No Mercy (12 page)

Paul opened the door and yelled for Bud to come in. Detective Johnson left Deborah and walked into the office as Ashley shut the door behind him.

“Bud, we have to pull ourselves together and get working,” Paul said.

Bud was clearly annoyed, and replied, “What the fuck are you talking about? We just lost three cops today, including Kevin Cronin just an hour ago. What the are you preaching to me about!”

“Hey!” Paul yelled back. Both Rachelle and Deborah heard the yelling and looked in the office as Bud rushed for Paul. Ashley moved in between them and struggled to pull them apart.

“Stop this shit! You guys get your act together right now, or do I call and have you removed! Christ! You guys haven't been alone for ten minutes with Cronin gone, and you're already at each other's throats. I have no problem pushing for O'Malley to handle this!” He held up his phone as if to make a call.

Bud walked away from Paul toward the wall. He stood silently staring at a blank wall until he said, “Paul, we have lost good cops. I'm human, Paul, and so are you. We have work to do, but our lives are changed forever. We won't solve this without each other, but don't tell me we have to get our act together. Damn it, let's just solve this.”

Paul put his hand on Bud's shoulder and said, “Let's get to the hospital. Get a uniform to keep Deborah company.”

They left the office and said good-bye to Rachelle and Deborah. Paul hugged his lover as she looked at him with worry. Bud's good-bye was a little more awkward, but as they approached the front door he said,

“Deborah, it's true I started to keep contact because I was worried about you, but isn't that enough for now? I had forgotten how special and fun you are. So just know how much you mean to me, OK?” Deborah nodded as she put her hand on his face.

As she walked down the stairs, her father, William Lance, pulled up and greeted his daughter. Officer O'Brien was assigned to Deborah until further notice. Paul and Bud said good-bye to Ashley, who told them to keep in touch. They drove to Stony Brook Hospital to meet the families and other officers who had gathered there.

They even requested to see the body of Kevin Cronin. Doctor Thompson told them it would be impossible.

“First of all,” he said, “the body was badly burned, and I think it's inappropriate until his family returns from California.”

After an hour of paying respect to the families of the fallen officers, both Powers and Johnson pulled Officers Justin Healey and George Lynagh aside. Paul spoke just above a whisper to them as Bud looked around to make sure there was no one being nosy.

“We need to find Robert Simpson, and we need to find him fast. Am I making myself clear?” Paul said. Both officers acknowledged and left the hospital.

Powers and Johnson went to visit Officer Chapman, who was in serious condition.

The news came over Monday night at the Bedford Hills Prison in Upstate New York regarding the deaths of Officer Dugan, Detective Hansen, and Kevin Cronin, the detective lieutenant who had put Jason “Jack” O'Connor away for life. O'Connor sat in his cell on his bed with his eyes closed, meditating on the news of the death of his nemeses. He sat there breathing slowly, with a grin coming over his face; the expression on his face was one of reaching an orgasm. He was in a state of euphoria over the deaths. Finally, a huge grin climaxed minutes of arousal. He would sleep well tonight.

Paul called Detective Baker to cancel her plans to be a decoy at the music clubs. Instead he instructed her to relieve O'Brien in four hours at the Lance mansion. His phone rang as soon as he hung up from Baker. It was Franks telling him that it appeared Rachelle Robinson would be staying with Deborah Lance.

“Why do you think that?” Paul said.

“Well,” O'Brien replied, “she brought her dogs over to the house, so I assume she's going to stay over.”

“Damn it,” Paul replied. “Thanks, Officer, you will be relieved in four hours by Detective Baker. Listen, there is a squad car parked near the Wilkerson house, correct?”

“Yes sir,” O'Brien replied. “Officers Blake and Santiago are there.”

“Good,” Paul replied, “I'll be in touch.”

