Silent Justice (24 page)

Chapter 43

Thursday, 2:18 p.m.

JAKE’S PATIENCE looked like it was about to pay off.

He watched from his hiding place in a thick hedge as Virginia Thorburn walked purposefully down the driveway to the sidewalk. She carried a grocery bag in one hand, a handbag in the other. He looked at his watch. It was much too early for her to be heading to work, and nobody takes a stuffed grocery bag out of the house except to deliver something. Jake was pretty sure he knew what the occasion was.

She was going to see Adam.

She cast a quick glance at the unmarked car across the street, waved a hand their way, then stepped onto the sidewalk. She strolled away, casually swinging the bag as if out for an afternoon stroll.

Jake waited until she was fifty feet away before crawling out of the hedge. He walked up the sidewalk keeping pace with her, careful to keep one of the many trees that lined the street between them whenever possible. If Virginia happened to get the slightest glimpse of him, he would be recognized immediately. For Annie’s sake, Jake couldn’t let that happen.

She reached the end of the block, turned around slowly, and gazed his way. He pulled his head back behind a massive tree trunk and waited, daring to peer out a few seconds later.

She had turned at the intersection and was heading up the short street that led from Mill Street to Steel Road. In a moment, she disappeared from sight. Jake stepped out, jogged to the corner, and frowned. She was gone.

Then through his peripheral vision, off to his right, he saw the screen door at the side of the corner house snap shut. He dropped down. That had to be where she’d gone; it was the only way she could’ve vanished so quickly.

Was Adam hiding out in there?

Was Annie in there?

He was going to find out.

He surveyed the house. It looked uninhabited. There were no curtains on the windows, the grass was overgrown, and no lights were visible inside. It was the perfect hiding place, and totally unexpected.

He had visited the house earlier and no one had answered the door, but it was only one of several where no one was home and he hadn’t given it a second thought.

Jake walked boldly to the porch, stepped up, and took a quick glimpse inside the small window in the door. He couldn’t see clearly through the screen, and he craned his neck in both directions. The entranceway appeared to be empty.

He stepped off the porch and circled around to the back of the house. A door exited onto a small deck, a sliding glass door, probably leading to the kitchen. He eased across the wall of the house and moved onto the deck, choosing his steps carefully. The boards were rotting in places, and a wrong step would send a loud warning to anyone in the house.

Jake clung to the wall, inched toward the door, and stopped. He held his breath and peered around carefully.

He pulled back abruptly and let his breath out. Virginia sat at the kitchen table, facing his way. She might have seen him had her view not been blocked by a man who sat at the near end of the table, his back toward the door.

He didn’t see the man’s face, but it had to be Adam. Who else would be hanging around a deserted dwelling? Virginia wouldn’t be making a friendly neighborhood visit to an empty house.

Now Jake had a choice to make. Should he go barging in, or wait for Virginia to leave? And what if one, or both of them, had a weapon? Normally he would dive right in, but he had to think of Annie. He wasn’t sure whether or not she was there, but if so, he couldn’t endanger her. One person, even a raging psychopath, would be easier to handle than two, especially if one of them was a mother who might do whatever it took to protect her son.

Jake made up his mind. He eased off the deck and moved across the lawn to the sidewalk. He stepped behind a tree where a cursory glance now and then would give him a view of the side and back doors at the same time.

He waited and watched.

Finally, the side door opened and Virginia stepped out. She waved a hand, strode to the sidewalk, and rounded the corner. She was heading home again, and Jake was raring to go.

He waited until she was safely out of sight and then moved to the door, opened the screen door as quietly as possible, and twisted the knob. The door was locked from the inside. He stood back and examined the frame. It didn’t look so strong and wouldn’t stand much chance against his wide shoulder and two hundred and ten pounds of muscle behind it.

Jake took a deep breath and lunged forward. The door complained but held. He shook his head, stepped back, and hit the door again. The frame splintered, the door sprung forward, and Jake caught his balance and dove into the house.

“Stand back.”

