The Frenzy War (41 page)

The metal door swung open, and another guard entered the room, followed by a short man in an orange jumpsuit and another guard. As per Colleen's instructions, Paul panned his camera on its tripod, following Rodrigo Gomez to his seat.

Rodrigo's hair was long and greasy, and the fuzz that covered his chin and upper lip resembled thick black thread. His hands were cuffed before him, and a chain connected

the cuffs to leg irons. The guards eased him into the chair, which Cheryl realized had been bolted to the floor. One guard handcuffed his wrists to the arms of the chair, and the other secured his ankles to the steel legs. The guards stood on either side of the viewing window with their shotguns lying over their arms. The whole time, Rodrigo stared at Cheryl.

Meeting his stare, Cheryl waited for Rodrigo to speak and tried not to look at his unibrow, which seemed bushier than it had at his trial.

Rodrigo glanced around the room at the guards and the crewmen, then over his shoulder at Colleen and Strand. Returning his attention to Cheryl, he spoke in a soft voice. “Well, well. Cheryl Mace. I guess it's just the two of us. But it was Cheryl Chimera back in the day, wasn't it?”

Cheryl relaxed a little. “Yes, it was.”

“Where's Sheriff Mace?”

“All right, everyone, we're going live in five seconds,” Cheryl heard Colleen say in her earpiece.

“Live in five,” Ryan said.

“Just wait for me to speak,” Cheryl said.

Rodrigo smiled, revealing crooked teeth. “Let's give the folks at home a good show.”

“I'm sorry, but I have to watch this.” Mace raised the volume on the TV as a wide shot of Sing Sing filled the screen and prerecorded audio of Cheryl introducing the special came over the speaker.

“We can watch it from our desks and keep working,” Norton said in a diplomatic tone.

“I'll stay here if you don't mind,” Landry said. “Suit yourself,” Mace said.

Seven minutes of documentary-style presentation detailed Rodrigo Gomez's killing spree and trial, including excerpts from Cheryl's news reports. The recap ended with footage of two corrections officers leading Gomez, chained, into a windowless room. The camera intercut the guards chaining Gomez to a chair with Cheryl watching from across the table.

“Now,” Cheryl the narrator said as the camera zoomed into a close-up of Gomez, “I'll speak to Rodrigo Gomez, the Full Moon Killer, one-on-one in an exclusive Manhattan Minute News special conducted live from Sing Sing Correctional Facility.”

When the camera cut back to Cheryl, the live feed kicked in.

She looks nervous,
Mace thought.

“Rodrigo, you've been incarcerated for seven years,” Cheryl said. “That works out to one year for each of the five women you murdered. Do you have any regrets?”

With a contemplative expression, Gomez drew in his breath and exhaled. “There's days when I wish I was on the outside, not locked up in here, so I guess you could say I regret that. But like I told your husband two years ago when he came to see me, I think it's a good thing that I'm in here and people on the outside are safe. Do I regret killing those broads?” A wide smile broke out across his face. “No, I had

to do it. I had something inside me that I had to let out. When it finally came, it was like I came. I've never felt so free, so …
natural
in my life.”

“Those women had family, friends, loved ones. You caused them immeasurable pain. Don't you feel bad about that?”

Gomez shrugged. “Do they feel bad about the pain in my life? A junkie for a mother with a creep boyfriend who raped my sister? I never asked for any of that.”

“Do you blame your mother for what happened to you?”

“Nah. I understand it now. We were a lot alike. She dealt with it her way—crack—and I dealt with it mine.”

“You mean murder.”

“Murder, I don't know. Murder is when one human being kills another one, right? Unless it's during war or something. Well, I ain't human.”

Mace sat up in his seat.

“What are you, then?”

Gomez leaned forward. “I'm a wolf, baby, a freaking werewolf, just like the Manhattan Werewolf. That's why Captain Anthony Mace came to see me: because he knew it too.”

“Oh no,” Landry said.

Mace glanced through the glass partition at Shelly and Norton, who both turned in their seats, their backs to him, to watch the interview on the TV mounted on the support column. He could tell Cheryl was fighting not to react.

“You … believe you're a werewolf?”

“Believe it?
I know it.
Just like I know there are thousands more like me across this great country of ours.”

“How do you know that?”

Mace knew that Cheryl had to ask the obvious follow-up questions.

“Because another werewolf told me. See, there's an entire society out there that I never knew existed, a society that you and people like you don't even have a clue about. But I met this guy in here, and he recognized me for what I am. He knew exactly what I was going through. He understood my pain to a T, and he told me about the Greater Pack of New York City and smaller packs across the good old USA. He taught me how to get in touch with my inner self. Thank God for prison.”

“So you and the Manhattan Werewolf were two of a kind?”

“You got it.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

Gomez hesitated. “I assume he's got to be dead. Your husband was gunning for him, right? I'm lucky he took me alive.”

Mace covered his mouth with one hand.

“Let's talk about you, not my husband. I can talk to him anytime, but this is the only chance I may ever get to talk to you. Why did you request this interview?”

“Because the people out there have to know what's happening. This isn't about me, and it isn't about the Manhattan Werewolf. It's about werewolves
everywhere.
Your mailman could be one. Your sister could be one. Hell, you could even be one. Wouldn't that surprise Sheriff Mace?”

Cheryl looked even more uncomfortable. “What do these werewolves want?”

