No Mercy (30 page)

“OK,” O'Malley answered. “What about now? I suppose you didn't think this asshole would come back and put money on Priority 1's heads. You saved the girls lives, but what about the task force? Shit.” He took out a bag of pumpkin seeds and started to pop them in his mouth before he spoke again. “What now? I hate to second-guess at this point, but there is only me and Lynagh left, so I'm not so sure what was gained other than the girls being saved.”

Cronin was silent for a few seconds and then spoke. “First of all, no matter what you think, saving the girls is our number one concern. It will be our top concern until the ramifications of the Face of Fear case are finally over. As for the Priority 1 Task Force being down to the three of us, I didn't count on one of the cops being involved and a cop killer. I don't understand how he fooled you.”

“What!” O'Malley replied. “Wait, are you accusing me of something?” He stood up as Lynagh pulled his Glock and pointed it at O'Malley. The elder detective stared at Cronin, Ashley, and the officer who now had O'Malley in his sights.

“Just what in the living hell is going on here, gentlemen?” O'Malley said.

Cronin stood up and spoke while ADA Ashley continued to sit. “You see, Detective O'Malley, you have a case from the City nightclub and the Pajama Club. Young girls getting their necks broken. They have notes put on them from Simpson, who happens to get turned on by music he loves to have sex to. Bounties are put on our heads, and for good measure your detective Hansen gets blown to pieces. My car is set to explode, two cops from the East End get arrested, and now Wyatt is missing. I don't understand why everyone on your team except for you is missing, dead, or responsible for some of the killings.”

O'Malley stood there as Lynagh continued to hold his position. Cronin continued.

“This brings me to Caulfield. He worked for you for over five years. You had no idea he would go rogue?” Cronin walked over to O'Malley and spoke again. “Convince me you are not part of the killings. Convince me you want this resolved as much as we do.” O'Malley looked over at Lynagh still holding his 9mm on him as Ashley stared at him in silence.

He turned his head back to Cronin and spoke. “You son of a bitch. We have one of my detectives who gave his life, with another one missing, plus two of your officers dead while other detectives are fighting for their lives, and you have a gun on me because I happen to be here with no injuries? I was told to give this case to Priority 1. Why? Because no matter what you want to call it, someone thought you treated them unfairly. Yes, Caulfield was dirty and a killer. Someone got to him. Who? I'm not sure yet, but I will say I'm not a fan of what is going on here. You are going to have to do better than this to rattle me. I've been a cop for thirty years and a detective for twenty years. You need my help to close it out unless you think you and Lynagh can do it by yourselves.”

At that moment the intercom buzzed in, and it was Gina's voice.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Gina?” Cronin bellowed.

“I'm sorry,” she replied, “but I thought you should know Detective Wyatt has been found. He's badly injured but alive. They have taken him to the trauma center.”

“Goddamn it!” O'Malley yelled as he sat down and covered his face with his hands. Cronin looked over at Lynagh and nodded as Lynagh holstered his weapon. Cronin sat down next to O'Malley.

“Are you going to help us or are you going to retire?” O'Malley removed his hands from his face, and a line of a tear was across his face.

“You want to close the case, let's close it, but first I want to know who all the players were in the Face of Fear case.”

Cronin nodded his head and looked at Officer Lynagh, saying, “Get down to the club; I want you there when the K-9 gets there. Report back as soon as you can.”

Cronin looked back at O'Malley and spoke. “OK, you'll see the reports, but do me a favor. Next time you guys want to get tough in a garage with these thugs, don't leave your pumpkin seed shells behind.”

O'Malley shook his head, knowing he had made a mistake. His thoughts were consumed by calling himself an idiot for leaving a clue to his presence.

10:00 PM

O
fficer Janet Gates was sitting near the door about thirty feet from Madison when she got a call from Officer John Bay. “Janet,” he said, “there has been a shooting at the Suffolk County Mall. Officers and detectives are down, including Madison's friends Powers and Johnson. Her sister was there; they saved her life.”

