Taken! Alphabet Series - 26 Original Taken! Tales (Donald Wells' Taken! Series Book 14) (5 page)

“Why does McKinley think it’s
The Reaper
?” Washburn asked.

“He didn’t say, but he’s bringing the guy in now for questioning. Captain wants everyone to watch the interrogation, including that profiler, Dr. White.”

One of the cops elbowed Burns.

“You can watch the interrogation; I’ll be watching Dr. White.”

Burns laughed. “Yeah, she is a looker.”

Washburn grabbed his suit jacket from the back of a chair.

“I’d like to meet her, and I’m dying to see if her reputation is as good as they say. According to a buddy of mine in the Memphis P.D., she’s the best there is.”

***

T
he cops left the task force command center and joined the rest of their comrades outside the interview rooms.

As they were walking towards Jessica, Connelly whispered to Washburn.

“Burns wasn’t kidding, that chick is hot.”

Washburn frowned.

“She’s Dr. Chick to you, and look at the size of her husband. I bet he could break you in half.”

Captain Rodgers held up her hands in a gesture that told everyone to be quiet. As conversations died down, the only sounds came from down the hall, where the squad room was located.

“Thank you, guys and gals, now listen up. On my left here is Dr. Jessica White and her husband, Seymour Lutz. They will both be observing Detective McKinley’s interrogation of the suspect, and Dr. White will then give us her interpretation.”

Connelly raised a hand as if he was in junior high and Washburn rolled his eyes.

Captain Rodgers smiled at him. “Yes, Richie?”

“What makes McKinley think he has the right guy?”

“He received an anonymous tip from a reliable source.”

A commotion came from the squad room and everyone turned their head to see a man wearing a badge and gun on his hip, and pulling a handcuffed man along by the arm. The man in the cuffs wore a pair of faded jeans and a dirty white T-shirt, along with a look of smug superiority.

Burns nodded. “So, that guy is
The Reaper
, huh?”

“Bullshit,” Connelly whispered,

Detective Jeff McKinley was a handsome man in his mid-thirties who had already solved several cold cases. He ushered his prisoner past the cops wordlessly, but his prisoner decided not to be as silent. The man looked Jessica up and down and whistled.

“Damn, honey, you are one hot piece.”

The doctor’s husband took a step forward, but Jessica held him back.

“Ignore it, Seymour.”

A moment later, everyone filed into the adjacent room and watched as McKinley sat his suspect in a chair and then handcuffed him to the table.

Afterwards, McKinley headed for the door.

“I’ll be back.”

“Bring me a soda, pig!”

McKinley joined them in the observation room and Captain Rodgers met him at the door.

“Has he said anything?”

“He’s said plenty; on the ride over he insulted me and my entire lineage several times. The man hates cops, that’s for sure, but I still don’t know his name and he doesn’t have a lick of I.D. on him.”

The Captain gestured towards Jessica.

“This is the profiler, Dr. White. She says that if that man is
The Reaper
that you won’t be able to keep him from bragging about how smart he is.”

McKinley nodded. “Yeah, that’s my impression too.”

“Consequently, if he’s not
The Reaper
it won’t be hard to prove, so go at him and let’s see what we’ve got here.”

“Yes ma’am, Captain.” 

***

A
minute later, McKinley sat across from the suspect and asked a question.

“What’s your name?”

The man smiled.

“You’ll never know. No one will.”

“You must have one, but in the meantime, just give me something to call you.”

“I always thought that, Reaper, had a nice ring to it.”

McKinley exhaled slowly before speaking again.

“Are you telling me that you’re
The Reaper
?”

The man sighed as if he were bored.

“I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already suspect, so I guess my little game is over.”

“Little game?
The Reaper
has murdered eleven innocent women, you call that a game?”

“Killing those girls was just a bonus. The real fun came when I played with you cops by leaving my love notes.”

“You say that you’re
The Reaper
, if that’s true, then tell me what the notes said.”

The man shrugged.

“What’s the point? Anyone who reads the paper or watches the news knows that I left notes.”

