Goblins (8 page)

Chapter Eleven

Chief Marcus Hale sat on the couch in the living room of the Whitmore's house. Officer Ken Newton, a twenty-eight-year-old from the island, had patrolled the interior of the home with him. A number of other law enforcement people were hidden around the property and across the street in an unmarked van.

Hale still couldn't believe another kid had been taken—and right from her bedroom. Kaley Whitmore was ten years old. Unlike the Brown family, the Whitmores had money. But it didn't matter. There would be no ransom demand. These sickos were taking kids and killing the families. To what end, he had no clue.

It was the second night of sitting on the house. He was sure the killers' MO would remain the same. The ultra-violent psychos didn't seem to care if they were caught, though they were exceptional at hiding out and not leaving a trail. Confident and brazen was the best way Hale could think of to describe the sickos, which was why he was sure they would strike at the Whitmore home. This time, he and his men would be ready. Similar to the Brown boy, he figured the killers would come back to finish off the parents. The Whitmores were nowhere near the property. They were holed up and guarded at a hotel in town.

Almost all of the house's drapes and blinds had been drawn, allowing for Hale and Newton to roam freely with their radios and guns in sight. It also kept the killers from seeing strangers in the house, not that they'd get close enough to spot either officer without themselves being spotted by any number of cops.

Newton entered the living room, having just come from doing a sweep of the house. Not that doing such a thing was necessary, but it gave the officer something to do other than stare at his phone, fall asleep or talk Hale's ear off. Their job was to capture the intruders, not be on the lookout for them. Hale was relying on the outside team to spot anyone coming toward, or entering, the house. His plan was to arrest, not kill. He needed the kids found and wanted answers. It was important to learn as much about the criminal element as possible, regardless of the severity of the crime. Gain knowledge on one criminal and it could aid in apprehending the next similar one. He would rather be more prepared than less. But after he grilled these psychos, they could go to the electric chair for all he cared. Hell, he'd be happy to take them into the woods and put a bullet into their heads. Save the state some money that could be better used for education or feeding the needy.

The house had been stocked with food and drinks and lots of coffee, knowing neither man was going to be able to leave for a few days. Lights around the house were on timers, the devices set according to the Whitmore's schedule. Everything needed to appear as normal as possible to an outsider.

“Want some coffee, Chief?” Newton asked.

Hale thought about it, but said no. He'd already had two cups in the last hour. He had been up most of the previous night and all of the current day. Despite all the caffeine and the situation, he did get bouts of sleepiness. But then he'd think of the killers and how great it was going to be when he caught them and his energy level would soar.

His town was going to be safe again, damn it.

Glancing at his watch, he saw the time was closing in on one A.M. He intended on staying up for another hour or so, then planned on resting. He didn't want to, but if the shit was going to go down, he wanted to be a little rested. Newton had taken a nap an hour ago and would keep watch.

“Man, I could get used to living like this,” Newton said, taking in the spacious living room for the hundredth time.

Hale didn't want his officer daydreaming. He knew it was difficult to stay sharp and focused for a day and a half, but he reminded the man he was there to do a job.

“I know,” Newton said. “Don't worry, I'm one hundred percent on the job.”

The house was a distraction, Hale knew, especially for a young man like Newton who dated a lot and liked to have a good time. There was the largest television Hale had ever seen in the living room, a movie theater in the basement, an indoor pool, televisions in the bathrooms and enough space to invite the entire island to one hell of a house party. Hale hadn't even considered what brand of furniture the place housed, but the couch and bed were extremely comfortable. Oh, how could he forget about the four-car garage that included a Bentley Mulsanne, a Mercedes-Benz SL65 AMG Roadster, mint condition 1967 Ferrari and a Range Rover?

“I mean, this guy got all this from trading stocks online?” Newton asked, shaking his head. “He doesn't even go to an office. He can sit home, press a few buttons and presto, he's made a few hundred thousand for the day.”

“I think it's a little more complicated than that,” Hale said.