Janet looked down the hall as her fingers started to tremble with nervousness. Bay gave her the details of who was shot and in the hospital.

“I have to tell her,” Gates answered.

“Is she still having nightmares, Janet?”

“Yes. She is seeing a therapist, and it seems to be helping a bit, but she's not back to normal.”

“Let's face it,” he answered, “she will never be normal again.”

“OK, thanks,” she replied, as she pushed the
end
button. As she walked down the hall to speak to Madison, she got a text from John Bay that read,
Don’t say anything to Madison, her attorney Al Simmons is on the way to speak to her. You hung up on me before I could finish.

By the time she finished reading the text she was already standing in front of the jail cell with Madison reading a book that Rachelle had given to her. She put the book down and smiled at Janet until she read the details of her face.

“What is it, Janet?” She stood up with worry. “Is my sister all right?”

“Madison,” the officer spoke, “I was asked not to tell you until your attorney got here.”

“Please!” Madison yelled. “Please!”

“Your sister was at the mall with Deborah and they were threatened by Robert Simpson and others when Detective Powers and Johnson shot and killed him and others.”

“Then why the look on your face. I thought something life-threatening happened to her.”

Gates looked at Madison as she touched her hand on the bars. “Officer Healey was injured. Powers was shot in the lower back above the waist. It missed his vest. Johnson was shot three times in the chest. The vest helped, but the impact stopped his heart. He's in a coma. They're not sure if he's going to make it.”

Madison reached for Officer Gates through the bars and said, “You have to let me make a phone call. Please?”

Officer Gates nodded. “I know, give me your sister's number.”

Rachelle picked up on the third ring, and Madison could tell her sister had been shedding tears.

“Where are you right now?” Madison asked.

“Maddie,” Rachelle said, “I'm here at Stony Brook Hospital. I have failed.” The call ended with Madison yelling Rachelle's name over and over.

Lynagh got to the club and called Cronin to tell him the dogs were just arriving. He met the K-9 handlers and let three dogs run through the club. He slowly walked around the deserted club as he waited to see if the dogs would find anything. Currently the Suffolk K-9 unit had German shepherds, Belgian Malinois, and Labrador retrievers. It was only twenty minutes before the dogs arrived for their search of the club. Currently there were about twenty-two K-9 dogs, mostly German shepherds because of their “born to protect” attitude and extreme loyalty to their owners and handlers.

As the K-9 dogs continued to run through the building, Detective Lieutenant Cronin was finishing up with the players involved in the case that had gone national eighteen months prior.

The Music Club Murders were now in the local papers, but they did not have the exposure of the first case, with exceptions of the major city papers. Cronin believed that omitting the link to the Face of Fear investigation and Ghost Face calling card was a part of it, and he wanted to keep it that way. Now that it would be known he was alive, he expected escalation in everything involved, including the media.

“Sounds like you guys had fun,” O'Malley said as he popped a few pumpkin seeds into his mouth. The experienced detective took extensive notes of all the people involved during Cronin's review of the case. O'Malley asked for Powers and Johnson's reports on the case to further review Cronin's statement. He even asked for the articles that Rachelle wrote, including her tweets during the course of the case. Detective Cronin had Gina give the detective everything he requested.

“I'm going to the hospital, then over to the club to meet with Lynagh,” Cronin said. “You study the reports with your fresh set of eyes, and let's meet in the morning.”

O'Malley nodded, as his head was buried in papers.

When Cronin and Ashley got into the hallway the ADA spoke.

“I'm guessing you don't think he is involved since you are telling him everything, including showing the reports.”

“No,” Cronin replied. “If he was involved he would not have asked for everything and been sitting there for almost two hours listening to the prior case. His file is perfect, and work ethic from his personnel files and case reports are outstanding.”

“When did you get to those?” Ashley asked.

“It's amazing the amount of time you have when you are dead,” Cronin replied as they walked to his office.

“Good point,” the ADA answered.

Gina walked in with a smile, and Ashley could tell she wanted some private time with her boss that she had not seen for over a week.