“Yeah, but only those of us involved in the investigation know what those notes said, us, and
The Reaper
.”

“I hate to repeat myself.”

Connelly waved a hand at the one-way mirror.

“The guy’s an obvious fake; that’s why he won’t say what’s in the notes, McKinley is wasting our time.”

Seymour, Dr. White’s husband, spoke.

“He’s a man who likes to taunt, and this is just more taunting.”

“I thought your wife was the profiler?”

The doctor’s husband stared at Connelly with such intensity that the young detective looked away.

Inside the interrogation room, McKinley continued.

“If you won’t tell me what was in the notes, then at least tell me where the notes were found.”

“All right, that’s easy, they were found in the girls’ mouths.”

McKinley straightened in his seat. That information was correct and it had not been reported anywhere.

Jessica pointed at the glass.

“That man is
The Reaper
.”

“Bullshit!” Connelly said, and much louder than he’d intended to.

Jessica spoke to him.

“You, disagree? Well then, please explain how he could have known about the location of the notes.”

Connelly laughed.

“Are you serious, lady? Every cop show in the last ten years has had a victim with something found in their mouth. It’s TV Cop Drama 101 and he’s just guessing. If he really knew something he would have told us what the notes said.”

Jessica shook her head.

“I read the notes. They were just the ramblings of a disturbed mind, pure gibberish,”

“Gibberish?
The Reaper
has killed and gotten away with it for nearly a year; I’d say that makes him pretty smart.”

“Maybe, but we have him now.”

In the interrogation room, McKinley stood and began to pace.

“That was a lucky guess about the mouths, but I need more proof than that before I believe you.
The Reaper
wrote eleven notes; just tell me what was in one of them.”

The man looked up at McKinley and grinned.

“All the notes had one thing in common written at the top of them, the same rhyme over and over. Is that proof enough for you?”

“How could he know that?” Washburn said.

“Because as I said before, that man is
The Reaper
; Detective McKinley has caught him.”

Most of the others in the room nodded in agreement with Jessica. What the suspect said was true; each one of
The Reaper’s
notes contained the same taunting rhyme that denigrated the police.

Connelly let out a sigh of frustration, and Washburn guessed at what caused it. Connelly knew that McKinley was now a shoo-in for Sergeant. When that day came, Washburn planned to ask McKinley to assign him a new partner.

Inside the room, the suspect recited the rhyme.

“I kill to prove I’m better than you; this death is on your heads. You’ll never catch me you useless fools, and there will be more dead.”

McKinley retook his seat and slid a pad of paper and a pen across the table.

“Write it down, every detail of every murder, otherwise, I’ll just figure that someone leaked that info to you.”

“What more proof do you need?”

“Tell me where to find the murder weapon.”

The man shook his head and pushed the paper away.

“No, I won’t make it that easy.”

Connelly rushed up to the glass.

“He can’t produce the weapon because he’s a fake.”

Captain Rodgers placed a hand on his shoulder.

“He knew about the rhyme, Richie, that’s good enough for me.”

McKinley exited the interrogation room.

“What’s the next move, Captain?”

“Take him to booking, Jeff, and congratulations, you’ve captured
The Reaper
.”

McKinley smiled proudly as his fellow officers praised him.

Connelly tapped a finger against the one-way glass.

“That’s not
The Reaper
. If he was, you would have found the murder weapon.”

“It will surface in time, Detective,” Jessica said. “The important thing is that no more women will be harmed, thanks to Detective McKinley’s great work. My husband and I will be leaving on the next available flight, but please call us if we’re ever needed again.”

As Jessica and Seymour walked off, Connelly cursed at her under his breath.

***

1
2:47 a.m.

––––––––

M
oira Simon woke with a start.

Something had awakened her, some sound. The blond twenty-year-old flight attendant eased out of her bed and went tiptoeing through her darkened apartment.

A breeze, where’s it coming from?

Moira found the source of the breeze when she snapped the light on in her kitchen. The door that led to the back staircase was sitting open. She then jumped as she heard voices coming from outside, on the landing.

