The Fiercest Enemy

by Rick Reed

  “Did the others know about the phone?” Jerrell asked.

  “I showed it to them. They were all like, “It’s stolen. You’re going to jail.” They wanted me to sell it. I was going to bring it to the police station and see if the owner was giving a reward. I’m not a thief.”

  “Did you tell them about the guy?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah. Kind of. I told them some creep traded me for some smokes.”

  Jerrell said, “Blind Pete is working Chuckles today. The kids all know to steal when he’s at work. He can’t see more than the end of his arm. She’s probably telling the truth.”

  “Describe the guy in the park,” Jack said.

  She said, “He was old. Twenty at least.”

  “Okay. Good. Go on,” Jerrell said.

  “He was skinnier than Crabs, but a lot taller. Blue eyes, real tan like he lived outside. A homeless guy.”

  “Why do you say he was homeless, Cretin?” Jerrell asked.

  “His clothes were really dirty. His pants were crusty gray and real worn out. Everything about him was dirty. His hair came down to his shoulders.”

  “What color hair?”

  “Dark. Black,” she said.

  “Anything else you can remember,” Jerrell prodded.

  “He had tattoos on both arms. Here and here.” She indicated her own forearms.

  “Describe the tattoos,” Jerrell said.

  “One was a dragon that went from his wrist all the way up past his elbow. Some kind of cross was on his other arm.”

  “Any other tattoos?” Jack asked.

  “He had something tattooed on his fingers, but I didn’t see what.”

  “Anything else you remember?”

  Jerrell continued to ask open ended questions until Jack was sure they’d squeezed her dry. She’d remembered some other things about the homeless guy that supported Pen’s description. She also said the tattoo of the cross had blood dripping from the circle shape. She was adamant that she hadn’t seen where he went after her encounter with him.”

  Jack asked her, “How long have you lived with your grandparents this time?”

  “Not long,” was the answer.

  “Have you seen this guy anywhere before today?”

  “No.”

  Jack waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t.

  “If you saw him again would you recognize him?” Jack asked.

  “Hell yeah. He was creepy.”

  Jack said, “We’re going to talk to Crabs now and if he tells us a different story our deal is off.”

  “I don’t want to get anyone else in trouble. Crabs can’t know I talked to you.”

  “Why is that?” Jerrell asked.

  “Because he used to hang out with the same people Brandon hung out with. If they find out I talked to you they’ll kill me. Or worse.”

  Jerrell knew the names she gave of the people Brandon was hanging around with. Two adult men and a woman. All regulars with Linton PD.

  “You said you warned Brandon not to hang around with them,” Jerrell said. “Why was that?”

  “They carry guns. Brandon said people that messed with them disappeared.”

  “Were you with Brandon when you saw the guns?” Jerrell asked.

  “I never saw guns. Brandon told me about them. That’s where he got his…” she stopped and turned her head away.

  “Where he got what?”

  “I never did any of that stuff. He tried to give me some LSD one time but I wasn’t having nothing to do with it. I’m not a drug addict like my mom and dad.”

  For some reason Jack believed her. Contrary to common belief, children of drug addicts don’t always follow in the parent’s footsteps. Children of criminals likewise. If anything, they are embarrassed into doing just the opposite.

  “Empty your pockets on the desk,” Jerrell said.

  She did.

  Jerrell pulled a latex glove on one hand and pushed the items around. A pack of chewing gum, two quarters, a toothpick, pack of Virginia Slims and a Bic lighter.

  “That’s my stuff.”

  “It’s mine now,” Jerrell said and picked up the cigarettes and lighter. “You’re underage. I could write you a ticket for the smokes but I’m just holding onto this stuff until you’re eighteen.”

  “I won’t be here by the time I’m eighteen. I’m getting the hell out of this town.”

  Jack asked, “Did the homeless guy touch any of this?”

  “How do you know?” she said.

  “The lighter. You gave him a light, didn’t you?”

