With the driver still clutched against him, the burly man was rammed against the car. He had to release his prisoner in order to keep his balance. The driver went down on the ground.
Sanity was restored in five minutes. By then, the driver was dead, kicked to death by the angry mob.
Chapter 60
There she was, just waiting for him at the bus stop.
Preston barely had time to get to the stop before the bus came. He slipped on behind and carefully chose his seat with a clear view of her. While they rode to whatever destination fate had decreed, he took out his small book. He compared her picture. As usual, his memory was flawless.
She was the perfect target to show the liars the truth. He would prove that all those stories were false. He would show them what a real man he was. He would show them he was not some faggot.
And, who better to prove it with! The years had not dulled the pain she had caused.
It wouldn’t happen tonight. He wanted to be sure that he would have plenty of time with this one.
Chapter 61
“You have nothing!” Mayor Dalton stormed around his office. “Seven bodies and you have nothing!”
Keough could not make the meeting. His daughter was getting married and Mann had to sit in for him. Mann had tried to talk Livermore into going alone but he wasn’t having any of it. So, Mann had to follow Livermore to The Hill.
“We have some suspects,” Livermore said, soothingly. He nodded encouragingly to Mann.
“We do have suspects,” Mann agreed. “But, none of them have any substantial backing.”
“What the hell does that mean? Either you have suspects or you don’t. Do either of you have any idea what the press is doing to me?”
Mann and Livermore knew exactly what the press was doing. Besides making their job extremely difficult, they were all over the Mayor. With Lewery getting killed, the case had become very personal to the media. If the case dragged on, the Slasher would become an election issue.
“I need to tell the press that we have come up with something.”
Mann shook his head. “We don’t have anything solid. We cut the doctor loose. He was being watched during the next killing.”
“That isn’t good enough. What about all the tips that are coming in? Surely something must have come of that.”
Mann looked over at Livermore. What did they expect? Did they just want him to pull a suspect out of the pile? “We have got one person that is a possibility,” Livermore said.
“But,” Mann rushed to add, “the investigation has just started. We can’t definitively place him at any of the crimes.”
“But haven’t been able to eliminate him either,” Livermore continued.
Dalton stopped his pacing and sat down in his seat. “So, you do have something.”
“Not much. We have some circumstantial evidence and some of the information jived with past offenses. It’s possible. We have to take it slow. We want to build a proper case against him. We are considering bringing him in for a DNA test.”
“What’s the name?”
Warning bells were ringing in Mann’s head.
“Drabick, Stephen Drabick,” Livermore said.
The Mayor suddenly stood and reached out his hand to Livermore. “Keep us informed, Deputy Inspector.”
Mann and Livermore rode the elevator to the lobby. They were surrounded immediately by the press. Questions were shouted. Livermore cleared his throat. “We just gave an update to the Commissioner and the Mayor.”
“What about suspects?”
“At the moment…”
“Deputy Inspector Livermore has informed us that they have a suspect in the case. Naturally, no names can be given.”
Mann and Livermore swung around. Mayor Dalton and Commissioner James stood at the elevator doors. Mann knew they had been had. The entire meeting was a setup. The Mayor had everything planned and timed well in advance. All he needed was a confirmation that there was a suspect. Now, if they didn’t make an arrest shortly, the Mayor could dump Livermore and put in someone else. The buck would be successfully passed and blame would not fall on the Mayor, at least for now.
Mann slipped around the back of the crowd of reporters. He winced as he heard the Mayor talking about an imminent arrest. Disgusted, he went out to the car to wait for Livermore.
*
The next morning, Mann sat bent over his desk reading from a folder spread out in front of him. He checked to see how many pages were left. He was relieved to see he was on the last page. To the left of the current file, a stack of similar folders were piled haphazardly. One file was set by itself to the right.
Mann shut the last file and set it on the top of the large pile. He looked at his watch and yawned. Grabbing an empty Pepsi can, he went out into the main office. Greer was just coming in carrying two racks of donuts from the shop down the street.
“You’re in early, Lou.” Greer took another look at Mann’s unshaven face and rumpled clothes. “Didn’t you go home last night?”
Mann shook his head. He tossed the empty can in the recycle container and opened the fridge. Two cases of Pepsi were waiting for him. The cleaning crew must have restocked the pop before they left. Bless them. He popped a can and took a long drink. “I was going over the files.”
“Still not a believer?”
“Hardly.”
Greer set the donuts down. Mann looked at his watch again. “Aren’t you a bit early yourself?”
“I was up anyway. It’s so damned hot. I figured what the hell, so I walked in. It’s just a couple blocks.”
Greer was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t look particularly good himself. He was looking exhausted. Working too hard and spending too many hours at the warehouse or out on the street chasing down leads. They all were. Cops were going to destroy their marriages and their health because of this case.
