Reprisal (17 page)

“Now, Doctor. I hope you’re ready for me.” He spits at me while
HE stalks towards me, his fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, that smirk curling his lips. He stands in front of me, his abdomen in my face. I cringe back and slam my eyes shut, cause I don’t want to see what he’s about to do. “Open your eyes.” He says as I feel him get closer to me “You’re going to finish what you started earlier. And you won’t complain one bit, bitch.” He lowers his zipper and his cock rolls out of his jeans. I turn my head away, clamping my mouth shut. But he grabs my chin and pulls it forward, pressing in to my cheek. My mouth opens, even though I try hard to keep it shut.

“You can fight me all you want, Doctor. I like it rough. But no matter how hard you fight, you will suck my dick.”

He slides his cock in to my mouth and I struggle not to gag on it. But he pulls back and releases his cock from my lips, only to raise his hand and punch me in the face. The sound of his fist connecting with my jaw echoes in the room and spit flies from my mouth. I taste blood and I lick the droplet away. Before I can focus, he jams himself in my mouth and grabs the back of my head. In order to avoid being punched like that, I let him use my mouth how he wants. But he better be prepared for what he might have to endure if he......”Shit!” He screams as he pulls back, releasing his filth all over my face. I clamp my lips shut to avoid consuming any of it, while ribbons of fluid splash across my face.

I resist the urge to gag and sit as still as possible, eyes closed and taking deep breaths through my nose. Before I can open my eyes, his fist comes back and slams against my jaw again.

“THAT’S IT BITCH, DAMN!” I hear him scream before my world goes black again.

Gabe

“Andrews! I need to know who that tag is registered to! What the hell is taking so long?” I scream as I beat on his desk. “Get that tag run now!” I beat on the desk one last time before turning towards the door, pulling my phone out.

I scroll through the contacts and find the Delta Airlines number, quickly pressing the send button. “I need the next flight out of New York to Chicago O’Hare.” She puts me on hold and comes back with the flight times out of both JFK and Newark. Mo is looking at me over his shoulder, shaking his head. I know what he’s thinking, he’s thinking I’m jumping the gun. We don’t know for a fact she’s in Chicago, but my gut instinct tells me she is.

“Hold tight, Gabe.” He mouths to me. I tell the rep I’ll call her back and slide the off button.

“Got it!? Andrews says as he hangs up his phone. “Vehicle is registered to a Luis
DeCarlo, out of Lincoln Park, Illinois.”

“Shit,
” is all I can say. “Mo, he’s dead right? I saw the coroner’s report. Syd shot him point blank, twenty years ago. How can.....”

“Relax, Gabe. Just because the car is registered to him, doesn’t mean it was him. Andrews, what about the APB? Did anyone get a lead on where the car was going?” Before he can answer, Mo’s phone rings. I watch him as his
face lets me know we got a lead. “Right, I’m on it. Get Chicago PD over to that address and wait. If he just left New York, we’ve got about eight hours to get there, and we’ll be waiting for him. But, do not engage until the Feds get there, you got it?” And I follow his phone with my eyes as he shoves the phone in his pocket. “Let’s go.

Andrews, you’re driving.”

We pile in to the car, Andrews throws the blues on while we speed through traffic towards JFK airport. We arrive in about thirty minutes and make our way to Delta airlines counter, flashing badges in order to get to the front of the line. “We need two tickets on your next flight to Chicago.” Mo tells the attendant.

“Sure, the next flight is at five eighteen, sir. Shall I reserve your seats?” She asks.

“Shit, that’s three hours, Mo. We need to get there before Syd does, be there waiting for her.”

I say to Mo, who is scanning the departure boards above our heads.

“Shit, that’s the closest flight, Gabe. No other airline has one this close, we’re just gonna have to book it and hope we get there in time.”

I was not happy that the next flight was three hours away, then we have a three hour flight.

Then on top of that, we’d have the thirty minutes to Luis’ house pending we don’t hit any traffic.

“Guess we don’t have any choice, book them ma’am.” I say to the attendant.

She finishes up and hands us our boarding passes and we make our way through security towards the gate. We both wait impatiently for word that maybe one of the Feds has tagged the car along the way, but that doesn’t happen.

We make our way through security, our badges allowing us
to pass with our weapons, but not without a fight and a phone call to FBI HQ in Virginia.

Once we’re in the air, Mo opens his laptop and connects to the
on-board Wi-Fi. He links via VPN to his office computer and opens a file labeled “DeCarlo”. I’m looking over his shoulder and he turns the screen towards me. “I have Luis DeCarlo’s file here from when we started this investigation. He’s dead for sure, but we have to figure out who is driving his car. What did you find out on Sydney’s brother, Franco DeCarlo?”