Jake spun his head. The man at the table was Adam, no doubt, but now he stood in the entrance to the living room holding a pistol gripped in both hands, a maniacal look on his face.

Jake held out a hand, palm out. “You’d better put the gun down, Adam.”

Adam shook his head. “Never.”

“Is my wife here?”

“Who’s your wife?”

“You know who she is. Her name’s Annie.” Jake raised his voice and bellowed, “Annie?”

“I’ll shoot you,” Adam said, his eyes wild, his hands shaking.

Jake looked at the trembling hands of the madman. Adam didn’t look like he would be able to hit a moving target, but Jake wasn’t going to take any chances. He tucked his hands into his pockets in an attempt to look like less of a threat.

“You can leave if you want,” he said. “I only want my wife.”

“Jake,” a muffled voice called and Jake’s heart jumped. It was Annie and she was okay. He looked toward the sound and saw a door, probably leading to the basement. He turned back to Adam, who looked frantically back and forth between the basement door and Jake.

“I didn’t hurt her,” Adam said.

“Thank you,” Jake said, attempting to put the maniac at ease. “You’re not a killer.”

Adam cocked his head and the gun wavered, dropping a couple of inches. Jake dove forward, hitting Adam with a perfect sliding tackle. The gun flew through the air and Adam went down, the breath knocked out of him. The gun bounced on the carpet and lay out of Adam’s reach, no longer a threat.

The fugitive clawed at Jake with both hands in vain. Jake grabbed Adam’s wrists and climbed to his feet, pulling his captive with him, then wrenched the man’s arms behind his back and held him firmly in one massive fist.

“You’re under arrest.”

Adam dropped his head, his rage expended, and remained still.

Jake half-dragged Adam toward the basement door, slid the lock back with his free hand, and pulled the door open. He grinned at Annie as she stepped into the room.

She looked up into his warm brown eyes, and whispered, “I’ve never been so happy to see you.”

Adam twisted his head around and looked at Annie with moist eyes. He spoke in a low, pleading voice. “Make sure you tell them I didn’t hurt you.”

Jake couldn’t understand the compassion on Annie’s face as she looked at the captive with a faint smile and said, “You didn’t harm me.”

She let go of Jake, went to the kitchen, and glanced around. Her handbag lay on the counter, still intact. She dug inside and removed her cell phone. It was undamaged, with the GPS turned off.

“We’d better call the police now,” Jake said.

Chapter 44

Thursday, 3:12 p.m.

HANK WAS THRILLED when he heard about the arrest of Adam Thorburn. He didn’t care who got the credit. He was only thankful another vicious killer had been apprehended.

When the precinct doors opened and Adam was brought in, Hank picked up the evidence folder from his desk and pushed back his chair. He stood to his feet, beckoned to King, and strolled across the precinct. The prisoner’s head was down, his shoulders slumped, his hands cuffed securely behind his back as two officers prodded him across the floor.

Jake and Annie came behind the procession, a wide grin appearing on Jake’s face when Hank approached.

Hank shook Jake’s hand and gave Annie a sideways hug. “Congratulations, guys.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you, Hank,” Jake said. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s your arrest.”

Annie agreed. “It’s your case—your arrest.”

Detective King wandered over, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and watched without a word as Adam was led down a hallway away from the room. The suspect would be taken to Interview Room One and Hank looked forward to interrogating him.

Hank turned to Jake. “You guys are welcome to watch the interview. We owe you that much.” He looked at King. “You ready?”

King shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Hank led the way across the floor, down the hallway, and opened a door. He motioned for the Lincolns to enter the room. From there, they could listen to the interview and watch it through a one-way mirror.

He closed the door and opened the next one, and King followed him inside. Adam Thorburn sat on the far side of a small metal table, his head down, his hands cuffed to a secure bar on the tabletop. His eyes turned upward as Hank pulled back a chair, tossed the folder onto the table, and sat down.

King stood and leaned against the wall of the bare room and observed the prisoner. The small room was bleak, with a camera in the corner to record the interview. The one-way mirror was behind Hank.

Adam Thorburn raised his head and looked cautiously at Hank, fear in his eyes, the cufflinks rattling as he wrung his hands.

