Caster-The Yin and The Yang, Part 4
By Yagswag
- 231 reads
John raced the Impala the whole way to headquarters. He ran stoplights, broke the speed limits and was about as illicit in his behavior as he had ever been as a cop.
In about 15 minutes he’d screeched the Impala to a halt in the parking lot and headed inside. Inside, Officer Benson waited near his desk, along with two others.
As he sat down at the desk, his phone rang…
“Hello?” John answered.
“Hello Detective, you look stressed today.” The voice crackled through the phone. John spun around in his chair.
“Who the hell are you?” John hissed into the phone.
“I am the man you are looking far. I kidnapped Anne Richards.”
“What do you want?” he asked. John took measures to triangulate the call, but was unable to trace the caller’s location.
“30,000 dollars wired into Anne Richards’s account by 8:00 tomorrow morning, or she dies.”
“Where do we pick her up once the money’s delivered?” John pressed.
“Deliver the money, and I give you the location. Take it or leave it.”
“Alright, we’ll have the money…we’ll have the money.”
“Sergeant Mallory…”John said, walking into his office.
“You knock first-“
“I’m sorry, shoot me later.” John said sarcastically. “Just got an anonymous phone call from a man who claims to be Anne’s kidnapper. Says he wants 30,000 dollars wired into Anne’s account by 8:30 tomorrow morning. Says he’ll call again when the money is ready…”
“Then get the money wired across damn it…Did you trace the fucking call??”
“Untraceable.”
“Goddamn fuckin’ modern technology!!” Mallory swore, leaping out of his chair. “What’re you waiting for, get it set up.”
8.
“This one didn’t give up without a fight.” Carl commented to one of the patrol officers, as he stepped into the video game store which had just been robbed. The clerk was sitting next to a paramedic, getting his wounded arm bandaged up.
“Yes sir…shot through the shoulder this one. Forensics even found the casing. Shouldn’t be long before they confirm the weapon used…apparently the clerk had a knife on him. Sliced at the assailant, and managed to slit his calf.” The officer said.
“Thank you…this makes the game a little easier.” Carl smiled.
As he walked over, the clerk looked at Carl, a weak smile spread across his face.
“Whoa, look out, we got a badass here!” Carl complimented the man and patted him on the good shoulder.
“Only a guy who hates robbers sir. Dad’s store was robbed when I was young…mother was mugged a few years ago…couldn’t let this fuck go without a fight.” The man said and grimaced as he adjusted himself to a better position, to talk.
“So…how’d it happen...Mr.?”
“Call me Carlo.”
“Carlo…almost like Carl, my name.” he smiled, and the man chuckled weakly in response.
“Yeah. Guy walked in here. It was quick. He didn’t look like he was in here for no games. I could tell it just from how he walked in. Guy didn’t even look at our PlayStation 4. He pulls out a pistol or revolver or something, dunno the gun, and tells me to hand him the money. I tell him, ‘over my dead body motherfucker’, and the guy walks around the counter and puts the gun to my head. I turn around like I’m gonna get the money and that’s when I attack him. I tackled him to the ground, but it didn’t last long. He shot me in my shoulder as you can see…Damn that hurt…I’ve been in plenty of fights in high school man but getting shot, it’s…it’s a whole another thing. Still had my good arm, so I took out my knife and cut him a little on his leg. Don’t even remember how deep, but enough to make him limp a little.”
“Did he try to take the knife from you?” Carl asked.
“Nah man, I was surprised. Made like no effort…just took the money and left. He probably figured the gunshot attracted enough attention. Knife’s still over there somewhere…that CSI team or whatever got it. You’ll probably get DNA or something.”
Carl chuckled…
“You’re on the fast track to being a cop man.” Carl said and gave Carlo’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Hang tough buddy.”
Carl walked out, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Motherfucker couldn’t have gotten far with a stab wound to the leg. Either way we can ID the prick with that knife. Carl said to one of the officers. I want the details faxed to me pronto…on the double.” Carl emphasized and walked back to his car.
9.
The money was transferred…wired into Anne Richards’s account, and all that was left to do was wait…John sat around the computer with Mallory and two other officers, since the wire transfer had been carried out.
“You said this fucker was going to call Caster.” Mallory hissed as they waited.
“I know…I-maybe he still hasn’t checked the money…”
“Bullshit Caster…you have wasted 5 hours of our time here. We’ve been wearing our asses down on these seats and that woman’s still kidnapped.”
“I promise you Sergeant, I am telling you everything I know…when he made the call he was somewhere he could see me. Said that I ‘looked’ stressed.”
“I don’t give a fuck Caster. It’s been nearly a week now and we still haven’t nailed this asshole.”
The phone rang again…John looked around, his hand inching closer.
“Pick up the damn phone Caster!”
“Hello?” John answered.
“Dead end off of Redding Street. I got the bitch all tied up and nice.” The caller’s voice crackled through the phone, before the ringtone ensued.
“Redding street, dead end.” John said to Mallory.
“Alright, haul ass, Redding street, move! move! move!” Mallory yelled, ordering the officers out.
