Killer lawyer, p.13
Killer Lawyer, page 13
part #3 of Jake Wolfe Series
Jake turned and walked to his car, Cody following. As they got into the Jeep and drove out onto the street, Jake called Terrell.
“I wanted you to be among the first to know the U.S. Marshals have officially assigned me to hunt and capture the Random Killer.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re a real LEO now. Hell has frozen over,” Terrell said.
Jake snorted. “It’s only temporary—so hell has only temporarily frozen over, until they fire my ass.”
“That shouldn’t take long. Can I place a bet?”
“Sure. Call Vito at Amborgetti’s . Lots of cops bet on sports there.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Terrell said. “Work your sources; give them your Marshals business cards and twenty bucks. Carry nitrile gloves and zip-top plastic bags, too, for gathering evidence.”
“I will, thanks,” Jake said. “Do you have any new leads on the suspect?”
“We found his car.”
“That was fast. Where does he live?”
Terrell’s tone was flat. “Easy, tiger. It was a stolen car, found abandoned in a parking lot.”
“How did you find it?”
“The police installed Automatic License Plate Recognition cameras in parking lots all over the city to find stolen cars, fugitives, and people with warrants.”
Those ALPR cameras are mounted on police cars too, aren’t they?”
“Lots of them, yeah.”
“That reminds me, I’m looking for a van with this license plate,” Jake said, sending a text.
There was a pause. Jake heard Terrell tap his phone.
“That vehicle was used in a burglary and it’s in the city impound lot,” Terrell said.
“Can you pull some strings and get it released?”
He sounded skeptical. “Why are you interested?”
“It belongs to a homeless woman I met. She was living in the van with her kids until some asshat stole it while she was at a laundromat.”
“Maybe I can cut it loose, if the techs are done with it.”
“I want to deliver it to Father O’Leary’s soup kitchen,” Jake said. “I sent the family over there to get some help.”
“I’ll have somebody drive it over there,” Terrell said. “You owe me one.”
“Thanks, man.”
“So, how are you planning to help on the Random Killer investigation?”
“I’m thinking of doing a TV news story to make the killer angry at me and draw him out from hiding.”
Terrell sighed. “That sounds like one of your usual dumb and risky ideas.”
Jake couldn’t help but smile a little. “My friend Debbie at my former employer can run the story for me.”
“I’m advising against it, but I know you’ll do it anyway, so I hope it works,” Terrell said.
“If I screw up, you’ll be the first to know,” Jake replied.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 28
Jake drove to the news station. He parked in the lot and sent texts to a few people he knew still worked there, letting them know he was stopping by for a visit and didn’t want the boss to find out.
As he sat there, he received a text from Terrell with a link to an online news story from a rival media outlet. It was about Marion’s murder, the flowers, Jake’s name on the card, his fingerprints at the scene, and his dog’s hair on Marion’s pants.
The story made Jake look guilty as hell. There was no mention of the police finding a video of the actual killer and providing Jake with an alibi. Jake’s guess was that most of the people all over the city who saw the article probably thought he was under arrest and in jail right now.
He scrolled up and glanced at the author’s name. Dick Arnold … of course. He’d had a grudge against Jake for years now. Jake had hoped after he left the media, Arnold would move on. Soon after, however, Arnold had lost his job, too. Now, Arnold was freelancing for a trashy tabloid website that paid him a few dollars for the daily sleaze.
Jake replied to Terrell’s text: Dickhead needs to get a life.
Terrell: How’s the lawsuit against him going?
Jake: Bart is helping Lauren Stephens sue him into the ground.
Terrell: And Dick is digging himself in even deeper.
Jake: I need to think of a way to get him off my back, for good.
Terrell: Put your mind to it. Come up with something to make his media career FUBAR.
Jake: Yeah, it’s time to end this.
Jake leaned back with a heavy sigh. He had his radio tuned to the police radio frequency, and he heard the report of a homicide—a bride shot her groom with one round to the head.