It was safe to assume Lindsey Wilkerson was not in any danger. Nothing unusual had happened to her over the last week and there had been no incidents involving the house. Paul got himself to a private room at the hospital and finally broke down and cried. He knew Officer Dugan well, and although he did not know Hansen well, he was working with them. But it was the sudden loss of Detective Lieutenant Cronin that deeply affected him. Bud had been looking for Paul at the hospital and saw him through the skinny clear glass on the door crying. He decided to give him a few more minutes before walking into the room.

Madison was trembling in her sleep as her nightmares were getting worse. She was driving along a road when she came across a hitchhiker. The only problem was he was wearing a Ghost Face mask. She stepped on the gas, and the faster she went, the more hitchhikers would appear on the side of the road. Finally one of them was standing in the middle of the road and she decided she would not stop. As the car came upon the hitchhiker in the middle of the road, he pulled off his mask and it was herself again. The car hit Madison as she sat up screaming. Janet Gates came running over as Madison was in a deep sweat and shaking again. She was torn over what was happening, but she couldn't ignore it. She opened the door and sat and held Madison again. She knew her job would be in jeopardy, but she couldn't stop herself from trying to calm Madison down and help her.

Their relationship changed at this moment, for they sat and talked for over two and a half hours. Madison spoke to Gates and told her the story that made national news. Janet listened with very few interruptions. She thought if Madison got it all out of her system, then maybe, just maybe, the nightmares would end. The correctional officer knew that her sister Rachelle would be visiting her tomorrow and she would make sure to talk to her. Janet held on to Madison as she spoke about the vigilante justice she took against the men who threatened her sister. Janet broke protocol again by telling Madison that others in the facility empathized with her but would never openly admit it.

“I guess,” Janet said, “I will be the one who will lose her job,” and she let out a little nervous laugh.

“No,” Madison replied, “no one needs to know you have shown compassion to me. Thank you.”

Bud made it home and there were boxes all over his house, for it was only five days until he was supposed to move into the Henry Hallock house in the village. It didn't really seem to matter anymore.

He lay on his bed for a few minutes, then sat up and walked outside and began to talk: “Well, Lord, it's me again. I spoke to you only a couple days ago, but I need to chat. You have been such an influence on my life in so many ways, and yes I know I'm not perfect, which is why I need you to guide me again. You have brought Deborah into my life, and I let things slide because of my job. I want her . . . no, I need her to survive this. Her life is more important than mine. Let it not be her. As you sacrificed for us, I am willing to do the same. So I guess that means I would rather you take me.” He smiled and looked down for a second before looking up again and continuing, “If that isn't love, I don't know what is. Besides, if anyone knows anything about sacrifice, it's you, Lord. You have encouraged me not to be discouraged by the difficulty by helping me keep my focus on you. I am aware of your presence. Thank you, Lord, and good night.”

Paul sent Rachelle a text when he got back to his apartment above Z Pita:
Please be careful, Rachelle. I love you.
Rachelle was already sound asleep and wouldn't see the text until the morning. Paul took a shower and then played his messages. One from his father, who told him if he didn't hear from him by Tuesday morning he would be flying back up to New York from Florida. The news had reached Florida in regards to the three cops, including Cronin and the seriously injured Chapman still holding on.

The second message was from Rachelle: “Hi Paul, it's Rachelle. I'm staying with Deborah, and I don't want to leave her. I know you're worried, but our lives were bonded together a couple of years ago. I love you, Paul, and I'm very worried about you as well. I'm so sorry about Kevin Cronin. I'm so sorry for the others as well. Call me tomorrow.” The sound of a kiss came over the message before the sound of a
click
. He sat down on the bed and played her message again just to hear her voice. He missed her already.

I
t was now 11:00 on Tuesday morning, and Rachelle got ready for her morning visit to Madison at the jail. Deborah told her she would also be going. Detective Baker had been relieved at 2:00 in the morning, and she was back at 11:00 for another shift to keep an eye on Deborah Lance. Baker found it ironic that she would be at the facility as an escort instead of an inmate. It was only a couple weeks earlier that Cronin was ready to assign her at the facility as undercover. They did not know that Al Simmons, Madison's attorney, would also be there at the request of Janet Gates. She had contacted him with the number given to her by John Bay. Attorney Simmons assured Officer Gates that no one would ever find out she called him.

