“Elusive”
Issue #3
‘Interstate Killer’ – Part Three
By Charley Biggs
“There! Grab me the info for that one!”, Jim snapped,
using an ink pen to point at a computer screen, meanwhile, a computer tech
started processing the GPS tag from the truck that he’d picked out. Over the last three days, Jim and Smith had
been in one of the dimly lit analysis centers, tracing GPS tracks and lining
them up with models of the route the killer used. Finally, after much searching and a lot of
frantic work, they isolated the track they thought was the one.
“I
don’t think that’s Johns…”, Smith said as he looked over the shoulder of the
tech.
Nodding
the man confirmed, “It’s not…”, he said, mustache bristling as he sped through
the info, adjusting his glasses. The
tech they had partnered up with was a man in his fifties, thin and wiry with
sparse graying brown hair and a thick mustache, and his voice was as reedy as
his form. “I’m pulling the info now”
“Speaking
of Johns, is this the same carrier at least?”, Thornton asked hopefully as he
ran a hand over his short hair.
“Yes…same
carrier, and similar tracks. If they
didn’t meet, I’d be amazed…”
Pointing
at Smith, Jim nodded, “Keep working it, I’m giving Gomez the heads up to talk
to Johns…”, leaving the room, he immediately started a call on his cell.
***
In
Toledo, Ohio, Molly Johns had been pulled for a DOT inspection, and thanks to a
fast thinking sergeant with the state police, she was escorted peacefully to a
weigh station where she was promptly picked up by State Police and taken to a
holding facility. Now, she sat detained
in an interrogation room, awaiting interview.
Supervisory
Deputy Gomez was there, and anxiously waiting on a call from Jim before talking
to Johns. Standing behind the glass and
watching the woman, she definitely was convinced that this wasn’t their
killer…but she wanted to know if she knew who was.
Putting
sugar into a Styrofoam cup, Gomez was stirring her coffee in the stark little
room when her phone went off with a text message. Tossing the stirrer and pulling the phone
out, she took a moment to read the message and then nodded, lips thinning as
her dark eyes went back to the figure behind the glass.
“That
what you were waiting on, Gomez?”, another deputy asked, a man in his forties
with a face worn by hard times and long hours and close cropped graying brown
hair that oddly made her think of Jim.
They both shared that look of having seen something that always followed
them.
Putting
her phone away and picking up her files on the case, she nodded to Molly Johns,
“It is…but whether or not she’ll help us remains to be seen…”
“She
was hard enough to track down…I sure hope she has something”, he said, taking a
sip from a ceramic coffee mug.
Looking
at the other deputy, Gomez twisted her lips, “Me too…”, and with that, she
turned on a heel and headed out to the hallway to let herself into the
interrogation room. Letting the door
close behind her, Gomez barely took a step before the woman began protesting.
Molly
Johns, aged thirty-two years old from Altoona, Iowa was about five feet tall,
moderately built with the curves and body shape of a woman who spent more time
in the driver’s seat than on her own feet, with limp brown hair and dark eyes. Like most drivers these days, she was dressed
comfortably in loose fitting jeans, a teeshirt, and old sneakers, hair pulled
back into a messy pony tail. Her voice
sounded more like a teenager’s than a woman’s as she began her explanations,
“Officer, I didn’t do anything, I don’t know nothin’!”
“Deputy…”,
Gomez said quietly as she slid a chair out and laid the files out before her,
setting her coffee down. Molly just
stared back at her blankly, which earned the explanation as Gomez produced a
U.S. Marshal’s badge, “Deputy U.S. Marshal Gomez…not officer”, she repeated,
putting the badge away as she opened the file, “The other deputies have already
talked to you…so I’m just going to cut right to the chase”, lacing her fingers
together, she looked at Molly, “Let’s start with where you were on June fifteenth…”
Molly
threw her hands up, “I don’t remember!”, then crossed her arms sullenly, “I was
on the road…”
Gomez
took a sip of her coffee and flicked through several pages of the files, and
then her lips parted in time with a raise of both eyebrows as her finger found
the lines she wanted, eyes coming to meet Molly’s, “Apparently you have…Fort
Wayne, Indiana…want to tell me about it?”
