Requite (5 page)

The second witness statement came from a Lucy Jennings. She claimed she saw what looked like a fight in the parking lot as she walked to her car. The next time she looked over she saw a white van speeding off.

The statement from first responders confirmed blunt force trauma. Jake was beaten with something, perhaps a pipe or bat. They also mentioned the word
murdering
cut into his head.

Other than Jessica Casey’s purse and Jake Richwood’s phone, no other physical evidence was pulled from the scene.

I browsed over the copies of the driver’s licenses and the couple’s records. Aside from Jake Richwood having a DUI on his record, they were both clean.

“Not much here.”

“I know. Maybe the cap has something to add.”

I nodded and browsed the witness statements again.

“What were you doing this morning? It sounded like you were already out and about.”

“Log jammed in traffic, heading home from Callie’s.”

“Oh yeah, what movie did you go see?”

“I don’t remember the name.” It was a lie.

“Well, what was it about?”

I looked up from the file. “It was your standard love story involving thirty year olds who played high school kids.”

Hank smiled. “So you picked it out?”

“I got to stuff my face with nachos and soft pretzels, so it wasn’t a total loss. That’s a great looking taupe suit though. And what a wonderful orange tie. Is that more Box O’ Style?”

He went quiet.

About a half hour passed before we heard the door of the captain’s office open, followed by a rap on the window behind my head.

“Guess that means he’s ready for us,” I said.

Hank and I walked next door to the captain’s office. He was accompanied by our station’s Public Relations guy Sam James and Major Danes, the head of our Criminal Investigations unit. Major Danes’s bald head gleamed as he sat at the corner of the captain’s desk. His tree trunk arms rested on top. Clutched in his right hand was a coffee. His left hand rubbed at a few day old white beard. He gave Hank and I a nod. “Morning, guys.”

I nodded back while I scooped up a donut and coffee. I took my seat.

Hank did the same and sat beside me.

“You get a copy of the preliminary folder, Kane?” Captain Bostok asked.

“Hank handed me one when I walked in.”

“You get a chance to go through it?”

“Yeah, looks like our guy from the other night struck again—Judge Casey’s daughter and her boyfriend being the victims.”

Danes tapped his pen on the captain’s desk a couple times before speaking. “What’s your first instinct on this, Kane? You think this is going to be a ransom attempt?”

I could understand his question. The girl had a high profile father with plenty of money, but it didn’t fit. On top of that, an abduction would get kicked over to the Feds to deal with. I shook my head. “No.”

“What are you thinking?” the captain asked.

“I hate to sound grim, but I think we are looking for a body.”

The captain motioned for me to continue.

“Whoever is doing this is giving us a message. This is his revenge for something that happened to him involving these people. We need to connect the dots. I think our guy got interrupted and took the girl to finish somewhere else. We need to find him, before we find her body dumped on the side of the road somewhere with a word cut into her head.”

Quietness rolled over the captain’s office. My dose of logic and reality didn’t provide enough hope for the room’s liking.

Hank broke the silence. “Any ties that we know of that can connect the Millers with these two?”

“There’s nothing on the surface. I spoke with the judge on the phone this morning and asked him if he ever heard of James or Margaret Miller. He said he hadn’t. As far as background checks, nothing connects them.”

“Were they at a bar or something?” I asked.

“We don’t know.”

“How is the boyfriend doing? Is he going to live?” Hank asked.

“Boyfriend is at Tampa General. First responders found a faint pulse when they arrived. They shipped him over to the hospital. He’s in the ICU. They were considering surgery to try to relieve some of the swelling on the brain. The attending physician is going to give us a heads up with any changes in his status,” the captain said.

“Did forensics pick up anything from the crime scene? Tire marks, security footage, anything?” I asked.

“They just finished up. I don’t think they got much, but you’ll have to talk with Rick. No cameras in the parking structure. Aside from the two witnesses, it appeared to be a pretty clean grab,” the captain said.

