A Killer's Game

by Amy Andrews

  CHAPTER TEN - bad news

  Lieutenant Sara Whitten sat at her desk, and glanced up at the clock. The hands were at four-fifteen. Sitting there in a trance, with her eyes fixed on the second hand, her mind ticked along with it.

  Feeling at a complete loss of direction, she let her mind wander. She subconsciously tapped her pen on the desk, to the beat of the second hand. Snapping out of it, she picked up a copy of this mornings crime scene report, and started to read it again.

  Hearing a soft knock on her door, she looked up, and motioned Manny Sanchez, Head of the Forensics Department, to come in.

  Manny closed the door behind him, and pulled the shades. He turned to her with a solemn look on his face.

  Setting down the case file, she asked, “What? “What is it, Manny?”

  Manny loosened the knot of his slim purple tie. Clearing his throat, he said, “I don’t know how to tell you this, Sara.”

  Lieutenant Whitten didn’t like the sound of Manny’s voice. She closed her eyes briefly. “Tell me what?” she asked apprehensively.

  Manny stuffed his hands into his slacks. He hung his head, and diverted his eyes to the floor for longer than a quick glance. Slowly bringing them back up to reconnect with Sara’s, he said, “The Jane Doe, from this morning?”

  “Yes?”

  “I ran her fingerprints through my database, and I don’t need to wait on getting a positive ID from the Medical Examiner...Sara,… it’s a positive I.D for Detective Kate Leopold.” Manny clasped both of his hands over his mouth, as if he couldn’t believe what had just come out of it.

  Lieutenant Sara Whitten felt the air get sucked out of her lungs. She remained seated behind her desk in her plush chair, with her mouth agape, but unable to form any words.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - BLIND SIDED

  Lenny left the station early that Friday afternoon at four o’clock, with nothing to go on, but a bad feeling. When he left, the station had not heard back from the Medical Examiner, regarding any clues, identity, or findings on the Jane Doe, and Kate Leopold was MIA. His mind had raced all day, trying to think of who would be after him. The problem was, there were way too many. In a thirty-five year long career, he had put away a lot of scumbags. The obvious choice was last night’s un-apprehended escaped convict, Robert Verde, but it just didn’t seem to fit. For one thing, Verde just broke out of prison the night of the murder. Assuming he in fact busted out of the pen, made his way across the Alley, over from Miami, and was able to locate a victim, the crime scene just didn’t fit his style. Serial killers usually formed a bond with a certain type of killing ritual. Usually. Maybe the twenty years in the pen changed things for him? Maybe he was rushed, and just wanted to commit the act, without caring about the how?

  As the warm tropical air whipped his silver hair around, the typical Florida sunshine was giving way to dark thunderclouds. A low rumbling loomed off in the distance, as Lenny cranked the throttle down. He was devising plan B, since the Mexican Riviera trip, and the badge retirement would now have to wait. He figured a nice dinner and a trip to the jewelry store with ladies choice should do the trick. The trip wasn’t scheduled for another three weeks, but unless they got a lucky break in the case, it would probably take longer to find the pen wielding psycho. Hopefully not, since it was made clear that there would be another victim within 24 hours. Considering he was wanting to play some type of sick game with Lenny personally, retirement was not a current option.

  Lenny decided to not even mention his “plan A” gift to Tessa. He didn’t want to break her heart twice. And, he definitely didn’t want to tell her why he had to go to plan B. She would just be worried about him more than usual. With his career in law enforcement, it was hard enough for her to see him walk out the door and not know if he would ever walk back in it. Even though she didn’t actually bring it up, he knew there was more than once that she contemplated divorcing him. Not because she didn’t love him, but because she did. Too much. To tell her that he was player # 2 in some type of demented game would just be cruel and unusual punishment. She deserved better than that., and he would definitely be a divorcee if he told her. Not happening. He would just as soon take a bullet.

