The Face of Fear: A Powers and Johnson Novel (22 page)

“No,” Sherry answered. “I was out like a light after that son of a bitch kicked me. By the way, you guys look terrible.”

“We really have had no sleep since this happened. We have to close this case. There have been only 22 officers in Suffolk County who died in the line of duty since formation of the Suffolk County Police Department. Victoria was the 23
^rd
, you were almost the 24
^th
. The pressure is on.”

“Well, you look like shit,” Sherry answered.

“OK,” Paul said, “time for some rest for you.”

Bud smiled at Sherry and started singing “Sherry Baby.”

Sherry put her hand up to Bud as Paul reached the door and said, “It’s a good thing I understand it’s your way of showing affection or I’d shoot your ass too!”

“Oh, come on,” Bud replied, “let me finish.”

“No, get out of here. It’s white men like you that make me angry at my mom for giving me that damn name.”

They closed the door, and Sherry had on her face what most people had when Bud left the room—a smile. Sherry’s parents and husband were in the hallway as the two detectives walked up to them. They brought Gabe up to date with as much information as they could and Sherry’s mom even asked a few questions about what was going on. The verbal exchange lasted for about five minutes while Sherry’s father remained silent throughout. As they said their goodbyes, Mr. Jonathan Angall, Sherry’s father gently grabbed Bud’s arm and spoke for the first time.

He said, “There are many things I can accept and understand because my daughter, my only daughter and child, is a cop. And I really don’t know everything that is going on here, but what I do know is that people are losing their lives and keep coming back to this hospital. I also know that my only child had a knife stuck through her and was kicked in the head like she was some kind of animal and left to die. You find whoever it is behind all of this, and before you put them behind bars or in the ground, my request is that you make them aware of all the pain and suffering they have caused us.”

Bud looked at Mr. Angall with almost an intimidated look on his face. He couldn’t even think of anything to say except, “Yes, sir.”

Jonathan Angall held on to Bud’s arm and said, “I have your word then,” as he looked in Bud’s eyes.

“You have my word,” Bud answered as Mr. Angall let go of his arm.

As they walked away, Paul asked Bud, “Are you OK?”

“Yes,” he replied. “A quiet man, yet he knows how to get his point across.”

“This is it, my friend,” Paul replied.

“There will be little sleep now; we have to end it. Let me stop in and say hello to Rachelle,” Bud said. “Wanna come back in?”

“No, I don’t think I should,” Paul answered. “Meet you in the lobby in 10 minutes.” As Paul walked to the lobby, he felt his heart beating through his temples. This was a warning sign to him through experience that if he didn’t calm down, he would be having an anxiety attack. He sat down in the lobby and tried to think of other things before the back of his head became soaked. If his hair got wet, he knew he would be in trouble. He went outside the hospital to call his father to take things off his mind.

“Rachelle, my belle,” Bud started singing to the tune of “Michelle.” Both Madison and Rachelle clapped their hands after he finished. “How are you doing this morning?”

“Well,” she replied, “I think I’m doing better than you. You look like shit!”

Bud interrupted, “I know, I know, that’s what they tell me.” He looked up at the television and saw Suze Orman giving someone an approval for a vacation. “You like her?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Rachelle said, clapping her hands. “One day I will get to see the whole program to the end.”

“Well,” Madison said, “I think you need some time away from here for a bit, so you will have some time.”

“My younger sister looking out for me,” Rachelle said as she looked at Bud.

Bud nodded as he smiled at Rachelle and said, “OK, we gotta go catch some bad guys. Paul is waiting for me outside.”

“Oh,” Rachelle answered. He gave her a kiss at the top of her head and walked out with Madison to the hallway.

He told her, “The house will have a 24-hour car outside until the case is over.”

“OK,” Madison replied.

“One more thing,” Bud asked, poking his head back in the room to speak to Rachelle. “Did you notice if the white mask being worn during the stabbing had a blood splatter on it?”

Rachelle squinted her eyes as she thought. She said, “I saw red, but I was so scared I really didn’t think about it.”

“Thank you,” Bud said as he left the room again.

