The Cruelest Cut (27 page)

Chief Dick had ordered everyone to meet early. He had just come from another meeting with the mayor, and his ears were still smoking from the dressing-down he'd received. He'd been made to feel like a jackass because he couldn't answer all of the mayor's questions. And it was all Murphy's fault for keeping things back from him. It was time to humble the man, bring him down to his knees. He was tired of Murphy and swore to get compliance or he would give him walking papers, the mayor be damned!

He stepped down the hallway with purpose toward his old office, where he would beard the lion.

 

Jack had assembled most of the group before daylight. Mark Crowley was telling Garcia about his manly adventures in Dubois County, and she was acting appropriately impressed, when Susan came in with Don Shull in tow. The only two missing were Captain Franklin and Chief Richard Dick.

Susan gave Jack a hug.

“Where's the big dog?” she asked, referring to Chief Dick.

“He'll be here shortly,” Jack said, and it was obvious he wasn't very happy about it. “Dr. Shull, he'll want to talk to you, and I apologize in advance, but we have to keep the big boss happy.”

“Please call me Don,” Shull answered. “It's no problem. I understand how this works. I've worked with police before.”

“Attention!” Liddell whispered loudly, as the door opened and Chief Richard Dick entered the office and looked around the room at each face.

He walked to Don Shull and put out his hand.

“I don't believe I know you,” he said, severely, “I'm Chief of Police, Richard Dick.”

“You have a very impressive police department, Chief Dick. You must be very proud,” Shull said, and shook hands.

Dick's entire demeanor did a one-eighty, and he welcomed Shull to the investigation, even though a moment before he had been prepared to deliver a stinging reprimand to Murphy for bringing in an outsider without his approval. “Thank you, Doctor…Shull, is it?”

“Yes. That's right. You have a very sharp memory, sir,” Shull said, and Jack worried that Don might be pouring it on a little thick. But Dick was eating the flattery up.

“Well, Dr. Shull, are my men treating you well? Is there anything you need?” Dick asked with great sincerity.

“On the contrary, sir. I've been treated like a king, and it is I who am here to help you. I'm sure you have some questions for me,” Shull said, and Dick's happy face slipped as he remembered that he had just been dressed down by the mayor for his lack of knowledge.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was intimidated by the doctor. Intimidated by the doctor's inferred intelligence. He rallied quickly, to his credit, and said, “Actually, I just came to listen to what has been done thus far. Detective Murphy, if you would begin, please.”

So Jack recounted everything he wanted Dick to know. Chief Dick nodded at appropriate times, as if his intelligence and understanding were omnipresent. Or as Liddell would put it, “he was a legend in his own mind.”

Jack also informed everyone that the cell phone Eddie had used to call him yesterday had belonged to Kyle Bannock, the victim from Kids' Kingdom. And that they had, so far, been unsuccessful at any means of tracking the phone. When Jack reached the end of the story he turned the floor over to Don Shull.

Dr. Shull stared at the maps on the whiteboards. “There is no immediacy in anonymity,” he said to no one in particular.

“Excuse me?” Dick said. “What did you say?”

“What I mean is, the cat's out of the bag, so to speak. Now that you know that Eddie is the killer, he no longer has the luxury of being invisible, and therefore will have to act soon. I believe that Eddie is going to do one of two things now that we know who he is. He could try to escape….” Shull paused in thought.

“Out with it, man,” Dick said sharply. He didn't like being treated like he was ignorant, and the fact that he really didn't know anything wasn't something he wanted to consider.

Susan had had enough.

“Chief Dick, Dr. Shull is here as a favor to your department. He does not work for you and neither do I. If you can't be civil, then we will leave and you can chase this phantom on your own,” she said angrily.

Dick's face turned bright red.

“I apologize. Dr. Shull. Miss Summers. I meant no disrespect. I'm sure you understand this has made us all a little off our game.”

Jack looked admiringly at Susan. No one had ever dragged an apology out of Double Dick before.

