Authors: Rayven T. Hill
Captive Justice: A Private Investigator Mystery Series (A Jake & Annie Lincoln Thriller Book 4) (11 page)
“I just caught the twelve o’clock news,” Alma said in an accusing voice, a loaded question contained in her comment.
Annie gave a long-suffering sigh. She knew what was coming.
“How dare you let him get you involved in something so dangerous?” Alma pressed her lips together into a thin line, waiting for an answer.
Annie’s body stiffened. “We’re not in any danger, Mother. I’ve told you before, this is our job now and we’re careful.”
Jake appeared in the doorway. “Uh, I’ll just be in the garage if you need me.”
Alma whirled to face him; her arm raised, her finger pointed, and spoke in a sharp voice. “You’re despicable, and ought to be ashamed of yourself. Are you responsible for that poor woman’s death?”
Jake jutted his chin. “I had nothing to do with that.” He raised his voice. “And we don’t need to . . .” His voice trailed off. He’d caught Annie’s eye over her mother’s shoulder. She was shaking her head gently and pleading with her eyes. “I’ll be in the garage.” He wheeled around and was gone.
Alma turned back. She opened her mouth to speak, but Annie interrupted, leaning in.
“I know you have a bizarre compulsion to hate my husband.” Annie wagged her finger. “But let me tell you, Mother, he’s a good husband and a great father and he’s never put either one of us in any danger.”
Alma raised her head. “I saw it on the news, darling. He was involved and I don’t know why you’re protecting him.”
Annie shook her head in frustration. She loved her mother, but she loved her more when she wasn’t around. Her mother and Jake had never gotten along and from the day he’d proposed to her, her mother was obsessed with driving him away.
Alma continued, “I’d like to take my grandson to live with your father and me until this is cleared up.”
Annie crossed her arms and glared. “Not a chance, Mother.”
“Then at least let me stay here a few days so I can watch out for him.”
Annie threw her head back and laughed. “Yes, that would work out really well.” Then her eyes narrowed, she leaned close, and in a firm voice, “Never.”
Alma feigned shock, her hand going to her mouth, her eyes wide. “I . . . I only want to help.”
“We don’t need your help. Try to understand that.”
Alma glared a moment, then stepped toward the door and put her hand on the doorknob. “I must go now. I have things to do.” She leaned in and brushed Annie’s cheek with hers, gave her an air kiss and pulled the door open. “Goodbye, darling.”
Annie watched her mother leave, wishing she would move to the Arctic Circle. She sighed as she headed for the garage to tell Jake it was safe to come out of hiding now.
Thursday, September 1st, 12:43 PM
JAKE AND ANNIE weren’t the only ones angry at Lisa Krunk’s news report. Hank was fuming.
He’d talked to Captain Diego and they decided the best way to approach the matter was to hold a press conference, with one stipulation. It was to be broadcast live, the intent to eliminate any clever editing by the likes of Lisa Krunk.
He’d called Lisa right after he was made aware of the broadcast. He demanded she turn the recording over to him unless she wanted to get hit with a charge of obstruction of justice. She balked at first, claiming freedom of the press and a right to protect her sources. Hank had reminded her Jake could pursue a lawsuit against her for slander if he so desired. That seemed to have changed her mind and she promised to deliver the recording right away.
Hank stood as he saw Lisa enter the precinct and approach the duty desk. “Ms. Krunk,” he called to her.
She spun in his direction. “Hello, Detective,” she said, a wry smile on her face as he approached. She held up a small plastic item. “Here’s the flash memory card from my recorder.”
Hank smiled. “I’m happy to see you’ve decided to help us out, Lisa.” He reached for the memory card but Lisa held on tight.
“Detective, you’ll give me first crack at this story, won’t you?”
“I can’t promise you that. Besides, you seem to have a way of getting all the information you need.”
Lisa sighed and let go of the card, forcing a smile. “At least consider it?”