A moment later, a woman walked into her kitchen, and she was smiling apologetically.

“Hi, you must be frightened, but there’s nothing to worry about. Those voices you hear belong to the police.”

“The police?”

“Yes, someone attempted to break-in, but the police have him in custody. My name is Dr. Jessica White and I’m consulting with the police and the FBI.”

A man poked his head in the door. It was Seymour Lutz, FBI Special Agent, Seymour Lutz.

“Jessica, he’s been disarmed and they’re about to take his mask off.”

“I’ll be right there,” Jessica said, and then spoke to Moira Simon. “Perhaps you should get dressed. You’re about to have visitors.”

Moira looked down at herself. She was barefoot and wearing a flannel nightgown.

“Oh, yes, but you’re sure it’s safe?”

Jessica smiled. “I’m certain.”

She returned outside, where several FBI agents, along with Captain Rodgers and Detective McKinley had a man in a ski mask handcuffed and seated on the landing beside the trashcans, his legs splayed out before him.

Along with them was the man who had confessed earlier to being
The Reaper
. That man, Jessica’s real husband, now walked over and took her hand.

Captain Rodgers spoke to Seymour Lutz.

“Take off his mask, and Dr. White, I hope to God that you’re somehow mistaken.”

“He was followed here, Captain.”

“Yes, I know.”

Lutz pulled off the mask and revealed the face of Cal Washburn.

Captain Rodgers moaned.

“Oh, Christ, Cal, why? Why?”

Washburn answered with four words.

“I want a lawyer.”

***

R
ich Connelly rushed into Captain Rodger’s office and then stopped cold as he saw Jessica’s husband seated beside her on the sofa.

“Karen, what the hell is going on? This guy is walking around free and my partner has been arrested for being
The Reaper
? What the hell is this?”

“Calm down, Richie, and I’ll explain.”

Connelly sat and listened, and his eyes grew wider with the words he was hearing, When Captain Rodgers was finished speaking, Connelly pointed at Seymour Lutz.

“So, you’re an FBI agent and the perp, um, that guy, is really the doctor’s husband?”

Lutz nodded.

“Yes and Dr. White’s husband made for a convincing killer, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess, and it makes sense now, I mean, the doctor is hot. I was wondering why she would marry an old guy like you.”

Lutz scowled.

“I’m only forty-two, Detective.”

“Why the charade with the doctor’s husband?”

“Washburn knew he was being followed. Once we convinced him that we had
The Reaper
, he knew that he could move freely, but in fact, surveillance had been heightened. It’s how we caught him breaking into Moira Simon’s apartment.”

Connelly stood and began to pace as he shook his head.

“Cal,
The Reaper
, why the hell would he kill those poor girls?”

“The women were incidental, his real goal was revenge,” Jessica said.

“Revenge, what do you mean, Doctor?”

“Your partner has been an officer of the law for most of his life, and despite his outstanding record, he’s never been promoted very high up. I think that bred resentment so deep that it hardened into hatred, pure hatred, and by acting as
The Reaper
, he could embarrass the people he blamed for his situation.”

Connelly looked confused, and then turned to his captain.

“Why wasn’t Cal promoted more often?”

“A promotion would have pulled him off the streets and put him behind a desk. With his clearance rate, that would have meant a huge drop in the department’s performance numbers, and so... he was passed over, by myself and others before me.”

“Yes,” Jessica said. “And in the meantime, men half his age with a fraction of his experience were being promoted over him.”

Captain Rodgers wiped at tears.

“He should have protested. He seemed genuinely pleased to stay in homicide. My passing him over for promotion wasn’t meant as a slight, really it wasn’t, it’s just that... he was needed in the streets.”

“Cal Washburn’s crimes aren’t your fault, Captain; the man is mentally ill.”

“Still, I was more worried about my department’s clearance rate than I was about one of my own men. I have to live with that, Doctor, and wonder how things could have been different.”

Jessica stood, and her husband followed.

As she opened the door to leave, she looked back.

“There was no joy in solving this case, none at all.”