“I'm going to question Sysco in the morning; let me know if you want to be there,” Ashley said.

“Will do,” Cronin said. “I'm going to the hospital.”

“OK,” Ashley replied, “give them my best. I will check in on them in the morning. You can count on the chief and commissioner to get in touch with you also, now that you have come out.”

Cronin looked up at Ashley. “Was that a joke coming from you?”

“I thought it sounded humorous,” the ADA remarked as he waved good night.

Cronin looked at Gina. “We can talk, but make sure there is an officer near Ashley until this is over. Check on Officer Wright at the Wilkerson house. The girl will need an escort as well if she leaves the house. If Wright needs relief, get her one. Check on O'Brien and Myers.”

“They are on different shifts, sir,” she answered.

“Not anymore,” he replied. “They're on my shift now; get them up and over there.”

“Yes, sir,” Gina said as she turned around and smiled. She thought,
He is back
.

October 10

William Lance arrived at Stony Brook Hospital at 9:00 am. He took the elevator to the eighteenth floor and walked to Room 233. Bud Johnson was connected to an IV with standard saline solution, a feeding tube through his nose to his stomach, and a Foley catheter to monitor his urine output.

Lance's daughter Deborah was sitting in a chair near his bed with her head leaning against the wall. He stroked her hair as she raised her hand to take his.

“I can't lose him, Dad.”

He tightened the squeeze on her hand and replied,

“I know, honey. He is strong.” He kissed the top of her head and told her he was going to try and find out more information.

Deborah's father went to the nurses' station and asked to speak to the doctor. He was told it would be at least thirty minutes, so he walked to Room 242 to visit Paul Powers's room. He found the detective resting comfortably while Rachelle was sitting in a chair next to his bed holding his hand.

“How is he, Rachelle?”

She turned her head and smiled when she saw Deborah's father. “He is going to be fine,” she answered. “He was lucky. The bullet went straight through without hitting any organs. It was probably the reason he was able to hold on until it was over. He was shot but wouldn't go down.”

William Lance put his hand on her shoulder. “It's amazing what people do for someone they love.” She looked up at him and smiled, her expression saying
Thank you
. Lance spoke again. “Have you been home yet?”

Rachelle shook her head. “No, I'm waiting for his father to get here. Then I will freshen up a bit before coming back. He should be here within the hour. He flew up from Florida early this morning. He couldn't get a flight last night.”

Rachelle spoke again. “Would you mind staying with him for a few minutes while I see Deborah and Bud?”

“No worries,” he answered. “Go ahead.”

Rachelle looked at Paul sleeping, leaned over, and kissed the side of his face. She didn't stand up right away. She stayed leaning over him and put her hand on the side of his face for a few seconds before leaving the room. It took her four minutes to reach the intensive care unit, where she found Deborah asleep near Bud's bed. Rachelle stroked her hair as she opened her eyes to see her best friend. She grabbed her hand and held it tightly before she spoke.

“Am I going to lose him?” Deborah asked.

Before Rachelle could answer her, a voice from the door spoke.

“No, Deborah, you are not going to lose him.” Both Rachelle and Deborah looked over to see Lindsey Wilkerson. She was now a beautiful fourteen-year-old girl who had grown three inches in the past year. Deborah wanted to rush and grab the girl, who had been a major part of the Face of Fear investigation but decided to speak instead.

“How do you know, Lindsey?”

The young girl walked over to Deborah and Rachelle and replied, “My prayers are usually answered, and I will be here until they are.”

She smiled as she fell into a three-way hug with them. “Thank you for calling me, Deborah.” Both the women squeezed the teenager tighter as Deborah looked out the window and saw Officer Wright and Lindsey's mother, Sharyn Wilkerson, with her hand on the glass as if to show support.