He texted Terrell: Did you hear that on the radio, about the bride and groom?
Terrell: I’m on my way.
Jake: See you there.
The news station would have to wait. Jake turned on his Jeep’s siren and flashing lights, left the parking lot, and drove toward the hotel as fast as he could.
When he arrived, SFPD officers were out in force. He dressed Cody in a K9 vest and told him to wait in the Jeep. He got out and walked toward the scene wearing his U.S. Marshals badge on his belt and a black tactical vest that read:
POLICE
U.S. MARSHAL
Terrell was already there. As Jake approached, fellow cops looked Jake up and down, and Terrell said, “He’s with me, as part of a task force.”
Jake nodded respectfully at the cops and asked, “Did anyone find a shell casing on the ground?”
A plainclothes brunette turned around at the sound of his voice. Sergeant Roxanne Poole looked at him in recognition, and then used one finger to push her glasses up higher on her nose. She was a brunette with determined brown eyes, and seemed like the brainy type, with a look on her face that said: If you mess with me, you’d better change your passwords or I’ll be all up in your private life five minutes from now.
“No, Jake, we haven’t found the casing,” she said. “Do you have your dog with you?”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, Rox. You want Cody to search for the brass?”
“Sure. Our K9 team is on the way but still a few minutes out,” she said.
“You’ve got it.” Jake pressed his key fob and opened a door on his Jeep. He whistled, and Cody jumped out, wearing the vest that said POLICE K9. Another squeeze of the fob, and the Jeep door slammed shut.
Roxanne, ever the tech officer, watched the K9 door in nerdy fascination. “That’s cool. I like it.”
Cody went to Roxanne and pressed against her. Her eyes widened in alarm.
Jake smiled. “It’s okay, Rox. Remember when I told you Cody likes you?”
Roxanne nodded but stood perfectly still, somewhat unnerved by Cody. “Yeah, but why does he like me?”
“He finds you trustworthy, and he has good judgement.” Jake snapped his fingers and Cody returned to his side. Clipping a leash onto his dog’s collar, Jake reached into his knapsack and took out a small plastic jar. He unscrewed the cap to reveal a spent shell casing and held it up so Cody could take a sniff. “Cody, seek gunpowder. Seek, seek, seek.”
Cody sniffed the round, and then the air and the pavement, walking while moving his head back and forth.
Jake put the jar away and followed behind his dog. He watched Cody’s nostrils flare as he drank in the multitude of scents, a veritable kaleidoscope to his highly sensitive nose, as he sought out the smell of brass.
Cody went to a uniformed officer and sniffed the holster on his belt. The officer cursed when the dog got too close to his crotch.
“Sorry, boss,” Jake said, tugging on the leash and pulling Cody away. “Did you fire your weapon recently?”
“Yeah, I put in some time at the pistol range early this morning,” the cop said.
“My dog is searching for the spent casing from this homicide,” Jake said apologetically.
“All right, carry on,” the cop said, with a sweeping gesture of his hand.
Cody sniffed under cars, along the sidewalk, and then crisscrossed the street. Finally, he started following the scent to the parking lot’s exit. After a while, he stopped and looked at Jake.
Jake patted him on the back. “Good dog.”
Terrell walked up to them. “Shot from a moving vehicle?”
“Cody seems to think so,” Jake replied.
Terrell looked down the street, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any Vitamin I with you? I’ve got a splitting headache, and I thought I had more in my rig, but I ran out.”
Jake reached into his jacket and produced two travel-size packets of ibuprofen. “Here you go. The only reason I carry these around is because I know you’re getting forgetful in your old age.”
Terrell smiled and nodded at the familiar joke. He walked to his SUV, grabbed a to-go cup of cold coffee, and popped two pills in his mouth.
