Silent Justice (21 page)

Soon, he stirred and opened his eyes. The weapon lay inches from his face, and he cursed his lack of inner strength and wished he’d never been born. He was a blight on society, not worthy of life, and too weak to do what needed to be done.

Reaching out wearily, he picked up the weapon and stood to his feet, tucking the gun behind his belt. There had to be an easier way. Some means to end it all without having to do it himself—he had no courage, no spine, and no guts to do the job.

Maybe if he made his way to the police station, he could barge in, his gun blazing, and let the cops fill him full of holes. That would surely be a way out, and it wouldn’t take a lot of willpower. But then, knowing his luck, something would go wrong, and he would live through it, probably spending the rest of his life in prison confined to a wheelchair—or worse, staring at the ceiling half-paralyzed.

No, that wasn’t the answer. If he found a way, it would have to be certain and final, with no margin of error.

He turned and looked through the front window toward the street. He longed to be out in the fresh air, on his own, but his home in the swamp had been discovered, and there was no other safe place he could go.

He took a sudden, sharp breath and ducked down. Jake Lincoln was coming up the sidewalk. Had he discovered him? Was he checking all the houses on the street?

Adam looked around desperately, then raced into the kitchen, dove to the side door, and spun the lock. He ran back to the living room and huddled in a corner, holding his breath.

In a few moments, a knocking sounded at the side door. He waited in fear, hardly daring to breathe. There was another knock, then an extended silence, and he breathed again.

He crept to the side door and looked out cautiously. He could see the big man’s back as he moved up the sidewalk, rounding the block, heading toward Steel Road. It was a closer call than he expected, and he was in danger because of Annie. But he couldn’t let her go yet. Not until he figured a way out of his dire situation—whether dead or alive, he didn’t care, as long as he wasn’t captured and imprisoned.

Emotionally drained, he went into the bathroom and doused his head with water. He stared at himself in the mirror, letting the cool water drip down his face. He’d lost a little weight, his face becoming gaunt, a dark shadowing under his eyes. He sighed and wiped his face on his sleeve. He didn’t even have a toothbrush, but at least he could take a shower. Living in the house would’ve been ideal, but it was no longer a viable option—just one more thing he’d messed up.

He wandered back to the living room and looked out the window. From outside, anyone passing by could see right into the room. He didn’t dare cover the window with a blanket or sheet. Someone in the area would be sure to notice a difference; the house had been vacant so long. He would have to be careful; he could’ve easily been seen by Jake Lincoln earlier.

He maneuvered the couch across the floor, away from its spot under the front window, and dropped down onto it. At least the electricity was still on; he didn’t expect it would be disconnected. The owners had to maintain some heat in the winter or the water in the pipes could freeze and, over a period of years, the floors might buckle. That was a good thing, but he would have to be careful not to use the power often or the owners would notice it on their invoice.

Annie was being strangely silent. She no longer knocked on the basement door or called his name. There were no windows in the basement, so there was no way out other than the door. Perhaps she assumed he was gone from the house and was waiting for him to return. She wasn’t in any danger down there, and he expected she knew that. He had made it clear he meant her no harm.

He would be sure to check on her later, maybe bring her some food and water. It was the least he could do. But in the meantime, he had some thinking to do. If he didn’t come up with a plan soon, he would be discovered and put in the place he dreaded the most—behind bars.

Chapter 38

Thursday, 12:15 p.m.

HANK HAD SPENT the morning tracking down the rest of the people who knew Adam Thorburn. It was a near success, with only three or four eluding his search. Hank warned each one he reached to be on their guard; however, no further information to aid him in his pursuit of the fugitive had been forthcoming.

Earlier, Captain Diego had notified Hank the press was itching for an official statement. Officers were busy fielding calls from a fearful public demanding the killer be stopped, and the mayor was leaning on the captain to bring an end to the situation immediately.

Diego had scheduled a news conference for 12:30, the press had been notified, and the pressure Hank felt was temporarily relieved. But inwardly, he took it hard. His heart ached for the families of the victims, and the increasing anger he always felt in situations like this was something he found impossible to overcome.

He slid a blank piece of paper in front of him, leaned in, and picked up a pen. He didn’t have a lot he could share at the moment, but he wrote down pointers to a half dozen things he would touch on, his chief concern being to alleviate the fears of the public. He tucked the notes into a file folder and went to Diego’s office. The captain was on the phone, and he hung up when Hank stepped inside.

“All ready, Captain.”

Diego nodded and pushed back from his desk. “Lead the way, Hank.”

Hank paused in front of the doors leading from the precinct. The press had gathered in full force, many of them arriving some time ago, all anticipating the latest news they could pass on to the public.

News vans and reporters’ vehicles lined the street, microphones and cameras were fine-tuned, and questions were devised and perfected. Several curious onlookers stood nearby wondering what the fuss was all about.

For much of the press, reporting the latest shocking news was about ratings, market share, or making a name for themselves. For Hank, it was personal. Not only was his professional future continually on the line, but it was his bound duty to bring a murderer to justice, a responsibility he took seriously.

Hank stepped aside and glanced at Diego. The captain nodded, straightened his tie, and pushed the door open. Hank followed him down the steps and approached the make-shift podium, covered with microphones. Diego stood to one side as Hank placed his folder on the stand, flipped it open, and cleared his throat.

“Thank you all for coming. I’ll make a brief statement and then take your questions.”

Hank’s eyes scanned the crowd. He recalled most of the faces, the most recognizable being Lisa Krunk, in her usual spot at the front of the group, Don at her side. She caught his eye and nodded at him as if there were some big secret between them. Lisa always considered herself leader of the pack, worthy of special recognition in some way Hank didn’t understand.