Paul had already been in the office for a few hours and caught himself looking through the photos that were on Cronin's desk. He was now in charge of the case, and the fact that he was getting text messages from Ashley proved it. Autopsy results would take a few more days due to requests, and Ashley had already informed Paul that Cronin had told him if anything happened to him, he did not want a burial until the case was closed. Paul thought that even in death Cronin knew how to keep the pressure on. Detective Bud Johnson was at the hospital with Officer Chapman, who had awakened from surgery.

The gang hanging out at Jerry's Deli in Port Jefferson Station was the same old group of guys there every day. They were there every day but usually up to no good by night. Singing, laughing, and high-fiving, they were legends in their own minds yet very dangerous when their turf was disrespected. Their banter suddenly came to a screeching halt when they saw Lynagh and Healey get out of the police cruiser. They all knew who the two of them were. If you did not, they would check your pulse to see if you were alive. The news media and the papers had made the two of them almost as famous as Powers and Johnson.

As the two officers approached the gang, Lynagh received a text from Powers to get to Rodrigo Hernandez and show him the photo of Simpson to verify if he was the man Rodrigo saw in the bathroom of the private room at the City nightclub.

“Hello, boys,” Lynagh greeted them. “We need your help.”

The leader of the pack spoke up. “And why should we help you, mother . . . ” He caught himself before finishing his sentence.

“Oh,” Lynagh replied, “I thought this was going to be a friendly conversation, but I will tell you why. Because we have a cop killer on the loose and we are going to turn every building upside down, every gang member, meeting place, home, and their families inside out till we find who is responsible. Now are we going to get some help or do we start right here?”

One of the other members of the gang took off his sunglasses as he spoke to Lynagh.

“Does your partner here speak, or is he just a silent sidekick?” he asked as he and his friends all laughed. Healey put out his hand to shake the young man's hand but instead knocked his glasses to the sidewalk. He bent down to pick them up but instead stepped on them, breaking them into hundreds of pieces.

The gang member looked at Healey with fire in his eyes as he said, “You must be fucking crazy, man. You know what it means to make me lose face in front of everyone.”

Healey picked up the pieces he could and gave them to the gang member, saying, “I'm sorry.”

Lynagh looked back at the leader and asked, “Does anyone else have anything to say about my partner, or can we continue?”

There was silence. “OK, good,” he spoke again. He passed around photos of Rodrigo Hernandez, Jerry Wakefern aka Jake Wiley, and the video still of the man wearing the baseball hat with the mask and Robert Simpson. “Take a good look, my friends,” he said, as the photos were passed around.

The leader in the dark purple bandana spoke up.

“We are not your friends, Mr. Cop.”

Lynagh put his arm on Emanuel, better known as the Man, and told him he needed to speak with him privately. They walked over to the side of the building, leaving Healey with six others.

The young man who no longer had sunglasses spoke again to Officer Healey.

“There are now six against one; you must not feel safe.”

“Yes I do,” Healey responded. “I've killed people with this gun I'm wearing.” The small grin disappeared from the gang member's face.

On the side of the building Lynagh spoke as firmly and politely as he could.

“You see, Emanuel, I don't want you to lose face in front of your friends here like your asshole buddy over there, but we will not stop until we shake down everything. Now I want to know where I can find these people, and if you don't know, I want you and your crew out there to help find out.”

Emanuel looked at the officer and asked, “And if I don't?” Lynagh moved closer to him. “Listen, there's a reason you and I are on the side of the building. We are out of earshot of everyone else, and there's no one filming us. You agree to help us now, or I swear you won't be the leader of this group when they see the condition you are in when you leave the side of this building.” The gang leader looked at the sky, then back at Lynagh. “Let me look at the photos again.” He stared at Rodrigo Hernandez and knew he worked at the City club.