“He holds two jobs and was accounted for when all three girls washed up. He’s not considered a suspect, at this time. That could all change once we get to Chicago. Has CPD been to Franco’s house and questioned him?”

Mo nods, “Yeah, he’s clear for now. But now, he and his mother are worried and I’m afraid they might start sticking their noses where they don’t belong.” He pulls up his email program and shoots an email off to CPD, asking for a car to head out to the DeCarlo residence and make sure they stay put. “All we need is for Franco and Gloria Watkins to get in the middle. They may not be close with Sydney anymore, but they like to get their fingers dirty. When Syd disappeared as a young girl, they were right in the middle of it. Gloria tried to defend her husband, the rapist of her daughter in court. It was almost as if she condoned it, allowed it. Franco was the same way, testified in court that his father could have never raped and murdered those women and especially not his own daughter.”

“Wait, murdered what women? I don’t remember him being charged with any other crimes.”

“No, but the deaths of two of his victims were suspicious. Samantha Brockman’s birth mother committed suicide and Sophia Fishman’s mother died during childbirth. Both families requested investigations be opened and further tests performed on the bodies, but the police ruled them both accidental. The files were closed and sealed, never to be reopened. Until now.”

“What do you mean, until now?” I ask him.

“I’ve requested those files be reopened, and further investigations done. The two girls murdered were Luis’s daughters.....”

“Wait, is it possible he had other children from other victims?”

“That’s one thing we’re looking into. It’s been twenty years, so who knows? At the time, only three victims were identified. Belinda Franklin was Samantha’s mother and Jessica Bailey was Sophia’s mother. The deaths occurred 3 months apart and since they couldn’t be connected at the time, they were closed. Then another woman, the only one to wash up in Lake Michigan was never connected, until now. Her file was pulled and sure enough, she recently had given birth, but no one ever reported her or the baby missing. We are now assuming she was victim number three. And Sydney was the fourth victim, his own daughter. The only one that survived.

That tells me someone is out for revenge, we just have to figure out who.”

“Even though the babies had the same father?” I ask.

“Yeah, but since the mothers were dead for different reasons, they couldn’t pin anything to him. Jessica had a very difficult delivery and lost a lot of blood, she basically bled to death.
And Belinda’s was ruled a suicide as she was found in her car in the garage, doors closed and the engine running. Nothing suspicious about either death. It wasn’t until both daughters washed up that things started to get confusing.”

“Was Luis listed on either birth certificate?” I ask Mo.

Mo shakes his head, “No. Each one listed the mother only, with father as unknown. We checked into that already. CPD is looking into any birth records listing Luis DeCarlo as the father. So far, only Sydney, Franco and her sister Sylvia comes up. They are also checking into possible aliases for Luis. Not a lot was done in regards to investigating him after Sydney shot him. They figured he was dead, he couldn’t hurt anyone again, so the investigation was closed.”

“You mentioned Franco and Gloria tried to defend him, correct?” I ask.

Mo nods his head, “Yes, but nothing ever came of it. The courts never even considered investigating, the forensics pointed to Luis all the way, hell - his body was right there and his semen was found in Sydney. It was obvious that he raped her and planned to kill her. He fucked up though, and lost the ultimate battle, his life.

“And now
, Syd is going through it all over again.” I say as my body tenses up and my mind prepares for a fight. I have to stay focused and positive. She got out alive the first time, and she’s a much stronger woman now than she was then. Hell, she was just a girl the first time. No girl should ever have to endure this once, let alone twice. I silently will the plane to move faster, because I feel we are running out of time.

I feel a nudge on my arm and it’s Mo. “We’re at the gate. I hope you got rested up,
cause we got a fight on our hands.” He says as he hands me his phone. There are three text messages waiting for him once he could turn his phone on.

“Car is waiting out front, CPD cruiser.”

“Car is parked at the DeCarlo residence. No one appears to be home.”

“Blue, 1993 Honda Civic matching tag in driveway at residence on South Halsted Street, Chicago.”

“Fuck! That’s the same address, Mo.”

“Same address as what?” He huffs out as we run through the airport.

“THE same address, Mo. He took her back to the scene of the original crime. Fuck, we’ve got to get to her, NOW!”

We locate the CPD Crown Vic parked on the curb, blues on. We climb in and I rattle off the address to the cop behind the wheel.

“Yes sir, we are already on scene.”

“Then go. Hurry.”

The driver steps on the gas, lights and sirens blaring. Cars get out of our way and we speed down I90 through the city and down towards the south side. We’re about ten miles out when my phone rings.