“Anyone try to get a GPS signal on her phone’s location?” I asked.

The captain shook his head.

“Phone was in her purse.”

“Any idea how the media got wind of this so fast?” Hank asked.

“Scanner probably,” the captain said.

Sam, spoke up. “We are about to release a brief statement to the press.”

“Yeah, I can imagine how that’s going to go over—two nights in a row of people being bludgeoned, two dead, one almost dead, and one missing. Press is going to have a field day with this,” I said.

“Earlier, the captain, major and I just discussed how we wanted to proceed with the press on this. The press conference will just be focusing on the abduction of Miss Casey. We’ll ask for the media’s help in distributing photos and information on her. Hopefully, someone has seen her. As of this morning, we haven’t had contact with and family of Mister Richwood. We won’t be commenting on him or his condition until we can speak with his family.”

“So you don’t want to give them anything? Nothing about the words carved into the victims heads? I mean, the two homicides and attacks are clearly related. This looks to be revenge for something. I would think there’s a chance that if we lay everything out for the press someone might know what this is about and contact us.”

The captain held up his hand. “We had a conference call with Judge Casey this morning. He brought up a good point. If we give the press everything, it could spook the guy causing him to kill Jessica and disappear. Everything about this is staying in house until we find her.”

He only needed another minute at the parking structure to finish the job—kill them both, leave his message and move on to the next. The car pulling up the entrance ramp forced him to adjust his plan.

Jessica sat bound to a rolling desk chair in the building’s office. She had made it through the night. Dried blood was caked into her blonde hair. Tom looked at her and then the analog clock affixed to the wall—8:36 a.m. He needed to get started to avoid being late for a job.

The building was a three thousand square foot metal warehouse just east of the city. Shelving filled with piping and fittings ran from the floor to the ceiling. A single garage door stood at the back. In the center of the building sat his white cargo van. Tom went to the long wooden workbench against the wall and grabbed his two magnetic logos. Each one was four feet long by a foot tall and weathered from age. They were applied to the sides of the van. He walked back to the bench and picked up the two magnets with his businesses phone number. He slapped them on the doors.

The final step was reattaching the van’s license plate. The few hundred dollars he’d make working would be added to the pot. He needed every last cent to disappear.

While he had told the shrink he planned to move to Argentina, it was a smokescreen in case the police got to her. He hadn’t decided his final destination. All of his required documents for travel would be picked up later in the day. His flight would be booked last minute before he departed.

He slid on his blue striped work shirt. On one side of the chest it read
Tom
, on the other
Speedy’s Plumbing and Supply
.

The press conference lasted just twenty minutes. It was short and focused on Jessica’s abduction. I wasn’t sold that it was the right move not revealing any of the other information we had. We’d caught flak from not laying out the whole Cross case as it progressed, yet at the same time, I could understand the higher ups wanting to keep the case quiet. The city would go into a frenzy at the thought of another serial killer on the streets inside of a few short months.

I’d made a list of things that I wanted to tackle for the day. Talk to the judge. Check in on Jake Richwood at the hospital. See what Forensics came up with. Talk to Ed about the autopsies on the Millers and go over the crime scene at the parking structure. On top of all that, we had witness interviews that we needed to schedule.

The captain was heading out to the judge’s house for a little face time. We decided to join him and check it off the list first. We pulled into the pink flowered entry of the Saddle Creek Golf Community just shy of 9:00 a.m. A block down the street I threw the old man at the guard shack a wave as we drove past.

Palm trees and flower gardens lined the road on both sides—just inside, past the guard shack, sat the golf course’s practice range. We continued on and made a right off of Saddle Creek to Foxtrot drive, glimpses of the main golf course could be seen through the houses on the left.

A few blocks up, we turned onto Birdie Court. The short street ended in a cul-de-sac, with Judge Casey’s address taking up the back lot. Spanish moss hung from the branches of the live oak trees, forming a canopy over the entire street.

