Wake the Devil (12 page)

W
esley Simms sat at Mary Margaret Quinn’s desk wondering if he was losing his touch. It would have been so easy to drop the pretty detective off that mountain, but she reminded him of another Elizabeth. He realized that now. Silly, because she’d been dead for more than twenty-five years. He shook his head. The mind is a funny thing.

Killing Elizabeth Sturgis wouldn’t have accomplished anything. He’d still have to deal with the FBI agent who was probably in charge of the case. It wasn’t unusual for the cops to call them in. Their resources were extensive.

Somehow they had figured out his plans—again. Well, third time was the charm, as they say. That hadn’t happened since he got into the business. He knew the possibility existed and it was something you plan for. Sooner or later the police would identify Mary Margaret’s file as missing and they’d come around to check on her. If he was lucky, they would think she’d been a random selection like the priest. The truth was he was counting on them showing up. The thought brought a smile to his face.

Wesley glanced across the room at Mary Quinn sitting quietly and erect at her dining room table, almost as if she were alive. In front of her, Sweetie Pie the parrot lay on a plate. He’d set the table for three. Not random either. Three was an odd number and the cops would stop to wonder what it signified. Absolutely nothing, of course.

On the computer screen in front of him was a photo of Jack Kale. The hazel eyes were filled with intelligence and . . . something else he couldn’t identify. He didn’t like looking at them.

Wonderful tool, the Internet. Nothing ever really goes away. New information might push the older stuff back into a remote corner, but look hard enough and it was still there waiting for you.

He continued reading the article he had found. It seemed at one time, Mr. Kale had been a celebrity of sorts and the subject of a made-for-TV movie. Impressive. One of the earlier stories had dubbed him an “FBI Superstar.” The man who brought down serial killer Howard Lincoln Pell and solved an impossible kidnapping in California that had every law enforcement official stumped. After his triumph with Pell, nothing. Strange. He wondered what happened to him. The articles seemed to dry up. A gap of eight years ensued before he found the next one, a small piece noting “former” Federal Bureau of Investigation Agent Jack Kale had joined the Georgia Tech faculty to teach forensic psychology. The writer said Kale had been a profiler for the Bureau.

Continuing his search, Wesley found that after his long hiatus from fighting crime, the impressive
Dr.
 Kale had come out of retirement to team up with Elizabeth Sturgis. Together they apprehended an acolyte of Howard Pell who had gone on a killing spree of his own. He liked the
Atlanta-Journal
’s headline: “Jack Is Back.” Wesley felt honored, and maybe a tiny bit nervous. He was confused because Elizabeth had told him he was with the FBI. Could she have lied to him? That would be very disappointing. Either way, there was no question he was involved. The question now was what to do about it. One or the both of them had guessed his plans and that was cause for concern. The answer didn’t present itself immediately as it usually did. He’d have to give the matter more thought. He weighed the possibilities for twenty minutes before he decided to err on the side of caution. The clock was ticking.

Sitting on the table next to him was his cellphone.

Scouting the competition, boy-o?

Yes, Father. It seemed the right thing to do.

Know thy enemy.

As you taught me.

And next?

I don’t know when they’ll get here. But we have to assume they will.

Agreed. It seems our Dr. Kale is something of a wizard. So have you made plans to receive our guests, my son?

Of course.

Four Days to the Grand Jury

R
achel Lawrence winced as she read the radiologist’s latest report. A second MRI conducted on the boy showed the subdural hematoma had increased in size. That meant more pressure on the brain. If not released, it would result in permanent damage or worse. There was no longer any choice. At five
AM
, she informed Dwayne Stafford she had an emergency on her hands and couldn’t wait any longer. A little boy’s life was at stake. The operation had to be moved up. The detective told her to do what she had to. Once it was over, she promised they’d go straight to the safehouse. He accompanied them to the hospital and left a message for Jack Kale informing him of the situation.

*

The procedure lasted three hours. After the boy was taken to recovery, an exhausted Rachel made her way back to her office, lay down on her couch, and finally went to sleep.