“Dry
freight place right off sixty-nine…what about it?”, she asked.
“What
about the intermodal yard for the railroad company? You know ,the one a few miles from downtown
off US thirty?”
“I
dunno”, she shrugged, “I’m not an intermodal driver”
“Well,
an intermodal driver was murdered down there, and you are among a handful of
drivers that was down in that area”, Gomez sat back, coffee in hand, “Come
on…four drivers for your company were down there…no one took a walk?”
Molly
looked away, her eyes going down to the left, “I don’t know…it was late, I was
busy trying to catch a nap”
From
the angle she was sitting, aside from Molly’s defensive posture and eye contact
avoidance, both of her feet were bouncing on their toes. The woman couldn’t sit still. Gomez grinned and took a slow sip of coffee, giving
Molly a minute to rethink her answer.
A
minute or so passed and Molly realized Gomez hadn’t moved, and she started to
glance at her before staring. “Aren’t
you going to write that down?”
“That
depends on you…”
“What
do you mean?”
“Are
you going to be honest with me?”
“I
AM!”
“Really? Sure about that, miss Johns? Because I don’t think that’s all you have for
me…look, right now, you’re facing charges as an accomplice to murder…or at the
very least, obstruction of justice, neither of which are pretty. We know that your routing mirrors the
killer…and we know that you are a veteran driver with your company, and know
just about every driver in your region”, leaning forward, Gomez pursed her
lips, “So…what can you tell me?”
Molly
Johns gulped heavily, breath becoming quicker and more erratic as she realized
that this Deputy wasn’t giving in. After
long moments of looking around, she finally rested her hands on the table with
a sigh, “All I know is that Sandra went to take a walk…she does that. A lot.
She makes her miles cause she speeds…we all do if we want to get our sleep,
shower, you know…the basics. Sometimes
she takes this case with her…I just assumed it was a tripod or something. Some truckers take pictures, you know…”
Gomez
started writing as soon as Molly started talking, this time, now that the woman
settled, she could get something.
Listening and nodding, she took down more details, including the full
name of this ‘Sandra’. When they were
done, Gomez thanked Molly for her time, and asked her if she wanted something
to drink, having the other deputy take care of it before she left to go to the
Government Issue sedan outside. As soon
as her butt hit the seat and the car was started, she made a phone call…this
time she was positive they had their woman.
It was time to get a warrant.
***
“The
warrant isn’t ready just yet, I’m doing everything I can guys, just hang in
there and keep a close eye on our girl”, Valentine said, phone in hand as she
looked at Thornton and Smith. Then covering the receiver she looked around,
“Where’s Gomez?”
Jim
held up his hands and nodded, mouthing, “On her way”, before backhanding Smith
in the chest and pointing to his desk silently.
Leaving
Valentine to work out the details while Gomez got there, Jim walked over to his
desk and glanced over his shoulder at Smith, “How many clips you have on you?”
“One
extra why?”
“Load
two more…”
“Why?”,
Smith asked, planting his feet and resting his hands on his hips, brushing back
his open windbreaker.
Sitting
down in his desk chair and pulling out a large 9mm handgun, Beretta M9, Jim
started rooting around for extra clips and a box of shells, “Because if this
goes south, we want our target to run out before we do”
“Jim,
that stuff should be in the armory...”, Smith pointed out, gesturing at the
extra clips that Jim was studiously loading.
Shrugging,
the shorter man kept up what he was doing, “I bought it, so they can go to
hell…besides, this is my sidearm…my official one. The revolver is supposed to be my
backup. I just hate carrying the beretta
until I have to…”
“So
you’re saying I need to go down to the armory and sign out two more clips?”,
Smith asked, ignoring the unnecessary and mostly bogus explanation from
Thornton.
“Yep…”
“Then
I’ll be right back…seriously though…”
“I
don’t care, so stop nagging…I need you back in here so I can explain the
back-up plan”
“Back-up
plan?”