Jake felt a weight on his heart as he watched his friend, wishing there was some way to help him with the headaches. Few people besides Jake knew the secret: Terrell had a piece of shrapnel in his head, a souvenir from combat deployments. If his wife, Alicia, ever found out, it would break her heart and she’d worry herself sick.
The doctors Terrell consulted said it was too risky to operate, due to the after-effects of his traumatic brain injury. They’d said that after surviving the TBI he was lucky to be alive, and the medical team at Landstuhl Hospital at Ramstein Air Base, Germany, had performed a miracle.
Everybody told Terrell he should be grateful to be alive. He often said he was grateful.
But Jake knew Terrell lived a life of pain, and the endless hurt was wearing him down, day after day, as he worked hard to protect his city.
Chapter 29
As the SFPD performed their methodical crime scene investigation, Jake began to feel angry and impatient. He wasn’t known for letting the wheels of justice grind slowly.
He got into the Jeep and drove back to the TV station.
When he walked into the lobby with Cody by his side, several people stopped to say hello. They asked about his life as a boat bum wannabe lawyer. He took a lot of ribbing, but kept a smile on his face as he fended off their questions with cheerful but vague answers.
Making his way down the hallways, he arrived at the office of his former boss, Norman, the insufferable blowhard who’d fired him. He peered around the open doorframe to peek inside at the receptionist. Cody, a few feet below Jake, peered in, too.
In the reception area, Norman’s gray-haired secretary, Debbie, saw Jake and Cody peeking in and she smiled. There was an unlit cigarette in the corner of her mouth, red lipstick on the filter. She pointed her finger at Jake and said, “It’s about time you visited me, you unemployed ne'er-do-well.”
Jake grinned and stepped into the reception area with Cody beside him. “Hey, Deb. How are you?”
“I’m good. This must be Cody. I saw him on TV.”
“Yep, that’s Cody the wonder dog. He gets all the publicity; I just drive him around in the car like a chauffeur.”
Cody woofed at Debbie.
She put her finger up to her lips. “Shush. No barking. Crazy man might hear you.”
Jake looked at the wall behind her. “I’m glad to see the buffalo head is gone.”
“Thank you for taking care of bison-zilla. You’re a good boy, no matter what Norman says. If I can return the favor, just let me know.”
“Well, it’s funny you should mention that. I’d like to run a public service message about a wanted criminal, and how the public can help the police bring him to justice.”
“No problemo. Do you have it on video ready to go, or were you planning to record it here?”
“I’d like to get into one of the studio rooms and do a quick recording.”
Debbie looked at her huge desk phone screen with all of its icons. “Norm just got off the phone. Hurry and get out of here. Text me with the room you’re in and I’ll send Linda.”
“Thanks, Deb.” Jake gave Cody a command and they ran down the hall.
Jake heard Norman’s angry voice from the office just as he left. “Who was talking in here just now? And what’s that furry smell? Rats? Call the exterminators and tell them I want a refund.”
Jake went into a studio equipped with a TV camera, a news desk, and a chair. After a few minutes, a woman joined him and gave him a hug.
“Jake, you rascal. What are you up to now?”
“Hey, Linda. I’m going to do a public service announcement to assist our local law enforcement.”
“Great, let’s do this.”
Linda got the camera running, while Jake sat in the chair and consulted a paper filled with his scribbled notes. Cody stood next to him.
Linda counted Jake in. “Three, two, one—go.”
Jake faced the camera, wearing his U.S. Marshals badge on a lanyard around his neck. Next to the camera was a monitor where he could see himself. “Fellow citizens of San Francisco, as you know, there’s a serial killer loose on the streets of our city. He’s been named the Random Killer. You can help us catch this criminal by providing tips and intel to local law enforcement. If you see something—say something. Here’s his photo. It’s not a good one, but check the Most-Wanted website for updates. You can make an anonymous tip online.”
Thanks to Linda, the monitor he could see was now displaying the surveillance photos while the U.S. Marshals website URL and a phone number appeared across the bottom.