She awoke to find she wasn’t alone. Sitting across from her, leafing through a book of Cartier Bresson photographs, was the tall detective she’d met earlier. He wasn’t particularly handsome, though not entirely unattractive either. He was wearing dark-brown slacks, a blue oxford shirt—the kind her husband had favored—and a brown-and-black herringbone sport jacket. His shoes were solid-looking cap toes.

“Feeling better?” Jack asked.

“Not really,” she said, pushing herself up.

“How’d the operation go?”

“Well, I think.” Rachel squinted at him and rubbed her temples.

“Headache?”

“Um.”

Jack went into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and two Tylenols. Rachel accepted the pills and downed them.

“Most people pick the Ansel Adams book,” she said, motioning to the shelves with her chin.

“Wonderful landscapes,” Jack said. “Being a psychologist, I find people more interesting.”

“And you became a cop. How’d that happen?”

“Long story.”

The drapes in her office were partially closed except for a slender opening where they didn’t quite meet. A rhomboid of sunlight stretched across the floor. From where he sat, Jack could see the wind sending leaves spiraling into the air.

Rachel asked, “Is there a reason you’re sitting in my office?”

“There is,” Jack said. “I thought we had an agreement. You and Dr. Landry need to be in the safehouse. When you’re here, our ability to protect you is compromised. I understand emergencies happen, but I need your word you’ll try to stay there as much as possible.”

“Where is Will?”

“Seeing patients.”

“Are you sure this is necessary? It makes me feel like I’m a prisoner.”

Jack looked down at his feet for a moment. “I don’t blame you. If the situation was reversed, I’d probably feel the same way. Unfortunately, the man we’re dealing with is extremely determined and extremely clever. I don’t think the police have seen anything like him before. Yesterday he followed Beth Sturgis to Stone Mountain and told her we need to back off the case. I’m not sure what he’s expecting, because that’s not an option. Forgive me for being blunt, Doctor, but until further notice, you can’t go back to your home. I’m afraid that’s now nonnegotiable.”

“Because he knows where I live.”

“Without question. And he knows where you work.”

Rachel took a deep breath and let it out.

Jack waited for a moment then asked, “May I ask how your decision to visit Stone Mountain with your husband came about?”

“We’d just completed three operations in a row and were burned out. I put my foot down and told George we were taking a day off.”

“Who else did you tell?”

“Our staff, of course.”

“In person or by phone?”

“Phone.”

“Did you e-mail any of them?”

Rachel thought for a moment. The expression on her face changed. “No, dammit. I put it on Facebook.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “How stupid was that?”

“In a normal world, not very,” Jack said. “But this isn’t a normal world. I wouldn’t beat yourself up over it. If the Sandman didn’t find you there, he’d have come at you a different way.”

“Sandman?”

“That’s the FBI’s name for him. They picked it up from the Israelis.”

Rachel shook her head. She sat back and watched the patch of sunlight for several seconds, then said, “You didn’t come here to yell at me about the safehouse. What is it you want?”

“Actually, I’m not sure yet. The first step is to make sure you and Dr. Landry are out of harm’s way. If there’s a problem with one of your patients, we’ll deal with it.”

“Don’t be angry at Detective Stafford. I told him I needed to stop by my house to pack a few things. Once we were there, the situation with the boy came up.”

“He already explained it to me and I’m not mad. To answer your question, I’m thinking of trying to draw the killer out. Doing that will require your help.”

“Tell me.”

“We know the Sandman was watching your office. The murdered lawyer and police officer across the street make that certain. Just because we managed to interrupt his plan doesn’t mean he’ll pack up and go home. If you’re agreeable, I’d like to make a show of transferring you to police headquarters. But it will be just that—a show. The department maintains housing facilities there and occasionally witnesses use it. They also have two houses here in town for the same purpose. Using decoys, we’ll let him think you’re at the
main building. We’ll be waiting for him. In reality, you’ll be at one of the safehouses. Not too long ago he attacked a police station directly in Germany and I’m hoping that will make him bold enough to think he can do it again.”

Rachel nodded.

Jack continued. “From his standpoint, the clock is counting down, which means he’ll have to act soon. I’ve always believed it’s better to fight on your own turf and on your own terms.”

“Will and I talked about this last night. He, George, and Stu were all friends. We want to help.”

“Wonderful. When can you leave?”

“Let me see how my patient is doing. If there are no problems, I’m yours.”