“I think I picked the wrong profession,” Newton said.

“You can always change that,” Hale said.

“Nah, I'm just talking out my ass,” Newton said with a chuckle. “I'll open an account one day when I save up some cash. Learn from one of those stock trading books or something. But truth is: I love being a cop. Wanted to be one since I was a little boy. I mean, this place is nice, but it's just material. I love what I do.”

“You keep up how you're going, put in your time, and maybe you'll make chief one day,” Hale said.

Newton looked at Hale with one eyebrow cocked. “No thanks, Chief. I like being out on the streets, tracking down criminals and stuff. Keeping people safe. Not stuck behind a desk.” Newton held out a hand. “No offense, Chief.”

“None taken,” Hale said, smiling. “You're young, so I can understand, but wait a few more years, then come talk to me about not wanting to be in one spot and commanding others. It's hard work, don't get me wrong, but it's much easier on the bones and back.”

“Damn, Chief, you sound old, as if you're getting ready to retire. Aren't you only like forty-five or something?”

“Just talk to me in fifteen years,” Hale said.

“That might be true, but I have trouble thinking past tomorrow, you know what I mean?”

Hale liked Newton. The kid exuded energy and it seemed to rub off on whoever was around him. He saw a lot of himself in the young cop. When it had come time to choose which officer he'd be cooped up with, Hale chose Newton because of his exuberance, but also because he wanted to get a better feel for the man. And let the man get a better feel for him. Spending time with a person could tell you a lot about them. Hale would see how the young man responded to being cut off from the rest of the world and stuck with a boring old-timer. He also didn't think having a young ball of energy stuck in a van or in the woods in a hunter's blind was a good idea. At least in the house, he could see more sides of Newton, and there was much more room to roam about and not go stir crazy.

“Do you really think the killers are going to show?” Newton asked.

“We can't be—” Hale began, but was interrupted by his radio going off.

“We've got movement from the south side,” Officer Levy's voice said just above a whisper. The female officer was positioned in one of the blinds along the tree line.

Hale had his radio in hand and at his mouth in seconds. “How many?”

“Looks like one,” Levy said. “Not sure what to make of this, Chief. It's too dark to get a good look, but the figure is small, hunched over and moving fast toward the house. It almost looks like a child.”

“I've got eyes on it now too,” another voice said. It was Officer Keller's, his deep voice easily recognizable. At six-foot-two and weighing two hundred and twenty pounds, all of it muscle, the man was a monster.

“I want details,” Hale said.

“Too dark and the moonlight's playing with my infrared scope. Looks like a gorilla, using its arms to move along.”

Tricks of the light, Hale thought.

“It's at the back of the house,” Levy said.

Hale told Newton to turn off the living room and kitchen lights. A moment later, the house was pitch dark. The officers pulled out their mini Maglites and clicked them on.

“Figure's at the rear right corner of the house.”

That was off to the left of the living room window, a mere twenty feet or so from where Hale and Newton were standing. Though they couldn't see through the wall, both men stared at it, knowing how close they were to capturing the bad guy.

“What the hell?” Levy said. “It's climbing the side of the house.”

“Say that again?” Hale asked.

“It's scaling the house, Chief, like fucking Spiderman.”

“There's no rope or ladder,” Keller said. “Impossible.”

Hale glanced up at the ceiling. He thought for a second—the parents' bedroom was there. That's where the intruder was heading.

The sound of glass shattering broke the stillness. With all the windows locked, save the one in Kaley's room, the intruder had had no choice but to smash his way in. Hale's pulse thumped a little faster. Newton had his service weapon in hand. The young officer was looking to him for what they were going to do next.

“The suspect's in the house,” Levy said. “I repeat ‘the suspect's in the house.'”

“I want everyone to move in closer but remain outside. I don't want him escaping should he get away from us.” Hale clipped his radio back to his belt and drew his gun, a Glock 19.