“You may remember me from when I did investigative photojournalism work for this news team. Now, I’ve volunteered to investigate the Random Killer.” Jake pursed his lips, trying to keep his temper in check. “Recently, this criminal killed my neighbor, an innocent grandmother, for no reason other than that he enjoyed it. Please help us capture him. If you know anything that might assist law enforcement, visit the Most Wanted website or call the number on your screen. No tip is too small. The U.S. Marshals will follow up on every one.”
Jake leaned toward the camera and his eyes flashed with anger.
“And to the killer, if you see this, I just want to say that I am going to hunt you down if it takes me the rest of my life. I’m looking for you right now, while you’re watching this prerecorded video. You are my full-time occupation. I might even be outside your window right now. See you soon, you piece of—” Well, Linda would have to bleep that part out.
Cody stood on his hind legs, put his paws on the desk and snarled at the camera, showing his teeth.
The camera’s light went off and Linda said, “Got it. And that was great how you had Cody do that bit at the end.”
Jake grinned. “He did that on his own. I never know what he might do next.”
Linda tilted her head, stared at Cody, and raised one eyebrow; Cody tilted his head, stared back at her and quirked an eyebrow in reply.
Jake said, “Cody, be friends.”
Cody showed Linda a big grin, wagged his tail, and shook his head so his ears flopped.
Linda smiled. “He reminds me of Gracie, but he seems kind of scary-smart.”
Jake got a sad look on his face, his heart breaking once again at the painful memory. “There was only one Gracie. I miss her.”
Linda gave Jake another hug, and then took a step back. “Oh, and Jake, I want to thank you again for stopping that online troll who was stalking me. You don’t know how frightening that was.”
Jake nodded. “I’ve been in combat with a price on my head. I know what it’s like to have somebody hunting you. That’s why I did what I had to do.”
“You never said exactly what you did to him.”
“And I never will. The results are all that count. He left town and has never bothered another woman. I know, because I keep tabs on him.”
“This killer you talked about in the video … you said he murdered an innocent grandmother. I got the feeling she was a friend of yours.”
Jake looked down at the carpet and nodded. “Yes, she was. I’m going to find the killer, and then I’m going to—”
Linda put her hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Be careful out there, Jake. Promise?”
“Of course. Cody is counting on me to buy his dog food.”
Cody barked once and pawed the carpet.
The three of them started down the hallway, toward the front door. Jake could hear Norman yelling at somebody.
Linda sighed. “I’ve got to go. I don’t want to cross paths with my crazy boss today if I can help it.”
Jake shook her hand and smiled. “Yeah, get going. You don’t want to be seen with the likes of me.”
She laughed and took off down a hallway.
Jake and Cody went out the front door, and just as it was closing, he heard Norman yell, “Was that Jake Wolfe? Call security!”
Jake kept on walking. He and Cody got into the Jeep and drove away.
As soon as it was edited, the public service announcement began playing on TV and online, bypassing the approval committee.
Chapter 30
Oakland police officer Ron Martinez drove to the scene of an accident near the docks and railroad tracks. He parked his “black-and-white” car, leaving the lights flashing.
A pickup truck had crashed into a light pole. Paramedics were loading a young teenage boy into an ambulance.
Martinez walked up to the wreck. “Is he cognizant?”
A paramedic said, “Yes, but he has a head wound, and he’s disoriented.”
“That works for me,” Martinez said. He turned to the young man. “Who else was riding with you in the stolen truck?”
The boy raised a weak hand and gave him the middle finger. “I want a lawyer, bitch.”
Martinez shrugged. “You’ll need one, dumb ass. Grand theft auto will send you to juvenile prison for a lot of years, while your friends get away with it and start screwing your girlfriend.”
The kid scowled. “I didn’t steal the truck. I was standing on the sidewalk and they drove up and asked me to hop in and go for a ride.”
“Did they get hurt in the crash, or just you?”