“How should I know? Don't you see? I didn't know I

was one of them until I got in here. I guess they want what everyone wants—more vacation time, more money, better behaved kids. I'll never know, because I'm never getting out of here. But I'll tell you this much: they're an endangered species, and they're getting more endangered every day. That's what's going on in the streets of New York right now. It's open season on werewolves. They're the ones getting killed by these terrorists.”

“You mean the Lourdes and Wilson families?”

“Yeah, sure, them. Who do you think did that?”

“Why don't you tell me?”

“The Brotherhood of Torquemada. Look them up.” Gomez stared straight at the camera. “They've been around for centuries. They wiped out the werewolves in Europe, and now they want to do the same thing here. This is all-out war.”

“Holy shit,” Landry said.

“The werewolf is out of the bag,” Mace said.

His cell phone vibrated, and he checked its display: Jim Mint. Sighing, he took the call. “Yeah?”

“I take it you're watching TV right now,” Mint said.

“Yes, I am.”

“Have you violated your nondisclosure agreement?”

“No, I haven't discussed any of this with Cheryl, and I know Gomez insisted on not doing a preinterview with her. She had no idea what he had on his mind.”

“Well, how the hell does he
know
all of this?”

“Maybe you should take him at face value.”

“What, that he's a fucking werewolf?”

“We call them Class Ls around here.”

“Jesus H., the shit is really going to hit the fan now. Gomez just blew the lid off everything and accused you of killing the Manhattan Werewolf.”

“Let me call you back. I'm missing my show. We need to know what else Gomez says.” Mace shut off his phone.

The camera cut back to Cheryl. “Can you prove to everyone who's watching right now that you're a werewolf?”

“You mean, like change right now on TV?”

“That's right. A picture is worth a thousand words, and a live broadcast is worth a thousand pictures. Prove to the audience that you're not just wasting their time with some Halloween story.”

A slow smile spread across Gomez's features. “I can do that.”

With trembling fingers, Mace looked up Warden Strand's phone number.

“But I'm not going to,” Gomez said. “Turning into a werewolf on live TV would be stupid. I'd be signing my death warrant.”

Mace's finger hovered above Send.

“When you stood trial, you claimed insanity as a defense, didn't you?” Cheryl said.

Gomez's smile faded. “Sure, I wanted to get off. Who wouldn't rather spend time in a loony bin than in a maximum security prison with a bunch of killers? I've got a heightened sense of smell. The animals in here stink.”

“How do we know you're
not
crazy?”

“The court shrinks said I was sane. I stood trial, and now here I am.”

Cheryl's voice tightened. “You butchered five women.”

“Butchered
is a strong word. I hunted them.”

“And you ate parts of them. That's called cannibalism.”

“I already told you I'm not human, so it wasn't cannibalism. It was one species of animal eating another. That's the natural order.”

“And since you came to prison, you've been in numerous violent incidents, haven't you?”

“Who can blame me? I'm a caged animal.”

“You bit off one man's nose and ate another man's fingers …”

Gomez moved as if he wanted to raise one hand to make a point and grew frustrated that his chains prevented him from doing so. “I see what you're trying to do, but it won't work. I'm not crazy. I'm a goddamned werewolf!”

“Don't they have staff psychiatrists here?”

Gomez's lips formed a snarl. “So what?”

“I think you need to get better acquainted with them.”

Roaring, Gomez lunged at Cheryl, but the chains snapped him back. A reaction shot of Cheryl showed her eyes following movement to the left of Gomez. A reverse angle zoomed out to reveal two of the corrections officers aiming their shotguns at Gomez, who settled back with a snort, his hair disheveled.

“You bitch,” he said. “You fucking bitch. If I ever get out of here, I swear I'll eat you alive.”

Cheryl remained stoic. “You had the last word, Mr. Gomez. This interview is over. I doubt you'll ever be allowed to give another one. Thank you for your time.”

Mace heard only silence over Cheryl's close-up, which meant that both microphones had been cut off. The picture shifted to B-roll footage of the exterior of the prison during daylight.

“She turned it around,” Landry said with admiration in his voice.

Good girl,
Mace thought.

C
heryl watched the guards drag Gomez snarling out of the room. She waited until the door slammed shut before she rose on wobbling knees.

Ryan strode over to her and put one arm around her. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. That wasn't what I expected.”

The door to the corridor burst open, and Colleen ran in, followed by Strand and the guard who had been waiting outside.

“Honey, I don't know what the hell that was, but you were dynamite.”

“I didn't think it would get that crazy,” Cheryl said. “I knew it would be sensational, but we just fed into the werewolf frenzy.”

“Fed into it? We pushed it to a whole new level.”

“I'm so sorry,” Strand said.

“For what? You helped deliver gold to us.”

Cheryl's cell phone vibrated, and she knew Tony was calling her. She took the phone out and pressed it to her ear. “I'm here.”

“How do you feel?” Tony said.

“My hand is shaking.”

“I bet it is.”

“I never gave much thought to how it must have been for you when you arrested him.”

“I had a gun in my hand. I felt fine.”

“I'm glad I
didn't
have one in my hand.”

“Do me a favor and get out of there, will you? Don't hang around to sign autographs.”

“I'm leaving as soon as I can.”

“You did well. I think you might have pulled my bacon out of the frying pan.”

“I knew he'd bring you up, but—”

“Don't worry. Just be glad it's over. Now get home safely. I'll try to be waiting for you when you walk in.”

“Okay.” Cheryl hung up and looked at Colleen. “Can we please leave right now?”

Colleen cupped her hands over Cheryl's cheeks. “You bet your ass we can.” She turned to Ryan. “We'll see you all back at the station. Warden, we're ready to take the express train out of here.”