Killer lawyer, p.20
Killer Lawyer, page 20
part #3 of Jake Wolfe Series
Jake sat down and scowled at him. “Get to the point.”
“Or what? You’ll stamp your foot and shake your fist?”
Jake stood up and moved toward the door. “I’ll let the guards know you lied to them so you could get out of your cage for a few minutes.”
“Wait!” the Hyena called out. He leaned back in his chair with an expression like Jake was the one being unreasonable. “Okay … I’ll tell you my theory.”
Jake returned to the window but didn’t sit down. “Hurry up. Stop wasting my time.” He reached into his jacket and took out a small package of beef jerky. He’d bribed a guard to let him bring it inside.
The Hyena gasped, staring at the bag of meat and licking his lips. “Give me that!”
“Maybe after you tell me your theory,” Jake said.
“No. Give me that first, and then I’ll talk.”
Jake cursed at him, ripped open the bag, removed a strip of beef, and held it near his mouth. “This is your last chance, or I’ll eat this whole bag while you watch.”
The killer trembled and pressed his hands against the glass, groaning in pain. “Promise you’ll give it to me afterward. Please.”
A guard yelled via a speaker, “Get back!”
The Hyena pulled his hands back as if he’d touched something hot.
Jake held the gaze of the madman, secretly wishing he could beat the truth out of him with his fists. “I might give this to you … if your information is useful and you don’t make me wait one more damned minute.”
The Hyena swallowed hard and began talking fast.
“My theory is that maybe the Random Killer only thinks his acts are random. Maybe he hears voices in his head or something, making the decisions for him. But in reality, from what I’ve observed on the news, he’s only killing innocent, pure, good-hearted people. You know? I think his subconscious mind knows when he finds one and the voices tell him to kill.”
“Maybe. What’s his pattern, then? Where will he strike next?” Jake asked, slightly hopeful but keeping his guard up.
The Hyena got a manic grin on his face, almost giddy as he twisted the sharp knife of painful information into Jake’s mind. “It was a random encounter when he crossed your path and killed Marion, right? But now you’ve publicly challenged him, so he’ll be curious about you, like a predator sniffing your scent as it prowls outside your home in the dark. Soon, his curiosity about you might lead him into stalking your friends and family, hoping to find you. If the voices tell him to kill one of them, he’ll think it’s random because he’s not targeting them, only looking for you.”
Jake stared at the Hyena. “You’re holding something back.”
The Hyena laughed and nodded in approval. “Who among your circle is the purest and most wholesome? Your mother? Your sister? Maybe ... but I’d bet on that dog I saw you with on TV.”
Jake clenched a fist. “Don’t talk about my family.”
“Are you kidding me? Your dog could be in mortal danger right now. Whose heart and soul is more pure and good than a dog’s? Did you leave him in your car in the parking lot? He could be dead already.” The Hyena burst out laughing hysterically and began rocking in his chair.
“Was that your plan? To trick me into visiting you while an accomplice tried to murder my dog?” Jake thought about Cody, and all the kind-hearted people in his life. He tossed the bag of jerky onto the counter and knocked hard on the door. “I’m done here.”
Jake saw the Hyena staring at the bag and slowly coming to the realization that it wasn’t actually beef jerky, but jerky-style dog treats.
The Hyena cursed Jake at the top of his lungs, then laughed and laughed and laughed, in that high-pitched shrill Jake would never be able to forget.
Chapter 44
Jake exited San Quentin and walked into the sunshine and fresh air, telling himself he’d never be back. Jails and prisons made his skin crawl; the caging of human beings. One false move or mistake and anyone could end up in there, shocked and helpless, trapped in a small cage with a dangerous cellmate for years to come.
While studying law, he’d learned that, according to data from the Department of Justice, more than 1 in every 100 adults in America would end up behind bars at one time or another. So many felony laws were passed by Congress that most people unknowingly committed some kind of victimless crime at least once a day. Almost anybody could be arrested if someone in power wanted them locked up.