  “It’s my lighter,” she answered.

  “We need to get your fingerprints,” Jack said.

  “Not necessary,” Jerrell said. “We have her on file. Don’t we Cretin?”

  “Boy, this is all kinds of wrong,” she said.

  “I’m going to let you walk out of here,” Jerrell said, “on one condition. You keep an eye out for this guy. If you see him you call me right away.” He wrote his number on a scrap of paper and gave it to her. “No one will know we talked. You let me know where he is and if we catch him I’ll think about giving this stuff back to you.”

  “He lit the cigarette himself,” she said. “I had to ask him for it back three times and threaten to call some friends over. What a jerk wad.”

  Jerrell opened a desk drawer and took a Bic lighter out. He handed her the cigarettes and a lighter. “Don’t set anything on fire. Don’t let me catch you smoking or I’ll confiscate the cigarettes and arrest you and Blind Bob too.”

  “Don’t worry, Chief. You won’t catch me,” she said and grinned.

  “Did Brandon come on to you?” Jerrell asked.

  She said too quickly, “Ewww!”

  “The guys Brandon hung around with have girlfriends, don’t they?”

  “So?”

  “How old?” Jack asked. “No one will know you talked to us. You’d be doing us a big favor and the FBI never forgets a favor.”

  She said, “I’m fourteen. These guys are messing around with girls in training bras.”

  “What are they doing with the girls?” Jack asked.

  Cretin smirked at him.

  “What’s that mean?” Jack asked.

  She said, “What do you think? They get them to try some weed and then something stronger and then when the girl really needs the stuff they make her do things…you know…to get it. They get what they want, she gets what she wants.”

  Jerrell’s cheeks turned red and then his face turned pale. “This is going on in the park?” he asked.

  Cretin didn’t answer, which was the answer.

  Jerrell said, “I have patrols go through the park every night. We’ve never ever seen anything like that. What kind of car are they in?”

  “Different ones. One time it’s a truck. Next, it’s a van. Something big enough for them to all get inside it.”

  Jack asked, “Do you know what Brandon drives?”

  “Yeah. A Jeep.”

  “Are you sure these guys were giving the girls drugs?” Jack asked.

  “I seen ‘em.”

  “Do you know any of the girls’ names?”

  “I’m done. Can I go or not?”

  “No, you can’t go. Are these guys working for someone else? Someone older?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. I heard they have a boss. He’s supposed to be really old. Forty at least. His guys hang around schools and recruit kids to work for him. I mean, I’m screwed up but that’s really screwed up.”

  Jack took Jerrell off to the side out of earshot of Cretin.

  “Chief, sounds like you have a real drug problem. Maybe sex trafficking. Were you aware of any of this?” Jack asked.

  “Not a bit but we had a murder last year that resembled this setup.
Two high school buddies started dealing and they decided they wanted to know what it felt like to kill a woman. They picked up one of their customers, a fifteen-year-old girl, took her out and drugged her up, beat, raped and strangled her. They weighed the body down and dumped her in Sullivan Lake. They were all from here so we worked part of it with the State Police.”

  Jack said, “Unless she’s going to tell us something relating to the previous murders I’m going to leave the questioning to you. Maybe we can tie this drugs for sex ring into what happened to Brandon but I don’t see that happening with her.”

  “You’re right,” Jerrell said. “I guess she won’t be leaving here anytime soon. I’ll have to get Child Welfare here to take custody just to cover my ass.”

  They walked back over to Cretin. Sergeant Crocker came in long enough to give her a Coke and she guzzled half of it down, belched, and looked pleased with herself.

  Jack said, “Nice one.”

  “I can belch on command,” she said and belched louder.

  “You have quite a talent, Cretin. I have a couple more questions and then Chief Jerrell is going to finish this. Okay?”

  “Do I have a choice?” she asked.