John was racing his Impala down the highway towards Redding street, skirting each turn of the road, nearly swerving into the oncoming traffic on the other side of the lane.
It took about 15 minutes to arrive at the location, which was a small cul-de-sac shaped dead end located about a mile from a nearby farmhouse. By that time, officers had already arrived, about four cruisers were waiting for John.
“On your go Detective.” The Chief’s voice sounded. John spun around surprised. “You’ve done an impressive job with this case. Lead the way, we’ll follow.” She said.
“T-Thank y-you Chief, it’s…it’s an-“
“Don’t waste your time on flattery now. Come on, we’ve got us a kidnapped woman lying out there, go! Go! Go!” she yelled. John pulled out his gun, pointing it in front. All the while, Mallory hardly spoke a word. The area in front of the cul-de-sac was heavily wooded. They split off into three search teams, John leading the one cutting straight through the middle. The Chief covered the west end with hers, and Mallory took the East.
The pine trees shrouded their view. John pushed his way through the prickly pines which grazed his shirt slightly ripping it. Once they entered, John and the team of officers that accompanied him were surrounded by mist. Goosebumps formed along John’s arm and down his back as they pressed further into the night fog. The flashlights only seemed to make things worse.
“John? You find her?” Mallory’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie.
“Negative, over.” John replied.
“Move you-“ Mallory began but his voice crackled out.
“Repeat, over.” John said, trying hard not to smirk.
“Detective…I’ve found her.”
John’s group came to a halt. Surrounded by fog, they had no choice but to stay where they were.”
“What’s her condition.”
“Neck broken. The suspect didn’t want her to croak.” She said, sighing disappointedly.
“Ah, fuck.” John swore. He gestured in a knife like motion at his throat to the officers in his group, spreading word of her death.
“But wait…something’s burned into her down here…on her leg…AK-48.” The Chief’s voice came through. “Bring your squad over here, we’re calling it in.” The Chief said.
The Chief’s group sent up a flare, signaling their location, towards which John’s and Mallory’s group proceeded. Blakely was waiting with her officers, surrounding the dead body of Anne Richards.
“48?” John asked.
“Right here sir.” One of the officers pointed.
“So it’s no assault rifle…fuckin’ kill count?”
“Likely, sir.” Another officer added.
Just then, his cellphone rang…
“Hello? Uh-huh…yeah…” he answered. “Just caught a guy speeding little ways north of here. Black Suburban, no license plates. Found a toolbox in the back with almost 400 dollars in cash, .357, knives and a torch…even better…full blown confession from the driver.”
10.
Two store burglaries in such short time…nearly 400 dollars in cash…what could a man want with such money? A getaway? Drive to a nearby city and then a plane ride out? Tickets were cheap along the same coast, especially with a stopover…Carl breathed out, and leaned back in his chair, looking up at the grey tiled ceiling in vain hope of inspiration.
His printer whirred, and the fax came out. The blood report, full with all the analysis.
The suspect was an Adrian Keller, ex-Marine who was discharged on grounds of psychological instability. With 47 kills documented in his service, he had been one of the most deadly killers in his regiment.
“Hallelujah…” Carl breathed out…
In minutes he was speeding down Krueger Road, which was about 10 minutes from Adrian’s residence. Carl couldn’t help but to feel a little overwhelmed by proximity of his residence to headquarters.
The house, if one could even call it that, with hits dilapidated state, was small. Constructed almost entirely from brick, it was a little more than a two storied apartment. The porch was surrounded by mesh fencing, and the glass door in front was unlatched. Carl pulled back on it, and entered the enclosed porch. Curtains had been drawn and no one appeared to be home, but it was worth a try.
“Adrian Keller I have a warrant to search your premises.” Carl called out. “Adrian!!” he yelled again. No answer. “Fuck this.” Carl said under his breath, and pushed against the door. It was already open, and Carl nearly fell in on his face. He stumbled back onto his feet, and drew his weapon. Around, clothes had been strewn helter skelter. The shoe closet had been thrown open….
“Someone was born in the sixth month.” Carl said, and gripped his gun even more tightly. As Carl rounded the corner and entered the living room…he nearly dropped his weapon in horror. Around him were articles, and pictures of Anne Richards, the woman who’d been kidnapped…Almost like an altar, in the middle was a small, wooden stage, to which were bolted braces, presumably for the wrists and ankles.
Carl stepped closer to the platform, and knelt down to look at the braces. On the ridges of the metal braces were shreds of skin and dried blood all caked onto the steel. Carl wrinkled his face in disgust. Essex County had given him everything from dismemberment, to near disembowelment…but this sort of a torture chamber…this twisted ritualistic dungeon…no…
Carl stepped back, and called headquarters.
“Detective Carl Jones speaking…”
11.
He was a surprisingly small man, the one who’d confessed. John sized him up as he walked into the interrogation room.
The man whimpered, and shrunk back into his chair as John approached.
“I know I did a bad thing…I had to do it…she had to die…” he nearly squealed as John took his seat across form him. John didn’t say a word.
“What’s your name?”
“I-I can’t tell you that!!” He stuttered.
