Out of the shadows, p.16
Out of the Shadows, page 16
“Brice,” she’d said as soon as he’d answered the phone. “I may have a way of locating his next victim.”
There had been silence on the phone for a full half minute before Brice had spoken. “Please, Amy, for my sake this time. Stop.”
“Brice—”
“Look, I’ll call you later and we’ll talk, okay?”
She’d closed her eyes, squeezing them so tightly shut that colors flashed behind the lids. “All right,” she’d whispered before hanging up.
She’d taken a couple of minutes to compose herself, and then had returned to class. The instant class had ended, she’d left the academy and gone to headquarters and into the forensic lab.
“Well?” she asked Neary when he greeted her.
“It’s standard twenty-pound copy paper. It can be bought anywhere. The cutout words are from various newspapers and magazines.”
“Prints?”
“Only yours and mine. Nothing else, not even oil residue. He used gloves. As far as the glue goes, I’ll send that out for analysis, but it’s most likely store-bought paper glue. In other words, there’s nothing we can use, and certainly nothing to prove it came from our killer.”
Amy blinked. “We have more than we’ve ever had. He sent this note! He’s never done anything like this before.”
“We can’t prove it’s the Phantom.”
“But we both know it is, don’t we, Todd?”
Neary shuffled his feet before nodding. “Yes.” Then the forensic technician picked up the original note with a pair of forceps, and slid it into a plastic envelope.
“I’m going to put this away for now. When the time comes, we’ll use it.”
“Todd,” Amy said, placing a hand on his forearm, “you aren’t going to tell Brice about this, are you?”
The forensic technician stared at her. His eyes flicked from her to the note and back again. “Amy, I—”
“Listen to me, Todd. I trusted you enough to give you the ribbon and this letter. Now you’re going to have to trust me enough to wait until I give you the go-ahead before you do anything.
“If you tell Brice, he’ll have no choice but to put surveillance on me. If that happens, it will open the door to too many other possibilities: the easiest repercussion to foresee will be that the Phantom will rape and kill another woman.
“If he does,” Amy said, pausing for a breath, “then you’ll be responsible for her death. Another projection of his actions would be that he sees the police who are watching me, and he goes out of control and kills them in his effort to get to me. That, too, would be on your head, wouldn’t it?”
Todd Neary stared at her, doubtfully.
“Let me handle it, Todd. I’ll keep you posted and when I need help, I promise I’ll call for it.”
“We’re dealing with a psychopath, Amy. No one can tell what he will or won’t do.”
“You don’t believe that any more than I do. We know exactly what he wants and what he’s going to do to get it.”
“Doesn’t that scare you?”
Amy nodded. “Yes, Todd it scares me. It scares the hell out of me. But that’s not the issue, is it? Todd, he’s already tried to put me down, and he couldn’t do it.” His expression turned puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“Look at the note, Todd. Here,” she said, pointing to one sentence. “Where he says he thought he taught me enough to stop. Todd, he’s referring to that day on Fifteenth Street, when he ran me down with that truck.”
Todd regarded her with a patient look. “How do you know it was him, two years ago?”
“Because I was getting close. I was starting to think a little like him—to anticipate him. And he knew it, so he set me up. He used one of my informants to do it so I wouldn’t be suspicious, either. And he picked the perfect time. Not only didn’t I have Jim covering my back, but it was daytime. The Phantom never strikes during the day. Todd, you of all people have to see that he’s after me. It’s always been me.”
“That’s not what this letter says.”
“That’s exactly what it says. And you damned well know it!”
“Amy—”
She shook her head fiercely. “Todd, if you don’t help me, you’ll be hurting someone, whether it’s me, or an innocent person.”
This time it was her friend, Todd, not the forensic specialist, who nodded. “All right, Amy. But keep your promise. When you need help, you call for it.”
“You have my word. Thank you.”