  “No.” Jack went back through her story with her filling in any blanks. She stuck with her original statement. She had never seen the homeless guy interact with Brandon or any of the drug for sex people. She hadn’t see Brandon’s Jeep in or near the park that morning and had no idea how the homeless guy got Brandon’s phone.

  Jerrell took Cretin to the front lobby, left Cretin in Crocker’s care and told him to fingerprint her again, collect hair and get a DNA swab. He also told Crocker to hold her and crooked a finger at Crabs. “Your turn.”

  They were finished interviewing Crabs in a short time. He had little to add to what Cretin had told them. He was fourteen. Kicked out of school or suspended, he couldn’t remember which, but he didn’t intend to go back.

  “What’s your first name?” Jack asked.

  “Crabs,” the boy responded and slouched in his seat, one arm over the back, one leg stretched out front, and he’d tied a red bandana half covering his eyes.

  Jerrell took the bandana off the kid’s head and said, “Stick that in your pocket or lose it.”

  Crabs sat up straight in the chair and stuffed the bandana in his back pocket.

  “How do you know Brandon?” Jerrell asked.

  “Everyone knows Brandon,” he said. He went on to say the last time he’d seen Brandon was on the street near the park talking to some guys in a dark colored SUV with tinted windows. He didn’t know who the guys in the SUV were but they always seemed to have some ‘hotties’ hanging around.

  “Did you try to meet any of these ‘hotties’?” Jerrell asked.

  “Nah, man. That’s not my thing. I don’t know what they were doing but I don’t like little girls.” He seemed to realize what he’d said and quickly said, “I don’t like boys. I’m straight.”

  “I never thought anything about it,” Jerrell said. “Can you tell me any of the names?”

  Crabs affected an indifferent attitude. “I told you. Not my thing. How would I know any of them? What’d Cretin tell you?”

  “We’ll talk again about how you don’t know any of these guys or the ‘hotties’. Right now, I’m more interested in the homeless guy that’s been hanging around the park,” Jerrell said.

  He’d seen the homeless guy the first time about a week ago. The guy was hanging out by the skate park, leering at them, acting like a lecher. He gave the same description as Cretin, including the tats. He claimed he didn’t see Cretin get the phone and didn’t see the homeless guy that morning. Jack knew that if they pushed him much harder on this that the kid was liable to start making stuff up just to shut them up. Now they had to decide what to do with him.

  Crabs was on his own. There was really no place to drop him off or an adult to take him in. He was truly one of the forgotten children. Jerrell explained to Jack and Liddell that if he took the boy to child welfare he’d be back on the street in less than an hour.

  They were getting ready to kick Crabs loose when he said, “His name is Tony. The guy from the park. I just remembered he had his name tattooed on his knuckles. T-O-N-Y. You know, like you see some guys with L-O-V-E and H-A-T-E on their knuckles.”

  Chapter 19

  Child Welfare had contacted Cretin’s grandparents. They agreed to take responsibility so she was taken back there. Crabs was a different story. He had no one to contact except his mother who had disappeared. It wasn’t the first time he’d been a ward of the court. He was taken to a juvenile detention facility until he could be placed with a responsible guardian which didn’t seem to be likely.

  Jack sat on the edge of Crocker’s desk and watched the boy leave. Crabs didn’t look nervous or upset. He was resigned to this place in life. It made Jack sick to see kids being thrown away. His wife, Katie, dealt with kids like this almost every day where she taught school. The castaways, the abused, the unloved and uncared for, were more numerous than anyone would like to imagine. Thinking about it hurt your soul, but there was little that could be done. There was a rush to adopt children from other countries but the children in need here seemed to be forgotten. It was a fault with the bureaucracy that created such a paperwork nightmare that it was simpler and faster to get a child from somewhere else. That, and everyone wanted babies or very young children. Kids like Cretin and Crabs didn’t stand a chance.