“Just me. They stole it, but I’m the one who got hurt, and now you’re going to arrest me.”
“I wanted you to be among the first to know the U.S. Marshals have officially assigned me to hunt and capture the Random Killer.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re a real LEO now. Hell has frozen over,” Terrell said.
Jake snorted. “It’s only temporary—so hell has only temporarily frozen over, until they fire my ass.”
“That shouldn’t take long. Can I place a bet?”
“Sure. Call Vito at Amborgetti’s . Lots of cops bet on sports there.”
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Terrell said. “Work your sources; give them your Marshals business cards and twenty bucks. Carry nitrile gloves and zip-top plastic bags, too, for gathering evidence.”
“I will, thanks,” Jake said. “Do you have any new leads on the suspect?”
“We found his car.”
“That was fast. Where does he live?”
Terrell’s tone was flat. “Easy, tiger. It was a stolen car, found abandoned in a parking lot.”
“How did you find it?”
“The police installed Automatic License Plate Recognition cameras in parking lots all over the city to find stolen cars, fugitives, and people with warrants.”
Those ALPR cameras are mounted on police cars too, aren’t they?”
“Lots of them, yeah.”
“That reminds me, I’m looking for a van with this license plate,” Jake said, sending a text.
There was a pause. Jake heard Terrell tap his phone.
“That vehicle was used in a burglary and it’s in the city impound lot,” Terrell said.
“Can you pull some strings and get it released?”
He sounded skeptical. “Why are you interested?”
“It belongs to a homeless woman I met. She was living in the van with her kids until some asshat stole it while she was at a laundromat.”
“Maybe I can cut it loose, if the techs are done with it.”
“I want to deliver it to Father O’Leary’s soup kitchen,” Jake said. “I sent the family over there to get some help.”
“I’ll have somebody drive it over there,” Terrell said. “You owe me one.”
“Thanks, man.”
“So, how are you planning to help on the Random Killer investigation?”
“I’m thinking of doing a TV news story to make the killer angry at me and draw him out from hiding.”
Terrell sighed. “That sounds like one of your usual dumb and risky ideas.”
Jake couldn’t help but smile a little. “My friend Debbie at my former employer can run the story for me.”
“I’m advising against it, but I know you’ll do it anyway, so I hope it works,” Terrell said.
“If I screw up, you’ll be the first to know,” Jake replied.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Chapter 28
Jake drove to the news station. He parked in the lot and sent texts to a few people he knew still worked there, letting them know he was stopping by for a visit and didn’t want the boss to find out.
As he sat there, he received a text from Terrell with a link to an online news story from a rival media outlet. It was about Marion’s murder, the flowers, Jake’s name on the card, his fingerprints at the scene, and his dog’s hair on Marion’s pants.
The story made Jake look guilty as hell. There was no mention of the police finding a video of the actual killer and providing Jake with an alibi. Jake’s guess was that most of the people all over the city who saw the article probably thought he was under arrest and in jail right now.
He scrolled up and glanced at the author’s name. Dick Arnold … of course. He’d had a grudge against Jake for years now. Jake had hoped after he left the media, Arnold would move on. Soon after, however, Arnold had lost his job, too. Now, Arnold was freelancing for a trashy tabloid website that paid him a few dollars for the daily sleaze.
Jake replied to Terrell’s text: Dickhead needs to get a life.
Terrell: How’s the lawsuit against him going?
Jake: Bart is helping Lauren Stephens sue him into the ground.
Terrell: And Dick is digging himself in even deeper.
Jake: I need to think of a way to get him off my back, for good.
Terrell: Put your mind to it. Come up with something to make his media career FUBAR.
Jake: Yeah, it’s time to end this.
Jake leaned back with a heavy sigh. He had his radio tuned to the police radio frequency, and he heard the report of a homicide—a bride shot her groom with one round to the head.
He texted Terrell: Did you hear that on the radio, about the bride and groom?