He shook his head, got into the Jeep, and sent a text to Anselmo—thankful that he could always count on his help.
Driving fast toward San Francisco, he zoomed past several Highway Patrol cars while going over 100 mph. The officers waved at him and he waved back.
As he drove, he called Sarah. “Keep your eyes open for any suspicious men, and have your pistol nearby.”
“Why? What’s happening?” she asked.
“Just trust me. I’m sending Vito to your clinic to protect you until I get there.”
“Were we threatened?”
“Not directly, but the Hyena had a theory that the Random Killer might target Cody, you, my mother and sister, or someone else I care about.”
“You’re putting all of us in danger again?” She paused. “Dammit, Jake, I can’t go on living this way.”
Sarah locked the front door to her clinic, and explained the situation to Madison.
Madison went into Sarah’s office, closed the door behind her and locked it, following their new plan in the event of a threatening situation.
Sarah opened her purse and took out her pistol, ejecting the magazine and checking her rounds. Cody came to her and sniffed the weapon, letting out a low growl. She heard a knock at the front door and a dangerous looking Italian man stood there in a dark, tailored suit, with a slightly amused smile on his face as he observed her.
Sarah put her pistol into the back of her waistband, and opened the door just far enough to talk, but not let Cody out.
Speaking to the visitor, she said, “Vito, I don’t need your protection.”
“I can see that, but I have my orders to guard your clinic,” Vito said politely.
Sarah exhaled loudly and spoke into her phone. “Vito is here.”
Jake replied, “Good. Let me talk to him for a second.”
Sarah tapped her phone. “Jake, you’re on speaker.”
“Vito, sitrep?”
Vito said, “I’m here. Sarah is armed. No sign of trouble.”
“Thanks. Guard both doors, front and back,” Jake said.
“I’m on it.” Vito walked away.
Sarah locked the door behind him, then looked out the window and saw a black sedan pull up and park nearby. Men in dark suits and sunglasses got out and stood in defensive positions, their faces devoid of expression. Cody peered out the window, growling.
She patted Cody and said, “Jake, more of Vito’s men are arriving. They have the place surrounded.”
“Okay, I’ll be there soon. I have to call Terrell and warn him.”
Sarah ended the call and crossed her arms. She had strong feelings for Jake, but no girlfriend should have to go through this repeatedly. It wasn’t what she had planned for her life.
If this was Jake’s plan, he’d have to go down that road without her.
Jake called Terrell. “Grinds, I just came from death row at San Quentin, visiting a killer you put behind bars. The Hyena.”
“It was the Hyena who found a pattern to the Random Killer?” Terrell asked, surprised.
“Yeah. He thinks the killer will strike someone among my family and friends who is pure and good and kind-hearted.”
Terrell cursed. “And you think Alicia might be in danger?”
“Yes. She’s a schoolteacher, and an angel among us.”
He could hear Terrell turn on his police SUV’s siren.
“She gets off work before I do,” Terrell said. “I’ll drive to my house right now and check on her.”
“Good plan,” Jake said. “And tell her I’m sorry.”
Terrell ended the call.
“I really screwed up this time, huh, Cody?”
There was no reply from the backseat. Cody wasn’t there.
Jake shook his head. How can I get by without my dog?
War dogs and their handlers were meant to work together, in any kind of dangerous situation. Jake was glad he’d kept Cody away from the prison, but he decided he would not give in to Sarah’s need to keep Cody with her like a normal pet when Jake did dangerous work. Cody wasn’t a pet; he was a highly trained MWD and combat veteran.
Jake respected Sarah’s veterinarian training, but she’d have to respect his war dog training, too. Sarah loved Cody, and Jake took her concerns seriously, but he was going to let her know she had no say over his dog. She was Cody’s doctor, but Jake was his handler. He was in charge, and she’d have to accept that. He felt that if Cody were her dog, she’d give him the same exact speech in reverse.
