by William Cain
“I want to call my mother,” Madison tells her grandmother.
“Are you going to tell her where we are? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’m going to tell her we are OK. And, yes, I’ll tell her we’re in California. But not exactly where. I don’t think she told Aunt Addie our address in Las Cruces. She wouldn’t do that. I do believe that long conversation I had with Aunt Addie allowed her to find us. She’s a slick one. She’s got resources, and it’s not just the police. That mobster helped her. I know it.”
At the mention of Gennarro Battaglia, Reggi winces. She’s been trying to forget that history, knowing she did her part in the killing of his wife so long ago. Madison knows it, too. But Madison is going to make her grandmother face her fears and confront reality.
“We have to talk about him, Grandmother.”
“I don’t want to.”
“It’s one of the reasons we are here, in this town,” Madison explains.
Reggi is perplexed, and it shows, “In this town? Why?”
Madison continues, “You agreed to continue therapy and I agreed to go with you. Right?”
“Yes, but why is San Luis Obispo so important?” Reggi asks.
“The California Men’s Colony is twenty miles away. That’s where Battaglia is.”
Reggi’s mouth falls open, and she instantly objects, “I’m not seeing him!”
Madison knows her grandmother is upset, so in her best soothing voice, she says, “And we’re not going to do anything you don’t want to do. But, seeing him is an option you may want to take as part of your recovery. It will be up to you. Understand?”
Reggi is a little shaken, but calms down. “Yes. Now call your mother.”
Madison smiles and kisses her grandmother on the cheek, then takes her cell out from her rear pocket and, finding her mother in her contacts, waits for her call to be answered.
“Charlotte Bouknight,” the call is answered.
“Mom, it’s me,” Madison tells her, and she can hear her mother choke up as she hears her older daughter’s voice.
“Goddammit, Madison, please come home!” She’s crying, sobbing, almost out of control.
“Stop, Mom. I don’t have long.”
“OK, Madison. Shit.” The sobbing continues, but it’s subdued.
“We were caught and arrested by Aunt Addie, but we got away. I think she found out where we were because of that long phone call I had with her. The phone call YOU asked me to make.”
“What?”
“Listen, Mom, I love you and this will be over someday. We are on the West Coast now. My phone calls to you will be brief and less often. But, don’t think I don’t care about you or my sister. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t trust that Addie won’t work through you again to find us. Before I hang up, is there anything you want to say? Just remember I love you.”
“I know you do. I love you, too. I have only one thing to tell you before we hang up.”
“What is it, Mom?”
“What you are doing is dangerous, and you can’t trust your grandmother.”
5
Whatever is begun in anger ends in shame. Benjamin Franklin
Charlotte stares into her cell, and the call ends. With deep concern, she sadly places it into her pocket. Her eyes are wet with pools of tears forming. Losing her husband is one thing, but losing her older daughter is her greatest fear. It makes her ill at the idea of it. And it’s all Reggi’s fault. Her worry over Madison is replaced quickly with anger. The same pattern repeats itself. She finds she is no longer just sad.
Charlotte begins to fume over the action and inaction of her mother. Reggi Thomas is responsible for her having lost her husband. Charlotte saw him off that morning. He took that short trip from Asheville to the mobster’s home. Never to be seen again. As Charlotte looks around her shabby apartment outside of Swannanoa, she considers life’s twists that have been forced upon her. It’s not fair.
Reggi’s responsible, complicit even, in her daughter Madison’s effort to run away. She’s fled to the west coast with Reggi. Now Reggi is trying to force a wedge between Madison and herself, telling her that she, Charlotte, is responsible for Addie having found them. Madison didn’t say exactly that, but Charlotte knows how Reggi thinks and how she manipulates people.
Reggi is such a bitch and I hate her, hate her, hate her! It’s Charlotte’s mantra. She doesn’t understand why her brother Frank can’t see this. Nor their sister. He looks the other way Megan doesn’t care to discuss it. Charlotte knows there are a lot of messed up families out there. But this family has to be the definition of it.
