Authors: James Andrus
John Stallings had let the analysts and Mazzetti scramble to find out all they could about the video from the beach cam. All it meant to him was another girl was missing and he’d failed in another pledge.
He’d been hitting the streets hard all day trying to find out who might’ve seen someone or something that could connect the dots in the investigation. He tried not to think of the anguish the family of the missing girl, Stacey Hines, was going through. He’d been there. Instead, he was out doing something. At this moment he was stopping in the Law and Order Pub to get some food into a young man he’d met off Bay Street who looked like he had not eaten in a week. He’d only give his first name—“Dan”—and not much else. Stallings could tell he was at least twenty, but something in his face told Stallings the young man needed a little help whether it was official or unofficial, so dinner sounded like a start.
As he was about to hold the door open for Dan, several uniformed cops came out of the pub, laughing. The first two nodded to Stallings and gave Dan a cursory, dismissive glance.
The last cop out stopped and said, “Hey, Stall, who’s your friend?”
Stallings looked up at Rick Ellis. “This is Dan, and we’re going to grab a bite.”
Ellis took a few seconds to reassess Dan but said nothing about the dirt caked on his neck and face, ripped T-shirt that used to be white, mismatched flip-flops, or hair frozen in place by grime. His face made it clear he’d caught the odor.
He looked back to Stallings and said, “Anything new on the big case?”
Stallings waited a second as Dan wandered a few feet away to look at a plant. “You heard about the video from the beach cam.”
Ellis nodded.
“We’re gonna release it tomorrow to see what we can stir up.”
“Sounds like a plan. My bosses don’t want me working with your task force again without clearing it through them first.”
“Not surprised. Shootings make command staff nervous.”
Ellis eyed Dan as he turned back toward them. “Gotta go. Keep in touch, Stall.” The big sergeant was moving away from the smelly homeless man before Stallings could say good-bye.
William Dremmel checked the results of his drug trial so far. The detailed notes and a chart he’d made up showed that Stacey Hines slipped into a deep, unconscious state with a combination of Ambien and Nembutal. She’d do the same with Seconal but had a harder time waking up. Her mood had not stabilized yet even with Wellbutin included in her meals. The antidepressant hadn’t had enough time to take hold, and she’d been distracted by her new surroundings. This was within the expected normal parameters of the trial.
Tonight he intended to ease her concerns, and the first way he’d do that was by giving her some time out of the chains. It would help her circulation. Maybe help her adjust. But he wasn’t unprepared. In the rear pocket of his jeans he had a handheld stun gun he’d bought at a gun shop for $39.99. It looked like a pistol with no barrel—square and scary. The shock delivered through two electrodes at the end of it when he squeezed the trigger was guaranteed to incapacitate any human. If Stacey stepped out of line, he wanted to be able to act without leaving any serious marks on her perfect skin.
He moved to the locked room near the front of the house, checked to make sure his shirt covered the stun gun, smoothed his thinning hair, and taking a deep breath before using the single key to unlock the door, he entered. She was awake, but as usual didn’t say anything when he first appeared.
He smiled, reassuring her that nothing would happen to her. At least nothing right now. After a few seconds he bent down to unlock first her feet, then the handcuffs holding her in place.
He said, “Thought you might like to walk around and maybe use the toilet by yourself.”
She didn’t say a word as she slowly sat up in bed, letting the blood flow stabilize, shaking her hands and wiggling her feet. He reached down to help her to her feet after more than a minute of sitting. She accepted and stood unsteadily for another minute, massaging her arms, then her legs. She stood straight, not hiding her nakedness. A defiance and elegance that he’d note on his report later.
She slowly stepped toward the toilet, leaned down like she was stretching, then, without preamble, turned with the hard plastic toilet in her hands, swinging the boxy solid commode, striking him in the head so hard he fell off his feet, slid across the terrazzo floor, and started to lose consciousness.
Tony Mazzetti’s chest felt tight as he gasped for air.
It might be a coronary
, lashed through his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to croak in the Land That Time Forgot, leaving the beautiful Patty Levine still believing he was gay.
He shook his head and could only repeat, “Not”—gasp, “Not”—gasp. “I’m not,” This time he sucked in more air.
Patty squatted next to him with her small hand on his back. She leaned in to see his eyes and said, “Tony, I’m calling fire/rescue.”
