The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel (12 page)

Bud sat back, shaking his head, and said, “OK, OK, I can’t wait to get home.

“You’ll be out of here in another hour. Go home, and we will talk tomorrow. Better yet, come over to Z Pita for breakfast, and we can talk. I’m going back to Rachelle’s room until Madison gets back, then going down to the station to interview Patty Saunders and Roger Thompson.”

Paul gave Bud a big bear hug, left the room, and visited Agent O’Connor for a few minutes before going back to Rachelle’s room. It was past 8:00 pm when he got a text from Cronin that Thompson and Saunders were being brought in for the morning. Paul was happy about it and squeezed Rachelle’s hand. She opened her eyes and smiled. He looked at her and put his hand on top of hers. She turned her hand to intertwine her fingers with his.

“When you are out of here, we can have our own chat,” he said. “OK,” she said.

Within minutes Madison was back to relieve Paul, and she wouldn’t let go of Rachelle.

“I’m fine,” Rachelle said, giggling. Paul said good night to both of them and checked in again with Agent O’Connor’s room and Kyle Winters’ room.

“Sorry, sir,” an officer said to Paul, “no admittance to Kyle Winters’ room without Detective Lieutenant Cronin’s authorization. Do you want me to call him?”

“No, no,” Paul replied. “It can wait.”

As Paul walked down the hall, the officer called Cronin anyway to tell him Detective Powers had come to the room. As Paul went outside the hospital, he had déj à vu. Again, no car to get home. He decided to take a walk to his apartment from the hospital. He needed the fresh air and time to think. The walk took him about 20 minutes. He was looking forward to the next day. Although it would be Sunday, he knew there would be no days off until this was resolved. The national spotlight on the case gave no options. This was going to be the rule until this was over.

He arrived at his apartment and turned on his answering machine to hear messages from Allan, his father, Joey Z, and Bud. He turned on the television to Fox News and what they were calling the Port Jefferson murders—“The Face of Fear”—under the “breaking news” bar. Apparently the media was linking the murder of Timothy Mann and Officer Davis with the kidnapping. Paul shut off the television and started returning phone calls. The first one was to his father. He listened to the concern and worry of his father for almost an hour before hanging up. He decided to take a shower before making the other calls.

John Winters picked up his knife and held it in his hand as he watched the news about his brother. Sitting next to him were Phil and his younger brother, Mason.

He looked at Phil and said, “You bastard. If you had gotten Kyle out of there instead of driving off, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Phil shook his head and replied, “John, he fired six to eight times, and at least 20 to 25 shots were fired back. It was a war zone.”

John grabbed his neck and shouted, “And now they will be all over us if Kyle talks! I know he hasn’t yet or they would be raiding next door. If we go down, I want people to suffer. I want the reporter dead, I want the cop who shot Kyle dead, and I want Wayne to torture and kill the pretty little thing before it’s over.”

He picked up his cell phone and called Wayne to check on how their hostage was doing. He was yelling at Wayne because he seemed as if he had a few drinks in him. He hung up and threw his glass of Jack Daniel’s at the television screen. His patience was wearing thin. “I will have to move to Wayne’s house in the early morning. I expect the cops to be at my brother’s house by morning and figure out I’m next door. Kyle doesn’t know your real names except for Mason, so you and Wayne don’t have anything to worry about.”

He picked up his cell phone again and called another number. At the other end was a female voice. John spoke very slowly to her. “Listen to me, you bitch. Keep your mouth shut, or I will cut you up into little pieces and feed you to the sharks in the Riverhead Aquarium.”

The voice on the other end bellowed back, “There was a deal that no one would be killed. What are you doing, you crazy fuck?”

John answered calmly, “Just drop out of sight. We don’t need you around for a while.”

“And what about my cut of the ransom?” the female said.

“We have bigger problems to think about, you dumb bitch. If we get out of this, I will contact you.”

John Winters hung up the phone and looked at Phil. “You are going to have to eliminate her before she speaks a word to anyone.”

Phil got up and started heading for the door. He said, “John, as much as I don’t want to, I’m afraid your own brother is going to have to be eliminated as well.”