He continued, “As you’re almost certainly aware, this past Monday evening, a woman, Mrs. Nina White, was brutally murdered. The identity of a suspect immediately became apparent. He has thus far eluded us, and we believe he struck again on Tuesday evening when Mr. Raymond Ronson was murdered.”

The gathered group looked bored. They already knew everything Hank had said, and they seemed to be anticipating some new information. Hank continued, “I want to assure the public we’re getting close to catching this individual before he kills another innocent citizen.”

Hank held up a picture of Adam Thorburn. “I’ll be distributing this photo to all of you, but I urge the public, if you see this man, please call 9-1-1 immediately. Do not try to apprehend him as he might be armed and is certainly dangerous.”

He paused, closed the folder, and looked back up. “I’ll take your questions now.”

All hands shot up. Hank pointed to a reporter in the second row.

“Detective Corning, why is it taking you so long to apprehend Thorburn?”

“It’s only been three days and the city offers a lot of places for a fugitive to hide. We’re confident he’ll surface soon. He’ll need food, and he’s on some medication he won’t be able to obtain on his own. And we’re following up certain leads we believe will track him down before long.”

Hank pointed to another reporter.

“Considering both murders have taken place in schools, what precautions have been used to safeguard our children?”

“The schools are on lockdown during the day with armed guards watching over our kids. The buildings are patrolled in the evenings and overnight. But we can’t assume Thorburn’s next victim will be at a school. It could be anyone at any time.” Hank paused. “I don’t want to alarm anyone unduly, but please be on your guard.”

Hank pointed to Lisa Krunk, uncharacteristically waiting patiently.

“Detective, will you tell me to what extent Lincoln Investigations is involved in this?”

“The Lincolns have been hired by a private individual and I can’t speak for them. They’re conducting a parallel investigation. They’re not working for the police, though their goal is the same as ours, and they willingly share any and all information they receive with us.”

Lisa persisted, “Do you think Adam Thorburn will strike again?”

“That’s an unknown factor and we have to assume he may. We’re taking every precaution and have warned potential victims.” Hank paused. He didn’t want to mention the third killing until he had some solid information. Without knowing the identity of the victim, it would serve no purpose. “There’ll be no more questions, but I want to repeat my warning; please be cautious, don’t go out alone at night, and keep your doors locked at all times until we have Thorburn in custody.”

Hank picked up the folder and turned away as reporters continued to call out questions. Diego joined him and they climbed the steps and went into the precinct.

Hank didn’t feel he had given the people anything new, but he hoped his warning to be careful would be heeded.

Diego turned to Hank. “Do you need some more help on this? I can give you all the officers you want.”

Hank shook his head. “It’s not the manpower that’s the problem, Captain. It’s the lack of viable leads that’s slowing us down.”

“Let me know if you need anything,” Diego said, turning away and going into his office.

Hank went back to his desk, pulled up his chair, and dropped his notes from the press conference into the wastebasket. He slid the big stack of evidence in front of him and painstakingly went through everything once again.

So far, the body of the third victim hadn’t been discovered, and there was a distinct possibility it might be one of Thorburn’s acquaintances Hank and King had been unable to track down.

He turned his head toward King’s desk. The detective had a couple of things to do and wasn’t in yet. When King showed up, Hank would go over the names of the people they had contacted and make a list of those they had been unable to reach. The third victim might be one of them.

It was next to impossible to determine everyone Thorburn had come into contact with during his life, and there was always the chance the latest victim was someone who knew Thorburn—someone Hank was unaware of. He hoped his warning to the public would cover the ones they missed.

And he was worried. There were three victims in three days and today was the fourth day. Would there be another killing, and if so, what could be done to stop it? Who and where would Thorburn hit next? Both known murders were exceptionally brutal, one victim run over repeatedly by a car, the other stabbed to death with a screwdriver, and he feared the third, and perhaps the fourth, would be no different.

So far, the surveillance at the Thorburn house had netted nothing. Thorburn hadn’t shown up at the phone booth again, and the officers on the streets, as well as the public, hadn’t turned up a solid lead.

Until some new information came to light, there was little else he could do at the moment except review what they already knew in the hopes something might add up.

Chapter 39

Thursday, 12:39 p.m.

ANNIE HAD SEARCHED the basement thoroughly, looking for anything to help her break the door down, but had been unsuccessful. The room was bare except for a bag of garbage tossed into a corner. The only window was boarded over, nailed firmly, and though Annie had spent some time working at the boards, it was futile.

Her banging at the basement door, and her calls to Adam Thorburn, had gone unanswered, and she wasn’t sure whether or not he was still in the house.

Though the room was cool, it wasn’t damp, and the dry, stale smell was not overpowering. She’d been in worse situations before, but this time there seemed to be no way out on her own. She was at the mercy of Adam Thorburn and could only wait patiently until he released her or she was found.

She sat on the dusty floor, her back against the cool concrete wall, her knees drawn up, her attempts to escape exhausted. She had no doubt Jake was searching for her, especially since any phone calls to her number would go unanswered.

She raised her head and gazed toward the stairs at the sound of the lock being drawn back. Someone was coming, and it could only be Adam.

Rising to her feet, she waited. The door squeaked open and a pair of legs came into view. It was her captor. He descended a few steps, ducked down as if to assure himself he wasn’t being ambushed, and then came down the steps, his eyes on her continually.

He carried a plastic bottle of water in his hand and he stopped a few feet away. “I brought you something to drink,” he said, tossing it to her.

“Thank you,” she said, catching it in one hand. She hadn’t realized until now how thirsty she was, and she screwed the cap off and downed most of the cool liquid as he watched her, his arms crossed.

She held the bottle in her hand and looked at him, calculating her chances at trying to overpower him. She quickly gave up on the thought. He was at least five inches taller and outweighed her by fifty pounds.