He shook his head violently and used what strength he had left to grasp her ankle as she stood up to rush to the phone. She paused at his grip and he gulped down some more air to finally spit out, “I’m not gay.” He collapsed onto the thin carpet. Now that he had said it he was ready to die. At least that weight had been lifted off him. As he thought it, and lay on his back, he suddenly started to feel much better. Air flowed into his lungs, and his head cleared.
He sat up, which kept Patty in position near him and not springing up to call some dumb-ass paramedic. He faced her and said, “I’m not gay.”
She didn’t say anything, but the look told him he better come clean and explain that she wasn’t the reason he couldn’t get an erection the other night.
He just dove right in. “I used supplements for a long time. Stuff like Andro, anything that would give me an edge in the gym. Sometimes I can’t get it up easily.”
She just stared at him.
“I mean I can sometimes, but not in a pressure situation.”
“Was my bedroom really a pressure cooker?”
“No, not the room, the situation. I like you and didn’t want things to go wrong. But when you think about what could go wrong, nothing goes right. Know what I mean?”
A smile spread across her pretty face, and she nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.” She kept gazing into his eyes and said, “Why didn’t you just tell me the other night?”
“I was scared. I just got caught up in the wrong atmosphere at the gym. I used to eat supplements by the carload, and it’s embarrassing. You probably couldn’t understand something like that.”
She looked away and mumbled, “Yeah, I could understand.”
Mazzetti said, “So that’s my problem.”
“And I know how to fix it.”
“You do? How?”
She reached over and kissed him.
William Dremmel needed time to clear his aching head. But Stacey was advancing on him with the toilet now raised above her head for a vicious downward strike. He still admired the naked form of the woman before him now. With her arms raised, her breasts looked giant compared to her small body. He intended to pose her like this later after he regained control. Then the hard, heavy plastic toilet battered his arms that he held up to protect his head.
He reached for his stun gun, but a blow to his arms sent it skittering across the floor. He kept his arms up for protection. The blows hurt his right forearm but still didn’t strike his head, and Stacey looked like she was having problems raising it again. Then she surprised him for the second time. A sharp, compact fist struck him across the chin.
He blinked hard and scrambled to one side as she abandoned the toilet and started pummeling him with her fists and elbows. This girl was a wild woman, and he’d never suspected it.
As he rolled onto his back she fell on top of him, still swinging. He knew exactly what he had to do to reverse this situation.
John Stallings couldn’t convince thin, dirty Dan to ride back to a homeless shelter with him. The skittish young man thanked him for dinner, then walked away down East Bay Street at a pretty good clip. If Stallings hadn’t been watching him leave, he might not have noticed the head inside a parked car down the street. There was nothing unusual about someone behind the wheel of a car except the car was dark and didn’t start while Stallings watched it.
He knew a surveillance when he saw one. Now the only question was if they were surveilling him. He made it a point to wave to Dan as he trudged away, making the occupant of the surveillance car think he was watching the young man and not the car. Sometimes cops who weren’t used to surveillance believed that dark windows hid everything and they were virtually invisible while watching someone from inside their car.
He took his time opening his car and driving off. The suspicious vehicle never moved. As he pulled away from the curb, just before he turned left, away from the river, he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the car, which he now knew was a Buick, headed down the street toward him. Stallings didn’t speed up to lose them but instead slowed to give the Buick a chance to close the distance. They were on his turf, and he knew exactly where he’d lead them.
William Dremmel fended off most of Stacey’s blows but still worried about the lucky punch that could knock him unconscious or leave an obvious mark. He shoved away from Stacey to one side and started to rise when she turned back at him like a crazy woman, all fists, feet, and fingernails. Jesus, he wouldn’t have thought she was able to move like that.
He grunted, “Stacey, you need to calm down before you’re sorry.”
It was unfair, because he couldn’t punch her back. First of all he didn’t want to put one imperfection on that beautiful face; secondly he didn’t want to have to treat a wound while running his experiments because he didn’t know how the extra treatment might affect the drug trial. He also didn’t know how the wound would heal while she was under the effects of the sedatives. For all these reasons he took her blows and didn’t reply.
Then he glimpsed the stun gun off to one side. He could understand how they had fallen out of favor with police departments. The Taser created the same effect but from a distance. He wished he had some distance between him and Stacey now.
He threw her off him onto the mattress, then dove toward the stun gun lying in the corner on the floor. She followed him like a heat-seeking missile. She was no fool and knew this might be her only chance for escape. In some ways he admired her feistiness.
