first, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at. Then I realized it was my partner. The pain she was in was horrendous. Beyond what any human being could bear.
“I consider myself a reasonably calm man. But the truth is I panicked. Nothing in my experience prepared me for what I was seeing. I’d been in combat. Seen injuries in Afghanistan. Terrible, terrible wounds. Seen men shot. Bodies blown apart. The worst sights imaginable. They paled in comparison.
“I finally got myself together and was reaching for the phone to call an ambulance when I realized Connie was trying to say something.”
Jack’s voice trailed away.
It took a moment before Beth asked, “What?”
“She was asking me to kill her.”
Chapter 61
Beth’s eyes went wide. All at once she knew what had happened.
“You killed her,” she said. Her words were barely audible.
Jack stared at her for a long moment, then said, “That’s right.”
No explanation. No excuse. Just “That’s right.”
“Dear God,” Beth said.
“Pell told you the truth . . . about that, at least.”
Her mind went into a tailspin. Without realizing it, she stood as the tentacles of what happened that night reached into the room. It took several seconds to bring her emotions under control. Jack was still sitting on the couch watching her. His face had the strangest look. One she’d never seen before. His hand was within inches of his gun. A trickle of fear ran up her spine.
How well did she know this man? Her own gun was across the room in her purse.
Jack said, “Do you remember what I told you about fighting m
onsters?”
“Be careful you don’t become one yourself,” Beth whispered.
Jack’s fingers closed around the handle of his weapon. There was no way for her to stop him.
“Here,” he said, picking it up.
“What?”
“Take it. I’m surrendering myself to you.”
“What?” she repeated.
“I’m turning myself in.”
She stared at Jack, at a complete loss for words. It wasn’t a joke. He appeared completely serious. After a moment she pushed his hand away and sat back down.
“Could she have lived?”
Unable to maintain eye contact, Jack stared out the window for several seconds. He finally lifted his shoulders. “There was a very small chance. Pell had applied tourniquets like I said, but they were ineffective. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. I’ve never seen so much blood.”
A vision of what it must have been like rose in Beth’s mind with appalling clarity. She shuddered. Then another thought occurred to her.
“Did that have something to do with your marriage breaking up?”
“After what I had done to Pell, it wasn’t safe to have them around any longer,” Jack said. “Just couldn’t take the chance I might snap again. There’s a doctor I see who’s been helping me. I’d become so good at avoiding dealing with the problem, the process became automatic for me. Then in one instant, everything became clear. At least I think it was everything.”
Beth shook her head trying to make sense of it all. This was insane.
Jack added, “Believe it or not, you’ve both helped me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My doctor and you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Beth looked at the man sitting across from her. There was no way to tell what he was really thinking. His voice in recounting the story had little inflection. Almost mechanical, as if he was reading a report someone else had written.
Shit, Beth thought. What the hell do I do now? To have kept this bottled up all these years. It was a mess. The biggest mess she’d ever come across. Dating an accountant suddenly seemed to have its advantages. A nice, safe accountant. I’ll talk it over with Dan Pappas. No. Bad idea. Wrong to involve him. She recalled reading a quote years ago that said, “Three people could keep a secret if two of them were dead.”
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