Jim
looked up at Smith, eyebrows furrowed in exasperation, “Get to the armory, then
I’ll explain…”, as Smith hesitated, he pointed, “Armory! GET THERE!”
Smith
raised his hands in an expression all too like Jim’s own usual disarming
gesture, and left. Passing him on her
way in from the road, Gomez had a briefcase in hand as she walked briskly to
her desk. “Jim…do you ever sign things
into the armory?”, she asked.
Sighing,
Jim banged his forehead on the edge of his desk a few times in frustration,
“No! I enjoy the questions I get!”
“Jim…I
need a ride back from my house…”
“You’re
taking my suggestion?”
From
the other side of her computer, Jim could hear the sound of Gomez checking the
clip in her weapon and then grabbing at least one more clip from her desk
drawer to shove into the pocket of her suit coat, “Don’t have a choice. Smith doesn’t score well with long range
weapons…and neither do you”
Jim
nodded, “I do not…I’m going to text Smith and tell him to stand by while you
and I take a ride”
Standing
up, Gomez was holstering her weapon, “I’ll be outside waiting for you…”
***
After
checking in with Valentine fruitlessly, Jim got in his old Plymouth Fury and
followed Gomez home. Like himself, she
had a few personal firearms she used for work purposes, and it was rare, partly
due to the amount of paperwork involved in having them authorized for
such. Standing out in the parking
garage, waiting on Gomez, Jim was leaning against the old midnight blue behemoth,
trying to reload a speed loader for the little .357 magnum revolver he carried
in his shoulder holster. He was
inserting the last round into it when his fingers slipped and the thing fell,
spilling the cartridges out onto the cement.
“Motherfucker!”,
he growled, and in a quick, yet stiff, motion, he was bent over chasing down
bullets until he had all five palmed, and quickly began loading the speed
loader again.
Standing
with a wooden case about three feet long in hand, Maria had watched Jim drop
the speed loader, but she didn’t say a word.
She would not, and could not do that to him, instead, she just waited
calmly for him to finish what he was doing before coming out as though she had
just finished.
Jim
managed to have himself looking relaxed, and even pointed to the rifle case,
“Got your scope calibrated?”
“Sighted
it a few weeks ago…it’s as good as it will ever be”, she said with a strained
smile as she looked him over. At first
glance, her partner looked to be his old self, but she could see the tiredness,
and the unease that was weighing on him too.
This was not the Jim she was used to, and she expected some jitters
returning, but it was still jarring to see.
Jim
held something out to her…car keys.
“Shit falls out of my pockets…I really don’t want to have to put a new
ignition in this monster…or bust out a window”, or have to have them taken off
his body. They both knew what he was
thinking.
Maria
hesitated before taking the keys, and used them to point at him, poking him in
the chest, away from his scars, “I’m handing these back to you as soon as the
arrest is over…”
“Fair
enough…”, Jim replied quietly. Then,
before they could say more, their phones buzzed simultaneously. “Smith is ready…looks like our warrant is
too”
Gomez
slid out her sunglasses and put them on as Jim found his old aviators and did
the same, “Let’s get on the road. Call
Smith and have him get the driver manager not to load Sandra Elliot”, Gomez
instructed, and Jim was on his phone immediately, “You know, this isn’t the
broker, but these assholes still might tip her off that we’re coming”
“I
know…that’s why we’re going in prepared.
Let’s just hope beyond hope we won’t need it”
***
En
route to make the arrest, Gomez drove while Jim sat on the phone talking to the
fusion center, trying to pinpoint the location of their suspect, Sandra Marie
Elliot. He was busy writing down
coordinates from the analysts for a general box she could be in, meanwhile,
Smith was using his own smartphone to pull up a satellite image of the area
from a general internet source so they could get an idea where she might
be. When Jim finally passed the steno to
Smith and called Valentine to let her know their ETA, she had only just
answered with Smith pinpointed the location.
“Thorney…”,
he whispered desperately, “The only thing nearby where she’s located is an
abandoned air field!”