Dremmel had the stubby handle of the stun gun in his grasp as he felt the blow of Stacey’s whole body on his back. He felt for the trigger, reached the gun across his chest, under his left arm until he felt it make contact with the bare skin of her side. Perfect.
He squeezed the trigger and immediately heard the electric chatter of the gun like the sound cartoon characters made when they hit high-voltage fences. Only this wasn’t animated.
Stacey flipped off him onto the cold terrazzo floor, still convulsing. Her eyes rolled up in her head.
All Dremmel could do was stare in fascination as she twitched and gurgled. It almost looked like the orgasms he saw in the pornos he watched so often. He placed a hand on her shoulder to hold her down as she still convulsed, her breasts flopping from side to side. Then she went absolutely still.
“I told you to calm down. This is the kind of thing that happens when you misbehave.” He wondered where he had gotten his disciplinarian attitude. His mother had never threatened him. Then, for some reason, he felt his dick move.
He put his ear to her chest and heard a strong, if fast, heartbeat. This was mesmerizing. He could study a reaction like this for months.
Stacey’s eyes returned to normal as she tried to focus. She turned but made no effort to strike him again.
He felt a wave of disappointment, because he had enjoyed her reaction to the stun. Then he wondered how she’d ever allow him to resecure her to the shackles while conscious. It was more of a rationalization for what he did next. He looked her in the eye and said, “This is for your own good. Anytime you act up, this is what will happen to you.”
Without hesitation he stuck the small metal nodes of the stun gun on Stacey’s inner thigh, brushing his hand against her soft pubic hair. He kept gazing into her eyes as he squeezed the trigger again, sending her back into a convulsive stupor.
Maybe the drugs weren’t the only theory he could test on women over the coming years. There were definitely other fields in which he was interested.
William Dremmel managed to secure the still trembling Stacey Hines before she regained her composure and fought him again. He’d gathered valuable information from his struggle and wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
Her eyes focused on him with a look of anger, not fear, on her face.
He liked her naked body stretched out in front of him, the muscles on her inner arm straining as she tested the handcuffs once more. Her stomach had hard lines he had not noticed or was it that in the days she’d been here she’d already started losing the outer layer of baby fat? He’d adjust her calorie intake to make sure she didn’t lose any more.
There were tiny burn marks where the stun gun had caught her on the side and inside thigh. It looked like a tiny vampire had attacked her in two places. The inner-thigh jolt had really affected her, and he wasn’t sure if it was the location of the shock or the cumulative effect of the two jolts.
Dremmel said, “Did you learn your lesson?”
Stacey just glared at him.
“It’ll be worse next time you act up. Once you learn that I just want a peaceful relationship, I think your life will be much more pleasant.” He could tell by her look that if she got another chance it’d be worse on him too. Man, he thought, there’s so much a good scientist could study if he only had the time and subjects. The idea of testing stun guns on naked women aroused him as much as his current lab work. He’d go through more test subjects, but it sure would be fun.
Stacey turned her head and said, “You know they’re looking for me.”
He’d seen her face on the TV, but there was no mention of what the police thought had happened to her. She was just a missing person.
“You said you lived alone, and your family was in Ohio.”
“But they expect a call from me.”
“Don’t worry, you’re safe here for a good long time.”
“Why? What will happen in all that time?”
He was surprised at her precise questions without scorn or sarcasm. “You’ll get plenty of rest.”
“What will you get?”
“Who knows, maybe the perfect woman.”
Stallings continued to drive at a reasonable speed to keep his tail near enough to continue the surveillance but not so close that the pursuer would realize Stallings was in control. There was no way he wanted to lead whoever this was to his house. That’s all Maria and the kids needed now—Stallings shooting someone on their front yard. No, he had the perfect place. Quiet, confusing, and isolated enough this time of night to allow him to do whatever he had to.
He pulled the Impala onto the interstate and drove north a few exits, then, after making sure the tail was still on him, Stallings eased off the highway and took a slow left into a shopping plaza and drove through the first row of stores. This plaza had once been a mall, but new designs had pushed the owner to break it up into five individual strips of stores with three rows running in one direction and two strips running perpendicular so that from the air the strips looked like two Hs sharing the middle building. If someone wasn’t familiar with the plaza’s layout it was easy to become trapped in the lot.
Stallings turned into the middle of the plaza and quickly pulled his Impala around and parked close to the building. He shut off the lights, drew his Glock, and waited, intentionally avoiding any speculation on who his tail was or what he wanted. Now was not the time for distraction.