  Lenny cruised past the Spanish Mediterranean houses on Palm Drive. He pulled into the only one on the street that had bougainvillea growing on a trellis, just as big fat summer raindrops started to spatter on the concrete. He pulled his bike, that had gotten a minimal wash from nature, into the garage next to his ‘67 Mustang. It was a two car garage, but currently held only a restored black cherry 67’ Mustang with a Cobra 427 Jet, nine inch posse rear end, and some sexy M15’s. She had all the trimmings. It could easily turn 11’s in a quarter mile. It was his Father’s baby, but he inherited it, and loved it even more than his bike. If his Dad could see it now, he would be proud. Lenny had put a lot of labor and a whole lot more love into it. Money too, but he didn’t care about that. It was how he held on to the memory of his dearly departed, and honored his memory by occasionally taking her to the quarter mile track to open up some whoop ass.

  Walking in through the side door, the house was eerily quiet.

  “Tessa? Tess, I’m home,” he called out while raiding the refrigerator for a Budweiser. He definitely needed a drink after today. He wanted tonight to be special, and his mind to be there with Tessa, not somewhere else….like on trying to figure out who the lunatic was that wrote him a personal note and left it with a dead body.

  He popped the cap off of the brown translucent bottle, and took a long swig of the amber liquid. Hearing no response, he went in search of her.

  Figuring she must be in her darkroom, he walked down the hall, looking into each of the rooms. Each one empty.

  Approaching the darkroom door, Lenny noticed something smeared on the white tile. Bending down he poked his middle finger into it and rubbed it with his thumb. His eyes widened at the sight of its crimson color. Blood? His cop instincts took over. He set his bottled beer onto the floor, and undid the safety on his Colt M45.

  He called out once more in a louder voice, “Tessa, are you home?” Tessa didn’t answer his call. Hearing nothing but silence, he slid the weight of his Colt M45 pistol out of his shoulder harness, and was ready to use it.

  Standing with his back flat against the wall, just outside of the darkroom door, he knocked three times on the door. Maybe she was listening to her iPod and just didn’t hear him?

  With his gun in his right hand, he reached the door handle with his left. Flinging the door open, it banged and ricocheted off the opposing wall. He led into the room, arm extended. Cocked and ready.

  Seeing the room was empty, Lenny was utterly confused. He holstered his gun, and ran his hand over his thick salt and pepper mustache, while his adrenaline rush subsided. This case was going to have him on edge until they put the asshole behind bars. Maybe he would have something a little stiffer, and a little more relaxation inducing than beer over dinner. Maybe a couple of stiff Jack and coke’s would do the trick. He nodded his head in approval at the thought, and holstered his gun.

  Inspecting the room more closely, he walked towards the long metal work table, and bent to pick up some rolls of film, and Tessa’s Nikon camera, that lay on the floor. This just wasn’t right. Tessa took very good care of her equipment, and would never leave her camera sitting around, especially on the floor. Picking them up, he set them back up on the long steel table. His stomach twisted in knots at the sight of a memory stick, that had a note attached to it. 17 hours, was all it said. A number and one word was all it took to send him over the edge.

  Lenny’s nostrils flared as he roared, “You son of a bitch!” In his fit of rage, he wanted to grab the metal table and tip it over in a deafening clatter, and punch a few holes into the wall. Slamming his fists on the table, he got himself under control. Trashing the crime scene would only compromise it. Cop or not, when he found this bastard that took his wife, he was going to plug him like a leaky sink.

  After his initial out
burst, Lenny knew that he couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him. A level head and a clear mind were the only things that would help him save Tessa. Against all hope, he took out his iPhone and dialed Tessa’s number, with shaky hands. Pacing around the room, the time in between the rings felt like an eternity. He longed to hear her sweet voice on the other end. Getting her voicemail, in a reassuring tone said, “Tessa, honey, I love you. If you get this message, please call me if you can. I know that you’ve been abducted. I WILL find you. I love you. Don’t forget that. Keep fighting. For me. For us.” Lenny hit the end call button in hesitation. He wanted to call her again, just to hear her voice, but knew that he was on a time clock. He needed to get moving. Now.