His phone buzzed with a call from a number he didn’t recognize. He answered, “This is Jake.”
“Well, hello there, Jake. I saw your public service announcement where you gave out your number, so I thought I’d call and say hello.”
“Who is this? I don’t have time to waste,” Jake said.
“Some people are calling me the Random Killer, but you can call me Mr. Hawthorn,” the man said in his silky smooth, ice cold voice.
Jake pulled over. The man on the phone had a foreign accent that he couldn’t place. Somewhere in Europe? “Why should I believe this is really him I’m talking to and not just another nut job?”
“Fair enough. Here’s a hint. When I shot Marion, I left the florist’s envelope under a bush near a park bench.”
Jake felt rage in his heart. Only cops knew that detail, and this guy didn’t sound like a local cop. Jake clenched his right hand into a fist, wanting to strike out. Gritting his teeth, he took several breaths and tried to calm his anger. “Are you calling to turn yourself in?”
The killer snorted. “No. Guess again, stupid.”
“You’re calling to gloat?” Jake asked, and sent a text to Roxanne, giving her the phone number he saw on his caller ID. He then tapped an icon to turn on a voice recording app.
“Did I hear a tapping sound?” the killer asked. “Texting someone who’ll trace my phone?”
“Why are you killing random people?” Jake asked.
“I obey the voices. One time, they told me to shoot my friend’s grandmother, and now grandma is buried in the garden, fertilizing the lettuce.”
Jake grimaced. “You killed a friend’s grandmother?”
“Yes, and people think she’s on a cruise. Her Social Security money will still be direct deposited this week, and I’ll use her ATM card to get cash and buy ecstasy.”
“You hear voices?”
“I bought a pistol that once belonged to a Gestapo officer. The first time I held it in my hand, I began hearing the voices.”
Jake cursed. “A photographer named Teju Cole once wrote, Things have the longest memories of all; beneath their stillness they are alive with the terrors they have witnessed.”
“Oh, how eloquent. Aren’t you fancy? Do you think my pistol is alive with Gestapo terrors?”
Jake tried to keep the suspect talking. “There’s one way to find out. Dig a deep hole in the ground and bury that thing. Maybe you’ll stop killing innocent people.”
“What makes you think I want to stop? This is Darwinism. I’m a predator, and those weaklings are my prey. The world is better off without them.”
“Where did you get the pistol?”
“From a woman who inherited some Nazi memorabilia. She was my first kill with this pistol, and I enjoyed it immensely. She wanted to sell the evil thing, and as I examined it and made small talk about how much I’d pay, I loaded a round and shot her in the head. You should’ve seen the surprised look on her face.”
Jake clenched and unclenched his fists. “Meet me right now. We’ll settle this man to man.”
“You’re not in charge of this game; I am,” Hawthorn said. “This city is mine to control, the people are mine to kill, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I win—you lose.”
“This game isn’t over yet. We’re going into overtime.”
“Overtime?”
“Sudden death overtime,” Jake said.
“Screw you.”
“Not even if you say please.”
“Maybe I’ll start killing your family and friends to teach you a lesson … but I promise to kill them randomly.” Hawthorn chuckled at his own wit.
Jake cursed and told the killer what he was going to do to him, but the call had ended.
Chapter 45
Jake’s phone buzzed again and the caller ID said Federal Bureau of Investigation.
“When it rains, it pours, but maybe this is news I can use,” Jake muttered to himself, and answered the call. “Wolfe.”
“It’s Reynolds,” she said. “My friend who can read lips watched the video taken at the coffee kiosk.”
“And?”
“She figured out what the suspect was saying. He mentioned a Walther.”
“The German pistol?”
“Correct. When the suspect was talking to himself, he recited a rhyme: One shot to the head, and my Walther makes you dead.”
“You’re sure?” Jake asked.
“Yes. I thought he was saying water, but finally figured out it was Walther.”
“You thought that?”
Reynolds was quiet for a moment and then said, “My friend did, and we discussed it.”