It’s a deeply rooted loathing Charlotte has been nurturing for a long time. She prays Reggi is arrested soon and all this ends. Better yet, if she were to be shot. Yes, that would be so good, Charlotte muses. Her head is swimming and swarming with ideas to help speed things along – to have Reggi sent back to lock-up and Madison safely returned.
Reggi Thomas, my mother, out of my life forever.
It's all she thinks about.
6
Creativity is intelligence having fun. Albert Einstein
“So, you don’t think John Paulson is responsible for the murders in Panama City beach or Tyler, Texas?” Commissioner Evans asks, expectantly looking at Captain Henson, his eyes meeting hers, and he’s not happy.
Addie doesn’t flinch and doesn’t pull away from Evans’ stare. She’s not intimidated, and replies, “No. I thought he was our man. This is why he’s here in our jail, awaiting formal charges from the D.A.’s office. When I arrested him in Las Cruces, I was so sure. Everything pointed his way. He was with Reggi Thomas and Madison Bouknight from the time they left New York City, following them. But it appears he was only trying to protect them, as misguided as that sounds.”
“Now who do you think the killer is, Addie? You don’t have any other suspects. Can’t we make Paulson good for this with the evidence we have?” Evans is sorry he suggested they pin the murders on him anyway. Sorry the moment the words left his lips. “Forget that.”
“Evidence will clear him, Bill. And It’s not true another suspect isn’t in the picture.”
“You mean the guy wearing the shabby clothes and some wide, straw hat? That’s just a figment of imagination, nothing more. We need something solid.”
Addie pauses to regroup her thoughts. “Follow the girls, that’s my mission. The killer has a thing for them. I know it. The person in those shabby clothes purposely fled the scene in Las Cruces. That has guilt written all over it. And, from what we’ve seen on street footage, that person is the right height for the killings, which forensics says is no taller than five foot eight, and likely smaller.”
Before Evans can raise objections, Addie continues, “So, I’m going to find the women, and then find the killer. Reggi Thomas will be sent back to Woodside. Madison Bouknight will be arrested for aiding and abetting. The killer will be there, and the killer will be arrested. Neat and tidy.”
“How do you propose to find the women? Going to ‘triangulate’ again?” Evans says mockingly, using air quotes.
Addie laughs a little, “Hey, that worked. Don’t be such a critic. Broaden your horizons, Bill,” Then Addie uses air quotes herself. “Anyway, no, I won’t need ‘triangulation’ this time. I have something better.”
“The starved lover Madison left behind?” Evans asks. “You plan on waiting for him? That could be forever.”
“He’s one option. And my Tyler stationhouse surveillance team tells me this is imminent. But I have one other clever little trick.”
“Go on, I’m listening,” Evans says, leading her.
“John Paulson will be released soon. The DNA will clear him. He wants to find Reggi and Madison, and I’m going to give him enough rope to do just that.”
“Go on,” Evans says again.
Addie looks at him without answering right away. This is his answer, he gets it. “I don’t want
to know the answer to that, do I?”
“Let’s talk about the suggestion you made the other day, Bill. I like it,” Addie tells him.
Evans is relieved his captain is moving on her ideas. She has plans, this one. He’s pleased to move on to this next stage of their discussion, also, the real reason for having this meeting, “The Task Force, yes.”
“I want to reenter the field, Bill, and go after the women myself. Once I do, I’ll need four or five days to complete the assignment, and I won’t come away empty-handed. I need a partner, and I have something in mind.”
“You always do. You’re not taking Frank on this one, I hope,” Evans inquires, referring to the Las Cruces operation. Frank was there to serve as a friendly face for his mother when Addie made her arrests.