Jim
took a moment to let that sink in before his face started to turn red, and he
stiffened. Slamming a hand into the
dash, he spoke quickly to Valentine, “Boss, we need a warrant for the Driver
Manager of Miss Elliot, a Dick Fernley, for obstruction of Justice and
interfering with a federal investigation…”
A
moment’s pause before she answered, “Why?”
“That
little shit just told her we’re coming…her location puts her near an abandoned
air field”
“Shit!
Alright, I’ll take care of securing a warrant. Just get Elliot…I don’t care how, at this
point, I doubt highly she’s not our suspect if she’s running…and Jim!”
“Yeah
boss?”, Jim said patiently.
“Be careful…getting her under arrest and
unharmed is nice, but she starts shooting, I’d rather lose a suspect than a
deputy”, and Jim knew without question that that was directed at him.
“Don’t
worry, I won’t let Smith do anything I wouldn’t do…”, he said, thumbing to
Smith to direct Gomez to a safe point they could stage at.
“Damnitall Jim! I am serious!”, she yelled loudly enough
that everyone in that car heard her voice and Jim had to hold the phone away
from his face with a grimace.
“I
know boss, keep your shirt on…or…hair…or whatever, just relax, no one is
getting hurt unless it’s Elliot…you have my word on that”
“MINE
TOO!”, Gomez yelled, leaning over Jim as she did so Valentine could hear.
“Good.
I know Gomez can keep you in line…I’ll work on that warrant. I want a call as soon as she’s in custody”
“Got it…”, ending the call, Jim
tucked the phone away and then ran a hand over his face.
“Jim…maybe
we ought to try and wait for her to get bored and leave…”, Maria said.
Waving
a hand, he shook his head, “Too late for that.
I want you in a nest somewhere that she can’t see…and I don’t care how
bad it is, unless one of us is about to get out head blown off, you stay
down. The idea is to run her out of
ammunition, she’ll see us before we see her…and we’ll need the SUV, Smith”
“What
about Smith?”, Smith asked hesitantly.
“You’re
going to park this mother behind something so it doesn’t get fucked up when we
go for Elliot. We don’t want her to know
there’s another Deputy or she’ll be looking for them…and Gomez…aim for her
shoulder if you shoot her. The shoulder
she rests the butt of the rifle against, not her strong hand”
Maria
nodded without a word, though her lips thinned, she obviously wasn’t keen on
Jim charging high ground with no body armor…again. Smith was even more uncertain.
“Thorney,
that’s a small target…”
“Nothing
Gomez can’t do…she can put a hole through a playing card at eight hundred yards
easy…this will be a cake walk for her”
“What
about us?”
“We
will keep our heads down and if necessary give her harassment fire to keep her
at us. We want her eyes on us, not
scanning around for more people…and she will if she has too much time on her
hands”
“That’s
not proper protocol…”
“It
doesn’t matter…this is an unusual situation, and we are defending ourselves as
well as defending our sniper’s position.
It is within the realms of legality”
“Barely…”
“Barely
is still within…how far?”
“Another
few miles to a good staging point, and I found a place for Gomez”
“What
kind of place?”, Gomez asked as she kept them down the road to the airfield per
the whispered directions Smith had relayed earlier.
Smith
pointed to the horizon, “A maintenance building up ahead at the edges of the
field…she’ll see the SUV, let’s hope she doesn’t see you”
“Might
want to change drivers now then”, Jim pointed out, waving Gomez over to a sign
on the highway.
When
Gomez pulled over and jumped in the back with Smith now driving, Jim pulled out
his revolver and checked it, “Gotta be quick…this woman will know something is
up if we don’t get a move on…and we’ll need to haul ass. Got a good place to park this thing safely?”
Behind
them, Gomez was ducked down in the back seat attaching the scope to her 30-06
and pulling out a box of rounds, “You need a building or a hangar”, she
suggested.
“There
is a hangar on the other side of the runway…providing she is in the tower”
“..and
if she’s on the maintenance building?”, Thornton asked, holstering his weapon.
Smith
shrugged, “No way to tell really, and there isn’t a lot of cover out
here...trees or otherwise”
“Perfect…we’re
a rolling target”
“Yep…”,
Smith agreed.
