“Elusive”
Issue #1
Issue #1
‘Interstate Killer’ – Part One
By Charley Biggs
“Jim. This looks really bad”
“Yeah…maybe
Valentine will let us call it a night early?”
“Ugh! Not on your life, cowboy, let’s go see what
we’ve got”
In
the small downtown area of Fort Smith, Indiana, blue lights mixed with the
usual daylight lamps to light everything brightly. Highway US-30 ran right through town on it’s
way to I-69, where it veered north to I-80, or south to Indianapolis at I-70. The downtown area itself were older buildings
of brick and wooden fronts with classic display windows that made it seem as
though you went back in time.
But
now those peaceful streets were utter chaos, filled with local police and
ambulances, a nearby sidewalk crowded where people stood around in
confusion. It was there that a silver
sedan stopped near, pulling to a curb before two people stepped out.
From
behind the driver’s seat, a woman in her mid-thirties with glossy black hair,
intense dark eyes, flawless tanned skin, whom was still built athletically,
through her hips were noticeably curvaceous.
Dressed in black slacks, a dark blue blouse, and wearing a windbreaker
that said U.S. Marshals, she was almost underdressed compared to her partner
whom was wearing a dark grey suit, white shirt and red tie. The man was about 5’6”, and lean, walking
like a banty rooster, and with his brown hair cut into a short neat fade, it
was obvious he was ex military.
Slamming
his door shut, the man glanced over at the woman, leaning an elbow on the roof
of the car, his brown eyes wary, “Gomez, are you sure this looks like our
boy? We’re a little far south…”
Twisting
her lips, the woman shook her head, “Only one way to be certain, Jim…we’re
going to have to get a closer look”
With
a sigh, grumbling under his breath, Jim unclipped his badge from his belt and
headed for the crowd, Gomez a few steps behind him, “US Marshals”, it was more
than he had to say, for the local police knew who they were when they arrived,
the crowd parting like the Red Sea.
On
the sidewalk, they had yet to do anything with the body. Jim glanced around as Maria walked the edges
of the scene. Then Jim walked stiffly
over to the highest ranking officer, and tapped him on the shoulder, “Crime
scene people get here yet?”
Tiredly,
the man threw up his hands, shaking his head, “No…I told your office that
too. They are coming from Indianapolis…”
Jim
looked taken aback, “Seriously? On
what? A mule train? How did we beat them out here?”
“I’m
not sure, Deputy, all I know is that this is beyond our own people, and we had
to call in help. We were hoping you’d
bring someone”
Sighing,
Jim shook his head, “That’s a big negative…just us. Technically”, he pointed to Gomez, “Just
her. I’m more or less here for crowd
control”
“New
guy?”
Jim
laughed at that, “No, just got off convalescent leave”
“Welcome
back”, then he looked at the body, watching while Gomez took notes on her
notepad, “Best guess I got is someone hit him with a rifle…he had no idea it
was coming”
Arching
a brow, listening, Jim nodded, “I think you’re right Lieutenant”, he said.
Ready
to follow it up with an observation, Jim was cut off by Gomez, “Jim. You see this entry wound?”
Carefully
walking so he didn’t disturb anything, and then kneeling to get a better look,
Jim studied it for several minutes in silence, meanwhile, the crowd around them
started to thin as people took posts, and kept traffic flowing.
“I’m
not sure, but I think the Lieutenant is right…”
“Maria…I
think we need to call it in…”
Jim
never called her by her first name unless he was serious, and Gomez looked him
in the eye in concern, “Are you sure?”
Jim
turned his attention back to the body of the young man in his early thirties
wearing a blue tee shirt and jeans and muddy boots…probably some local
kid. He nodded to himself, “Yeah…I think
our Sniper from I-eighty just made a major change in his pattern”
Eyes
widening, Gomez turned to look at the kid again, “Shit!”
***
In
Columbus, Ohio, it was a typical Tuesday morning in the office for the US
Marshals. Though for Gomez and Jim, they
had not slept, instead, they had driven straight back to town after they got
every bit of notes they could find. They
were talking it over on their way into the bullpen where their desks were,
Gomez trying as hard as she could to change Jim’s mind about it being the
Sniper. But before he could present his
argument, Jim was cut off by a yell that stopped the office and rattled the
windows.
“JAMES
THORTON GET IN MY OFFICE NOW!!!”, though he couldn’t see the source, Jim
cringed all the same, knowing damn well who it was and why she was pissed.
Gomez
took a step away from him and then lowered her chin, arching a brow with her
hands on her hips, “Did you…tell her? At all?
Or is this a surprise?”
Hanging
his head with a sigh, he shook his head, “If she would JUST check her
inbox…excuse me whilst I go stick my head in a hornet’s nest”
Gomez
facepalmed herself silently, and shook her head, heading for their desks where
she could try and make some headway, meanwhile letting her partner get screamed
at.