Hale moved past Newton and motioned for the man to follow. They made their way down the hallway to the staircase leading to the second floor. It seemed like the intruder was having a fit. The sounds of things being smashed and broken filled the air.

They ascended the stairs. Hale took lead and hugged the right wall. Newton was on the left. When they reached the landing, the crashing sounds ceased. Silence ensued, the stillness almost thunderous. Then the sound of fabric being ripped and torn, along with animalistic grunts, filled the void.

Hale tensed, but remembered to breathe. He looked over his shoulder and checked on Newton. The young officer nodded. Hale faced forward again and saw the corridor that led to the bedrooms. A droplet of sweat ran down his back. He swallowed and took a step. The carpeted floor creaked beneath his shoe, the sound like an alarm going off. Hale winced. The rustling and grunting noises stopped. Hale could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He held up his hand, indicating for Newton to stop.

Shit
, Hale thought. The stairs hadn't made a sound, but the loose floorboard beneath the carpet had. He wondered how, with all the raucous noises, the intruder had heard the gentle groan of a piece of wood.

Hale reminded himself of the situation. He was a seasoned veteran. The house was surrounded. Worst case—the perp left through the window and was nabbed outside.

“Manteo Police,” Hale called. “The house is completely surrounded. Come out with your hands held high and no one gets hurt.” His gun hand was trembling, palms sweaty. As much as he tried not to think about the past, it came up. There was no way a child was in the room, had scaled the house. But he couldn't stop his nerves from acting up. Levy and Keller had said the intruder was small and looked like a child. A fucking kid. He didn't want to go back down that road again. The last time he'd pulled his service weapon while in the line of duty, a child had died by his hand.

Hale's nostrils widened as he ground his teeth in mock anger, hoping to stir up real anger and nerve. He forced a few breaths, getting his pulse rate under control. He needed to let the past go and concentrate on the present, at least for now. There were a lot of people depending on him. The intruder needed to be taken alive, the man the best bet in finding the missing kids.

“Chief?” Newton whispered.

Hale shook his head, clearing out the cobwebs. “I'm good.”

“I don't think whoever's in there is going to surrender.”

“This is your last chance to come out peacefully,” Hale said, voice raised. “No one needs to get hurt.” He expected to hear his radio come to life, alerting him that the intruder had gone back out the window. When it didn't, he knew the asshole was hiding. Waiting for them.

Moving down the hallway, Hale checked the first bedroom that was one of the guest rooms. Newton stood just outside the doorway, ready to back up Hale or stop the intruder if he came out of another bedroom.

Hale shone his light around and checked in the closet, then got on his hands and knees and looked under the bed. With the room clear, he went back into the hall and entered Kaley's room.

The place was vibrant with bright colors, the walls painted with rainbows. Stuffed animals lined shelves, and a monkey and an armadillo sat atop a sleeping computer in the far corner. Next to the monitor sat a faux, hot-pink sunflower that sprouted from a slim silver vase. Matching hot-pink bed sheets with sunflowers embroidered on them showed from where the comforter had been thrown aside when she got out of bed.

A chill ran up Hale's spine at seeing the unmade bed. He pictured the girl slipping out of bed for whatever reason and then getting grabbed. She would've been so frightened. If a kid couldn't be safe in their own room, how would they feel safe anywhere again?

It was clear the parents hadn't touched a thing. Though CSU had already canvassed the room, he wondered if the Whitmores had feared tainting their daughter's space anyway. Just in case the cops needed to come back—had lost evidence or missed something. Or maybe they couldn't bear to touch or move anything. To do so meant to somehow tempt fate. People did strange things during times of crises. Or maybe they wanted Kaley's room exactly the way she had left it for when she came home, make the place feel as normal as possible for her. As if she'd never left. Even the window remained open, Kaley's mother making sure to let the police know it was to be left that way. Hale had wanted to close it. It was best to have the home sealed, but the mother had been so distraught and said it was so Kaley could find her way home. It made no sense, but he abided her wishes. It turned out it didn't matter. The killer had entered through another room's window.