“He lives in Selden, over on Perry Street.”

Lynagh took the photo back and asked, “Why would you know that?”

Emanuel paused then answered, “I know him from the club; someone I know got him the job there. He lives with a cousin, which is why you didn't have the address.”

Lynagh showed him Jerry Wakefern aka Jake Wiley. Emanuel answered, “He is the boyfriend of Linda Tangretti, who goes to the club often.”

Lynagh showed him the photos of Robert Simpson and the figure with the long hair wearing the baseball hat with the mask. “Never seen them before,” Emanuel answered.

Lynagh took the photos back and said, “This is what I want you to do. The club reopens Wednesday night. I want you there working the club, and I want you to be in touch with me if you think there is anything we need to see.”

Emanuel shook his head and said, “You are one crazy motherfucker getting me involved in this.”

Lynagh went up to his ear and whispered, “You have no idea.”

The officer then approached Healey and said, “Let's go.”

One of the members said, “OK, silent man, time to go.” Healey moved toward the car and stepped hard on the man's foot and dug in.

“I'm sorry,” Healey said as he moved to the car.

As Lynagh pulled away they could hear the young man yelling that his foot was broken. It took the two officers twelve minutes to drive to Selden. Perry Street had twelve houses on both sides as the officers began asking questions of the neighbors as to the house Rodrigo Hernandez lived in. They were directed to the grey-and-green house at the end of the block, and as they approached the door, Lynagh remembered the explosion that had just happened at Bruce Roberts's house.

He looked at Healey and said, “Remember, door explosions and people running out of front doors with shotguns.”

Lynagh and Healey each took a window and peeked in. Lynagh saw nothing, but Healey spotted a body on the floor in one of the rooms. They wanted to go in, but the explosion at Bruce Roberts's house and Cronin's car prevented them from entering. They called for backup and walked around to the back of the house and smashed one of the windows to get inside the house. Lynagh kept moving his nightstick around the rim of the window opening to ensure they would not get nicked by a piece of glass.

Once inside the house with their guns drawn, they could hear both Detectives O'Malley and Wyatt outside. Healey touched his radio to tell them they were inside of the house and for them not to use the front door and only to come in the house through the open window if shots were heard. Normally the ranks of O'Malley and Wyatt would not take directives from officers in uniform, but there was a different acceptance level from those on the Priority 1 Task Force. Lynagh pointed for Healey to check the body while he stood guard with his weapon pointed at whoever may be in the house.

“He's gone,” Healey said. “It's Rodrigo.”

Lynagh looked over and said, “Time for whomever to keep cleaning house. Where was he shot?”

“Dead center chest,” Healey replied.

“Well,” Lynagh said, “we know it wasn't Bud that shot him.” It was inside jokes like this that kept them from losing their sanity.

Lynagh checked the front door and found no explosives, so he opened it for Wyatt and O'Malley to come in. “We are going upstairs,” Lynagh said. “If you guys keep an eye downstairs, it would be a help.”

As they prepared to go upstairs, Healey sent Powers a text about Rodrigo. The two officers went from room to room and found nothing. They came downstairs and asked the two detectives to stay with the body while they went back to headquarters to meet with Powers and Johnson.

Once they arrived at Priority 1, the four of them went into the conference room to review the entire case. The three girls' photos were still up on the wall. Rodrigo's photo and Bruce Roberts's photo were placed with them. On the other side of the wall, Powers put photos of Robert Simpson and Jerry Wakefern up.

“There has to be more,” Bud said. “We need to know who this guy is,” he said, as he posted the photo of the long-haired man with the masked baseball hat. “Chapman told me at the hospital it was this asshole that blew away Dugan. He kills three girls, cops, and we think Simpson is involved because of the notes and the music he liked to have sex with Deborah to.”

“Are you OK?” Paul asked, looking at his partner.