  He exited the darkroom, sticking the memory stick in his vest pocket. He stopped outside the door to grab his beer, and chugged it down in four big gulps. Walking through the kitchen, he tossed the bottle into the recycle bin, and walked out the side door to the garage.

  Hurrying over to his red Snap On tool box, his unsteady hands fumbled to unclip his keys from his belt loop. The reality of what was happening slammed into him, like a sledgehammer. The keys rattled as he tried to isolate the right one. He was out of sorts. Normally he was Mr. Cool, Calm, and Collected. He couldn’t lose Tessa. She was his rock. The woman behind the man.

  Steadying the key, and unlocking the tool box, he opened the large bottom drawer. He glanced over the small arsenal of fire arms and other weapons he kept. Trying to decide what to take was too much of a decision. He hastily grabbed a large camo print duffle bag from a nearby shelving unit that he kept packed with outdoor essentials for camping trips. He dumped the entire drawer’s contents into the bag. His eyes did a quick scan around the garage for anything else he might need, when he noticed the broken remnants of what used to be a cell phone, lying on the far edge of the garage floor. Inspecting it closer, he saw that it was Tessa’s. His only link to her, or her to the rest of the world, smashed. Useless.

  He removed his keys from the toolbox, secured them back onto his belt loop, and hurried back into the house.

  Jogging into the master bedroom, he threw the camo duffle bag on the damask striped king sized sleigh bed. His boots clicked across the floor as he walked over to the white washed armoire. He grabbed several changes of clothes and stuffed them in the bag.

  Hoisting the bag up onto his shoulder, he hurried back into the kitchen. Lying the bag on the cool marble top, he grabbed a pen and notepad from the junk drawer, and scribbled:

  Sara,

  The body we found today at Seminole was no accident. The first

  note, I found on the body. The second note was left for me at

  home. He has Tessa. There is blood in the hallway, and I know

  for sure that he was in the darkroom, so make sure you dust for

  prints. I am going after him. I also need to know the identity of

  the Seminole vic as soon as you hear from the ME to see if we can

  narrow down a list of suspects- Lenny

  Lenny stuffed the note into an envelope, along with the two notes that had been left for him, and left it lay on the counter. He had no evidence, but he would bet his right arm that the MIA Detective Kate Leopold was not just a coincidence. He didn’t want to think that the vic from this morning could be her, but he couldn’t ignore the mounting signs. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to leave his thoughts about that in the note to his Lieutenant, so he let it be. He sealed the envelope and scribbled Lieutenant Sara Whitten on the front of it. He removed his police issued gun from his shoulder holster, and laid it on top of the note. He had plenty of government issued unregistered replacements in his duffle. Compliments of his Special Ops days.

  Lenny hoisted his duffle into the passenger side seat of the Mustang. He pulled the car out into the driveway, and locked the doors. He jogged across the street to Mr. Perkins’ house, with the slow falling raindrops plinking off of his wraparound sunglasses, that were sitting on top of his head. With any luck, Mr. Perkins would be home, and not nosing around the neighborhood.

  Lenny opted not to ring the doorbell, and wrapped on the door in a continuous motion. Peering through the wall of windows on the porch, he saw the plump man shuffling towards the door. Mr. Perkins opened the door with a smile on his face.

  “Well, hello there,” Mr. Perkins said jovially. “Looks like were going to get some rain,” he said while glancing up at the sky.

  Having no time for small talk, Lenny said in an anxious tone, “Hi, Mr. Perkins. Listen, did you see anything out of the ordinary today?”

  Rubbing the top of his half bald head, he asked quizzically, “You mean besides the company you had this morning?”

  “I didn’t have company this morning,” Lenny said matter of factly.

  “Why you most certainly did. I was swinging on the porch here,” Mr. Perkins motioned to the white wicker porch swing. “ I was reading the morning paper about 7:30, like I always do, when I saw a black car pull out of your garage…and it wasn’t that beauty over there,” Mr. Perkins stated while pointing over to the Mustang.

  With hope rising in his voice, Lenny asked, “Did you get a license plate number?”