“Why not?” John pressed.
“Because I just…can’t. But that bitch deserved to die. I enjoyed every bit of it. I enjoyed binding her, and torturing her with knives…and branding her.” He broke down and began to cry.
“Shut up.” John spat. “I already have a whiny bitch at home. Give me your name or you’re gonna be paying the consequences for non-cooperation.”
“You don’t get it…I can’t tell you my name.”
“Well, you just copped to a murder kidnapping either way. You’re already fucked…tell us your name and we’ll use one dick instead of two.”
John sighed, and leaned back in his chair. The light that hung above the interrogation table illuminated a crescent shape on the man’s face. The shadow was bigger than the light.
“Right…we got you for a murder-kidnapping. Non-Cooperation with authorities…that should land you a nice 20 years if you’re lucky…life if we’re lucky.” John said and stood up, about to leave.
“Wait!!!” he cried out. “I-I have a daughter…just…just look out for her…please.” He cried out, tears rolling down his cheeks. “She’s five. Has the flu…I’m unemployed…so I stole that money…the 400 dollars.”
“There’s about 40 pharmacies within a 5 mile radius of where we are…what the fuck were you doing headed north to San Francisco?”
“Are you crazy?!! I couldn’t walk into another store here!! My face was everywhere already…”
John leaned against the door, and just as his head relaxed against its frame, he heard a knock. John groaned, hating interruptions during an interrogation. He stepped outside.
“Sir,” the officer standing outside said, “Detective Carl Jones.”
“Yeah, we’ve seen each other.” John said bluntly. “What?” he said looking at Carl.
“I think our cases may be linked.”
John scoffed, throwing his arms up in disbelief. “We got us a conspiracy theorist here! Exactly what we need…go on…what did Ted Bundy have to do with this huh? Was his ghost somehow involved..the electrical chair not work properly or-“
“Detective, with all due respect, shut the FUCK UP!! The man I believe you and I are looking for is Adrian Keller. Ex-Marine, discharged on grounds of psychological instability. Don’t believe, why don’t you look at the report.” Carl spat and tossed the file at John. The papers slid out sprawling across the floor. “You’re picking that up man.” Carl said, turning around.
“Wait…” John sighed from behind him… “Tell me where two and two come together.”
“Two burglaries in Brooke Hills. Both only about 10 miles from Westborough Lane, the site of the kidnapping. Perp steals about 400 bucks in total…needs quick cash somewhere. Second robbery was our jackpot. Clerk was a little more aggressive and tried to fight the man. He pulled a knife on him, and managed to slit his calf. Hence, the blood report…ballistics from the gunshot show it’s a .357 Magnum that was used. Same one your guy seems to have used to shoot Anne’s husband. Oh yeah and…furthermore…as for the moniker he seems to be using AK-47…it’s a fuckin’ kill count. He had 47 confirmed kills during his service overseas.”
“Richards was the 48th.” John said blankly…
“My conclusion…Adrian paid this guy off, or threatened him. Show him the picture, he’ll spill.” Carl replied, his voice stern.
John had straightened out the papers in the file, still staring in awe at Carl.
“Too bad we brushed shoulders, this’d have gone a lot smoother.” Carl said.
“You seem to have the facts straight. Why don’t you do the honors?” John said and handed the file back.
Carl stepped inside the interrogation room,
“ ‘sup my man!” Carl exclaimed with a smile, walking in. “You look like you haven’t eaten in days buddy. Want anything? Soda? Hamburger? We got it all. There’s an Arby’s…just a little ways down.”
“Look, I already confessed-“
“To a crime you didn’t commit buddy.” Carl smiled and pulled out the picture of Adrian Keller, and slid it over to the man. He nearly leaped out of his chair upon seeing the picture.
“Get that-get that fucking away from me!!” He yelled. “I-I can’t…” he cried out, covering his face.
“That picture’s not going anywhere. Neither are you, until you tell me what the hell’s really going on here.” Carl said a little more sternly this time. “ ‘cause I guarantee you, prison doesn’t go easy on people like you. And it most certainly doesn’t have an Arby’s joint. So fess up…”
“Jesus Christ man!! You know I can’t do that. He’ll kill her too.” The man sobbed, falling to his knees and pressing his head towards the wall. Carl stood and walked over to the man, kneeling to his level. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and caressed it.
“Look. You tell us what we need to know, and I guarantee you, the police will keep whoever it is you want…safe. I will see to it.”
“P-promise…” he stammered.
“You have my word.”
“It was that guy.” The man said, his voice shaking. “Said he’d kill my daughter if I didn’t do as he asked man. I’m fucking unemployed man, I had no choice…said I could keep any money I found in the toolbox in the back.”
“Any idea what his plans were.”
“No-probably some getaway. He looked like he was hurt or something. Had a limp. Looked like he was in a hurry to get somewhere.” The man sobbed, his frame shaking.
“Alright now,”
“Tom…”
“Alright Tom…I need you to relax alright? Everything will be okay. Write down your address on the back of this paper, and we’ll have the cops at your door, to keep your daughter safe…”
“He said-he said he’d kill her.”
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