Shull went on as if nothing had happened. “The other thing that could happen, and I believe this is more likely, is that Eddie will go on a killing spree. I've read Dr. Lewis's files on Eddie and Bobby, and that would be my educated guess.”

Jack felt a wave of nausea, and for a moment he was back in that alley with Bobby Solazzo lying dead on top of him, and he could taste the blood in his mouth and feel the rain beating down in his face. He held on to the desk next to him to steady himself, and when the feeling passed he looked around. Luckily, no one had noticed, and he hoped this wouldn't strike him at an inopportune time.

“Can you elaborate, Doctor?” Jack said.

Shull hesitated. If he was wrong he was sure Chief Dick would try to ruin his reputation. But he had agreed to help these detectives, and if he didn't, and then something happened, the man would still ruin his reputation. He regretted his choice to become involved in this madness. Oh, why hadn't he left all that drama behind him when he left his old job?

“There are several things to consider here,” he began. “We now know that Eddie and Bobby Solazzo were sexually and mentally abused by their father. The father was an authority figure of sorts, so it is no surprise that both boys took to the life of crime, always at odds with authority. And they have been successful in the past as a team. If what you have told me is correct, I would say that they got away with more crime than they were ever caught and held accountable for.”

Jack nodded; that was correct.

Shull continued. “Eddie was the weaker brother, mentally that is. So with Bobby gone, Eddie has poor control over his choices. Except that he has shown a great deal of restraint at times.”

Jack interrupted him, not wanting him to say anything about Eddie's personal attack on him. Dick didn't know about it, and Jack had never reported it. “Yes, we've discussed that.”

To his relief, Shull seemed to catch on that he was not supposed to talk about that incident and moved on. “And then that brings us to the matter of the choice of weapon.” Shull pointed to the photos of the first two victims, Anne and Don Lewis. “Both of these murders were savagely committed. The killer was out of control, evidenced by the tracking of blood and the torture of the bodies, both before and after death. They were killed in the house, but then the bodies were posed. Supposedly to match this nursery rhyme that was left behind about Punch and Judy.

“And that is another thing. These killings would appear to be very amateurish, except for leaving the note. That shows planning.” He looked at Captain Franklin and asked, “I assume your lab guys didn't find any paper or writing instruments in her house that could have been used to write that note?”

“They were very thorough, Doctor,” Franklin said. “They didn't find any paper that matched the note, although there were some crayons in the house. We were unable to determine if the crayons were used, but if they were, the killer didn't leave fingerprints. My guys feel strongly that those crayons weren't used.”

Shull said, “So the note was brought by the killer.”

He then pointed to the next photo. “Tim Ryan. His throat was cut very savagely, and he was disemboweled. His body was then moved to a preselected dump site. The murder shows a rage killing, but the selection of a dump site shows a planned and organized killer. These two types of killing are not necessarily mutually exclusive, but it does stand out.”

He pointed at the photo of the three children. “Again, the killing was unnecessarily savage. The killer couldn't control his rage. But then there is a message written on the wall. And the contact with the news media.” He shook his head. “It is very puzzling, but the consistency of a pattern is evident.”

He summarized the other killings and added, “So that brings me back to my original statement regarding the choice of weapons.” He looked at Jack and said, “Didn't you tell me that Eddie Solazzo normally used a gun to commit his crimes? Even the time you thought he had shot your partner, Liddell, you suspected him because he favored handguns and shotguns?”

“Yes. That's correct. Bobby was the one that liked to use knives,” Jack said, and unconsciously touched the scar along his neck.

“That's my point,” Shull said. “This is all so inconsistent with the theory of a single killer. You have two different personalities at play here. Maybe we're putting too much emphasis on the relationship with Bobby. Maybe Eddie has found a kindred spirit? Maybe he has recruited some other psychotic individual to help him in these killings?”

“What?” Dick shouted. “Now you're saying that we have two killers and not one?”