Mason stood up at this statement to argue, but John cut him off, saying, “We have no choice, Mason. If we don’t, he will give all of us up. He got himself shot after killing a police officer. No way will they let him go. Trial or no trial, they want me, and he is their only ticket.”

Mason sat down as Phil went out the door. Phil got in his black SRX and drove away from the Thompson Street house wondering if it would be the last time he would be there. He stopped at the end of the driveway and looked back at the house next door on Thompson Street, the home of Kyle Winters. Phil knew if the cops got to Kyle, he may give them up, plus once they got his home address and realized John Winters was next door, all hell would break loose. He slammed the steering wheel hard with his open hand as he realized it was over for all of them unless the three Winters brothers were wasted. There would be no connection to Phil or to Wayne or even to the girl who they had met online if the brothers were gone. Phil made the left on Thompson Street to drive the five minutes to Mather Hospital. He knew what he had to do.

The two officers were getting tired, for they had not been relieved since they started guarding the door at 3:00 pm. It was now midnight, and a relief team was more than an hour late. Officers Barry Smith and Alex Walker now had chairs in the hallway. Walker decided to get some coffee and stretch his legs. “Bring me back some, black,” Smith called out to him.

Smith was alone for two minutes when a hard crack against his head knocked him to the floor. The intruder walked into the room where Kyle Winters was and walked up to his bedside as Kyle opened his eyes to see the famous white mask with peanut-shaped eyes. The person behind the mask whispered to Kyle, who answered her and begged for his life.

Before he could let out a cry for help, his mouth was covered and the face whispered in his ear, “No more killing for you” and, with a sudden thrust, put a knife through his heart. The blood started gushing out almost immediately. The intruder left the room and ran down the hallway, leaving Officer Smith on the floor.

As Walker came around the corner, he dropped the coffees on the floor as he radioed for backup and checked on the condition of Smith. Bud, who was still in the hospital on the advice of his attorney, heard the call and came running to the room, only to find Kyle Winters dead. He took Officer Walker’s club from his belt to check the floor of the hospital, including the rooms. Even though it was past midnight, two doctors and three nurses were on the scene rather quickly.

As Bud checked the rooms, he went over to the nurses’ station to shaken nurses who had just witnessed the attack on the monitors. “Play it back!” Bud started yelling, almost making one nurse jump out of her seat. She was nervous and crying but managed to move the recording back 10 minutes. As Bud watched, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Moving quickly, the intruder—wearing tight black pants, black sneakers, tight black shirt, black gloves, and the famous white Ghost Face mask—knocked out Officer Smith, went into the room, and within 35 seconds was out the door and running down the hallway. The detective couldn’t help but notice the blood splatter under the eye and along the right side of the eye of the mask.

“Where’s the rest of the video?” Bud screamed.

The nurse replied the videos were for rooms and small portions of hallway to watch patients. Bud thought it had to be one of the kidnappers to keep Winters from talking. Suddenly he thought of Rachelle and started running to her room. The two officers were missing from the door as Bud rushed in to see Rachelle sleeping and Madison’s head on her.

“What’s going on?” Madison asked, annoyed at being awoken. “Where are the officers that are supposed to be at this door,” Bud replied in a statement, instead of in the form of a question.

“Bud, I’ve been here sleeping with Rachelle. I haven’t been checking the doors.” By then there were three police cars on the grounds. Bud went back to the nurses’ station and called Paul on his cell phone. Paul told Bud he would be right there. Detective Lieutenant Cronin was notified as well and said he would be there within minutes. As Bud hung up the phone he looked at the nurse and said, “And I wanted to be a cop in a quiet town. Play the video from room 209.”

She played it back over and over, and there were two officers on film until 11:30 pm, then they were gone.

“What the fuck?” Bud kept saying. “They left? No relief, nothing?”

Bud returned to room 209 to see two new officers there. “Don’t leave this area until you are relieved in person by two other officers,” he said.

Detective Lieutenant Cronin arrived at the hospital as calls were being made to the officers who had left the room. It turned out they never left the hospital. They were hospitalized themselves with food poisoning, and no one had the smarts to call it in for replacements for room 209.

