Corktown (14 page)

“Katherine, we’re not here to question you about your name change,” Wilkinson said. “We want to talk to you about your father, Eddie.”

“My father?”

“Did he ever mention the Redline Rogues or RRs to you?” I asked.

Katherine stared off into the distance before shaking her head. “No, I can’t say that I heard him speak about that. Is it the name of a company?”

“The RRs were a group of young executives employed by GM back in the eighties. They were very influential at the time. Some believe they were responsible for having the plant shut down.”

“What does that have to do with my father?” She asked, crinkling her nose. “He worked at the factory, on the line.”

“A lot of people knew your father. He was a well-liked person—always talking, especially about GM. So much, people called him The Motor.”

A smile appeared on Katherine’s face. “Yes, he loved the company, until…”

“Until the plant he worked at shut down.”

Katherine nodded slowly.

“With your father knowing so much about the company, we thought he might have heard about the RRs and maybe mentioned them to you.”

Katherine placed her bottle on a coaster. “If he did, why would he tell me about them? I was just a little girl.”

“They were responsible for shutting the plant down in Flint. It’s a big topic for conversation.”

“That plant was the livelihood of that city. Shutting it down ruined the lives of many families in Flint.”

“Including yours?”

Katherine shot me a look. “It killed my father.”

The tension in the room had suddenly gone up a notch. “I’m sorry. It must have been tough.”

“It was. I still don’t know what this has to do with my father.”

“We believe someone is killing the RRs. Three of them are already dead. We’re trying to locate the rest before it’s too late. Claire Bass told us he mentioned the RRs to her. We were hoping he said something to you.”

“Claire Bass is a liar. She only encouraged my father by continually talking about the plant; it made him angrier. He drank more because of it.”

Katherine had become visibly upset. I figured our chances of getting more information from her were quickly becoming a long shot.

“I have nothing else to say. Now if you don’t mind, I’m busy.” She stood and held her arm out to the door.

We thanked her for her time, and I handed her my card. “If you think of anything, call me.”

43

Katherine peeked from behind the window curtain as the two agents returned to their hideous yellow car.

Preston Carter also kept an eye on the two visitors as well, except he watched from a basement window. Behind him, a naked young woman lay on a wooden table. Her arms and legs were held in place by straps attached at each corner. Duct tape covered her mouth, and tears ran down her face.

Preston put his scalpel down on a counter and removed the clear plastic apron he wore. “I’ll be back, my darling.” He kissed the woman’s forehead before heading upstairs.

“Katherine!” he called as he burst into the hallway.

She appeared from the kitchen. “What is it, dear?”

“Who were those two people? What did they want?”

Katherine could see that her husband was flustered and becoming increasingly agitated. She cleared a few strands from his left eye. “There’s nothing to worry about, dear. They wanted to talk to me about my father.”

“They’re the police, aren’t they? They’re on to us. I knew it. We should have taken a break. There wasn’t enough time between kills—”

A large cracking noise emanated from Katherine’s open hand as it slammed into Preston’s face, sending his head off to the side. It was the only thing that worked when he slipped into a panic.

Preston held his left cheek, his head still turned to the side, looking down.

“I told you not to worry. You must trust me, darling. I have a plan. You do want to help me with my plan, don’t you?”

Preston nodded slowly. He did want to help his beautiful wife—anything for his queen.

He had first noticed Katherine in his freshman biology class. He was a tenured professor and she was first year student, twenty at the time. The day she first entered his lab, her hair was pulled loosely back into a ponytail, and she had a horrendous orange backpack slung over her shoulders, but she looked as if angels were carrying her in. Her sweet smile was infectious. Her eyes could calm the most cantankerous of people. Preston watched her search for a seat, but didn’t stop there. He continued to sneak peaks throughout the entire class period. By all accounts, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes upon.