The beam of a headlight passed over the lot as a car slowly made the turn toward him. Stallings knew that right about now the other driver was discovering he had fucked up. Once the Buick had cleared the building and was just in front of Stallings he hit his lights, threw the Impala into gear, and roared from his spot, forcing the Buick to the side and pinning the car next to a high curb.
As both cars came to a stop inches from each other, Stallings popped out of the driver’s side with his pistol up and on the driver of the Buick.
Stallings said, “Let me see your hands, now.” The last word was a shout. He emphasized it by bringing up the pistol slightly.
Inside the Buick a pair of hands rose and Stallings kept the gun on the driver.
“Open the door slowly and step out. Do it now.”
The door popped open and two hands immediately rose up. He could see a male’s face as he focused past the front sight of his Glock.
He heard, “Okay, Stall, you win.”
He recognized the would-be spook and still debated shooting him right where they stood.
The trauma of the evening rushed through Stacey Hines and she started to shake. Even under the wool blanket her naked body shuddered uncontrollably like she was laid out on ice. The bitter aftertaste of the water with several pills ground up and mixed in spread down her throat and up her nasal cavity. She knew what was in the cloudy glass of water. She’d even watched as William had pressed the pills under the bottom of a thick glass, then scooped the dust into a plastic cup with a few ounces of water.
After being shocked twice with that weird electric grip thing she decided she’d drink the water without complaint. Almost instantly she’d felt her system slowing down and then the shivering and shuddering started.
William leaned over her and stroked her hair as if he thought it would soothe her. “You’ll sleep for a good long time, and tomorrow night I hope we don’t have the kind of conflict we had tonight.”
She didn’t say anything but kept her eyes on him. She wanted to burn every detail of him into her memory so when the police finally saved her and needed information, she could give it to them. His thinning blond hair and pale blue eyes now made him look cold. His smile wasn’t inviting like she’d thought before; it now appeared evil. Like the bogeyman her brothers used to tell her about to scare her. Somehow it was William’s mild good looks that made him scarier than if he had a hook for a hand or a horribly scarred face.
She started to drift off, wondering how soon her parents really would start looking for her. Stacey now wished she had more of a social life so someone did miss her. She didn’t even know yet if anyone knew she was in trouble. Maybe someone at the Fountain of Youth would worry about her missing a few shifts. But would they be concerned enough to call the police?
The room went hazy and a calm, almost pleasant feeling drifted over her. William’s face fell out of focus. Then she was dreaming about kissing her mom good morning back home as she smelled hotcakes and bacon on the griddle. She tried to hold on to the dream but snapped back to reality for just a moment and thought,
God, how did I get into this?
John Stallings had his pistol holstered and his arms folded, and he leaned against the hood of his car as he stared across at Ronald Bell leaning against the hood of his Buick.
“Never did much dope work, huh, Ron?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Your surveillance skills are a little weak.”
“We still follow people occasionally.”
“We, as in I.A.?
“I’ve been in the unit a long time, so yes, when I say ‘we,’ I mean the professional conduct unit.”
“No one calls it PC.”
“I know, but that’s the name of the unit.”
“If you’ve been there that long without moving up that must mean you like it.”
“Look, Stall, I know you think we exist to screw with good cops, but that’s not the case.”
“Then what are you doing following me around tonight?”
Bell sighed and wiped his handsome face down with his bare hand.
“C’mon, Ron, I got things to do. We gonna spend all night here or are you gonna spill it?”
“Two things have me looking at you. First of all there’s Franklin Hall.”
“Who?”
“The pimp you brought in for questioning.”
“Oh, Jamais.”
“Yeah, same guy. He claims you threatened him and damaged his Hummer with an ASP.”
“He make a complaint?”
“No, I was looking at another issue when it came out.”
“What else, Ron?”
“The media leak in the unit.”
“You’re shitting me. We’re after a killer who’s probably just grabbed his fourth victim and you’re wasting time on who blabbed to a TV station?”
“I never said it was specifically TV.” He leaned forward like he’d just made Stallings confess.
“No, you dumb-ass, but the reports are always on TV, then the
Times-Union
quotes them.” He shook his head at this silliness. “And you think I’m the leak?”
“I have to investigate.”
“And I have to catch a killer.”
Bell said, “We each have a job to do.”
“But mine has a fucking purpose.”