*

It took about a half-hour to run the neurological tests. Curious, Jack accompanied her to the recovery room and watched. When the boy’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing he saw was the smiling face of his doctor.

“Hi, Tiger,” Rachel said. “How are you?”

The second the boy answered, Rachel squeezed Jack’s hand so tightly that he winced. The child had gone into surgery having lost his ability to understand speech. It was one of the brain’s mysteries. With the pressure now relieved, things would return to normal.

Rachel used a penlight on the boy’s eyes to see how his pupils reacted and was in the process of checking his voluntary and involuntary reflexes when Jack stepped out of the room to answer his phone.

“Kale? Milner here. Where are you?”

“With Dr. Lawrence at the hospital. We had a false start on getting her to the safehouse.”

“Understood. I have some good news. I’m here at Leland Walker’s office with his secretary. She says the missing file is on a lady named Mary Quinn who lives in Roswell.”

“That is good.”

“I just got off the phone with Pappas and Sturgis. We’re on the way there now along with APD’s SWAT team. Want to join us?”

“Maybe later. I need to make sure Rachel and Will are safe first. Are you aware Beth Sturgis had an encounter with the Sandman yesterday?”

“What?”

“She’ll fill you in on the details. Basically, he told her to drop the case because there was nothing we, meaning you and I, could do to help the witnesses. According to him, they’re already dead.”

“Screw that son of a bitch.”

“Todd, you have more experience with this man than I do. Frankly, I don’t trust anything he says. He leads you down one alley while he’s going up the next. In other words, nothing’s as it seems. I think there’s a reason for everything he does, which includes his encounter with Beth yesterday and his selection of Miss Quinn.”

“Agreed.”

“If you see
anything
out of the ordinary at this woman’s house, let’s run forensics on it. Is Komanski still around?”

“I sent Al back to Washington. He looked over what Beth found and had good things to say. That’s high praise coming from him. Between you and me he’s still pissed about that dancing backward in high heels crack.”

Jack smiled. It was pretty clever. He asked about Komanski because there was no sense in him and Beth duplicating their efforts. One tech was sufficient and he could use her elsewhere.

“All right. Hopefully Miss Quinn’s fine.”

“Why wouldn’t she be? He probably grabbed the first file he laid his hands on to get out of the building without attracting attention to himself.”

Jack didn’t feel like going through his explanation again. “I had some other thoughts on that that Beth can fill you in on. Right now I need to move the doctors.”

“Okay,” Milner said. “I’ll call you with what we turn up.”

“Just be careful. This could be a mistake on his part or it could be a trap.”

T
odd Milner passed Jack’s concerns on to Beth. In return, she brought him up to speed on Jack’s plan. Mary Quinn’s home was located at the end of a cul-de-sac in Dunwoody. After studying a map of the neighborhood, Glen Sheeley decided to divide his teams into two squads and enter the house from the front and back. Infrared images revealed no mobile hot spots inside, which meant no people were present. Nevertheless, caution was still indicated.

Todd Milner managed to locate Mary Margaret Quinn’s social security number and tracked down her employer. They were told the hygienist was at work Tuesday and had left at her normal time. The office manager was concerned when she didn’t show up the next day, which wasn’t like her. They thanked him for his time and studied the house further. Nothing appeared out of place, but the woman’s failure to report didn’t bode well. Could it be something related to the case? The office manager had given them the phone number for her sister in Birmingham. They called and learned she and Mary Quinn hadn’t spoken in a week. Next, they tried her cellphone.

As quickly as hopes built that she might simply be out of the house, they were erased when triangulating signals from three different cellphone towers indicated her phone was inside. Pappas called Jack and relayed that information.

“This don’t look good,” Pappas said, a sentiment shared by everyone there, including the SWAT commander.

Sheeley also got on the line and informed him he wanted to hit both doors simultaneously, then send Beth in to do her thing. “You good with that?”

“Let’s do it,” Jack said. “Carefully.”

“Okay, everyone, we’re hot,” Sheeley announced over his com unit. “Red and Blue teams move out.”