“Yeah, I'm fine, thanks,” Bud replied. “This is not making sense.” Bud added, “The young girl in the bathroom stall, Taylor, she said she heard the man kissing the girl after he killed her. Yet the man that was in the private room at the City club also had the hat and long hair. The only connection to Simpson is the music and the possibility of the notes.”

Paul spoke up. “Wait a minute,” he said as he approached all the photos. “Wait a damn minute.” He looked at Lynagh and asked, “Do we have Simpson's body stats? Look at this closely.” He pointed at the video still. “Is it possible? Put twenty pounds on Simpson, give him long hair, could it be?”

“Paul,” Bud spoke up, “if you are right, then Simpson has suddenly reappeared as a killer and puts Deborah in more danger than we originally thought.”

“Unless,” Lynagh said, “he could never kill her, just those that look like her.”

“But why?” Paul said. “There's more to this than Simpson. He's not smart enough to do this on his own.” He thought to himself it was times like these that he missed Detective Lieutenant Cronin.

“It's him,” Bud replied as the officers and detectives looked at him. He spoke again, looking down at his notes. “Only Simpson would say, ‘If I can't have you, no one will.' He's going to attempt to kill Deborah as he works himself into a frenzy. If he takes a few of us out along the way, then so be it.”

Rachelle and Deborah's visit lasted an hour with Madison, and they decided to wait around until after Madison's meeting with Al Simmons so they could talk to him. As the young women waited for him, Officer Janet Gates came out into the waiting room to meet with Rachelle and Deborah and introduced herself.

“Listen,” Janet said, “this is highly irregular, but I wanted to let you know you need to speak with Madison's attorney and your sister.” Rachelle's face became very intense as Officer Gates continued, “Madison is having nightmares, bad nightmares. Instead of her killing the bad guys and executing vigilante justice, in her dreams the one behind the mask doing harm to her is herself.”

Deborah spoke up. “She told you all this?”

“Yes,” Gates answered, “but I've been there with her on and off for the past three months. They are getting worse. The other night I held on to her for a couple of hours. It is really against protocol here, but I could not help myself. I just want to be sure she gets the help she needs.”

Rachelle grabbed her hand and thanked Officer Gates for the information and help as they waited for Al Simmons to exit from the attorney-client room. Rachelle handed him a note as soon as he met her, and she asked him to read the note and go back to Madison in the room. Now he understood why Janet Gates requested he pay Madison a visit.

Al Simmons sat with his forefinger on his left temple as he began to change the subject, as he folded up the note from Rachelle. Madison had been talking about the treatment she had been receiving at the facility. It helped that she was not treated like a serial killer. Both Officers Bay and Gates could not have been better under the circumstances.

“Maddie,” Simmons said, “I need to speak to you about a few things.” The serious look on his face and the fact that he did not respond to what she was saying worried her. As she started to speak, the attorney raised his hand for her to hold up till he spoke. “First,” he said, “Officer Gates has informed me that you are having nightmares about what happened a year and a half ago. If this is true and it's getting worse, I want to have a doctor treat you.”

Madison sat there silently as her attorney continued, “There is something else going on that you should know, but if you can't keep yourself calm I will limit the information access to you. If you are having nightmares, we certainly don't need more stress on you while being locked up here.”

Madison sat up straight as she prepared herself for the next bit of information from Simmons. “It seems that there may be a threat to Deborah Lance as a repercussion of the Face of Fear case. The Priority 1 squad is convinced Robert Simpson has revenge on his mind and may have collaborated with former Agent O'Connor to kill women that resemble Deborah, as well as Officer Walter Dugan and Detective Cronin and a detective you don't know named Hansen. If all of this is true, then you need to know that Rachelle is involved, because she rarely leaves Deborah's side.”

The attorney sat silently as he looked at Madison's face with a blank expression. Her eyes moved about the room as tears rolled down her face. Simmons pulled out a couple tissues he had in his suit pocket as he waited for her to speak. Finally, after about another thirty seconds, she spoke. “I just saw them before you. Why didn't they tell me?” she asked as she put the tissue to her eyes.