Shull looked at Dick and said evenly, “Chief Dick, psychiatry is not an exact science; it is not like mathematics, or chemistry. We deal in personalities and possibilities. I'm not able to tell you anything with certainty.”

Dick drew himself up and looked at Franklin, saying, “I'll be in my office. Keep me informed,” and he left the room.

“Elvis has left the building,” Liddell said, and Shull chuckled.

Jack wanted to get back on track. He said, “So it's possible that it's just Eddie doing the killings?”

“Yes, that's possible,” Shull said. “And I want to reiterate that these killings have not had a sexual aspect to them. The victims have been old and young, male and female. Sometimes, by understanding the type of victim that is being killed, you can get a picture of the motive behind the killing. In this case the only motive seems to be you, Jack. He was sending you messages with the bodies, the notes, the type of weapon he chose to use, the amount of violence during the killing. He was also trying to punish you. Rub your nose in it.”

“I understand he wants revenge for his brother,” Jack said.

“No. It's more than revenge,” Shull replied. “He wants to knock you down a peg or two. You are a very confident and capable man, Jack. He wants to show you that he is better than you. That his brother was a better man than you. That's why he wants the media involved. He wants the public to see you fail, and for you to feel helpless and humiliated. No more headlines for the hero, so to speak.”

Shull stopped speaking and looked at the whiteboards again, lost in thought. He felt there was something he was missing.

 

Bobby sat in the passenger seat and stared out the window. Eddie had tried several times to engage him in conversation, only to be snapped at. And when Bobby did speak it was to criticize him, or complain, saying things like, “Don't lose her, Eddie,” or, “Slow down, Eddie,” and of course Eddie's all-time favorite remark, “Complaining don't get the job done, Eddie.” That was the preacher's number-one saying, and Eddie didn't understand why Bobby had adopted it, because he hated the preacher every bit as much as Eddie did.

But it didn't matter what Bobby thought now. Murphy was finally getting the message, and he knew that they would eventually figure out who was sending that message. Bobby was just sore that Eddie was deviating from the plan. But she had called him names on television. And she had acted like he disgusted her when he had grabbed her behind her house. He had only roughed her up a little as a lesson, but she hadn't learned.
This time I'll shut the bitch's mouth for good,
he thought.

He picked up the binoculars and watched the front of the boarded-up building. It resembled a wooden ranch-style house. The gray paint had faded and peeled, and in some places the roof had caved in. Sitting in the middle of fifty acres on the northwest corner of the county, it had been an FM radio station at one time, but now all that remained active were the twin broadcasting towers. A huge metal star was affixed near the top of each tower, advertising the call letters of the station, STAR. Even though Bobby hadn't said anything about it, Eddie thought he was pretty clever picking this place since the word
star
was the answer to the riddle he had sent Maddy Brooks.

He didn't think Jack would be clever enough to figure the riddle out in the first place, and so, Jack would not think of the abandoned radio station. But Eddie planned to make it easy for Jack to see what he had done there.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw a blue Toyota Camry turn into the dirt drive that led to the station. He trained the binoculars on the car and saw it was Maddy, and she was alone.

It was a worried Bill Goldberg who called Captain Franklin at the police department. Maddy Brooks had missed her afternoon spot, and he'd had to scramble to find someone to fill that time. At first he was angry with her and thought maybe she had done so deliberately, to give him a taste of what it would be like without her around.
Damn all temperamental reporters,
he had thought. But it was getting close to time for the four o'clock news, and she was still missing and wasn't answering her cell phone.

He had hesitated too long, fearing that she would show up at any minute and would be furious that he had called the police. But when four o'clock rolled around and he'd had to scramble around again to fill her time, he knew something had to be seriously wrong. Maddy was too big of a ham to miss any opportunity to get her pretty face on television. If she really meant to punish him, she would just tell his wife about the little fling he'd had with Maddy last year. It was harmless—he'd had too much to drink. But his wife, the old battle-axe, would never see it that way, and he'd be ruined.