“You’re welcome to attend the press conference like anyone else. I can’t promise you any special considerations.” Hank paused. “But I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Thank you, Detective Corning.” Lisa’s smile appeared genuine now; Hank could never tell for sure. He watched her leave and wondered how any one reporter could cause him so many headaches.
He turned back to his desk, reaching to his belt for his ringing phone and sat in his swivel chair. “Detective Hank Corning.”
It was the M.E., Nancy Pietek.
“Hank, I’ve finished the external examination of Mrs. Gould’s body. I’ll get my complete report to you ASAP, but I wanted to give you a heads-up on what I found.”
Hank sat forward and listened intently.
“I found a note inside the mouth, folded and placed under the tongue. I have someone bringing it over to you now.”
“What does the note say?”
“It says, ‘I said no police’. That’s all that’s written on it.”
Hank frowned. “Anything else, Nancy?”
“Not at this point.”
“Has the lab examined the note?”
“They have. They found nothing unusual. No fingerprints.”
“Thanks, Nancy.” Hank hung up the phone. The kidnapper was making his point about police involvement. But they were involved now and he was going to do everything he could to bring this maniac to justice.
Hank looked up as a young intern approached his desk and handed him an envelope. “This is from the Medical Examiner’s Office.”
Hank thanked him, took the envelope and dumped its contents onto his desk as the intern left. The note was in a small plastic bag. He removed it, unfolded it carefully and examined it. The message was hand-written in block letters on what appeared to be newsprint, probably the corner of a page of a newspaper.
The writing was stilted and unnatural, written in black ink.
“I SAID NO POLICE.”
Hank examined it thoughtfully a moment, then dropped it back into the bag and tucked it into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if it could lead him anywhere; it wasn’t much.
~~*~~
WHEN HANK stepped from the precinct doors, flanked by the captain on his left and King on his right, he saw a crowd of expectant newspeople gathered.
Lisa Krunk’s newscast had roused up the press from all over the province. Vans with familiar logos clogged the thoroughfare. Traffic was rerouted past the street and the curious onlookers held back by a handful of police officers.
The reporters moved in, cameras and recorders poised and ready, as the entourage came down the steps and approached the podium. Lisa had claimed the spot front and center, Don at her side, and Hank caught her eye briefly as he stepped in front of the podium and scanned the crowd.
He leaned into the mike. The crowd hushed.
“Thank you all for coming. My name is Detective Hank Corning and I’m the lead detective on this case.”
They waited.
“We’ve called this press conference in response to a news story, broadcast earlier today, and the subsequent deluge of questions by reporters.” Hank looked at Lisa and a hint of a frown appeared on his face. “As this is an ongoing investigation, I’ll keep this brief.”
Hank paused and looked down at his notes before continuing.
“As you know by now, a woman was kidnapped on Tuesday and held for ransom. The ransom was paid as instructed, however the victim’s body was found early this morning.
“I want the public to know we have all available officers following leads and we expect to make an arrest shortly. This murderer will not go unpunished. We’re not taking this threat lightly, and his proclamation will not deter us from tracking him down.
“I would also like to state for the record, Jake Lincoln is not a suspect in any way. He was merely chosen by the perpetrator to deliver the ransom, which he did, and neither he nor Lincoln Investigations has had further involvement in this case to date.
“I’ll take any questions now.”
The newspeople buzzed, their questions cued up and waiting, and they all spoke at once. Hank pointed to a news reporter in the second row.
“Detective, the murderer has stated specifically the police are not to be involved in the future. In fact, he has declared any future victims will be killed if you’re involved. How do you intend to approach that, knowing your involvement could lead to the death of another innocent victim?”
Hank thought a moment. “I can’t make any statement on possible future victims. At present, we have a dead woman, a distraught husband and we’re already involved and he knows we’re involved.”
Hank avoided Lisa’s upraised hand and pointed to another reporter.
“Detective, this killer called himself the Merchant of Life and he has stated there’ll be more kidnappings. What’re you doing to prevent that?”
Hank cleared his throat.
