Dead River (49 page)

Dawn wasn’t talking much to her father lately. Adam sat alone in his study after work Thursday evening. How would he be able to isolate Sikes from the detectives that were tailing him and then carry out his mission? This could prove to be more difficult than he had originally thought. Realizing he had reached a dead-end, he trudged down the stairs to the family room to watch the evening news. That’s when he got the break he needed, an unfortunate one for the Capron girl.

He watched a live on-site special report. A female reporter gave details of how the mutilated body of Kelly Capron had been found in a dumpster behind a gas station off North Grissom Parkway. The camera was locked in on a close-up of the reporter’s face, but the dumpster could be seen in the background. The reporter was obviously a rookie, barely able to make it through the broadcast.

They flashed back to the studio, the screen split between the evening anchor and the reporter.

“Do the police believe this is related to the other two recent murders?” the anchor asked.

“Don’t know that, Jack. They won’t comment. But I can say this much—this girl didn’t have the three letters on her forehead like the other two.”

“Thank you, Jackie. In other news—”

Adam flipped the TV off, leaned back on the couch, and stared at the ceiling. He knew better. He knew who the killer was; breaking a pattern like that didn’t fool him. Sikes was going to meet his fate. There was no turning back now; it would definitely happen. It was only a matter of time.

 108

ADAM SLIPPED OUT OF the house after a brief discussion with Carillo, in which they exchanged theories about the murdered Capron girl. Adam announced that he needed to take a drive if he wanted to have any chance of sleeping that night.

There were four apartments in the building, but only the one on the bottom right had a light on; it was Sikes’s place. Adam drove slowly down the street and turned around. The blue Ford was nowhere in sight. Driving past Sikes’s building the second time, Adam noticed the light was out in the bottom apartment. He slowed the Volvo down, pulled over to the curb, and shut off the headlights, keeping the engine running. He watched a man emerge from the front door. Even though the street light was dim, Adam could make out the face. It was Sikes, and he was heading for his car.

Sikes started his car, backed out of the driveway, and took off down the street. Once he was well past the Volvo and had rounded the curve, Adam dropped the gear shift into drive, turned his headlights on, and followed the black Olds. After a few minutes it became obvious that Sikes was heading toward Cocoa Beach.

That odd and fragmented sensation hit Adam again. He was certain that he was being followed. He glanced into his rearview mirror and saw two cars behind him. He would keep a close watch on both of them. As he continued following Sikes, he looked into his mirror again and saw one of the two cars make a turn. The other continued behind him. He followed Sikes over the 520 Causeway toward the barrier island, and then they headed south on A1A.

After about four miles Sikes made a right into a parking lot. Adam followed close behind. The second car that had appeared to be following Adam continued down the road, never slowing down. Maybe he was wrong. He looked up at the bright neon sign mounted on the top of the building: Baby Dolls.

Adam had driven by Baby Dolls several times but had never set foot in the place. He intended to make his debut in disguise. He drove to the back parking lot. It was nearly empty. He quickly shut off his car and retrieved his gym bag and boots from the trunk. Changing his clothes in the front seat proved to be a challenge, but after about five minutes he was ready to go inside.

Entering the front of the building, he saw another door ahead of him. On his right was a large glass window with a round hole in the middle and a small opening at the bottom.

“That’ll be five dollars, partner,” a man said from behind the glass.

Adam reached in the left front pocket of his blue jeans and pulled out a roll of bills. He paid the man through the slot and was buzzed in through the second door. The music inside the room was so loud it rattled his teeth, and a thick haze of cigarette and cigar smoke floated in the air. A girl was dancing on the main stage wearing only a G-string and an ear-to-ear smile. Adam walked to his right and looked around the bar. No Sikes. He turned and walked the opposite way around the horseshoe-shaped bar. There he was, sitting at the bar with a girl standing at his side.

There was one barstool between Sikes and another man sitting by himself, so Adam dropped into the seat between the two.

“What do you need, babe?” the bartender asked.

“Give me a Bud.”

“Light?”

Adam shook his head. “Regular.”

While waiting for his beer to arrive, Adam leaned to his left, trying to capture what Sikes was saying to the girl beside him.

“Here you go, babe. That’ll be four-fifty.”

The music stopped and a new dancer graced the stage. She haphazardly meandered around the linoleum-tiled platform, never attempting a single dance move. Adam ignored her and listened intently to Sikes and the girl beside him.

Between songs Adam heard the girl ask Sikes something about cocaine. She was very thin with long blond hair, pulled back in pigtails. Her eyes were dark circles and her makeup was overdone.

Adam watched a smile form on the girl’s face as she moved from beside Sikes and slid her body in front of him. She nestled herself between his legs, with her back to the bar and laid her hands on his shoulders. Adam could now make out every word they spoke.

“So you can score some for me tomorrow night?”

“Sure,” Sikes said, pulling her closer into him.

“Good, I don’t work tomorrow. Where can I meet you?” the girl asked.

“Do you know where Kirkwood Avenue is in Cocoa?” Sikes asked.

“Yes,” the girl answered.

“At the corner of Orange Street and Kirkwood there’s an abandoned building. I’ll meet you there at eleven-thirty.”

Adam caught the girl’s frown as she stared at Sikes.

“But that ain’t too good a neighborhood to be in after dark. In fact, it ain’t even good to be around there during the day.”

“Look, that’s where I can get some coke. So that’s where I’ll meet you. I know someone that can hook me up. He deals out of that abandoned building. Do you want the stuff or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I’ll be there.”

“Park your car at the back of the building, and I’ll be waiting for you. Okay?”