Terrell: I’m on my way.
Jake: See you there.
The news station would have to wait. Jake turned on his Jeep’s siren and flashing lights, left the parking lot, and drove toward the hotel as fast as he could.
When he arrived, SFPD officers were out in force. He dressed Cody in a K9 vest and told him to wait in the Jeep. He got out and walked toward the scene wearing his U.S. Marshals badge on his belt and a black tactical vest that read:
POLICE
U.S. MARSHAL
Terrell was already there. As Jake approached, fellow cops looked Jake up and down, and Terrell said, “He’s with me, as part of a task force.”
Jake nodded respectfully at the cops and asked, “Did anyone find a shell casing on the ground?”
A plainclothes brunette turned around at the sound of his voice. Sergeant Roxanne Poole looked at him in recognition, and then used one finger to push her glasses up higher on her nose. She was a brunette with determined brown eyes, and seemed like the brainy type, with a look on her face that said: If you mess with me, you’d better change your passwords or I’ll be all up in your private life five minutes from now.
“No, Jake, we haven’t found the casing,” she said. “Do you have your dog with you?”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, Rox. You want Cody to search for the brass?”
“Sure. Our K9 team is on the way but still a few minutes out,” she said.
“You’ve got it.” Jake pressed his key fob and opened a door on his Jeep. He whistled, and Cody jumped out, wearing the vest that said POLICE K9. Another squeeze of the fob, and the Jeep door slammed shut.
Roxanne, ever the tech officer, watched the K9 door in nerdy fascination. “That’s cool. I like it.”
Cody went to Roxanne and pressed against her. Her eyes widened in alarm.
Jake smiled. “It’s okay, Rox. Remember when I told you Cody likes you?”
Roxanne nodded but stood perfectly still, somewhat unnerved by Cody. “Yeah, but why does he like me?”
“He finds you trustworthy, and he has good judgement.” Jake snapped his fingers and Cody returned to his side. Clipping a leash onto his dog’s collar, Jake reached into his knapsack and took out a small plastic jar. He unscrewed the cap to reveal a spent shell casing and held it up so Cody could take a sniff. “Cody, seek gunpowder. Seek, seek, seek.”
Cody sniffed the round, and then the air and the pavement, walking while moving his head back and forth.
Jake put the jar away and followed behind his dog. He watched Cody’s nostrils flare as he drank in the multitude of scents, a veritable kaleidoscope to his highly sensitive nose, as he sought out the smell of brass.
Cody went to a uniformed officer and sniffed the holster on his belt. The officer cursed when the dog got too close to his crotch.
“Sorry, boss,” Jake said, tugging on the leash and pulling Cody away. “Did you fire your weapon recently?”
“Yeah, I put in some time at the pistol range early this morning,” the cop said.
“My dog is searching for the spent casing from this homicide,” Jake said apologetically.
“All right, carry on,” the cop said, with a sweeping gesture of his hand.
Cody sniffed under cars, along the sidewalk, and then crisscrossed the street. Finally, he started following the scent to the parking lot’s exit. After a while, he stopped and looked at Jake.
Jake patted him on the back. “Good dog.”
Terrell walked up to them. “Shot from a moving vehicle?”
“Cody seems to think so,” Jake replied.
Terrell looked down the street, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any Vitamin I with you? I’ve got a splitting headache, and I thought I had more in my rig, but I ran out.”
Jake reached into his jacket and produced two travel-size packets of ibuprofen. “Here you go. The only reason I carry these around is because I know you’re getting forgetful in your old age.”
Terrell smiled and nodded at the familiar joke. He walked to his SUV, grabbed a to-go cup of cold coffee, and popped two pills in his mouth.
Jake felt a weight on his heart as he watched his friend, wishing there was some way to help him with the headaches. Few people besides Jake knew the secret: Terrell had a piece of shrapnel in his head, a souvenir from combat deployments. If his wife, Alicia, ever found out, it would break her heart and she’d worry herself sick.