  Pushing his square rimmed glasses up on his round face, Mr. Perkins replied, “Nope. Nope, sure didn’t. But it was a black car. Black car. Sedan type. Four doors with dark windows.”

  “Did you see who was driving the car? Was it a man, a woman, two men?”

  “Nope. Didn’t see who it was. Windows were too dark.”

  Hanging his head, Lenny said, “Thanks for your help, Mr. Perkins. Another police officer will probably be over to see you in a little while. Her name is Lieutenant Whitten. If you remember anything else at all, be sure and tell her.”

  “Is everything all right?” Mr. Perkins called to Lenny as he abruptly left the porch and ran towards the Mustang.

  Lenny held his hand up in a stiff wave to Mr. Perkins as the wheels of the Mustang laid rubber on his paved driveway.

  Grabbing his cell, he speed dialed his Lieutenant. He left Sara an urgent voicemail explaining that she needed to get over to his house, and check the kitchen island countertop. He apologized that he didn’t have time to explain, and that everything would make sense once she got to his house.

  Lenny ended the call, and his next was to his partner, Bobby Thorne. In frustration, Lenny wondered why the hell wasn’t anyone answering their phones? He left a voicemail for Thorne to call him immediately. He didn’t necessarily want or need his help, he just wanted to know where he was.

  With his track record, he didn’t expect Thorne to call him back. It was after all Friday afternoon, and Lenny was sure that Thorne was already out having his weekend fun that seemed to overflow into the weekdays. He was damn sure going to talk to Sara about this one after this was all over. He didn’t want anyone else on his team getting stuck with Thorne after he left the force. Particularly Leopold, that is if she were still alive,. or Layne. or Wilshire. or anyone else, for that matter.

  Speeding southbound on US 41, Lenny whipped the Mustang into the nearest Walgreens parking lot. Grabbing the memory stick, he strode through the electronic doors as though his ass was on fire. Having little to no patience, he continuously slapped the bell on the counter at the photo center. A kid with greasy black hair and turtle shell glasses rushed behind the counter.

  “Yes sir,” the kid stated, not asked, because he could feel the no bullshit vibe that Lenny was unintentionally giving off.

  Pulling the memory stick out of his front vest pocket, he held it up and asked, “how long?”

  Pointing to the sign in the photo center behind him, the kid asked “One hour photo is available?”

  Shaking his head, “not gonna do,” Lenny said, as he opened his vest, and flashed his badge. “This is emergency life and death evidence kid. You’re not that busy, so I’m going to ask you once again. How long?”

  Wringing his hands, the kid nervously looked around. He didn’t real
ly pay too much attention to the badge, but got an eyeful of the gun that the guy on the other side of the counter was packing.

  With his voice cracking, the kid in the Walgreens uniform said, “If you want to wait, I can have them developed in about fifteen minutes?”

  He hoped that this would be a good enough answer.

  Handing the small black gadget over to the kid, Lenny said, “make it quicker if you can, but do not mess these photos up,” he warned. “I’ll wait right here,” Lenny said, while tapping his pointer finger on the photo counter.

  With a shaking hand, the kid took the memory stick, and the threat seriously.

  About five minutes into the wait, Lenny realized that he did not have his cell phone. Watching the employee working diligently on getting the photos processed, Lenny called to him, “hey kid, I’ll be right back. I gotta run out to my car.”

  Reaching into the Mustang, he retrieved his iPhone, and saw the missed call light

  blinking. Dialing his voicemail, he entered his four digit code, and waited.

  “Lenny, hi. It’s your Lieutenant, Sara. Listen, I don’t know exactly what in the hell is going on, but I have some news for you that I would rather not give you over the phone, regarding our Jane Doe this morning. I got your message earlier, and I’m at your place now. In light of that, I’m calling to tell you that there is a suspicious vehicle…a dark sedan, on Alligator Alley that has been in an accident, but there are no passengers around anywhere. It could be a lead. I’m going to finish up here, and see if I get a lead on anything else that will help us bring Tessa home. Lenny, whoever this bastard is, he’s crazy. Be careful.”