Outside, Amy breathed in the cool air. For the first time in far too long, she had a real direction to move in. Along with that thought came the understanding that she would also have a chance to regain the self-respect she’d lost when she’d been run down and removed from the case.
Amy looked up at the late day sky. The sun was behind the tallest of the buildings. The sky was clear and cloudless. She was more alive than she’d been in the last twenty-six months—alive and driven by one massive need.
To end the Phantom’s career of death.
<><><>
He watched Amy Morgan turn and walk toward her car. He stood perfectly still, hidden in the shadows of the building’s facade.
Her walk, even in the skirted uniform, was tantalizing. Her blonde hair glowed in the natural light of the late afternoon. He knew her skin was like velvet.
His breathing deepened and his hands curled into tight balls as he imagined the feel of her skin against him, her body responding to him despite her fear as he used her to fulfill his every desire.
He usually kept the others with him for several days. Some of them he’d kept for longer, but with the real thing, with Amy Morgan... He paused thoughtfully: he didn’t know how long it would take. All he knew was that it would not be quick.
When she unlocked her car door and got in, he knew he could not wait much longer to teach the lieutenant the error of her ways.
He laughed into the back of his hand, turning the sound into a cough as a uniformed policeman walked by on his way to headquarters.
“I’m coming, Amy. I’m coming.”
<><><>
Her eyelids grew heavy. The lights in the windows across from her began a slow dance that faded into darkness. A second later a car horn blared and Amy jumped.
“Wow,” she breathed, realizing she had dozed off. She checked the time. It was ten-thirty. She glanced at Harold Slater’s window. The flickering bluish white lights told her nothing had changed in the few moments she’d dozed off.
She moved the ignition key to the accessory position and turned on the radio. She chose an all-news station, and she listened to the droning voices of the man/woman news team.
She admitted her tiredness, but was at a loss to find a way to ease her schedule. It was just she, Rivera, and Wahl. Before, she’d always had resources at her beck and call. If she needed surveillance, she could put three teams on a twenty-four-hour stakeout, with backup available.
When she’d been on active duty, she’d had forensic experts, computer people, and the manpower of the entire department at her disposal, and she still hadn’t caught the Phantom. Now, she had only herself and two cadets.
Sighing, Amy looked beyond the folly of what she was attempting in order to gain an understanding of her acts. This afternoon, her excitement had known no bounds. She’d made a promise to catch the killer, and her optimism had grown by volumes.
The reality of sitting out on the cold night street, with exhaustion inching over her entire being, made her wonder how much her actions were being controlled by her brain, and how much by her emotions.
Or, she suddenly thought, sitting straighter in the car seat, was she acting, or reacting? Was her confidence and enthusiasm only a cover to hide the unreasoning fear of being marked a victim? Was that it? Was this just her way of masking her fear of discovering that a madman had been stalking her for years?
Todd Neary had asked her if she was scared. She’d told him she was. And it had not been a lie. Fear was a normal reaction to danger.
But this wasn’t the generic danger a police officer always faces; this was personal!
She closed her eyes and shook her head. She understood the danger of allowing her thoughts to continue in that direction. She had to think right, not wrong. While it was true that a healthy dose of fear made one aware and sometimes stronger than usual, too much fear crippled thought and action.
Her phone rang. The chirruping broke her concentration immediately. She pressed the talk button. “Morgan.”
“Lieutenant, it’s Cindy Wahl. I’m a block away. Is there a parking spot near you?”
“You have a car tonight?”
“A compact so it can be a small space.”
Amy looked around. There was a spot a few cars behind her. The view of the front door and of Slater’s apartment was unobstructed. “When you come down the block, it’s three-quarters of the way in. Across the street from the apartment.”
“I see it,” Wahl said. “Bye,” she added, shutting off the phone.
Seeing the headlights in her rearview mirror, Amy turned off her radio and opened the car door. Because she’d already shut it off, the interior light did not come on.