When Paul reached his father, he was surprised when his dad said he had flown up to New York and was now on his way to Long Island to see him.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“Paul,” his dad answered, “I have the Woolworth Reunion in a few days anyway, so I needed to spend time with you.”

“Dad, we have a case that is all over the national media.”

“Listen, Paul. I want to have dinner with you a couple nights. No big deal, but one day you are going to be a father, and when I see you, I’m going to play back the message you left me on my voice mail, and then I want you to tell me if you would not have done the same thing if your son left a message like that to you.”

“OK, Dad,” Paul said. “I guess I was feeling a little down.” Bud heard the last part of this conversation as he walked up behind Paul. Paul finished with, “OK, you will be at the apartment in a couple hours? I’ll see what I can do. OK, see you then.”

“Listen,” Bud said, “I have to get back to the precinct, then I need to get some shuteye before Cronin starts looking for us. See your dad, get a couple hours shuteye too. Maybe we need some rest. It’s been forever since I shut my eyes.”

“I agree,” Paul said. “Give me a call at 4:00 pm, five hours from now.”

Bud dropped Paul off at the front of Z Pita, and Paul went in to talk to Joey Z about Rachelle. After 10 minutes with the owner, he left and made his usual cut through the alley between the buildings to get to the back of his apartment. The alley always gave him the creeps, but the 10 seconds it took to walk through the alley saved him 10 minutes of walking around the buildings.

Paul went upstairs, played his messages, and got to the one from his Dad: “Son, it’s your father. I got your message. I love you too. I know things are challenging right now, but you will get through this. You are a good cop, a better person, and a great son. I’m proud of you.”
Click.
Paul played it three times before he leaned over on his bed and fell asleep.

Even though Bud had very little sleep, he pulled the interrogation that Paul had with Simpson for two hours. He went to the vending machines, selected the microwave popcorn, heated it up, got a soda, and started viewing the interrogation while having his popcorn. He made notes while watching and eating, played back a few segments, and started playing it again. He then requested the tech manager to play the hospital video of the masked killer going in and out of the hospital room to kill Kyle Winters. He scratched his head a few times and started writing additional notes. He went back to the Simpson interrogation again and viewed the last five minutes of it again. The tape finished, and there was silence. Exhaustion had caught up with Bud, who had fallen asleep in the video room—popcorn, soda, notepad, and pen all beside him.

Agent O’Connor, limping and with a cane, met Cronin at the
Port Jefferson Now
offices to meet with Steven Anderson, who showed them Rachelle’s desk and computer. As Cronin poked around, he kept one ear open to listen to O’Connor’s questions to Steven Anderson. Her work habits, good, bad, problems, past assignments, future assignments, the book she was writing, the letter that came to her from Phil Smith.

Yes,
Cronin thought to himself,
he’s very thorough
. The detective lieutenant did not find anything else unusual or any unexpected surprise at her desk. It appeared that Rachelle was ambitious and a hardworking woman who did not want to be intimidated or forced not to have the life she wanted to lead. Cronin asked Steven Anderson questions about himself, such as his years at the paper and the places he enjoyed spending time while he was in the village.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Cronin said. “All I ask right now is that no one, including Rachelle, use the computer on her desk ’til we have someone look at it.”

“Fine,” Steven Anderson said. “No one has been on it except for

Rachelle and the other cop.” Cronin and O’Connor stopped in their tracks.

“Other cop?” Cronin said. “Do you have a name?”

“Yes, hold on a second. Detective Paul Powers.”

“Did he show you his badge?” Cronin asked.

“Yes, of course.” Anderson replied.

“When?” the detective lieutenant asked.

“Two days ago,” Anderson replied.

“How long did he spend on the computer?” O’Connor asked. “About 30 minutes,” the editor replied.

“Thank you,” Cronin answered. “No one goes on the computer ’til I give you a call with who is coming. OK?”

“No problem,” Anderson replied.

As they left the building, O’Connor asked, “What do you think?” Cronin looked at the agent and said, “I think it’s strange he didn’t ask us about how Rachelle was doing.”

“Maybe he was nervous,” the agent replied.

Cronin looked at him and replied, “Or maybe he’s just an asshole who doesn’t know any better. I’ve got to go to the precinct. I will catch you later.”