“This vicious killer would be more aptly named, the Merchant of Death. He has promised to take life, not give it, and I object to the self-proclaimed title he has given himself.” Hank paused a moment, then, “As I said, we’re tracking leads and we’re going all out in a concerted effort to bring him to justice.”
Another question. “Can you give us some information on what leads you’re following?”
“Not at this point. We have a number of leads and certain valuable information that can’t be disclosed at this time.”
And again. “How can the public protect themselves from being a victim?”
“Please take precautions. Use common sense, be vigilant if in secluded places, lock your doors at night and don’t open your door to anyone you don’t know.”
Someone in the back row spoke up. “And if anyone is kidnapped and becomes a victim, should the police be notified?”
Hank frowned. “Use precautions and that won’t happen.” He straightened up. “There’ll be no more questions. Thank you.” He turned away and then spun back and added, “I would like to ask you to give Dr. Gould his privacy until he’s willing to speak to you.” Hank motioned toward the captain. “Any and all future contact with the press regarding this case will be handled by me or Captain Diego until further notice.”
Hank turned away again and he, King, and the captain headed up the steps to the precinct while the gathered crowd continued to shout questions—unanswerable questions that Hank wanted answers for.
Thursday, September 1st, 3:15 PM
IT WAS A gorgeous summer afternoon, a bit warm to take a long jog, but Rosemary Coleman never went a day without a good afternoon run.
She’d finished up the invoicing, contacted a client or two, paid some bills online and her work was done for the day. She would let the answering machine take care of any stray afternoon calls.
Walter would be home not long after five o’clock, so after a jog and then a quick shower, she would still have plenty of time to prepare the special dinner she had planned.
She enjoyed the freedom of being able to work at home, taking care of clients and overseeing the day-to-day operations of the successful landscaping business she and her husband had built. She saw it as the best of both worlds—a rewarding and undemanding job and yet, the ability to take care of their home and her husband.
His recent infidelity was forgiven and forgotten, and to Rosemary, their five-year marriage was back on track. She planned to do everything she could to keep it that way.
She donned a t-shirt, jogging pants, and running shoes, and slipped out the side door of their sprawling bungalow, located out where the suburbs led into the adjoining countryside.
Her route took her down a narrow sidewalk, past the last couple of houses, then a quick cut across a large vacant lot to a pathway leading into an overgrown forest.
It wasn’t a large area; it covered maybe a few acres or so. Not enough to attract any wildlife other than squirrels and the continual chirping of happy birds nestled in the overhead greenery, but it was pleasant, away from the city and Rosemary loved it.
Leaves rustled beneath her feet as she ran. The air was refreshing and she breathed in the light pungent scent of decaying foliage mixed with the faint smell of pine sap.
She’d been through here almost every day and considered this path her own, and was surprised when she saw a figure cut in front of her less than twenty yards away. Even more surprising; the man was wearing a ski mask, his face completely covered, which was more than unusual at any time and especially on this warm summer day.
She stopped short, her breath caught in her throat and her instincts warned her of danger.
She wasn’t going to stick around and ask him what his plans were.
She spun around to head back the way she came but was halted in her path by a second man who stepped from behind a large maple, cutting her retreat.
She froze a moment, now fearful something was dreadfully wrong. Her assailant stepped closer and as he was about to seize her, she dropped to the ground, rolled and managed to scramble to her feet and stumble from the path into the thick forest.
With her arms in front of her face for protection, spidery branches scratched at her as she ran. A fallen tree barred her way, but a leap brought her over. She held her footing and continued her frantic flight, panic beginning to overtake her.
A hand touched her shoulder. It gripped, but she managed to pull free and spun to her right.
Her freedom was short-lived as again she was grasped, this time with a firm hold on her shirt, wrenching her off balance. She fell backwards and landed heavily on one shoulder.
She looked up at the masked figure and cried out, “I have no money.”
A muffled voice, “We don’t want your money.”
They were going to rape her. She wouldn’t stand a chance against the two of them. Not a chance.
“Please . . . please don’t hurt me. I’ll give you what you want.”