“Who is this lip-reading mystery person?”
“She prefers to remain anonymous. The media would go wild with that news. I have to protect her identity from the criminals she sends to prison.”
“Fair enough. Tell her I said thank you,” Jake said. “Terrell Hayes mentioned a Walther that fires .32 rounds.”
“Yes. The most common one was the Walther PPK .32 ACP. It was made famous by the early James Bond movies.”
“Didn’t Hitler kill himself with a Walther PPK?”
“Right. It was widely used in those days by a variety of European nations. PPK stands for Polizeipistole Kriminalmodell. A police pistol for detectives.”
“Thanks. I’m not even going to ask you how to spell that. Please send it to me in writing, in a text,” Jake said.
“No problem. Check your phone.”
Jake received the text and forwarded it to Terrell and to Garcia. “Got it, thanks. I have some intel for you, too. The killer just now called me to gloat, saying he stole a German pistol from a woman and shot her with it. He threatened to kill me and my family and friends.”
“What did the sound of his voice tell you?” Reynolds asked. “Any accent, inflection, or mannerisms that might help identify him?”
Jake thought it over. “He sounded like a European, speaking English with an accent I’ve never heard before.”
“Can you imitate his voice for me?” Reynolds asked.
“I recorded his call. Hang on, I’ll play it back for you.”
There was a pause as Reynolds listened to the recording. “I’m not getting any feeling about where he might be from,” she said.
“And he was probably using a burner phone,” Jake added.
“Give me his number and I’ll see what I can find out.”
Jake recited the number. “Can’t you see my phone records?”
“No, that black phone from Agent McKay has some of the highest level encryption I’ve ever seen,” Reynolds said.
“Oh, so you already tried to see what I was up to?” Jake asked.
Reynolds ended the call without saying goodbye.
Jake thought Reynolds was wound as tight as a spring, but it was normal considering the heavy responsibilities of her job as an FBI agent. How many sleepless nights had she endured? How many family get-togethers, birthdays, and holidays had she missed? Did she go to the doctor often with medical problems caused by her stressful job?
Jake sent another text to Terrell: I got a call from a man claiming to be the Random Killer. He said his name was Mr. Hawthorn and he got a Nazi Walther pistol by killing a woman who had it for sale. Here’s his number; it’s probably a burner phone.
Jake swiped on his phone and checked online for nearby gun shops. There weren’t any within the city limits. That was unusual for most cities, but San Francisco had spent years getting rid of them one-by-one.
He scrolled until he found a pawn shop that bought and sold guns. It was located south of the city. With a quick glance at the dashboard GPS, he drove toward the shop, stopping by Sarah’s clinic to pick up Cody on the way.
When Jake parked and walked up to the clinic, he saw Cody staring out the window at him. Vito was standing on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette. Jake shook Vito’s hand and opened the door.
Going inside, Jake petted his dog and said, “Did you miss me, buddy?”
Cody barked once and pressed against his alpha.
Madison spoke from behind the desk, “He’s been sitting there near the window ever since you left. And he jumped up just now when he heard your car. Sarah told me it was okay to come out and carry on with work as usual.”
“Thank you for dog sitting, Maddy,” Jake said.
She smiled. “Cody is no trouble at all, unless someone brings a big dog in here, and then he dominates them like any non-neutered war dog would.”
Jake nodded. “Where’s Sarah?”
Madison seemed disappointed that Jake was so focused on Sarah. “She’s operating on a patient. You can’t interrupt her, sorry.”
“No worries. Tell her I said thank you. And here’s something for you.” Jake set a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and walked away.
“What’s this for?” Madison asked.
“For taking care of Cody. Go out to dinner with a friend. I’d go with you, but I’m dating your boss.”
She looked at him with longing in her eyes. “Thanks … I’ve been wanting to try the calamari vinaigrette at North Beach Restaurant ever since Sarah told me how you two enjoyed it so much.”