He was now waiting for detectives to meet him at the station.
Why didn't I take that sales job out west?
he chastised himself. But it was too late for a job change at this stage of his life. And so he settled into his office and waited for the captain to return his call.

 

Maddy shut her eyes against the pain. She had tried to scream, but something had been shoved into her mouth. She could feel tape sticking to her lips and face, and the attempts she had made to scream threatened to dislocate her already strained and aching jaws.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she lay naked on the cold concrete floor of the abandoned radio station. She was tied hand and foot. She would be dead before anyone found her, and it was her fault. She had been so careful to keep this interview with the killer an exclusive that she had disregarded the fact that he was completely insane and had already killed at least eight people.

She tried to roll onto her side, but searing pain shot through her entire body. She fell back on her stomach, and tears coursed down her cheeks. She could still feel his mouth at her ear, whispering the things he would do to her, feel his wet tongue on her neck and then in her ear as he entered her forcefully from behind. Mercifully, she had passed out.

She didn't know how long she had lain there before she came to. She couldn't even be sure it was Eddie, because if it was, she wondered why he hadn't already killed her. But the voice was his. It was the same voice she had heard when she was attacked behind her house. The same voice that had called her at the television station.

She wondered if she was alone. Maybe he had just left her like that. But in every other case the victims were killed in a rage. At least that was what she thought had happened. What if the police were wrong? What if Eddie tortured them first? Terrorized them before killing? But if the police were right about the killings, then maybe he had left her to be found. Maybe this was just punishment for the things she had said about him.

Some hope found its way into her thoughts. Maybe he was going to let her live. Then another, darker thought crept into her mind. What if Eddie had left her to die? What if no one ever found her? Eddie had called her as soon as she had left the station that morning, and had given her directions that had effectively run her all over the county before he instructed her to go to the old STAR radio station.

She had followed his instructions to the letter and didn't call anyone so that Eddie wouldn't see someone following her. The old station was well off the beaten path, but her car was parked right outside. Surely someone would come by and see the car? Then gloomily she realized that it could be days, or even weeks, before anyone got suspicious of a car parked there.

Maddy was down, but she wasn't out. She forced herself to think.
How do I get out of here? First I have to get untied. There are windows. I remember windows. All I have to do is get loose and then out a door or a window. My car may still be out there. Maybe I can find my keys.

She tested the bindings on her hands and wrists. They were so tight she couldn't feel her fingers. She tried moving her legs. Her ankles were bound, but she thought she could feel the restraints loosening, causing her heart to soar.

When I get out of here, I'm going straight to the station,
she thought.
Oh my God! What a story! S
he was just imagining the camera zooming in on her battered face, her audience drawing in a horrified breath as they listened to how she had been kidnapped by a serial killer, when she heard gravel crunching outside. She twisted her head around to look in the direction of the noise when the door slammed open and a silhouette stood there. The person's hand held something that looked like a machete.

“Honey, I'm home,” Eddie said, and chuckled. He moved forward and loomed over her. “Time to hang your shining star, bitch.”

 

Jack and Liddell had spent the evening and most of the morning running down Bobby and Eddie's comrades with no success. If any of them could be believed, Eddie had dropped off the earth after Bobby was killed.

About noon, they started reinterviewing the victims' families to try to ascertain if any other victims had cell phones missing. By evening, they had determined that the only one that had a cell phone was Kyle Bannock. That was good, but unless they could track the phone it didn't do much for them.

Garcia and Crowley were working on that angle, while Jack and Liddell updated Captain Franklin, who was then to meet with Double Dick and fill him in. There wasn't much to tell the captain, and they were just sitting around looking at each other when Double Dick's secretary stuck her head in the door.

“Message for you, Captain,” she said, and handed him a pink phone memo.

Franklin took the note and read it, and then looking at Jack, said, “You'd better read this.”

