Silent Justice (15 page)

Adam was nowhere in sight.

He drove the entire block, scanning the sidewalks and properties until he reached the intersection, and then turned right and headed back to Steel Road.

His quarry had cut through a neighbor’s property and was now approaching the sidewalk, the grocery bag swinging in one hand. Still two hundred feet away, Jake touched the gas and the car surged ahead.

Adam moved into the street, took a few steps, and stopped halfway across. He turned his head and froze a moment, staring at the car bearing down on him. Then the fugitive leaped into a run, crossed the street, and dashed toward the steel mill as Jake ground the Firebird to a stop on the shoulder and jumped out.

He charged ahead, his long legs cutting across the gravel and weeds. Adam approached one of the many ancillary buildings that dotted the property and disappeared behind it. Jake followed, spun around behind the structure, and stopped. Adam wasn’t in sight. He could be hiding behind any of the buildings, maybe inside, or long gone.

Jake glanced around and listened for sounds of his quarry, straining to hear above the constant whine of machinery, rhythmic thumping, and screeches of metal on metal that came from the main building close by.

There were dozens of places to hide and scores of paths to freedom. Jake circled the nearby buildings, scouring the area, then continued toward the back of the property and approached a set of railroad tracks.

The engine of a powerful locomotive labored under a heavy load as it moved gradually forward, screeching in Jake’s direction. He stepped across the tracks and looked in both directions as the train lumbered past.

A crash sounded a distance away when a crane dropped a load of scrap onto a stockpile, soon to be turned into molten metal.

Jake ran forward, his feet crunching on the gravel yard as he raced toward the rear of the property. The sounds of the mill lessened, becoming background noise, white noise, as he moved further away.

He stopped at a chain-link fence, ten feet high and barbed at the top, designed to keep the curious from wandering into danger. This was the absolute edge of the city. An empty field lay beyond, unused and overgrown, and a mile further on, a dark line of trees could be seen.

Then on the other side of the fence, fifty feet away, Adam was plodding up the fence line, his head down as he moved toward Jake. He had made it around or through the fence and appeared to be circling back.

Jake glanced up. There was no way to climb over; the barbs at the top would stop him. He crouched down and waited. Adam still came, now twenty feet away.

Five feet away, the fugitive panted from the exertion of the chase, his breathing labored. So close, but out of reach.

Jake stood. “Adam Thorburn.”

The fugitive stopped quick, his mouth open, staring wide-eyed through the links of the fence. He turned suddenly, ready to run, then stopped and spun back, his brow furrowed. He glared at Jake and spoke cautiously, his eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Jake studied the young man’s face. He didn’t look like a vicious killer, but Jake knew from past experience, looks can be deceiving.

“Why’re you chasing me?” Adam asked with a puzzled frown.

“The police would like to talk to you.”

Adam scowled. “I have no wish to talk to them.”

“You can’t run forever, Adam,” Jake said.

“How do you know my name?”

“I’ve been looking for you. I want to help you.”

Adam laughed. “I doubt that.” His face sobered. “Nobody can help me. You must know that.”

“Give yourself up and you’ll see.”

“Never.” Adam tucked his hands into his pockets, the handle of the bag looped over his wrist. He raised his chin, his face darkening. “I know what would happen to me if I did.”

Jake looked at the man who had killed in cold blood, not once, but twice, now defiant, desperate, and on the verge of running.

“I know you killed Nina White by accident,” Jake said. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Panic gripped Adam’s face. “Nina White? Mrs. White, the counselor at school?”

Jake nodded.

Adam seemed confused and took a step back. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Then he took a deep breath and looked away. In a moment, he looked back, pain in his eyes. “I wouldn’t hurt her. She was the only one who helped me. She believed in me when no one else did.”

Jake tried one last plea. “That’s why you need to surrender. We can get this all straightened out.”

Adam’s lips tightened and he shook his head adamantly.

Jake reached into his shirt pocket and removed a business card, tucking it through the fence. “Take my card. You can call me anytime.”