“No, Frank stays home on this one. I want to ask Agatha Thomas, Frank’s son’s wife. She’s NYPD material, very ambitious, and well trained. She’s earning her chops and taking the sergeant’s exam soon. She’ll make detective after that. The crimes began in New York, making her a good choice. She’d be part of the task force.”
Evans nods in agreement, “The NYPD would jump at the chance. If you are successful, they get the kudos, too. Have you talked to her yet? I mean, this isn’t a done deal yet.”
“No. And what’s this about ‘if I’m successful’? Have faith, Bill,” she teases.
Evans pauses. Addie doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling he’s got something else, something a little bigger. She finds out as he replies, “I’ll speak with the commissioner up there first. Then you can talk to her about the assignment. Now, as for the task force, I need another person in charge of it.”
Disappointment registers with Addie, and Evans sees it. “Listen, Addie, you’re in the field. We need a manager. This is how it’s done. The man that will be running things with the task force is arriving at two today, which is now.”
A knock at the door to Evan’s office is followed by its opening, and a young lady announces a newly arrived addition to the meeting. Evans waves her in and as she does, Agent David Juvieux walks in behind her.
Addie leaps to her feet to meet the man she worked with two years earlier when Reggi Thomas was found to have committed the murder of Elsie Battaglia. They went through a lot together during that time. Addie doesn’t forget. Although she does regret the time since, losing contact, each busy with their jobs and careers. They both know the field they are in can be very demanding. With their offices hundreds of miles apart, it’s easy to lose touch.
When she sees David’s outstretched hand, she slaps it. “That won’t do!” She hugs him warmly and he returns it. Both are smiling and patting each other on the back briskly. When they break free, the time spent apart melts away and it’s as if that old case was solved yesterday. Their conversation flows freely, and old friends are reunited.
Evans knows he made the right decision now. Addie is clearly quite pleased with this development. “Let’s take a seat and get this started.”
As the three of them take their seats, the planning begins. Phone calls are made, and the team is slowly assembled. Their task force carries special powers as Juvieux is FBI and has the ability to move swiftly and summon resources no one jurisdiction has control of.
Operations of this magnitude require money and manpower. The federal, state, and local members to be assembled ensure their needs will be met. Even Evans is inspired and excited over the opportunity to make this happen, to be a part of an operation to bring to conclusion a nagging problem to his office, as well as Florida and Texas, and New York City, where this all began.
In all, there are just under ten members in the task force, from Captain Boyer in Texas to Agatha Thomas in New York, to Panama City and Asheville. Wherever the women have fled to will complete the task force. The deputizing will be made then.
One thing is certain. This is bigger than the Woman’s Battered Network. This is bigger than the Underground.
When the meeting is concluded, Evans is confident in the outcome of the operation. He sees Addie and David to his door. As the two walk down the hall toward the elevator bank, Addie looks over to David. “Miller time?”
Juvieux breaks a grin, “You bet. McCann’s?”
“Ah, you remember,” she replies, referring to the time she found David sleeping on her couch, hungover from the retirement party of Addie’s former captain, who she replaced.
“My head was pounding. But, you know, ‘good times’.”
◆◆◆
“What do you think? Just be honest, Frank.”
“She’ll love it. Let’s call them.”
“Evans reached out to me. He cleared Agatha’s participation in all this with the deputy commissioner in New York. He’s excited over the task force. He’s even more impressed with who’s leading it. David really gets around. Anyway, the door’s open. We can reach out to her. You think Frannie will be OK with it?”
“Frannie will be fine with it.” Laughing, Frank remembers, “He tells me Agatha can be a little scary sometimes with all the stuff she does. She can take care of herself.”
When the call is answered, Frannie loudly says, “Hello Sir!”
“Hey, kid. Addie is here. Can you find Agatha?”
“She’s right here. Let me put you on speaker.”
“Hey Addie, Frank,” Agatha says in greeting. “A little bird told me you’d be calling,” she adds in her sweet voice.