“Sure, Dudley.”

“David, my name’s David.”

“Okay, David,” the girl said slurring out each word.

Adam continued staring toward the main stage, and the girl continued talking to Sikes until it was her turn to dance. When Amber was called to dance next, she pecked Sikes on the cheek and then headed for the stage. Sikes finished his beer, got up from the bar, and left the club through the front door.

Adam nursed his Budweiser and watched the emaciated blonde dance. At the beginning of the second song she stripped off her scanty top. Adam suddenly visualized her lying on the floor inside the old abandoned building, dead, killed by the man who murdered his daughter. The thought sickened him to the point that he thought he might lose the beer he had just downed. But she wasn’t going to die. There would be no more killings, not by David Sikes.

 109

HE WASTED NO TIME hunting down the abandoned building on Kirkwood Avenue in Cocoa. He had to do it now. It was too risky cruising the streets during the day trying to find the old building. He might be spotted by someone. He must find where Sikes would be the following night at eleven-thirty, for this very fortunate piece of information fit perfectly into his plan.

He stopped at an all-night convenience store and bought a map of Cocoa. He sat in his car and located the two streets. Where he needed to be was about three miles from the convenience store. As he drove closer, the neighborhood became darker and more frightening. There were kids sitting on the hoods of parked cars whooping and yelling profanities at him as he drove by.

The houses in the decaying neighborhood were decrepit and pathetic, and the streets were full of pot holes. It was difficult to see the street signs because the streetlights were sparse, and many weren’t working.

He glanced to his right, trying to read the name on the bent street sign. His car was almost at a standstill when someone began pounding his fist on the driver’s window.

“Yo, where you think you goin’, white boy? You better get the fuck outta here, motherfucker.”

Adam’s heart raced as he gripped the steering wheel. He stepped on the accelerator, and as he passed the street sign he saw Kirkwood Avenue. He continued down the street a few blocks then made a U-turn and headed back.

Adam glanced down the street before turning onto Kirkwood. There wasn’t anyone hanging out so he made the turn. According to the map, after five blocks he should see Orange Street. The map was correct. There was Orange Street, straight ahead. He looked to his left and saw a large concrete building. Moonlight lit up a sign on the front: Cocoa Icehouse. An abandoned icehouse. That had to be it.

He drove down a narrow driveway on the west side of the old building. This took him to a large parking lot in the back. Suddenly he saw lights reflecting in his rearview mirror, a car was pulling into the driveway behind him. Someone was following him! He stopped his car, turned off the lights, and checked to make sure the doors were locked. He reached over and retrieved his Glock from the glove box then lowered it to the floorboard close to the bottom of his seat.

The car behind him moved slowly down the narrow driveway about thirty feet, stopped, and backed out. Whomever it was left, but Adam wasn’t going to take any chances right now. The people in the car could be waiting for him down the street. He turned his lights on once again and pulled the Volvo to the back of the parking lot. There before him, lit up by the nearly full moon, was a steep embankment, covered with large pine trees and thick bushes. This was perfect. If he could stake out the back of the building from the top of the hill, then he could hopefully have a clear shot at Sikes. Now he would have to see if the elevated spot was accessible from the back. But first he had to safely get out of the parking lot and back onto Kirkwood.

He drove his car down the driveway much faster this time. Glancing to the right he saw a car parked alongside the road with the lights off. He gunned the engine and at the same time cranked the steering wheel left. Continuing down the street, he checked the rearview mirror. The parked car was now pulling out with the headlights on, heading in the opposite direction from Adam.

If not for the large moon overhead casting its soft light, Adam would probably not have found what he was looking for. After a few turns on several bumpy streets, he discovered a dirt road that ran behind the hill at the back of the abandoned icehouse. With help from the moon, he could see that the road, which was more like a dirt pathway and barely wide enough for a car, didn’t have a single house on it. Opposite the road, in the direction of the icehouse, was an area with tall pine trees and dense bushes. This was the hill that overlooked the icehouse parking lot. It couldn’t have been a better setting.

Adam brought the Volvo to a stop and pushed the gearshift into park. What he had thought was a deep ditch on either side of the road was actually a gradual slope down from the dirt pathway. He walked down the slope toward the icehouse and stood in front of a chain-link fence. He carefully climbed over and waded through the thick bushes.

The early-morning air was cold, but he was sweating under his vest as he tramped through the thicket. He walked what he figured was about fifty yards, moving bushes out of his way, and finally there he was, on top of the embankment. He could see the back of the icehouse.

He found a spot on the ground where he could lie in the prone position while he waited for Sikes. He turned and shuffled back through the bramble. As he climbed over the fence he scouted for landmarks that would help navigate him back to the same place tomorrow night.

 110

IT WASN’T YOUR TYPICAL day at work. How many people have the opportunity to sit at their desk and plan a murder? But that’s just what Adam did on Friday. His only commitment that day at work was the company’s Christmas luncheon before the long holiday break.

He sat at his desk sketching out in his mind every minute detail of the evening’s activities. Carefully calculating every move he would make from the time he left the house until he returned home. He concentrated on his alibi, and how he would leave the scene. He assured himself there would be no evidence left behind.

Before leaving for work that morning he went through his clothes to find dark colors. He even found a navy blue watch cap, and thought of Johnnie Cochran during the O.J. Simpson trial, how Cochran donned the knit cap in front of the jury during his summation. After his mission was completed, he would build a small fire in the backyard down by the river and dispose of everything. He would shovel the remaining embers into the river, nothing would be left that could be traced back to him. He also planned how to dispose of the gun.