“Torres.”

“Gabe, it’s Detective Ryan Wilbanks, Chicago bureau. You guys en route?”

“Yeah, what’s the latest?”

“Well, we have SWAT on scene and surveillance at the DeCarlo residence. DeCarlo house is quiet, but it appears someone is home.”

“Do NOT...I repeat, do NOT engage until we get there. We’re about ten minutes out. Tell your men to stay put and do not engage.”

“No sir. But, the longer we wait the......”

“I know, wait. She’s a strong woman. If she’s still alive, she’ll stay that way.”

God, let her still be alive.

We merge on to I94 and then exit on to South Lafayette. We head on to South Halstead off of W 71st Street and stop about six houses down. The street is quiet and I see no emergency vehicles. “Where are they?”

“On South Emerald, one street back. There’s a vacant lot back there and guns are aimed at the house. We’ve evacuated the immediate area. You may not see us, but we’re here.

“Good. I’m heading towards the house on foot, you guys keep my back will ya?”

“Wait Gabe.” Mo tells me. “You’re out of your jurisdiction, NYPD has no say here, so you’ll have to stay back.”

“What the fuck? I didn’t come all this way to stay back, you find a way to get me in there, Mo. Or I’ll break the fucking rules and deal with it later. You got it?”

Mo just looks at me. He knows I know the rules, but right now those rules can go fuck themselves. We stare at each other in silent unison.

I grab my phone and call Chuck Matthews.

“Matthews, it’s Torres.”

“Gabe, what’s going on? You’re in Chicago right? Any word on
Syd?”

“Not yet, but I have something I need to say.”

“Um, ok. Go ahead.”

“I quit.”

“Gabe, wait. What? You’re quitting? Like this? You can’t be.......”

“Chuck, hear me! I fucking quit!”

And I end the call, looking eagerly towards Mo. He reaches out his hand and shakes mine vigorously. “Welcome to the bureau. Now let’s go get this guy, and your girl.”

Tears puddle in the corners of my eyes and I can’t stop them. I’m so tired and weak and....what’s that sound? I open my eyes and look around the room. My captor is over in the corner warming up the tattoo gun. I shake my head in fear, “Please don’t mark me. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t use that on me.”

“Aww, the little doctor is begging now. Good, I like beggars.” He croons as he stalks towards me, wheeling the machine behind him. He revs the gun like a motor, taunting me. I flash back to when my father engraved my skin, giving me a constant reminder of my past. I shake off the thoughts, because now is not the time to give up. He hunkers down before me, pressing a finger against my cheek. The remnants of his release stuck to my skin like glue. He shoves his finger in my mouth, “Suck it, baby. Take it all.”

He squeezes my cheeks around his finger, but I hold back from sucking. This angers him and he punches me in the stomach, “You have a hard time listening don’t you? I said SUCK IT!”

And he smacks me again, this time across the face. I stifle a scream because I don’t want to seem weak to him, though he’s slowly breaking me down. As I suck on his nasty finger, he reaches down and squeezes my breast so hard it hurts. He pinches my nipple and I suck in a breath from the pain, “You like that don’t you, you little whore. You made our dad a happy man, didn’t you?”

I bite down hard on his finger and he yanks it out of my mouth, hitting me again. “Damn, you’re a feisty bitch. No wonder dad liked you the best.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Yeah, bitch. Don’t look so shocked, big sister. I’m Luis
DeCarlo’s demon spawn, just like you. Surprised?” He says as he walks back to the tattoo gun, turning it on. “And now, we’re going to seal the deal.” He says as he grabs my hair and yanks my head back, exposing my neck.

I feel the needle stab the sensitive skin under my ear as he starts to inject ink in to my skin. I squirm and fight him off the best I can, but he’s holding me down. I can’t even rock the chair to get my legs loose. What feels like hours goes by while he continues his masterpiece behind my ear. The buzzing and pricking sending my brain on a tailspin of emotions.

Suddenly he stops, turning the gun off. He grabs the duct tape, the shrill sound of him tearing off a strip and he plasters it to my face. “Not a word, or I’ll kill you now instead of later.”

And he walks to the small, rectangular window. “Shit. We’ve got company babe. Maybe I’ll finish this off with a gang bang, eh? What do ya say? You up to it?” He says as he starts to undo my hands and legs. “Nah, you’re mine Doctor. All fucking mine, now let’s go.”