“OK, I’ve got to check in myself with Sherman and get the leg checked out.”

As Cronin got in the car he got a text message from the chief of the department wanting a review and update as to what was going on. Cronin arrived at the precinct and had his assistant, Gina, notify the chief that he was in the building. He was called into a conference room, and sitting there was deputy chief commissioner Ken McGuire and the chief of the department, Bob Jameson. The detective lieutenant sat down in front of them.

“I’m impressed. Where is the police commissioner?”

“Are you being sarcastic to your superior officers, Detective Lieutenant?” Chief Jameson asked.

“No,” Cronin answered. “I guess you could call it trying to get through the day. It’s been a long week.”

“Tell us about it, Detective Lieutenant. We are all over the news, and we are anxious for this to go away.”

“And I’m not?” Cronin answered. “We are working day and night to resolve it. The good guys and the bad guys are getting killed. It’s going down to the final piece of the puzzle.”

“Review the summary with us.”

“Why?” Cronin answered.

“Because we want to know what is going on, that’s why,” Chief Jameson answered.

“I’ll give you the facts of the case to date.”

“Then do it,” McGuire bellowed.

Cronin looked at McGuire and thought better of what he wanted to say. He reviewed the case from the beginning, from the ferry to the present day. The two chiefs only looked at each other when the detective lieutenant got to the parts when the masked killer was involved. The summary took more than an hour, and when he finished he was asked if he needed additional detectives on the case.

Cronin answered, “Thank you, but at this point, they would only be in the way. I will need additional uniform officers to guard the house, the hospital, and to insure no one speaks to Patty Saunders, including her attorney, without me knowing about it. I would also like a car watching the
Port Jefferson Now
editorial offices and the Lance Mansion on Cliff Road. There will be overtime on this one, but as you said, we need to end it as quickly as possible.”

“When will you have a suspect or who else is behind this besides Winters and Smith?” Jameson asked.

“Why do you think anyone else is involved?” Cronin asked. “Don’t you?” Jameson asked.

“Yes, I do,” the detective replied.

“Who?” both chiefs asked.

“Sorry,” Cronin said. “Can’t divulge at this time.”

“Hold on,” Jameson said.

“No,” Cronin answered, as he got up to leave. “I’m not going to get into that right now. Besides,” he said as he looked at them, “I really don’t know who to trust right now.”

Chief Jameson stood up and yelled, “What are you implying?”

“It’s not me,” Cronin said as he opened the door to leave. “It’s just your interpretation of what I’m saying. Now, I have a job to do. If you want to chat again when this is over, I’ll be happy to do that.” Cronin looked at Chief Jameson and said, “Have a good day, sir. I won’t let you down.”

The door shut while McGuire started to speak, but Jameson cut him off when he said, “Sit your ass down, Ken.”

Cronin walked into his office and was told Bud was sleeping in the video room. “Let him have another hour, then wake him up,” he said. he then followed that with, “Get Lynagh to bring in Robert Simpson again. I would like to speak to him. And get Agent Sherman on the line for me.”

Cronin sat back in his chair and turned on the television, and the national news already had the latest continuing saga of what was going on. From Rachelle’s cryptic message on what was apparently going to end up as a book to the latest attempt on her life and the heroism of Sherry Walker in saving her life. Of course the media knew how to get the public’s interest going. They played up the masked killer for all they could. Headlines were all over the papers, from THE REAL THING, NOT A MOVIE to GHOST FACE ARRIVES IN PORT JEFFERSON. His favorite was Rachelle’s headline, THE FACE OF FEAR IS HERE. Her cryptic messages from her Twitter account also had poems that hinted at what she thought was going on. There was no doubt that between her rhymes on Twitter and headlines in the papers, she antagonized the kidnappers to draw them out.

The real mystery was why the killings continued, and whoever was behind the mask was causing confusion. The confusion and mystery was that only the bad guys were being killed by whoever was wearing the Ghost Face mask with the blood splatter. Was it Phil Smith eliminating his partners and witnesses, or was it someone else trying to make it look like it was Phil Smith so they could get away with murder? But why? It wasn’t clear to Cronin; not yet, anyway.