The doctors Terrell consulted said it was too risky to operate, due to the after-effects of his traumatic brain injury. They’d said that after surviving the TBI he was lucky to be alive, and the medical team at Landstuhl Hospital at Ramstein Air Base, Germany, had performed a miracle.
Everybody told Terrell he should be grateful to be alive. He often said he was grateful.
But Jake knew Terrell lived a life of pain, and the endless hurt was wearing him down, day after day, as he worked hard to protect his city.
Chapter 29
As the SFPD performed their methodical crime scene investigation, Jake began to feel angry and impatient. He wasn’t known for letting the wheels of justice grind slowly.
He got into the Jeep and drove back to the TV station.
When he walked into the lobby with Cody by his side, several people stopped to say hello. They asked about his life as a boat bum wannabe lawyer. He took a lot of ribbing, but kept a smile on his face as he fended off their questions with cheerful but vague answers.
Making his way down the hallways, he arrived at the office of his former boss, Norman, the insufferable blowhard who’d fired him. He peered around the open doorframe to peek inside at the receptionist. Cody, a few feet below Jake, peered in, too.
In the reception area, Norman’s gray-haired secretary, Debbie, saw Jake and Cody peeking in and she smiled. There was an unlit cigarette in the corner of her mouth, red lipstick on the filter. She pointed her finger at Jake and said, “It’s about time you visited me, you unemployed ne'er-do-well.”
Jake grinned and stepped into the reception area with Cody beside him. “Hey, Deb. How are you?”
“I’m good. This must be Cody. I saw him on TV.”
“Yep, that’s Cody the wonder dog. He gets all the publicity; I just drive him around in the car like a chauffeur.”
Cody woofed at Debbie.
She put her finger up to her lips. “Shush. No barking. Crazy man might hear you.”
Jake looked at the wall behind her. “I’m glad to see the buffalo head is gone.”
“Thank you for taking care of bison-zilla. You’re a good boy, no matter what Norman says. If I can return the favor, just let me know.”
“Well, it’s funny you should mention that. I’d like to run a public service message about a wanted criminal, and how the public can help the police bring him to justice.”
“No problemo. Do you have it on video ready to go, or were you planning to record it here?”
“I’d like to get into one of the studio rooms and do a quick recording.”
Debbie looked at her huge desk phone screen with all of its icons. “Norm just got off the phone. Hurry and get out of here. Text me with the room you’re in and I’ll send Linda.”
“Thanks, Deb.” Jake gave Cody a command and they ran down the hall.
Jake heard Norman’s angry voice from the office just as he left. “Who was talking in here just now? And what’s that furry smell? Rats? Call the exterminators and tell them I want a refund.”
Jake went into a studio equipped with a TV camera, a news desk, and a chair. After a few minutes, a woman joined him and gave him a hug.
“Jake, you rascal. What are you up to now?”
“Hey, Linda. I’m going to do a public service announcement to assist our local law enforcement.”
“Great, let’s do this.”
Linda got the camera running, while Jake sat in the chair and consulted a paper filled with his scribbled notes. Cody stood next to him.
Linda counted Jake in. “Three, two, one—go.”
Jake faced the camera, wearing his U.S. Marshals badge on a lanyard around his neck. Next to the camera was a monitor where he could see himself. “Fellow citizens of San Francisco, as you know, there’s a serial killer loose on the streets of our city. He’s been named the Random Killer. You can help us catch this criminal by providing tips and intel to local law enforcement. If you see something—say something. Here’s his photo. It’s not a good one, but check the Most-Wanted website for updates. You can make an anonymous tip online.”
Thanks to Linda, the monitor he could see was now displaying the surveillance photos while the U.S. Marshals website URL and a phone number appeared across the bottom.