  Jerrell was in his office. He’d excused himself to call his troops and hand out assignments. Shaunda and Liddell were sitting quietly in visitor’s lobby chairs. Liddell had dozed off and Jack felt guilty for not ordering food. He teased Liddell frequently about his eating habits, but there was no one else he would ever want to work with.

  Shaunda was slouched in a chair, staring out the front doors and seemed lost in thought. Either that, or the beating she’d taken was catching up to her. She sat up slowly when Jerrell came back in the lobby.

  Jerrell said, “We’ve got the whole state alerted to look for this guy and for the Jeep. I guess it won’t hurt to call the news media and get them involved.”

  “Your call,” Jack said. “Personally, I’d wait and see what turns up today before I chum the waters. The guy’s been in the area for at least a week if you believe Crabs. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to move on. We’ve called all the homeless shelters, and churches where he could go. If we don’t find him tomorrow let’s revisit the media angle. We don’t have anything definite to tell them except that we’re looking for a possible suspect and even that is a long shot.”

  Jack wasn’t as hopeful as Jerrell about the homeless guy being their killer. For all they knew he’d found the phone. They had to find him. They needed to eliminate him from the investigation if they could. He was their best, if not only, lead. If they found him they could detain him for a while without charging him with the murder. If the guy was really homeless he wouldn’t mind having food and shelter for a few days, even if it was in the pokey.

  “Actually, it’s your call Shaunda,” Jerrell said, surprising both Jack and Shaunda.

  She sat up straighter. “We gave his description to the state and county police. We still haven’t found Brandon’s Jeep. I want to put his description out to the public. But I can see where that would backfire on us if this turns out to be the wrong guy. Which I don’t think is the case. He’s the guy. He’s got to be.” She leaned back in the chair and let a breath out. “There’s just so much to do—I don’t even know where to begin.”

  Jack could hear defeat in her voice and he could understand how she was feeling. If they’d gotten to the park a few hours earlier they would have the guy. If they called the media she would have to go home without a suspect in custody or even identified. Two murders on her turf in a week with no resolution. Not an easy thing for a small town chief whose job was always on
the line. Realistically she was doing a good job considering she had a two person department, and both with limited on the job experience. Plus, she had no forensic resources.

  Jack said to her, “If he’s out there we’ll turn him up. If he’s the guy we’ll know. Right now, we’re wasting daylight. Patrols are out. We’ve got Brandon’s phone. Maybe he’s hunkered down somewhere and goes to the park to bum smokes.”

  “Or he’s a pedophile with a skateboard fetish,” Shaunda suggested.

  “I hope to God not,” Jerrell said, suddenly remembering what Cretin had told them about the guys that were trading dope for sex with minors.

  No one spoke for several minutes.

  Jerrell asked, “Can you get an FBI profiler?”

  “It’s a bit early for that,” Jack answered. “Let’s exhaust our efforts first. We still have a lot of ground to cover and they’ll want to know what we know. That’s not much at this point.”

  This wasn’t the first time Jack wished he could call Special Agent Frank Tunney. Tunney was known as the serial killer hunter for the FBI. When Tunney died last year, someone had replaced him but Jack hadn’t heard who it was. Didn’t really care. Tunney’s death had come as a blow. Jack didn’t think he could work with another profiler.

  It was almost three o’clock and Liddell’s stomach was growling. Liddell opened his eyes and said, “I don’t know about you people, but I’m hungry. Where’s a good place to eat?”

  Shaunda asked, “Where are you planning on staying tonight? You are staying, right?”

  It didn’t make sense to commute to and from Evansville. Besides, something might break in the case and they didn’t want to miss it.

  “Any suggestions on a hotel?” Jack asked.

  Shaunda said, “This is happening in my town. I’ll take care of you. I know the perfect place.”

  Jack drove and followed Chief Lynch’s Tahoe down state highway 54 West at a more reasonable speed than earlier. They were nearing the place they’d first met Chief Lynch this morning.

  “This part of the state must be fishing heaven,” Liddell remarked. “The whole area is riddled with lake sized ponds.”