He re-secures the handcuffs on my hands behind my back and drags me out into the other room, through the kitchen and into a mud room. He plants me in the corner and I get a glimpse of myself in a mirror there. My hair is a wild mess, my face is dirty and bloody, sticky with his residue. A trickle of blood sliding down the side of my face from behind my ear, where his artwork now lives. My eyes are wild and frantic. If he takes me out of here, I’m as good as dead.

In fact, if he takes me out of here I would prefer to be dead. He gets away, I might not ever be found. I can’t live this way, I won’t.

But the fact that this guy is my brother throws me off. How did he fly under the radar for so long? We knew about my sisters, the ones that......wait. He killed them both, and the other girl, making me number four again. I want to ask him questions, but with tape across my face I can’t.

We have the same features, but........”Let’s go.” He says quietly, bringing me out of my thoughts.

He grabs my hands behind my back and shoves me out the back door, making sure I’m a shield for him. Parked there next to the blue Honda is a newer model, black sedan. It’s very simple and doesn’t stand out. He opens the back door and shoves me in, face first. Then he gets in, the engine roaring to life before he jerks the car forward, sending me in to the floor board of the car.

“Get up bitch! Get where I can see you!” He screams.

I struggle with this task, as my hands are cuffed behind my back. But I manage to roll myself in to the back seat and struggle to sit up.

“No, lay down. If they start shooting you might get hit.”

What?

He’s protecting me? Then he answers my unasked question.

“Killing you is my job, not theirs.”

Gabe

“They’re on the move! Let’s go!” I say as I run towards what appears to be a man in the bushes. I know the car just left, but maybe he has an accomplice and I refuse to let anyone get away. “Freeze!” I scream at the obviously male body, dressed completely in black. But the man doesn’t stop, so I cock my gun and aim. I hold the gun steady and continue, “Mo! Get your men following that car! I’ll take care of his........”

“GABE NO!” I hear Mo yell behind me. “PUT YOUR GUN DOWN!”

I hear him, but I’m not listening. The man runs through the brush and before I can stop myself, my finger pulls the trigger. One shot and the man falls to the earth screaming.

“Damn it Gabe! What the fuck are you doing?” Mo says as he takes my gun from my shaking hands.

“He....he, shit. He might know where this bastard is taking
Syd and I....I...shit, I fucked up.”

“We need EMT’s in the back yard, we have a man down from a gunshot wound.” Mo barks in to his radio.

“I’ll deal with this later, right now we need to go after that car.”

“Wait Gabe, we’ve got unmarked cars at the end of every street, he’s not going to get very far. Let him get away for now, we’ll get him down the street.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? We’ve got him where we want him, now let’s roll!”

“Gabe,” Mo says, “If we jump him now, he’s prepared for it. We need him to let his guard down a little before we make our move. If he’s armed, which I expect he is, anyone that gets in his way is a dead man. He kills a cop or a fed, he won’t live to stand trial. I want this asshole alive, Gabe.”

“Well, we’ll just have to agree to disagree, Mo. I want him anyway I can get him, dead or alive. It makes no difference to me.” And I turn to follow the car on foot, whether Mo likes it or not.

“Gabe, think about it. You get in his face, both you and
Syd are dead. You really ready to take that chance?”

I stop dead in my tracks,
cause I know he’s right. “Fine, we’ll play this your way. But if he gets away I’m holding you personally responsible.”

He nods before grabbing his radio, “He’s on the move. Black Ford Taurus, drive out plates on the back. Follow quietly behind and let’s see if we can figure out where he’s taking her. Hold your fire, do not shoot. We have an innocent in the back, any stray bullets could hit her. Follow quietly behind and keep me posted on your whereabouts. We’ll catch up soon.”

I follow Mo into the house, guns pulled. He slides in, back against the door and motions me in ahead of him. I take the right side and slither up against the wall. Three other men come in behind us and head through the house, finally confirming that it’s empty. “Agent Morrison?” A CYPD officer calls from the other room. I follow Mo and the officer is standing in a dungeon.

Cinder block walls, concrete floors and only a small window.

“This must be where he held her. Get forensics here to get some prints run.” Mo says as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out gloves, tossing me a pair. “Don’t touch anything. Forensics will be here soon.” He says, and I look at him like he’s crazy.

“Mo, I’ve been a cop for years, I know the protocol.”

He grins back at me, “But you don’t know Federal protocol. Now, don’t touch anything.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Jesus, there’s blood over here, Mo.” I say as I hunker down to my knees, the droplets splattered on the concrete floor. I see a few drops on the leg of the chair too, has to be Syd’s blood. I feel my own blood start to boil, cause now I’m convinced her hurt her. “We have to stop him, Mo. He’ll kill her.”