After returning from the meeting with the Commissioner and Mayor, Livermore had called in each of the detectives heading major areas of investigation. They each brought in their top suspects. Nobody had anyone that they were overly hot on, just dead end leads and questionable tips. From that, Mann and Livermore had narrowed the list down to the pile on Mann’s desk. Drabick was still the best name and he was a long shot at best.
Drabick had come to their attention through the regular check of traffic violations in the areas of the killings. The Task Force regularly checked all parking violations for a ten block radius around the murder sights for eight hours either way. More if the ME was not confident of time of death.
Mann supported the practice but didn’t put much stock in Drabick’s tickets.
“Drabick’s got over a hundred tickets. I don’t think he parks unless it is illegally,” Mann argued.
“We know that the Slasher is not just picking his targets at random. The other tickets could be from his touring times while he is looking for a victim.”
“They got Son of Sam through a parking ticket,” another Detective pointed out.
Mann looked at Livermore who nodded. Even the Deputy Inspector was being affected. Mann had feared exactly this as soon as the Mayor announced the suspect to the press. Mann had experienced it before. When a case is at a stand still, especially one as emotional as this one, detectives will cling to anything positive. Unfortunately, too often the evidence was molded to the suspect rather than the other way around. What fit the suspect was amplified, what didn’t was altered or ignored.
Livermore was concerned about the Mayor’s spies. Unless they played along with the brass to a certain extent, they risked a clean sweep of personnel by the increasingly panicked Mayor. And that would set the investigation back days or even weeks as a new team got up to speed.
Stephen Drabick had a long history of criminal assault as well as two convictions for rape. In both cases, he had used a knife in the rapes. One of the women had been cut in the struggle. Drabick did not fit the profile as far as Mann was concerned. Drabick was an opportunis
tic rapist who used brute force rather than intelligence. However, word had spread through the Task Force and the detectives had begun to believe that Drabick was the best suspect. Some had even given up their own favorite suspects.
“If you are convinced that Drabick isn’t our guy, what do you suggest?”
Mann looked at Livermore. “Put a team on Drabick. We have enough for that. We’ll put someone on him round the clock.”
“And wait?”
“We don’t have enough for an arrest. We’ve questioned him twice. He has refused a DNA test.”
“Is there anything from his other convictions?”
Mann shook his head. “It was eye witness identification and fingerprints that got him. He wore condoms. No DNA samples from back then.”
Livermore and Mann had discussed the course of action. Both hated to pull the manpower away from the other promising leads but had no choice. The Mayor aside, there was the chance that Drabick was the killer.
Livermore turned to Mann. “Get a team together to watch Drabick. I want the first team over there within the hour. If we can get anything on him, we will pull him in again. I’ll inform Flem about Drabick and the stakeout. If we want this to get back to the Mayor, Flem is the person to tell him.”
*
“Nobody knows where he might be, Lou. The manager hasn’t seen him since yesterday. Do you think we spooked him with the second interview?”
“Keep on him,” Mann said, ignoring the question. “As soon as you pick Drabick up, stay with him.”
Mann swore and banged the phone down. He would have to send teams out to Drabick’s known hangouts. More manpower chasing air.
Mann had a feeling churning in the pit of his stomach. With Drabick in the wind, he prayed there wouldn’t be another killing.
Chapter 62
Tonight was the night.
He was becoming impatient with just following her. The rage was growing and so was the dissatisfaction. He missed the rush, the feel of the warm blood running over his hands. Crouching in the shadows, watching, waiting, the anticipation was sweet but frustrating.
He wished she would break her routine and let the dog out early but knew she wouldn’t. He would wait. He was safe here in the dark, where he always belonged. Safe, hidden as he always was. But now he was starting to come out. And soon they would know the truth about beautiful, little Tracy and the mystery of all those years would be settled.
*
She finally let her little mutt out so he could “do his business”. The stupid dog had barked at him the first night. The second night, the dog barked but he had brought meat and the dog loved him. The third night, the dog only whined the whole time.
Tonight, the dog hadn’t made a sound. Well, there had been that satisfying little crunch but otherwise he was very quiet now. Such a delicate little doggie skull under his heavy work boot.
He turned up his wrist and looked at his watch. The luminous dial showed eleven twenty five. She would soon bring the dog in or at least try. She always came out each night at eleven-thirty.
She would stand in the doorway and call the dog. She stayed in the doorway so that the light shone through the short nightie she wore. Not that she wore it to bed. He knew she would be naked in bed. Sluts like her always slept naked.
She only wore the nightgown so he would be tempted. She let the light shine through to tease him. She always liked to flaunt herself. She had always flaunted her body to him. She had not changed at all.
*
Tracey Mitchell was the best looking girl in the school. Every guy dreamed of her – masturbated to fantasies of her naked body. She had long golden hair and a curving body that screamed to be touched and caressed. Every boy wanted to find out if she was a natural blonde.
“Do you think Tracey has a golden pussy?” was the question during tenth grade.