When
Jim stepped into the office, a short, fair skinned, dark haired woman with her
hair kept short, and oddly playful considering how harsh she sounded sat. Wearing a business suit, and a frown on her
otherwise very happy looking and beautiful face, the rosy cheeked Marshal
pointed to a chair, “Close the door and sit down”
Jim
pulled the door without looking but he held his hands out, “Boss, I can
explain-“
“THORNTON! Shut UP and SIT DOWN!”
“Yes
ma’am…”, he said sheepishly, taking a seat.
Folding his hands, he tried to smile at her…it came out in more of a
thinning of his lips..
“Thornton…what
is this?”, she asked, holding up a handwritten letter from a hospital.
“Marshal
Valentine…that. That would be a note from
my doctor”, he explained, pointing at it, and trying hard not to grin at how
absurd this situation was.
“Thornton. It is handwritten. Did you threaten the doctor?”
Looking
shocked, Jim shook his head, “Never!”
“Thornton…”,
she set the letter down and folded her hands, “I’m patient with you, I really
try. But you are pressing your luck, and
you’ve only been out of the hospital for two months. Convalescent leave exists for a reason-”
“I
got bored…I was ready, I needed to come back to work”, he squeezed into the
conversation in a rush.
“Bored?”,
her face took on a blank look, “Bored?
Are you se- BORED?!”, she threw up her hands, “You get bored with a
broken ankle, Jim! You get bored when
you’re home with a cold or just on plain leave!”
“Well…”,
he began.
“Shut
it! You took three bullets to the chest,
you’re lucky you’re even breathing!”
“Yeah…”,
he nodded, “Sorry about your blouse”
Narrowing
her eyes, she shook her head and then threw her hands over her face, “Damnit
Thornton…could you try and be careful?
Please? You’re not a super
cop…you’re a US Marshal, and the only actual analyst we have. You’re the last person I need playing it
loose out there. Just…nevermind. I’m emailing Gomez…she can deal with
you. Get out of my office now”, and with
that she pointed at the door.
Jim
heard the typing away, and nodded, “Good talk Boss”, he said as he left.
“Shut
up Thornton…”, Valentine muttered at Jim’s back.
Minutes
later, having rescued his coffee mug and now happily blowing steam from it, Jim
settled into his desk chair. On the
other side, he could hear Gomez tip-tapping away at the keyboard, and so he
silently logged in and gave her a chance to do what she was going to do. It was going to be a long day, and the
partners knew it. After seven years
working together, they knew each other well.
“Jim…”,
Maria began from behind her computer.
Hidden behind the monitor, she was grateful he couldn’t see her, because
she was worried. He’d never even kept
things from her before…and now here he sat a month early from medical
leave.
“Mother
Goose is pissed…but all is well”
“I
HEARD THAT!!”, Valentine’s yell cut through from the background, making Jim
choke on his coffee, Maria covering her mouth with both hands to keep from
laughing out loud.
Once
she got herself composed, she spoke softly, “Before we get back to work, I need
to know…are you okay? Really okay…are
you sure you’re up to being back at work?”
“Gomez,
I’m fine…I was bored anyhow”
“Seriously
Jim?”, she asked more firmly, “Bored? No
wonder Valentine is worried”
“Valent-“,
cutting off, he continued in a near whisper, “Valentine is covering her ass!”
“I
just want to know you’re up for it”
Trust
me, I’m fine…look, it was a freak accident.
No one could have prevented that”
“Jim…you
died on the operating table.”
“Piss
poor surgeons notwithstanding…no one could have known there was a kid in the
closet with a gun”
“I
should have checked”
“When? Somewhere between hitting the deck and trying
not to get your head blown off? That was
chaos…you couldn’t have known, and you’re lucky it wasn’t you”
“It
should h-“
“The
hell it should have!”, Jim stood up and looked over the computer screen to lock
eyes with his partner and almost wished he hadn’t when he saw the threat of
tears forming, then he softened his voice, “You can’t beat yourself up over
it…shit happens. I’m here, and I’m
healthy”, then he sat down again, giving her her dignity, “So…what do we have?”
Silently
grateful that he changed subject, Maria composed herself and answered sharply,
“Nothing yet from crime scene…they are a bit slow. However, I did pull profiles from our
Sniper…I hate to agree with you, but you’re right”
“What
about the victim?”
“Intermodal
driver who was looking for something to eat.
He walked off the Norfolk Southern Railyard…”
“Son
of a bitch…”, he muttered, “So this falls right in line.”
“Same
caliber too, we recovered a casing from a rooftop…three-oh-eight”
“Yeah…something
tells me this guy is an old marine wannabe, or a pissed off hunter”
“Perhaps
an ex-trooper? I mean, the target…”
“Possible…though
it seems unlikely. Said you got it from
a roof?”