Adam kept his eyes on Jake as he reached out carefully and snatched the card. He glanced at it and frowned. “You came to see my mother,” he said, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“Yes, we did. She wants us to help you.”

“Now I know you’re lying. She would’ve left me a note and told me that if you only wanted to help.” He took a step back and flipped the card through the air. It fell behind a tall weed. Adam turned, took a step, then glanced back. “Don’t try to find me anymore. You never will. I’m heading west where you can never catch me.”

As Adam jogged away, Jake ran along the fence, keeping pace with the fugitive. Before long, the fence stopped abruptly at a building, too high to scale, and too expansive to run around.

Jake watched helplessly as Adam disappeared into the distance. It was hopeless to give chase now; the man would soon be long gone.

Chapter 27

Wednesday, 2:55 p.m.

ANNIE’S CELL PHONE sounded, notifying her of a text message. It was Jake. He missed her and was on his way home. The message continued: “Have interesting news. Called Hank to drop by.”

She pushed aside her notes and sat back in her swivel chair. It made sense to her, since Adam had killed a second person yesterday, that he was still in the area and wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. That gave them a better chance of catching him, but it also meant the killings might continue.

The motive for the murders stumped her. Adam knew Nina White, and he would most certainly have known who Raymond Ronson was. That was the only connection she could find, but that alone didn’t seem like a powerful motive, and it was unlikely that discovering the reason behind it all would lead to Adam Thorburn.

The doorbell rang and she went to the front door and opened it.

Hank flashed a grin and stepped inside. “Jake not here yet?”

“He’s coming home now,” Annie said, leading the way to the living room.

“He said he had some news.” Hank sat on the couch and set his briefcase beside him. “Between King and me, we’ve been able to get in touch with several of Adam Thorburn’s classmates. We advised them of the possible danger and warned them to be on their guard.”

“Both murders weren’t just related to his schooldays, but actually took place at the schools,” Annie noted. “And both were after hours.”

“We have officers watching both buildings day and night. School security is on alert, with both schools on lockdown as much as possible during the day.” Hank shrugged. “It’s a necessary precaution, though it’s doubtful Thorburn would hit the same place twice. He’s too intelligent.”

“True,” Annie said. “But if it happens during one of his hazy periods, he might not be thinking clearly.”

“That’s why we’re not taking any chances,” Hank said. He turned his head toward the window as a car roared into the driveway. “Jake’s here.”

A moment later the front door opened, closed, and Jake stepped into the room. He nodded at Hank, pulled up an ottoman and sat, leaning forward, his arms resting on his legs.

“I ran into Adam Thorburn,” he said.

Hank sat forward.

“I was watching the neighborhood,” Jake said. “Watching his house and saw him leave through a basement window.” His face twisted into a grimace. “I just missed him by a hair. Chased him across the yard of the steel mill, but somehow he got around the back fence.” He grinned. “Had a little chat with him through the fence.”

Hank’s mouth hung open a moment, then he said, “You talked to him?”

Jake nodded and straightened his back. “He seemed genuinely surprised and upset when I mentioned Nina White. Said she was the only one who believed in him.”

“He has a conscience when his sociopathic tendencies don’t take over,” Annie said.

“That’s sort of what Dr. Zalora told me,” Jake said. “He can be a normal kid most of the time, but on occasion he goes nuts.”

“Did you get any indication where he might be hiding out?” Hank asked.

Jake shook his head. “No, but he said he was heading west where we’d never find him.”

Hank sat back and rubbed his hands through his hair. “West? As far as we know, he has no family out west. His father’s family lives east and north. We’ve been in contact with them and will continue to be, but if he’s going west, he’s on his own.”

“Don’t forget, he likes being on his own,” Annie said.

“We’ll get his photo out nationwide just the same,” Hank said. “He might not be heading west. Why would he tell you that if it were true?”

“Maybe he wants us to think that,” Annie said.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he might not be leaving the city at all. I think we have to disregard what he said.”