“Hi Agatha,” Addie interjects. “The task force is being assembled. I assume you want to be on it.”
“I do. Tell me about it. It’s OK if Frannie hears, too?”
“Yes,” Addie answers. Then she goes into detail about the task force – who’s leading it, what its members are, the resources they’ll have, the powers they’ll wield. At the end, Addie wants to know something from her. “I hear you have been receiving special training, Agatha.”
Agatha replies, “First, let me thank you for this opportunity. This is exciting news that any officer would want to be a part of. To answer your question, yes. I like my work. I don’t like to brag, but I’m good at it. I’ve been going through training sessions. Frannie complains it takes up a lot of my time. You know how men are.”
Frannie rolls his eyes as she continues, “One of my specialties is the study of the criminal mind. To catch a criminal, I have to think like one. I’ve completed level two of the training. That meant being involved in solving a case. It was a little creepy, but that’s the nature of the business. My other training is in hand to hand combat. I get a little carried away sometimes. I think I broke my instructor’s arm last week. He said no, but I don’t believe him. The other classmates don’t either. I think some are afraid to spar with me.”
Frannie adds, “She works out every day. I feel very safe in the City, any time of day or night. She’s a gun toting young lady that can kill a man with her bare hands.”
Agatha slaps his arm, and he screeches, wincing from the red mark she just left. “He’s just being silly.”
Addie is already impressed with this petite girl, in her twenties. “Hmm. OK. Let me explain the case. I’ll send the files over for some light reading.”
Agatha laughs at that, “I’m familiar with case files over an inch thick. Oh, one more thing, I have a photographic memory, kind of. I have to concentrate and pay attention, but it usually works well.”
“So, you’re a machine? We’ll see if that comes in handy, Agatha,” giving the small group a light laugh.
Addie explains the case, the history. In closing, she tells them once her break arrives, she’ll need Agatha for five days to catch Madison, Reggi, and the killer. She’s thinking in two weeks, tops. At that time, Agatha will have to drop everything, and they’ll meet up. Before then, the meetings with the assembled task force will be held. Agent Juvieux will reach out, she’s told.
Addie adds a singular thought for Agatha to process.
“It’s only a matter of time before the killings begin again.”
&
nbsp; 7
Good artists copy, great artists steal. Pablo Picasso
Deciding to go to the grocery store, a glance is given to the umbrella standing in the corner before opening the front door. It has initials on the stem. It’s a little funny-looking and old fashioned. It’s also the souvenir taken from Panama City Beach after that man was so brutally killed inside the Sunbird Condominiums. Next to it, on the foyer dumbwaiter, lies the watch that was taken, another souvenir.
The killer pauses to reflect on those lives taken; little men whose only crime was befriending Reggi Thomas. What losers they were, and deserving of their ends, bloodied and beaten. No person is without a past and that past always holds some evil deed, something to regret, and regret dearly. The killer is certain the two dead men merited to be mocked as they were losing their lives, regretting only that it all ended too quickly. At the very least they could have fought back, even just a little. There were pauses between each strike. Their inability, or lack of any survival instinct, gave cause for heightened anger, feeding the power needed to strike harder and harder.
It all proves one thing. Using an aluminum bat is cheap, convenient – and you don’t always have to look your best, the killer muses, chuckling under hot, heavy breath. Deciding there’s no rain today, the umbrella is left where it is, the door opened. Stepping through to the other side, then closing the door, it’s a short walk to the car. Humming, the killer drives off while preparing a mental list to shop for. It’s time to take a little road trip.
Later, driving monotonously, for what seems like forever, onward towards Asheville. Short or long trips always seem interminable when you’re watching every mile marker whiz by. Sightseeing doesn’t cut it and can’t bring an end to the travel any quicker. An approaching sign announces Asheville city limits have been crossed. The navigation system reads Exit Eight, and the directions to the women’s shelter, Carolina Mission, come into view. The end of this road trip, or at least the half of it, is close.