Jack instructed Dwayne Stafford to watch the witnesses and started walking down the hospital’s long corridor toward a window in the hope of getting better reception. Beth and Pappas attached themselves to the Red Team, who were taking the front door. Officers carrying a weighted battering ram quickly moved into position.

“Make sure you check for booby traps,” Jack said, remembering what the Sandman had done in Tel Aviv. There was no response. He glanced at the screen and saw there was only one reception bar showing. Jack repeated his warning. Still no answer.

Swearing under his breath, he started jogging for the nearest exit. He could hear them talking but the words were clouded by static.

“Red Team in. Blue Team in. Kitchen clear. Bedroom clear.”

Then came the words he was dreading. “Jesus, Mary, Mother of God, will you look at this?” The note of shock in the man’s voice was obvious.

Jack began to run, racing down the stairs. “Look at
what
?” he yelled into the phone.

He covered the twelve flights to the ground floor in under a minute, taking steps two at a time. At the building’s entrance, he heard Beth order everyone out.

“Jack, I don’t know if you can hear me. We’ve cleared the house. I’m about to start my walk-through. You should see this.”

“I’m here!” Jack shouted. “I had to get outside. Describe what you’re looking at.”

“He killed her and put her at the dining room table like she’s about to eat. Ohmigod, there’s a dead parrot on her plate. Why would he do that?”

Even Beth, who was normally quite calm, and who had seen a number of homicides over the last eight months, sounded shaky.

“What else are you seeing?”

“Just a standard house. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except . . .”

“Except what?”

“Nothing. I’m just spooking myself. I need to run the Polilight over the dishes. The table’s set for three people. What does that mean?”

“I have no idea. What were you about to say?”

“Something’s not right.”

Whatever Beth was feeling communicated itself to Jack. “I need to know what you’re seeing,” he repeated.

“Quit bugging me. I’ll figure it out. I’ve got a partial print on one of the glasses.”

“No, you don’t. It’s misdirection. The Sandman doesn’t make those kinds of mistakes. What were your impressions when you first came in?”

In the background, Dan Pappas said something, but he missed most of the words.

“Did Pappas just say something about sour?”

“Yeah, that’s it. There’s a sour smell here like spoiled milk. I’ve almost got the print—”

“Out!” Jack screamed. “Out now! It’s a time delay fuse. He’s rigged a bomb!”

Three seconds ticked by followed by an explosion that was so loud it forced him to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Beth! Pappas! Jesus Christ, someone answer me. Sheeley, come in. What just happened?”

The SWAT commander’s voice came on a second later. “Oh, man, this is bad. A bomb just took out the side of the house. We need EMS and Fire here.”

Sheeley was shouting into his hand communicator. Jack couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, just the commander yelling, “Now! Now, goddammit, now! We’ve got officers down everywhere!”

It sounded like chaos. The explosion had hit Jack like an uppercut to the solar plexus. For a moment, he felt paralyzed, rooted in place. He forced himself to move. He was operating now on pure instinct. Desperate to know if Beth and Pappas were still alive, Jack ran for his car. And stopped. This was exactly what the Sandman wanted. He punched the disconnect button and called the uniform officer on Rachel’s floor.

They’re dead already.

Rick Swerdlin, a twelve-year veteran on the force answered.

“This is Jack Kale. We’ve got a code red. The Sandman just set off a bomb in Roswell. Secure the witnesses immediately. Anyone makes a move on them, you’re greenlighted to shoot first. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good, relay that to Detective Stafford.”

Jack’s next call was to Ed Mundas, Dwayne Stafford’s partner.

“Where are you?” He asked without preamble.

“At the station, waiting on you.”

“Have you heard what happened?”

“Bob Baxley just came running in here and told us. We’re trying to follow it on the scanner. Sounds like all hell’s breaking loose.”

“It is. Is there anything on Beth Sturgis or Dan Pappas?”

“Not so far.”

“The second you hear something, call me. Not in an hour.
Immediately
.”

“Understood.”

“From this moment on, you’re to consider we’re under attack. Call Dwayne and tell him we need to move those witnesses now. Childers and Spruell will make a show of transporting our decoys to the station. Once they’re gone, you and Dwayne get them to the safehouse.”

“Childers and Spruell are standing by,” Mundas said.

“Get rolling,” Jack said.

“On our way, Doc.”