She stretched out the kinks in her back, and walked to where Wahl was parking. Just as she reached the car, Wahl opened the door. The light came on, clearly illuminating the young woman.
Amy bent and pushed the door closed. “Turn off the light,” she told the cadet. “Always!”
“Sorry. I didn’t think about it.”
“You will from now on,” Amy said. “You think about everything. One mistake is all it takes to give yourself away. One mistake can end your life, or your partner’s.” Kneeling against the car, Amy made herself less conspicuous. When she spoke again, her tone was softer. “Slater’s been inside all night. If he does come out, you have to be careful he doesn’t lose you the way he did Rivera.”
“I know,” the cadet said.
“All right. You take it easy.” As she started to straighten, she noticed Wahl’s purse was in the passenger seat, the covering flap open.
Intuitively, she knew why. Bending into the window, she reached past Wahl and grabbed the purse before the cadet could react. The weight of the purse told her that her instinct had been correct.
Opening the purse, she found a nine-millimeter pistol. “What exactly is this for?”
Wahl swallowed several times. “In case of emergency.”
Amy walked around the car and got in on the passenger side. She checked the weapon, taking out the clip and making sure that there was no ammunition in the pistol’s chamber.
“Cynthia, you’re making me regret the decision I made. My God, girl, don’t you know what would happen if you used this? You’d be crucified. And if you actually killed someone, you’d go to jail.”
“But if he—”
“You are here for only one purpose—to watch Harold Slater, to follow him should he leave. You are here to make sure that if Harold Slater abducts a blonde woman, who is near my age, with my body type and who looks a little like me, that you will call me and I can then institute the procedures to save that woman’s life. That is why you are here. There is no other reason!”
“I have a carry permit—”
“—and I have my career on the line. You either do what I say, as you agreed or you will no longer be doing this, is that understood?”
Wahl held her hard stare for several seconds before blinking. “Yes, ma’am,” she whispered.
Amy leaned toward the cadet and placed her hand on Wahl’s shoulder. “Cynthia, we will get him, I promise you we will. But it has to be the right way. If we don’t, we’ll lose him.”
Wahl stared out the windshield, her eyes angled upward at Slater’s apartment. When she spoke, her eyes stayed on the light filtering through the blinds.
“It’s hard, Lieutenant. It’s hard to sit here knowing the man who raped and murdered my cousin is in that apartment. There are times I want to go up there and end it by shooting him.”
“Which you can’t do, because you are not him. Cynthia, being a cop isn’t easy. You know the law of physics that says for every action, there’s an opposite and equal reaction?”
When Wahl nodded Amy said, “That’s the problem with being a cop. We have to obey that law in order to obey our own laws. If someone is bad, we can’t be bad to catch them; we have to be good. And, we have to be so damned good that we can get the bad people and come away without having their evilness leach onto us. If you used your weapon the way you wanted then you wouldn’t be a policeman, but a criminal, even if you believed you were upholding the law.”
Pausing, she studied the cadet’s face. The young woman’s eyes were still on Slater’s apartment. Her mouth was locked in a stiff thin line. The muscles of her cheek were knotted and bunched.
Finally, Cynthia nodded. “I know you’re right, but it’s so damned hard. He...”
“We’ll get him. We will. But if we do it the right way, we’ll have proof to put him away, forever. If we don’t do it right, either we turn into him, or he stays free and we never get another chance to stop him.”
The cadet turned to face Amy. “It’s just not fair.”
“No, it’s not,” Amy agreed, “but it’s the way things work. So, do what you promised you would. Watch him. If he goes on the move, call me. Don’t do anything else.”
“Okay,” Wahl said.
Amy opened the car door, got out, and just before she closed the door, added, “We will get him, Cadet Wahl, we will.”
Cynthia Wahl met Amy’s eyes and saw the truth in them. “Yes, ma’am, we will!”