I don’t think he even heard me,
cause he was on his phone again. “Flint? You still got the car in sight?” And silence, but the look on his face told me the asshole got away. “Fuck! How’d you lose him?” His head drops, chin pressed to his chest. “Damn it Flint! This is fucked up.

Find that car, now!” He screams as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. “Let’s go. If my men can’t do this correctly, then I will.” And he turns to head out, passing the forensics team as they come in carrying their equipment. He stops and turns back to them, “I want this room cleaned out and every piece dusted for prints. I want the blood on the floor tested as well as that grimy pair of jeans on the floor.” He says as
he spots the denim lying there. “Those are men’s jeans, Gabe.”

“Yeah, I figured. Why do you think........shit
?” I shake my head. “If he raped her, I’ll kill him Mo. I’ll kill him with my bare hands.” I whispered.

“You’ll have to go through me, Gabe. I’ll let you have sloppy seconds and then we’ll take him the long way back to the station. He’ll wish he was dead.”

“He will be when I’m done with him.”

Mo jumps in the driver seat and I fold in to the passenger seat while he prepares to take off.

“He was last seen on I65 South, headed towards Indianapolis.” He says as he gets on his car radio. “Get Indy State PD on the lookout for a Black Ford Taurus, dealer drive out tags. Get as many road blocks as you can.”

Mo hits I94, blues and sirens blaring, and we finally exit on to I65 South, towards where he was last seen. “Do we have any idea who this bastard is?” I ask, effectively breaking the silence.

“Not yet, forensics is gathering evidence at the dungeon. We’ll know soon enough. At least we know she’s still alive.....or was.....” He breaks off, watching the road. Traffic is slowing and Mo beats on the steering wheel, frustrated at the lack of common sense of people. I look ahead and see an accident up ahead, tractor trailer jack knifed across three lanes of highway. Smoke billows in to the air, but we are too far back to see anything else. Mo moves over in to the emergency lane, traveling slow but passing all of the stopped cars. People are out of their cars, walking around and looking ahead trying to figure out what is going on. We are far enough out of the city to where we shouldn’t be in traffic, but apparently some stupid driver decided to take it upon himself to put a damper in our commute.

As we approach the accident scene, we see what is causing th
e smoke. A black sedan is on its side, wheels still spinning in the air. The smoke is coming from the car, and not the truck.

“Shit.” I say as I look at Mo. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Yeah.” He says as he pulls forward to the accident scene, the car radio in hand. “We need cruisers and an ambulance to I65 South.....” he looks over at his GPS, “Right at Ridge Road.

Also need two tow trucks, one to pull a big rig out of the road.”

He pulls to the side, far enough to be out of the way and we both exit the car, running towards the car. There are people standing around, but no one is doing anything. I get angry cause some people just prefer to look the other way and not get involved, but I fly in head first to that car. I climb the passenger side and look through the shattered window. Empty. What the fuck?

“Mo, there’s no one in here.” I say as I climb back down. I turn to look at the people standing in the roadway looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Who was in this car?” I ask. No one speaks, they just look at each other like they have no clue.

“WHO. THE. FUCK. WAS. IN. THIS. CAR?” Mo screams as he flashes his badge at the crowd of people.

“Umm
…” A faint female voice speaks from the back. “It was a man and a woman, they climbed out and ran that way.” She said, pointing towards the side of the road. “The man pulled the woman over the wall and they disappeared, sir. It......umm, it looked like the woman was handcuffed, sir.” She said, fear radiating out of her eyes. “She also looked scared and was bleeding. The man finally picked her up and carried her away.”

“S
HIT!” Mo yells as we both run for the side of the road, looking over the median wall down about what looks like a fifteen foot drop.

“No, sir. Over there......” she poi
nts down a bit. “They jumped into the grassy area and ran that way. He was pulling her behind him. She kept falling, but he’d drag her back up. He pulled out a gun sir, and held it to her head before he picked her up and carried her away. I called 911, but no one has gotten here yet, sir. No one except you, sir.”

She was nervous and stuttering, but she was giving us information that we needed.

I scanned the area and saw an auto repair shop about a half a mile off of the interstate, the direction that the young woman said they ran towards. I ducked back to the car, grabbing the radio. “Dispatch, this is Agent Gabe Torres, FBI.....I need units at the auto repair shop on Ridge Road, right off of I65 and I need them yesterday.

“Sir? Agent who?” The dispatcher responded. Shit, I forgot the FBI doesn’t know me yet.

Mo reaches in and grabs the radio from my hand, glaring at me. “This is Special Agent Jason Morrison, do what Agent Torres said, please. We need all available units and SWAT at that mechanics shop NOW!”