Time
passed, minutes that felt like hours as they came in sight of the airfield. The airfield was located in the state of
Iowa, and had been a hell of a drive from the Ohio office, and it being Iowa,
the landscape was rolling green and brown plain rather than trees like the more
eastern states. Elliot had the advantage
in every way, and the deputies all knew it.
They were walking right into a trap with no back up…all for the
political gain of the Marshals getting their suspect.
“See
any movement on the maintenance building?”, Gomez asked from her spot in the
back.
“Nothing”,
Smith said flatly.
“Get
us next to it and let’s give it a quick look before we start looking around for
Elliot…”, Jim advised.
When
the SUV pulled in behind the maintenance building, Jim stepped out first,
drawing the M9 from his hip, “Smith…clear the building, I’ll step in behind you
and cover you. Gomez, keep your head
down until we give you the signal”
Whether
or not she liked it, Maria wasn’t given a choice, and she knew it was
imperative to wait on the guys, but having Jim in there without being there to
watch his back set her teeth on edge. A
few minutes later, Jim was opening the door, “We spotted her in the main
tower…lucky us, but it also gives her the edge, and there is jack shit for
cover”, he said quickly, and then he thumbed to the building as Smith jumped in
the driver’s seat, “Go up there and keep your head down…unless it looks like we
are going to get shot, don’t shoot at her.
We want her to run out of shells…and more importantly, we don’t want her
dead”
“I
know Jim…”, and as Maria started into the building, she placed a hand on Jim’s
shoulder, stopping him before he went to join Smith, “Be careful…”, turning to
look him in the eye, her brows rose as high as they could, wrinkling her
forehead and widening her dark eyes, “I’m putting your keys back in your hand,
and you’re driving home tonight…promise me you will come back”, she said, her
voice low and firm, and a little thick.
“Maria…”,
Jim began but she squeezed his shoulder.
“Damnit
Jim! Promise me!”
“I
promise…”, he said, covering her hand with his before easing it off his
shoulder, “I’ll come back…don’t I always?”, he asked with a grin, and before
she could answer, he was in the SUV.
Pursing
her lips and glassy eyed, Gomez watched the guys drive off…she hoped he’d
listen. Smith she didn’t worry about,
Jim on the other hand was a risk taker…and worse, he wasn’t up to par anymore,
no matter what he said. Turning away,
letting her emotions start to slide off as the job ahead called, she went to go
find a good point to hole up and eye her target.
***
“What
was that about?”
“She
just wants me to be careful…”
“Are
you?”
“Am
I what?”, Jim asked, looking off at the tower.
He knew she had to see them…what was she waiting on?
“Going
to be careful?”, Smith asked, guiding the SUV behind an old hangar. Then as he parked the vehicle, he turned to
Thornton, and poked him in the chest, “I know I’m junior to you, but seriously,
Thornton. Don’t take stupid risks…your
life isn’t worth it”, then he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “You’re
the best mentor I’ve had yet…I don’t want to lose that”
Jim
looked at the larger man, younger, but bigger, smarter, faster…Smith was the
perfect Marshal, and with none of his own personal brand of damaging
personality flaws. Taking a moment, he
shook his head, “You have Gomez…she’s a living legend, my friend. One of, if not the best, Marshal active, and
there’s a reason she’s up for Valentine’s spot”, realizing that wasn’t what
Smith wanted to hear, he chuckled, “I’m not going to get myself killed now…I
worked to hard to get back to work.
Stick to the plan, Gomez has us covered…now let’s go before Elliot
starts looking too closely for more of us”, he said, getting out before Smith
could say another word.
Pointing
for Smith to go around to the right where there was more cover, Jim started
carefully walking to the edge of the hangar nearest the flightline. Poking his head out, eyes going for the
tower, he was rewarded with a glint of sunlight against a small object he
assumed was the scope. The glint
shifted, and Jim yanked his head back, stumbling against the hangar wall as
simultaneously the crack of a rifle was heard and metal and dust filled the air
where his head had been…
Stay tuned for the next story in the series to be posted next on Thursday on 16 July!
No comments:
Post a Comment