During the second quarter of her first year, Preston noticed a difference in Katherine. In ways, she was a lot like him. She had tendencies, as he liked to describe it. She once took a lab frog and sliced it horizontally from head to toe—a total of two hundred eighty-five slices. Preston knew, because he counted each one. She did the same with a frozen dog using a surgical saw. He continued to push her young mind. After a year and a half, he felt she was ready. He gave her a body. She didn’t ask who it had been or where it had come from. She didn’t care. She went right to work.

When the two started to date, that had been the turning point, and Katherine accompanied Preston on a kill. It was the start of a wonderful partnership. The Doctor had taken on an apprentice. For the next two years, Katherine learned from him. So much so that she started advising him on how to continue forward with his hobby without getting caught. Preston had hoped they could become a duo, but Katherine was much more comfortable with the planning. Though she
had
developed an affinity for scalping people.

“I’m worried,” Preston finally mumbled.

“Don’t be, sweetie. I haven’t failed us yet, and I don’t intend to.” Katherine slipped her hand down the front of his pants and fondled him. Preston shut his eyes and let out a breathy growl. “Now go back downstairs and finish up with your play date. When you’re done, you can tell me all about it.”

44

Later that afternoon, we met Solis and Madero at a Coney Island restaurant in Birmingham. They had spent most of the week interviewing executives at GM and Ford and making sure Archie Becker didn’t end up dead.

Both detectives were eating chili dogs when we arrived. I looked at Wilkinson; his eyes lit up like a dog eyeing a large soup bone. He had become addicted to chili dogs.
What is it with guys and chili?

“Agents,” Solis said. “Please, have a seat.”

We sat opposite them in the booth and placed our orders immediately. As soon as the waitress left, Solis wasted no time brushing off his hands and updating us.

“We interviewed every top-level executive at GM. Either there are no other RRs working there or someone is holding back. Same with Ford. We’re heading over to Chrysler tomorrow.”

Not what I wanted to hear. “How’s our guy doing?”

“Nothing’s changed. He goes to work and comes home. We tried talking to him again, but he insists he doesn’t know what we’re talking about.”

“He’s got interesting nighttime habits though,” Madero added. “We took over the night shift and discovered our guy sneaks out near midnight and spends time at Belle Isle.”

“How long has this been going on?”

Solis shrugged. “He’s done it twice on our watch. We park down the street so he thinks no one is watching.”

“What’s down at Belle Isle?” Wilkinson asked.

“It’s a popular late-night hangout for young people, like a make-out area, except our guy hangs out where there aren’t any women.”

“Why are you letting him leave the house?” I asked.

“Look, Agent Kane, we can’t stop him. He’s a free man.”

“Yeah, well, we’re tagging along tonight.” If Becker insisted on endangering his life like this, I didn’t want to rely on these two to keep him safe.

45

Solis radioed us around midnight. Wilkinson and I were parked five houses down from the Becker residence. Solis and Madero were at the opposite end of the street, two houses away, so they still had eyes on his front door.

“Our guy is on the move,” he said. “He’s in a black Ford Explorer and should be passing you any second.”

“All right. Hang back and let us pick him up,” I answered.

Wilkinson waited until the Explorer rounded the corner before pulling onto the road, fearful Becker might recognize the Yellow Jacket. It wasn’t the best vehicle for surveillance.

The traffic was light on the highway, so we kept our distance, maybe a hundred yards or so behind. Solis and Madero tailed us. We weren’t worried about losing Becker. We knew his destination. Thirty minutes later, we crossed MacArthur Bridge.

Belle Isle was literally a nine hundred acre island park in the middle of the Detroit River. During the day, people picnicked and swam, visited the zoo and the botanical gardens, and just enjoyed the outdoors. However at night, the action took place inside their vehicles.

We kept our distance from Becker, blending with the other late-night visitors cruising the scene. There seemed to be a lot of young people hanging in and outside of their cars, mostly college students from the look of it. Farther down the road, though, I could see that the area got desolate.

Becker drove at a parade’s pace. I was not sure what he was looking at; women didn’t seem to do it for him. Maybe he liked young men.

“It might be a good idea to follow by foot,” I said. “The crowd’s thinning and he might pick up on us.”

“Good idea.”