“I can’t disregard it completely,” Hank said. “But for the most part, all I can do is follow the evidence and see where it leads.”

“What evidence?” Jake asked.

“From the crime scenes. I got a partial report from forensics. Adam’s prints weren’t found anywhere. The only prints on the screwdriver were those of Raymond Ronson. And Ronson’s prints were also on the door handle along with yours, Jake.” Hank looked at Annie. “And we found couple of yours on the wall near the light switch.”

“And the computer the email was sent from?” Annie asked.

“All the prints were from office staff,” Hank said, snapping open his briefcase. He removed a sheet of paper and browsed it. “According to the ME, the angle of penetration indicates Ronson was standing when he was stabbed. And CSI reports the killer tracked through the blood after the stabbing and made his way to the school computer.”

“What about the rose?” Jake asked.

“Same species as the one found in Nina White’s mouth. No surprise there.”

“That’s all fine,” Annie said. “But we already know who we’re looking for. The question is, how do we find him?”

“We have officers all over the city looking for him. His face is in every newspaper and on every TV screen, and we’re still canvassing and talking to anyone who knew him.”

“What about outlying areas?” Annie asked. “Farms out of town, barns and other buildings?”

“All being covered,” Hank said. “And King’s still out there.”

“What about the homeless community?” Jake asked. “Maybe he’s staying with them. Hiding in plain sight.”

Hank shook his head. “We’ve checked as much as possible, but a lot of them don’t like to talk to cops. We’ve even contacted CIs. That’s a dead end too. It’s doubtful he ever associated with any of the criminal elements.”

Annie leaned forward. “The only person he trusts is his mother.”

“That might be,” Hank said, “But she claims to have no idea where he is.”

“She told us the same thing,” Jake said. “But I’m not totally convinced.”

“It looks like we might have to put an officer in the backyard of the Thorburn house,” Hank said. “Watching the house from the front and patrolling the surrounding streets isn’t sufficient.”

“But that’ll only keep him away,” Annie said. “He’s being rather careful.”

“Possibly, but if he can’t return home for food or supplies, it might force his hand,” Hank said. He snapped his briefcase shut, picked it up, and stood. “I’d better get back at it. I have a few more people to see.”

Annie sat back in her chair as Jake saw Hank to the door. When Jake returned and dropped onto the couch, she said, “I think we have to see if we can get something from Virginia Thorburn. I agree with you, she knows more than she’s willing to say, and if so, she can’t continue to cover for him if he keeps killing innocent people.”

“Perhaps she knows something, but if not, somebody might,” Jake said. “I’d like to figure out who he’s going to target next. There has to be something we’re missing. He’s not killing at random. He knows the victims.”

“That’s the big puzzle. Since we don’t know where he’s hiding, we need to find out where he’s heading. I wonder if you should stake out the neighborhood again in case he decides to return.”

“It seems pretty unlikely now,” Jake said. “Would he be that stupid?”

“Maybe,” Annie said. “He does seem to be a little careless. Psychopaths don’t have much fear and often leave clues purposely to bait the police. They have a desire to be known for their accomplishments and love to boast about them after they’ve been apprehended. Perhaps he subconsciously wants to be caught.”

“He seemed pretty normal when I talked to him. He showed some remorse and displayed his conscience. I don’t know if our chances of catching him are better when he’s acting normal or when he’s acting crazy.”

“Either way, we have to do something soon,” Annie said. “If there’s one thing I know for certain, he’s not finished killing. It’s a question of who’s next.”

Chapter 28

Wednesday, 3:51 p.m.

ADAM THORBURN huddled against the wall of his shack, annoyed at himself for being seen, and afraid of any consequences his exposure might bring. He wouldn’t be found in the swamp. They would never expect that, but it appeared they were still watching the neighborhood, and he wondered how long he would be safe.

It might be only a matter of time, and he shuddered at the thought of spending the rest of his life in prison. He would kill himself first. If they got too close, he would run as far as he could, but he would end it all before allowing himself to be captured.