“You may remember me from when I did investigative photojournalism work for this news team. Now, I’ve volunteered to investigate the Random Killer.” Jake pursed his lips, trying to keep his temper in check. “Recently, this criminal killed my neighbor, an innocent grandmother, for no reason other than that he enjoyed it. Please help us capture him. If you know anything that might assist law enforcement, visit the Most Wanted website or call the number on your screen. No tip is too small. The U.S. Marshals will follow up on every one.”
Jake leaned toward the camera and his eyes flashed with anger.
“And to the killer, if you see this, I just want to say that I am going to hunt you down if it takes me the rest of my life. I’m looking for you right now, while you’re watching this prerecorded video. You are my full-time occupation. I might even be outside your window right now. See you soon, you piece of—” Well, Linda would have to bleep that part out.
Cody stood on his hind legs, put his paws on the desk and snarled at the camera, showing his teeth.
The camera’s light went off and Linda said, “Got it. And that was great how you had Cody do that bit at the end.”
Jake grinned. “He did that on his own. I never know what he might do next.”
Linda tilted her head, stared at Cody, and raised one eyebrow; Cody tilted his head, stared back at her and quirked an eyebrow in reply.
Jake said, “Cody, be friends.”
Cody showed Linda a big grin, wagged his tail, and shook his head so his ears flopped.
Linda smiled. “He reminds me of Gracie, but he seems kind of scary-smart.”
Jake got a sad look on his face, his heart breaking once again at the painful memory. “There was only one Gracie. I miss her.”
Linda gave Jake another hug, and then took a step back. “Oh, and Jake, I want to thank you again for stopping that online troll who was stalking me. You don’t know how frightening that was.”
Jake nodded. “I’ve been in combat with a price on my head. I know what it’s like to have somebody hunting you. That’s why I did what I had to do.”
“You never said exactly what you did to him.”
“And I never will. The results are all that count. He left town and has never bothered another woman. I know, because I keep tabs on him.”
“This killer you talked about in the video … you said he murdered an innocent grandmother. I got the feeling she was a friend of yours.”
Jake looked down at the carpet and nodded. “Yes, she was. I’m going to find the killer, and then I’m going to—”
Linda put her hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Be careful out there, Jake. Promise?”
“Of course. Cody is counting on me to buy his dog food.”
Cody barked once and pawed the carpet.
The three of them started down the hallway, toward the front door. Jake could hear Norman yelling at somebody.
Linda sighed. “I’ve got to go. I don’t want to cross paths with my crazy boss today if I can help it.”
Jake shook her hand and smiled. “Yeah, get going. You don’t want to be seen with the likes of me.”
She laughed and took off down a hallway.
Jake and Cody went out the front door, and just as it was closing, he heard Norman yell, “Was that Jake Wolfe? Call security!”
Jake kept on walking. He and Cody got into the Jeep and drove away.
As soon as it was edited, the public service announcement began playing on TV and online, bypassing the approval committee.
Chapter 30
Oakland police officer Ron Martinez drove to the scene of an accident near the docks and railroad tracks. He parked his “black-and-white” car, leaving the lights flashing.
A pickup truck had crashed into a light pole. Paramedics were loading a young teenage boy into an ambulance.
Martinez walked up to the wreck. “Is he cognizant?”
A paramedic said, “Yes, but he has a head wound, and he’s disoriented.”
“That works for me,” Martinez said. He turned to the young man. “Who else was riding with you in the stolen truck?”
The boy raised a weak hand and gave him the middle finger. “I want a lawyer, bitch.”
Martinez shrugged. “You’ll need one, dumb ass. Grand theft auto will send you to juvenile prison for a lot of years, while your friends get away with it and start screwing your girlfriend.”
The kid scowled. “I didn’t steal the truck. I was standing on the sidewalk and they drove up and asked me to hop in and go for a ride.”
“Did they get hurt in the crash, or just you?”
“Just me. They stole it, but I’m the one who got hurt, and now you’re going to arrest me.”