Plenty of boys got close to the answer. Very close but Tracey foiled their attempts. But not because she didn’t let them in her pants.
Tracey was a slut. She loved sex and she loved what the boys would do in order to have their time with her. And she took all they had to give. And she gave them all what they wanted, except the one answer they craved.
She knew what the guys all wanted to know. She knew about the bets. So, she had only done guys in the dark. That way, no guy could ever boast that he had got her. He would never be believed if he didn’t have the definitive report on her pussy. They all said they had her, and everybody knew they had, but nobody could give the word.
She worked through the boys in the school before the real surprise happened. Her parents were going out of town and she invited him to her house. She wanted him. He was supposed to show up at nine o’clock. It would be dark by then.
But, he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t fall for her tricks. He wasn’t one of the dumb jocks that she normally tricked. He told her it would have to be earlier. He would be there before dark. She would not be able to hide her golden hair from him. He was too smart for her.
By seven thirty, he was in her bedroom.
“Take off your clothes,” she said to him. “I want to see your naked body. Get naked and I will put something really sexy on.”
He couldn’t get out of his clothes fast enough. He already had his shirt off as she was leaving the room. He stripped off his pants and underwear. He was already hard as he lay back on the bed.
When the door opened, he was ready. Leaning back against the headboard, his arms open wide and his stomach sucked in as far as it would go.
He hadn’t heard them. They must have been giggling before they got to the door but the radio was on. Now, they were laughing. All her friends, boys and girls, stood in the doorway. One of them had a Polaroid and snapped his picture. They laughed at him and pointed as he got small. Tracey was laughing the hardest.
The bigger boys from the football team grabbed his clothes and wouldn’t give them back. They chased him to the front door and threw him out on the front lawn. He had to run all the way home covered only with a tarp from a neighbor’s wood pile.
*
“Benji! Here boy.” Tracey came out on the porch, blonde hair gleaming. He could see right through her little gown. Her narrow hips and big breasts showed through. She called for the dog but he didn’t come – the only one who wasn’t going to come tonight.
She looked out into the back yard but couldn’t see anything in the light coming from the house. She stepped off the porch onto the lawn and thought of the gate.
He knew she would think of the gate. She would check to see if the gate was closed. She would walk away from the light. They were all so predictable. His superior intelligence would always make it so.
She never heard him. She didn’t even sense him. No scary music, no sudden sixth sense. She didn’t know anything was wrong until she felt the rope around her neck.
Using the rope, he dragged her back to the door. She didn’t put up much of a struggle. Maybe, she had read that if you don’t struggle, you won’t get hurt. Thank God for books.
Inside the door, he turned off the light. The kitchen was in darkness. There was plenty of time to decide if she was a natural blonde or not.
He tightened the rope around her neck. She finally started to struggle against him. It was too late.
She was pressed against him and he could feel her flimsy nightgown shifting up around her waist. He felt himself harden.
He could see her laughing at him and pointing. She had said something about how small he was. She had said he was hardly a man.
She would know his manliness before she dies. She would know what she missed that day.
She had gone limp, supported only by the rope around her neck. He let go of the rope and she fell to the floor. She was unconscious but gasped in a deep breath. She regained consciousness as he bound her hands and gagged her. He stood up and started to undo his pants. Then, he remembered her legs.
Girls like to kick.
He tied one foot to one of the table
legs. He then pulled her other ankle over to the next table leg. He tied it quickly because she was starting to make noise.
He turned on the light in the oven. He could see her eyes were open. She stared up at him.
He liked the fear.
Her nightgown ripped easily. He used the knife on her panties.
He smiled. “I knew it!”
Chapter 63
“He kept this one alive for a long time,” Buchanan said. “Most of what he has done to his previous victims has been post mortem. Not this time.”
Mann looked over at the naked body of Kelly Bronson. Thirty-four, unmarried, blonde, five foot five, slim, pretty and a legal secretary, she was lying back in a recliner with her throat cut. Her upper torso from the belly button up had been mutilated, many of her organs ripped from her and tossed around the room. Her throat had been slashed so deeply it was almost severed to the spine. Her larynx was missing.
“Run it down for me,” Mann asked Shane, who had been on the scene for the past two hours. Most of that time, Mann had been dealing with the media and trying to organize the rest of the task force. As they still couldn’t find Drabick, he was a suspect in this killing.
“He knew her movements well enough to know when to kill the dog. He got her by the back gate and dragged her into the house. She has grass stains on her heels where he dragged her. Ligature marks on her ankles and the rope in the kitchen suggest she was tied to the table, legs apart.”
“He raped her in the kitchen?” Mann asked.
“Yes. The table was handy and high enough for him to get under. I think he wants us to know he did it. Lots of ejaculate all over the floor. She had to have been alive at that point. Buchanan has no doubt she died in this chair.”
Two Graves (A Kesle City Homicide Novel) Page 21