Deborah silently mouthed the words “Thank you” to her as Sharyn nodded. The mother of Lindsey Wilkerson kept her daughter out of the spotlight and felt strongly she needed to have a normal life. Part of having a normal life was requesting that Bud Johnson and Justin Healey respect her wishes to let Lindsey grow up before reentering her life. Yet when Healey was shot in the leg, and now with Bud at death's door, there was no stopping Lindsey from coming to the hospital. Somehow, the mother was coming to grips that Lindsey was not going to have a normal life. As a mom, she was frightened for her child, but she knew somehow Lindsey would eventually be with whom she was hugging in the hospital room.

The young girl broke away from Deborah and Rachelle, walked over to Bud, put her hand on his arm, and began to pray.

“Dear Lord, I pray for our loved one Bud Johnson, to watch over him, to protect him, and to heal him. We understand that life in the physical world is not forever, but I ask you Dear Father to keep him with Deborah, Rachelle, and me. I promise to watch over him in this world while he is here. I promise to continue to live and to make you proud while I am here. Please keep this man in our world to allow me to help him and have him protect me as well. I have always kept my promises to you, and now I need to remind you of a promise from you, Dear Father, God I thank you, it is written in Jeremiah 29:11. ‘For I know the plans I have for you, they are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.' I ask you, Dear Lord, to give me the promise to save Bud Johnson and allow him to fulfill his destiny. Only you and I know what that is, and I ask this in Jesus's name. Amen.”

Lindsey looked at Bud unconscious in the bed and touched his hand as she looked over at Deborah and Rachelle, who were in silence as they watched Lindsey pray over him.

She walked over to the door and looked back at them.

“Stay with him, Deborah. He will return to us. I have information from the highest authority.” She winked at them as she began to leave to visit Officer Healey.

“Lindsey,” Deborah spoke, “why did Bud say those things to Robert? It was almost as if he wanted to get shot.”

The fourteen-year-old who was already strikingly beautiful replied, “‘Greater love has no man than this that a man lay down his life for his friends.'” Deborah recognized it was from John 15:13. Lindsey walked out of the room as she glanced back at Bud with a smile before visiting Officer Justin Healey.

Lindsey Wilkerson walked to the elevator with Officer Carol Wright and her mother as she passed the rooms filled with traumatic injuries. She grabbed her mother's hand as she could see doctors standing over a young boy, with his mother by his side. As she got closer to the elevator there was another room where she saw a man sitting in a chair. As his head touched the metal railing of his wife's bed, Sharyn Wilkerson looked at her daughter, who had a trail of tears on her face.

“Mom,” the teenager said, “I wish I could help them all, but I can't.”

“Yes, you can,” her mother replied. “You keep them in your thoughts and in your prayers.”

“That's easy, Mom, and yet so difficult,” Lindsey replied. Sharyn knew it was true. Lindsey's photographic memory would never let her forget what she saw at the hospital.

As soon as Lindsey walked in, Justin Healey lit up like a Christmas tree. The young girl went to his bedside and gave the man who was her protector during the Face of Fear a long hug before speaking.

“You got yourself shot again, Officer Healey.”

He nodded with a smile. “Only in the back of the leg this time. It's so great to see you. Let me look at you.”

Lindsey stood up by the side of his bed as the officer looked at her. She was now 5'5” with dirty blond hair. Her face was starting to look like a young woman's instead of a young girl's. She was slim and carried a pocketbook over her shoulder and an iPhone in her hand. A typical teenager who happened to remember everything she experienced and saw.

“So,” Healey said, “what were you doing four days ago at 4:00 pm.”

Lindsey laughed it off and just said,

“Boring.”

The officer could see that as Lindsey was getting older, she was modest about her special gifts. It was only eighteen months before that she had fun showing them off. Now the maturity in her was bittersweet to him.

Lindsey interrupted his thoughts as she spoke.

“Thank you for continuing to protect me. I know you and the others have been close to the house. I feel like there is so much I know, hear, see, and remember, but my Mom won't let me read the papers or have certain apps on my phone.”

Justin Healey grabbed her hand. “You never have to thank me, Lindsey. We are doing our jobs. We just want to be sure you are OK until we believe it is finally over.”