Hank opened the folder, leafed blankly through the pages, then leaned forward. “You’re going to be charged with two counts of murder, possibly kidnapping, unlawful possession of a firearm, and who knows what else.”

Adam nodded and remained silent.

“Tell me about the murder of Nina White,” Hank said.

Adam breathed rapidly, his body shaking. “I … I don’t remember.” He paused. “I ran over her with a car.”

King rested his hands on the edge of the desk and leaned in. “Why?”

Adam looked up at King and shook his head. “I … I don’t know.”

“Were you in love with her?”

Adam’s brow tightened. “No. Of course not. She was good to me, that’s all.”

“Then why’d you kill her?” King demanded.

Adam shrugged and rubbed his hand together to control the trembling.

“What about Raymond Ronson?” Hank asked. “Why’d you kill him?”

Adam shrugged again. “I … I don’t know why. Sometimes I can’t help myself. I hear voices telling me to do things, and sometimes I don’t remember doing them.”

King raised his voice. “So you’re going to plead temporary insanity. Is that your game?”

“I’m not insane,” Adam said to King, and looked at Hank. “I have schizophrenia.”

“And you’re a psychopath,” King added, straightening his back. “And a sociopath.”

Adam shook uncontrollably. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. When he opened his eyes, he looked fearfully at Hank. “Are you going to lock me up?”

King laughed out loud. “That’s usually what we do with killers. We lock them up forever.”

Hank frowned up at King. Hank wanted the young man to relax and tell them what they needed to know, but King wasn’t helping with his fear-mongering.

“Tell me about Raymond Ronson,” Hank asked, his voice taking on a softer tone.

Adam took a couple of breaths. “Everybody at school knew Mr. Ronson. He liked to talk to the kids and get to know us. He was real friendly.”

Hank leaned in, resting his arms on the table. “So why’d you kill him after all these years?”

Adam hung his head, his voice barely low enough to hear. “I don’t know.”

“What about the third one? The one you told Annie about on the phone?”

Adam raised his head. “I barely remember that one. Some of it came back to me. I remember blood and a knife.”

“Who was the victim, Adam?”

“I … I don’t know. I felt a lot of hatred.”

“Who do you hate, Adam?”

Adam looked bewildered. “I don’t hate anyone.”

“What about the boys who used to bully you at school?”

Adam nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess I hate them. Sometimes.”

“Did you kill one of them, Adam?”

Adam stared blankly at Hank, then his eyes widened and he took a sharp breath. “Maybe.”

“Think,” King shouted, leaning on the desk.

Hank looked at the impatient cop. “You’re not helping. You’re only agitating him.”

King huffed and leaned back against the wall.

Hank touched Adam’s hand. “Was it one of the bullies?”

Adam nodded once, stopped to think, then nodded again. “Yes, it was.” His eyes filled with dread at the thought. “I think I remember now.”

“Do you remember his name?”

The prisoner stared at the ceiling a moment then closed his eyes. Then his eyes popped open and he stared at Hank. “It was Patton. His name’s Paul Patton.” He blinked rapidly. “It was at the grocery store where I work. He’s a stockboy and I knew him from school.” He dropped his head into his hands and moaned.

Hank sat back. It appeared they were finally getting somewhere. He glanced at King, removed a pen from his jacket, and wrote down the name.

“What did you do with the body?”

Adam looked up, tears in his eyes. “I … I put him in the dumpster behind the store.”

That’s why the body had never been found. It was probably long gone, perhaps buried under a mountain of trash in a landfill somewhere.

Adam breathed rapidly, erratically, the tears now escaping from his eyes. He tried to speak, his body shivering, the cuffs rattling as he shook. Through sobs, he managed to say, “There … there’s another one.”

“Another victim?” Hank asked.

Adam nodded furiously, tears dripping off his chin. He dropped his head and wiped them away with a cuffed hand. “I can remember some of it now, too. It happened this morning.”

“Tell me about it.” Hank was shocked, but he kept his voice soft, encouraging the young man to continue.