Closing the door, Amy walked to her car. She started the engine and pulled out of the parking space. As she drove home, she kept checking the rearview mirror.
When she was within three blocks of her house, the funny tingling sensation started at the base of her neck, and Amy knew she was being watched.
She stopped the car at a stop sign and looked in the rearview. There were no cars behind her. She waited a few seconds, hoping for the feeling to leave. When it didn’t, she drove through the intersection and continued on.
Her eyes flicked between the road ahead, the rearview mirror, and the side mirror. But she saw nothing, anywhere. She drove past her house, and circled the block.
Nothing.
Paranoia. Exhaustion, fear, and excitement are making me paranoid. She pulled into her driveway and shut off the car.
Before opening the door, she looked around. There was nothing. She left the car, bringing her thermos and the now empty paper bag she’d used to carry two plums, and went into the house.
She went to reset the alarm, but realized the alarm was off and had not been set. She heard the television and went into the living room. “Mom?” she called, stepping into the larger room.
As Joan Morgan turned to her, Amy realized the TV was not on. She heard something move to her right and spun just as a form rose from the club chair.
“Hello, Amy,” Ron Somers said.
Adrenaline pumped her blood faster and she exhaled when she recognized her ex-husband. “Ron, you startled me. What brings you here?”
When he stepped fully into the light, he said, “Actually, I came by to see Paul. I picked up a new cartridge for his video game. I wanted to talk to you as well, so I stayed.”
“About?” Amy asked.
Joan stood. “If you two will excuse me, I’m off to bed. See you in the morning.” She kissed Amy. “Good night, Ronald,” she added and left.
“Night, Joan,” Ron said.
Amy went to the couch and sat. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“A couple of things,” her ex said. “Paul to begin with. Amy, things in my life are getting very serious.”
“I know.”
He smiled and her stomach tensed. She’d always loved his smile. It was infectious. But, in the last year of their marriage, she couldn’t remember a single time he’d smiled.
“I’ll be getting married again, soon.”
“I know that, too. I’m happy for you,” she said, meaning it.
“Thank you. She’ll never try to take your place as Paul’s mother. But we will be having a family as well.”
Amy wasn’t sure of her feelings, but wasn’t jealous. “Just don’t forget Paul.”
“You know better than that. Paul and Suzanne like each other, and that helps a lot.”
“And she’s a nurse, I know.”
Ron laughed. “Yes.”
Amy watched him for several seconds. She was certain that there was more on his mind but that he was uncomfortable with it. “What?” she prompted.
He shifted on his feet. “You always could read me. Amy, word is out that you’re trying to get back on the Phantom case.”
“I’m a teacher now.”
Ron bent, bringing his face to within inches of hers. His eyes searched across her features for a moment before he straightened to his full height. “You know me, and I know you, Amy. Leave it be. Stay out of it now. You aren’t a street cop any longer.”
“Ron—”
“No!” he snapped. “Just listen to me.” He paused to moisten his lips with his tongue. “I lost my wife to the streets. I don’t want my son to lose his mother to them, too.”
“Ron, I’m not—”
“Don’t,” he said, holding his hand palm outward to stop her. “Just hear me out. You’ve been out of action for over two years. You’re physically slower than you were, and you don’t have that street edge anymore. What you’re doing is dangerous to yourself, and it’s dangerous to Paul. I want you to stop, now. I want you to back off and to let the homicide people do their job. I want you to do yours, as well. And that’s to teach new cops and to raise our son. Nothing more.”
“Are you finished?” she asked, her voice bowstring tight.
He nodded.
Standing, Amy strode to him, her anger flaring. “When we were married, you gave me ultimatums every day. ‘Do this! Don’t do that! Be here! Don’t be there!’ Well, we’re not married any longer. A fact I regret, Ron, I do, because we had a good love. But that part of our lives is over. So don’t ever presume to tell me what to do. And don’t ever take it for granted that I don’t think about Paul before I do anything.