“That’s
what I was told…what are you thinking?”
“Well,
let’s hand your notes to Smith, and let’s you and I take a ride back out
there…this guy might have finally made a mistake”
“Give
me a few…”
Waving
a hand and sipping his coffee, Jim, was busying himself reaching into his desk
drawer, “Take your time”
After
taking her notes down to one of their newer and younger Deputies, Gomez
returned to her desk, but what she saw made her pause. Jim was sitting in his chair asleep, desk
drawer slightly open. She’d never seen
him do that before…walking around silently, she wanted to listen to him breathe
and just generally look around and make sure he was okay. She noted the white cap of a prescription
bottle in his desk, but with respect to him, she left it alone. Slamming the desk drawer, she did her best to
smile as Jim spluttered awake.
“Good
nap?”
“Not
intentionally…”, then he gulped the last of his coffee, pointing to the door,
“I’m right behind you”
“I’ll
wait, I’d rather you be beside me”
***
In
the daylight, the downtown section of Fort Wayne was alive, but not so crowded
that Gomez and Thornton couldn’t find a place to park. When they did get out, Jim spent a moment
just watching the crowd.
Nodding
towards the building where they found the casing, Gomez pointed, and without a
word, Jim was right next to her on their way over. It was a small antique shop on the main drag,
and it was similar to the other buildings around it with a very narrow
alley. Gomez led the way into the alley
as Jim followed so that they could look around.
Whistling,
Jim pointed to the fire escape in the back, and Gomez nodded, “Well that
answers how he got to the top…”
Jim
shrugged, “It doesn’t, however, help us find the man himself…there has to be a
security camera or something back here…”
But
as both Marshals looked around, they came up with nothing. “Jim…face it, we don’t have anything here,
and Crime Scene found nothing… “
Jim,
however was busy staring off into space, and didn’t answer as he tapped his
jaw. Gomez was about to shake him when
her phone went off, causing Jim to turn and look.
“Gomez…yes. Are you absolutely sure? Alright, I’ll be right there”, then she ended
the call, and used the phone to gesture at Jim, “There’s been another
shooting…looks like our guy”
“Where?”
“This
time, it’s Utica…”
Jim
pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fine.
You go look, I’ll have Smith come get me…I want to keep looking”
Gomez
tilted her head, “Jim…there’s nothing here”
“I
want to be sure…just…go do stuff, and meet in the conference room one. I will put a map of locations together…”
“You
got it…”, as she started to walk off, Maria stopped, planting her foot and spinning
around, almost stumbling as she gave him a more genuine smile, “Jim, I’m glad
you’re back”
Nodding,
not sure what to say, Jim just managed a half-hearted, “Yeah”, and watched her
leave. Then he turned back to what he
was looking at previously.
Cattycorner
to the shop, on the second level, it was almost impossible to see, but he
noticed the tell tale decorations on the wall, and the flowerpot with a live
plant in it…someone lived in full view of the roof. If they had gotten up for a late snack at a
weird hour, they might just get lucky.
***
It
was almost seven o’clock at night when Gomez got back to the office. The scene in Joliet, Illinois had been just
like most of the others. Though this
time, they had a bead on where the shooter might have been. Tired and worn thin, it was no surprise that
Jim was sans the suit coat, sleeves rolled up, and tie loosened as he pressed
one last pushpin into the board. Taking
a seat at the conference table, Maria sat back and looked at the map. She saw the same thing she knew Jim and Smith
saw…the deviation.
“Anything
new?”
“Not
a thing…Smith, you manage to dig up anything else?”
“No
ma’am, just the usual. This guy covers
his tracks well…”
Suddenly
the packet of papers Jim had been holding hit the table loudly, “We know”, he
said, his voice filling the room, “That there won’t be ANY shred of physical
evidence. So we’re going to have to find
his pattern. One deviation does not mean
he’s changing. It might mean he got an
urge at an unusual time…we don’t know.
What we do know is that he travels all of the time. He’s always moving”, then he snapped his
fingers, “Smith…any chance you know about truck stops or rest areas near all of
these sites? Large lots, anything?”
Smith,
a tall young man, built like a middle linebacker with blonde hair and blue eyes
wearing a US Marshals polo and khaki pants shook his head, “No, but I can look”
“Make
that your mission…”
“Interestingly
enough, we think that the shooter in this latest one, was shooting from the
back lot of an abandoned truck stop”, Gomez sat forward, “Jim, you think…?”
Jim
held up his hands, “Let’s see what Smith comes up with first, and we will go
from there. It is imperative that we
don’t jump the gun…it may yet be coincidence…but it’s a start”
At
this, Gomez stood to her feet, and clapped her hands together once,
“Everyone…Jim…go home. We will resume
this in the morning at Nine…no need to live here over night”, shooing them out,
all but Jim, she glanced at him, “Need a ride?”