Jack took the note. All it said was
Maddy Brooks missing. Call Bill Goldberg ASAP!

“Shit!” Jack said and picked up the desk phone and dialed the number for the Channel Six station manager. Bill Goldberg picked up on the first ring.

“This is Murphy,” Jack said. “What's going on, sir?”

Goldberg's voice was shaky, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “Well, I hope I'm doing the right thing here,” he said.

Jack put the call on speakerphone. “Mr. Goldberg, I've put you on speakerphone so that my team can listen. Go ahead and tell me what happened.”

Goldberg sounded like a man caught between a rock and a hard place. “First, you must assure me that you won't bring an army of police out here,” he said.

“Mr. Goldberg, please,” Jack said sternly.

“Okay, well, first of all, Maddy didn't show up for her spot at noon. She always does the noon hook. By that I mean, she has about a one-minute spot where she says what police story she will be discussing during the five o'clock news,” Goldberg said. “You know, to kind of draw in interest from the audience to watch the five o'clock news?”

Captain Franklin shook his head and said, “Bill, if Maddy is missing we need to get on this right away. Can you cut to the chase, please?”

“Yeah. Right. Sorry,” Goldberg said. “Anyway, she never misses that spot, but I thought she was working on a story, so I got a fill-in to do the spot for her. Betsy Johnson did a pretty good job, but she's no Maddy Brooks. She's not bad, mind you, but—”

Jack said loudly, “Please get to the point, Mr. Goldberg!”

“Yeah, sorry,” Goldberg said. “Well, she didn't call or come in all day, and then she missed the five o'clock news and no one could get in touch with her. She must have turned her phone off, because it goes right to voice mail.”

“Mr. Goldberg, I'm sending some detectives over there right now. Stay by your phone. Someone will be calling you. Okay?” Franklin said.

“She's never missed a spot before,” Goldberg said, and his voice sounded strained.

Jack, Liddell, and Crowley were already heading for their cars when Franklin said, “Hang up and wait by the phone, Bill. And don't let anyone leave the station until my guys get there. They'll need to talk to everyone.”

Goldberg made a noise, as if he was going to protest, but instead said, “Okay. I'm hanging up now.”

Franklin disconnected the phone and addressed Don Shull. “Doctor, will you be available if we need you today?” he asked.

“Do you want me to go to the television station?” Shull asked.

“Well, I don't think that will be necessary just yet, but I'd really appreciate it if we had a way to contact you after they see what they have out there.”

Susan took Shull's arm in hers and said, “We'll be available on my cell phone, Captain.” Shull smiled brightly, and suggested they go down the Main Street Walkway and get a café latte and pie.

As they left the office Captain Franklin wondered, and not for the first time, where television people came from. One of Goldberg's star reporters was missing under suspicious circumstances during a murder investigation, and Goldberg was worrying about getting more news. It seemed that people in the media were incapable of human emotion. But then, he reflected, cops probably look the same way to the public.

 

At Channel Six, Jack, Liddell, and Mark were in the station manager's office with the door shut. As they were arriving they had noticed a news van leaving.

“I thought you were asked to keep everyone here, Mr. Goldberg,” Jack said, somewhat angrily.

“Look, I have a business to run. This isn't a mom-and-pop grocery. We can't just shut down because…” Goldberg said, stumbling for words.

“Because Maddy Brooks might have been taken by the killer?” Crowley completed the sentence for him. “Just because she may be tortured and killed like the rest? Is that the kind of business you're running, sir?”

Goldberg picked up his phone and said, “Margaret, get that crew back in here. Yes, yes, I know, just do it! And tell everyone else they have to stay put to be interviewed by the police. Just do it!” he yelled and slammed down the phone.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Goldberg,” Jack said, and then used his cell phone to call Captain Franklin. “Send everyone available,” Jack said, when the captain came on the line.

“Here comes the damn army,” Goldberg grumped.