We parked near the end of the crowd. I radioed Solis and Madero that we had feet on the ground and told them to sit back for a bit.

I moved swiftly along the trees. I didn’t bother to look back; I could hear Wilkinson in step behind me. There was little chance Becker could see us where we were. Unfortunately, the dark afforded Becker the same advantage. He had parked under a large tree, making it nearly impossible to see inside his vehicle. It didn’t help that scattered clouds prevented most of the moonlight from reaching the ground.

We moved in as close as we could, maybe fifty yards away, and watched. Fifteen minutes passed before a slow-moving vehicle pulled into the stall next to Becker. A man exited and quickly entered the passenger side of Becker’s Explorer.

“Did you get a good look at him?” Wilkinson asked.

“Not really, but I have a pretty good idea of what’s about to go down.” I looked around for a closer vantage point. Becker’s safety concerned me more than his sexual escapades. For all we knew, that stranger could be the killer.

“I don’t feel comfortable sitting back. I’m going to move up to that tiny bush near the car.”

“It’s out in the open. They’ll see you.”

Advantage #23 for someone with my height: I can squat at night and look like a bush. “Don’t worry; I’ll blend. If I still can’t see what’s going on, I’ll radio you and we’ll break up Becker’s party.” I gave Solis and Madero the heads up on the plan.

“I’ll be right here,” Wilkinson said as he sent me on my way with a pat to the butt.

I made my way around a few trees and a couple of tall shrubs. I lost sight of the car for a few seconds, but I picked up a visual soon enough. I crouched, waited a beat, and then scurried to the tiny bush near the car. I was now one with the shrub.

From my low angle looking up into the vehicle, I had an unobstructed view. A faint glow, probably from the entertainment system, lit them up enough to know what they were doing. It was make-out city all right.

• • •

Wilkinson stayed put and watched the car. He had lost sight of Abby until she reappeared, running to the bush. She did indeed blend in. From what he could see, it looked like she had an eyeline into the vehicle. The agent raised his radio, ready to ask her for an update, when a twig snapped behind him. He spun around and reached for his weapon at the same time. That’s when he saw her.

“Agent Wilkinson, it’s me, Katherine Carter.”

Katherine,
Wilkinson thought.
What is she doing here?
He relaxed a little and took his hand off his weapon. “Mrs. Carter, why are you here?” The situation was confusing, but from the way she had her arms wrapped around herself, she appeared to be either cold or frightened.

“I’m so glad I found you,” she said, approaching him and letting her arms fall to the side. Before he could answer, she swung her right arm up and across his neckline.

It took a moment for Wilkinson to comprehend what had happened. He reached up and felt the warm liquid pouring from his neck.
No! It can’t be. Not you!

Katherine backed away, out of his reach. Dappled moonlight crossed her face revealing a smile. He tried to speak but could only manage a gurgle. Wilkinson knew he had to act fast if he wanted any chance of survival. He also had to warn Abby.

46

Becker had had enough fun. I didn’t want to bust up the party when they were rounding third base, let alone home plate. I radioed Wilkinson to move in, but he didn’t answer. Again I hit the talk button on the two-way. “Wilkinson, I’m moving in. Respond.” Still nothing. I knew he had eyes on me, so I figured I’d go ahead and he would see me.

The radio crackled. “What’s going on?” Solis asked.

“I can’t get a hold of Wilkinson. I need you guys to move in. I’m proceeding toward the vehicle.”

Just as I stood up, my eyes caught movement near the trees. Wilkinson had made his way into the open. His body movement wasn’t right. He looked drunk. His arms weren’t swinging either. I watched for a moment before I headed towards him. As I got closer, it became clearer; he had both hands around his neck.

“What’s wrong?” I asked picking up the pace. “Wilky!”

He didn’t answer. When I reached him, I understood why. The blood was everywhere. He fell to his knees. So did I. His bloody hands were gripped tightly around his neck, but they slipped for a second, and a red arc shot pass my face until he could reclaim his grip. I placed my hands over his, helping to keep pressure.