“Yeah…dinner?”
“Only
if you’re cooking…still keep Epsom salts in your closet?”
Slinging
his suit coat over his shoulder he nodded, “Sure do…”
“Good,
my feet are killing me”
Laughing
at the announcement as they walked off for the night, Jim poked her in the arm,
“I’ll fix your favorite…squid adobo!”
“Yuck!”
***
Boots
and socks beside the chair she sat in, feet still in a pan used to soaking
aching joints, Gomez had the cuffs of her pantlegs rolled up and a few buttons
loosened on her blouse. Beside her in
another chair sat the night’s cook, wearing a wifebeater and his suit pants,
pouring a finger of scotch for either of them.
“I’ve
missed this…can’t smoke in my apartment, pisses off the neighbors…and I
apparently can’t cook”
“You
can’t…it’s true. You burned water, I’ve
seen it”
“Shut
up!”, Gomez giggled as she reached to take a cigar from the ash tray between
them, and having already punched the end, she struck a match to light Rocky
Patel Vintage 1990.
“Yeah…I
missed the company…but I didn’t want anyone over until I could manage on my own
you know…”, he explained, as he pulled a massive La Gloria Cubana Serie R No.7
Maduro from the ashtray rest and clipped the cap off. Then slowly, he lit his cigar, turning it to
get that nice even burn.
Once
her cigar was lit, and the match dropped in the ashtray, Maria sighed, “Jim…”
Shaking
flame from his match and depositing it, he arched a brow, “Hmm?”, before he
puffed away. Glancing around the house,
having another person made the dim, off white walls seem different; there was
no art or décor, just a wall of his old awards from his short time in the
military, and then a fireplace off to their right. No TV in the main room, Jim was rather
partial to the book shelf instead, or the stereo straight across from them
where a TV might have been.
“I
think this guy is different from other snipers…he doesn’t have a reason. He just…”
“…does
it”, he finished, “I agree…we are dealing with a psycho, not a fanatic. A serial killer…”
“I
hate hearing those words together…”, she sighed, dipping the head of her cigar
into the scotch for flavor before she took another puff, “What do you think?”
“I
think we might have another option.
There was a resident who saw the man, and I sent a sketch artist to Fort
Wayne…hopefully we get some general dimensions”
Gomez
sat up alert, “Wait! How?!”, she asked,
mouth handing open as she stared at Jim.
“I
saw their window in the alley. So after
you left, I took a walk around and found them.
Turns out, it’s some artist guy who’s a total insomniac”, he sat back,
“It won’t be enough to catch him on, but it will narrow down the search”
Sitting
back slowly, Maria stared off at the wall, “Six people, Jim. Six!”
“We
can’t catch someone out of thin air, Maria…this guy will give us answers…and I
think he may already have. Fort Wayne is
going to help…”
“How?”
“I
don’t want to label this guy, but his consistency in the pattern, how he waits
a few days, but doesn’t get all that far away…I think Smith is right. I think it’s a trucker”
“How
do we narrow it down?”
“There’s
only one way to find out if we’re right…”, Jim was about to answer more
completely when his cell went off.
Setting his cigar in the ashtray, he lifted the phone and answered,
“Deputy Marshal Thornton”
“Thornton, it’s Smith!”
“Go ahead…”
“There’s been another shooting on interstate
eighty. This time it’s way out of the
way”
“This guy has some pretty
serious range, Smith. What’s the deal?”
“This time it’s just outside of Reno…Nevada”
Jim
paused, considering, “Anything different?”
“No…victim is a white male, early thirties,
truck driver. Killed with a
three-oh-eight round when he got out of his truck to check on the engine.”
“Alright Smith, we will need to
get plans together to go see the scene if it’s not too late”
“Wait!
There’s one other thing!”
“Yes?”
“I did some digging, trying to rule out
truckers as suspects. I found a dozen
matches with the pattern through a broker…but one stood out”
“What
made the one stand out?”
“It was a thirty-two year old white female by
the name of Molly Johns…”
“Any
idea where she is?”
“Working on that now, but the brokers are
giving us a hard time…”
“Thanks…keep it up and update us
in the morning”
“Will do”
Ending
the call, Thornton, tapped his lips with the cell phone.
“What
is it?”
“All
this time we have been looking for a man with a mental problem…Smith just
tossed in a factor we never even though about…”
Gomez
shook her head, holding out a hand for him to finish his thought.
Jim
looked at her, looking concerned, “We might be looking for a woman with a
grudge…”
To be continued….
Stay tuned for the next story in the series to be posted next on Thursday on 25 June!