It was apparent to everyone as Paul arrived back at the hospital that the people involved in the kidnapping and murder were cleaning up house to avoid getting caught. It was going to be a very long weekend.

Cronin grabbed a radio from one of the uniformed officers and said, “Send officers to Patty Saunders’ and Roger Thompson’s homes now. I want to know what they have been up to tonight.”

Detective Lieutenant Cronin and Bud walked to Agent O’Connor’s room, flashed identification, and walked in to a sleeping O’Connor. “Don’t wake him,” Cronin said, “as long as things here haven’t been disrupted.”

They walked back out to the hallway, where Cronin spoke almost in a whisper to Bud. “I can understand why they wanted Winters dead, but poisoning two officers at Rachelle’s door and she’s OK? This is not making sense, unless they just wanted the officers out of the way.”

Cronin went back to the nurses’ station to view the video and found Special Agent Sherman already there. They both viewed the tapes and were impressed by the quickness of the masked intruder.

“He could have killed the officers,” Sherman said, “but he only wanted Winters. I have a team at this moment tearing the house apart on Thompson Street.”

A piece of paper was handed to Cronin as they were talking. He read it and said, “He has a brother next door on Thompson Street.”

“Let me go,” Bud said.

“You can go,” Cronin said, “but remember you only have your backup piece, and check with your attorney.”

“Sure, sure,” Bud replied.

He ran to his room to get his belongings and called his attorney, who flat-out said, “No, not under any circumstances. You’ll have to wait.”

Bud was so disappointed that he insisted, and his attorney said he would no longer represent him if he went to the house. It simply was not in his best interest. Paul came into the room and told Bud to stay in the hospital that he would go to the house with Officers Lynagh and Healey.

“Look after Rachelle and Madison,” Paul said.

Bud shook his head in minor protest. He knew this was the way things happened when you fired your weapon and struck someone.

Paul left the hospital but not before checking in on Rachelle and Madison. He kissed Rachelle’s forehead and the back of Madison’s head as she slept with her head on Rachelle’s leg.

He left the hospital in the police cruiser with Lynagh and Healey as they drove to Thompson Street. When they got there, they saw that agents were walking through Kyle Winters’ house. Paul walked up the stoop next door and starting ringing the doorbell.

John Winters answered the door with the greeting, “It’s 2:00 am in the fucking morning; what is this about?”

Paul identified himself and requested to come in. John let them in, and as they stood by the door, Paul asked, “Do you mind if we search the house, sir?”

“Yes, I do mind. Do you have a search warrant?”

“No,” Paul said. “Do you have something to hide?”

“No,” John said, “but I am a very private person with my things, and it’s 2:00 am. What is all this about?”

Paul walked closer to John as the two officers scanned the room to be certain there would be no surprises coming out from any of the doors or hallways. Both Lynagh and Healey were the most serious and hard-nosed cops, which is why Paul preferred their company on inquiries such as this. Paul peppered John with many questions, such as the last time he had seen Kyle. Apparently they were close, since he lived at the next house.

“We were always in close proximity,” John replied, “but not always emotionally. It’s the same with Mason, my younger brother, who lives here with me. He is sleeping upstairs.” Paul nodded to Lynagh to check it out.

As Lynagh started to move toward the steps, John protested.

“Listen,” Paul said, “I’m sorry to tell you this way, but your brother was involved in a cop killing yesterday afternoon. He was shot, captured, and was murdered over an hour ago in his hospital room after two officers were poisoned and one seriously injured. All this, and he lives next door to his brother. It may be debated in court, but I think I have probable cause to check this house to be sure there is no kidnap victim by the name of Deborah Lance here.”

“I’m puzzled,” John said. “What does a kidnapping victim have to do with someone killing my brother?”

Paul walked closer to John and said, “That is what I’m going to find out. Now, are you going to let this officer check upstairs voluntarily, or are you going to force me to make a decision for probable cause?”

John sat down in his chair and looked up at Paul and smiled. “I think I like the latter,” he said. There was silence in the room.