We pulled in and up to the courtyard of the Mediterranean styled estate—Captain Bostok followed in his car behind Hank and I.

As we pulled up I saw Judge Casey standing outside waiting to greet us as we got out of the cruiser. I had met him on one of my first cases after moving to Florida. Middle class housewives were being targeted throughout Hillsborough County. The man we were after would break into houses and sit in the attic for days learning the family’s routines. Once he was sure the women would be alone, he’d sneak down and attack. He’d rape them and cut their throat. We caught the guy when he fell through a family’s ceiling in the middle of dinner. It took the jury just three hours to hand down the verdict—guilty. Casey laid into the guy for an hour before delivering the sentence—death by lethal injection. It was all over the news. Over the years, Judge Casey had made a name for himself for being a hard ass, plain and simple.

This didn’t look like the same man. He was far removed from the tough-as-nails judge I sat in that courtroom with. He looked disheveled and his eyes were red and puffy from crying. The judge sniffed from a running nose. I reached out for a handshake. His grip was limp and jittery. He was a mess.

Hank stepped off to the side to call back to our Forensics department and see if Rick had gotten anything from the structure. He re-joined us at the front of the house a few minutes later.

“Anything?” I asked.

“Rick says they are working on some tire marks left at the scene.”

I nodded.

“Captain, have you found out anything more about Jessica?” His voice was shaky, matching his appearance.

“Our guys from forensics are working on some things. We will be re-interviewing the two witnesses of the attack today. We’ll do everything we can,” the captain said.

“This person who has her.” He paused for a moment. He had trouble getting the words to come from his mouth. “Are you sure it’s the same man who had killed the couple in New Tampa?”

The captain let out a breath and nodded. “It looks like it, Jim.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”

“We are going to do everything we can, as fast as we can, to follow the evidence we collect. Can you answer a few questions for us?” the captain asked.

“Anything I can do.”

“Should we go inside?” Bostok asked.

Judge Casey nodded and turned toward the door. We walked in through the giant entry of the house—twelve foot doors of solid hand-carved mahogany. Iron handles, inlays, latches and hinges decorated each door. It was more like walking into a castle than a house.

Judge Casey guided us through the foyer. Hand laid mosaic tiles covered the floor. Colored light shined down into the room from the domed stained-glass skylight. I looked up and took in the two matching marble staircases. The left and right sides were perfect mirror images of each other. Each staircase stood two stories with a landing on each side, large enough for sitting areas.

Casey ushered us to the left into the main living room. “Is this going to be OK?” he asked.

“This will be fine,” Bostok said.

We had a seat on the couch, Casey took the chair.

“Before we start, how is Jake?” the judge asked.

“Are you close?” I asked.

Judge Casey wiped at his eye with his thumb. “He’s been dating my daughter since they were in junior high. They aren’t married yet, but I consider him a son.”

I nodded.

“He’s in the ICU at Tampa General. He has significant injuries, but the doctors seemed hopeful,” the captain said.

“There were cuts on his forehead?”

“Yes,” I said.

The judge coughed into his fist. “It said murdering?”

“Yes.”

“But he’s going to make it right? Has anyone contacted his parents?” Judge Casey asked.

“As of this morning we haven’t made contact. Our next stop is going to be the hospital. I’ll check with them and see if they’ve made contact. If they haven’t, I’ll get their numbers and try myself,” I said.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“It’s no problem.” I flipped out my notepad from my pocket. “Should we begin?”

“I’ll answer anything I can.”

“OK. When did you see Jessica last?”

“Monday afternoon. We had lunch.”

“Was that the last time you spoke with her as well?”

“Yes.”

“What was her schedule like?”

“She has night classes every day of the week.”

“A job?” Hank asked.

“She interns during the day at a clinic.”

“And she had a class last night?” I asked.

He nodded. “Classes were until nine. She normally parked in the structure where they say it happened.”

I wrote it in my notepad. “This happened pretty late at night. Any idea why they were still there?”