The Chief
“A Downey Police Book”
By RJ Adams
Copyright 2012 RJ Adams
Smashwords edition
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This edition has been revised
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO THE MEMORY OF HOMER LEE ELLISON III. NO BETTER HUMAN BEING EVER LIVED. FATHER, GRAND FATHER, UNCLE, HUSBAND AND BROTHER. HE IS THE INSPIRATION TO THE MAIN CHARACTER SHANE LANCING.
This book is for the real officers of the Downey Police Department, Downey California. What you do everyday is real and much appreciated.
For Gretchen and Gabriel who have shown me that there is more to this world than what you see.
John Tillman looked out of the window as the police cruisers pulled up outside the front of the First Valley Bank. There would be two cruisers blocking the street, two across from the bank and more than likely two to cars to the rear of the bank on the residential street located behind it. The fucking cops were so predictable, but then he had been one for so long, their patterns were engrained into his mind. He would have set it up the same way, covered all the angles. He had been a great cop, from graduating first in his class at the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s academy in Whittier, all the way through his fifteen year career as an investigator until the goddamn economy and the stupid budget cuts of California had ensured he had joined the ranks of the unemployed. He had applied with every police agency from Calexico to Humboldt and there was just nothing available in the state. He hadn’t even been able to land a job as a corrections officer, which he was already qualified for. Not to mention, there was a pretty good chance most of the people in there he had helped put in there and he didn’t want to be around them. One thing he had learned was that people held grudges, sometimes for a long time.
“The cops are here, now all of you shut the FUCK UP!” He screamed as he waived his gun, a privately purchased Beretta 9 millimeter, just like the one he had carried as a deputy. Surprisingly, the hostages were extremely compliant throughout all this. The bank guard had even given up his Smith and Wesson three fifty-seven six-shot revolver in less than thirty seconds. Now he had almost two million dollars in the leather bags slung over his shoulders and he had every intention of getting the hell out of here. The uniformed cops, the Downey Police, scurried around outside and he knew he had less than four minutes before the SWAT team and the Hostage Negotiator, a Lieutenant named Adrian Dubois, would show up and start trying to be his friend. Then they would find out he was a cop and there was no way a cop was going to allow himself to be locked up. John knew his chances of getting out would be slim to none, but his plan B was to not see the inside of a prison and instead take as many cops with him as he could. It was cliché, but it was fight for flight, shit or git, go big . . . or go home.
“Alright you, let’s go,” He said to a woman wearing jeans and a snug halter top hunkered down with the rest of the hostages. She didn’t look like the rest; she had a calm, serene look about her. She was acting like she had been through a couple of bank robberies which wasn’t unheard of these days; it was like the nineteen thirties and Forties all over again in Los Angeles County. She was pretty and she would come in handy on those lonely nights in the Bahamas, if he ever made it out of there. He pointed his gun at her and motioned for her to stand up, which she promptly did. He looked her up and down while he formed a plan, thinking about the best way to get himself and her out of there.
“So, you like my gun huh?” He asked her leering. It was a sexual innuendo and he smiled.
“I do,” She said coyly. “In fact, I like it almost as much as I like mine.” Her words registered and he stared down the barrel of a police issue forty-five caliber Kimber semiautomatic pistol and though he had heard in times of extreme duress that time actually slowed down, he had no idea how true that was. In the time it took the slug to slam through the back of his head from the end of the barrel, he recognized her gun, her badge; a silver shield with blue lettering that said both DOWNEY POLICE and SERGEANT; and the look on her face. No fear, no hate, only the same professional look he had given to suspects many times in his career. She was a cop and he had missed it.
“This is Detective Spano,” Sarah Spano said into her cell phone as she approached the now downed suspect. “One suspect is down, area is clear.”
“Roger detective, thank you,” Chief Lancing said as he closed the cell phone and holstered his weapon. The uniformed cops followed suit and the SWAT team entered the bank escorting hostages outside and securing the area.
“That is not how that happened,” Sarah Spano said to the writer who was currently sitting at her desk. “He wasn’t even a police officer; he was an out of work auto mechanic and I didn’t kill him his trial is next week.” The Downey Police had hired an author to write Sarah’s story and was allowing him to follow her around. The bank robbery hadn’t gone down like that and he should have known, he had been there, hunkered down behind one of Downey’s black and white patrol cars. Detective Sarah Spano had been outside the bank with all the other cops when the gunman surrendered after a twenty minute standoff with police. But that wouldn’t sell books and the author knew that. What people wanted to read was action, thrills and they needed a heroine that they could relate too and side with.
“That’s how I remember it going down,” He said as he continued to add minor, yet untrue details to the story. “And that’s all that matters.” He stopped typing and looked up at her. “You’re what, about a C cup, maybe a small D?”
“I’m done here,” Sarah said frustrated as she walked away from her desk. He wouldn’t follow her to the Chief’s office; the Chief had made that clear on day one. The Chief’s office was for sworn police personnel only. So that’s where she headed to get away from him and his out of control details.
“Sarah, what’s on your mind?” Chief of Downey Police Shane Lancing said as she came in and flopped down on the leather chair in front of his desk. She shook her head and exhaled, sounding exasperated.
“That damn writer,” Sarah said. “It’s not as cool as that TV show where that writer followed around that female cop. Remember? Castle, wasn’t it? This guy, he’s got issues. He’s adding things to documented police files and he’s making me out to be some sort of Police Joan of Arc.”
“Life imitates art, or the other way around. Fuck if I know,” Shane said not really knowing what the problem was. The author was the guy who had helped former LAPD Chief Daryl Gates write his book back in the 1990’s. “All I know is, he has another two weeks and then the city wants him to move on to Captain Tanner before he goes. It seems Captain Tanner has a story they want written about too, kind of help shape the Downey Police’s image. They like the fact that Captain Danner has run the Explorer post for almost twenty years.”
“Uh huh,” She said as she adjusted herself in the easy chair she had stormed in and flopped down on. The Downey Police didn’t need the department shaped anymore. Before Shane had become the Chief, the Downey Police has suffered in the media anytime there was an officer involved shooting. There were only six incidents in the history of the department involving officers shooting unarmed suspects and only one had ended in charges against the officer. Shane was sitting behind his massive oak desk, purchased by the city when the station had been remodeled. Behind him were the American flag to the right and the California State flag to the left. Between them, where a nice window should be was the US Army RANGER scroll, just where it had been when he had hired her seven years before. His office was adorned with military medals and awards, as well as civilian police awards from not only the city of Downey, but from the US Marshals office, the LA County Sheriff’s office, and the Los Angeles Police Department. Encased in glass to the left of him on a massive oak book case was the Congressional Medal of Honor, awarded to him for actions in Iraq during Operation Desert Storm.
“So how’s David Jr?” Shane asked. He always made it a point to ask about her son, born shortly after Sarah broke her first major case as a detective three years ago.
“He’s doing great,” Sarah said smiling. Her son was the world to her and her husband, a fellow police officer in the LAPD. They made a great team and now that David Jr was three he could talk, walk, and knew when mommy or daddy were at work, which luckily for him was only three days on and four days off as per the Downey Police work schedule. The LAPD, Sarah’s husband David’s employer, also had the 3-4 work schedules that allowed them the maximum amount of time with their son.
“He has learned that his mommy and daddy are like the police people on TV when we watch COPS.”
“Nice,” Shane said. “It could be worse; you could be like the other people.” Detective Sarah Spano, formerly Detective Sarah Williams, had become like a daughter to him and his wife Brittany. They doted on their “grandson” David Michael Spano, Jr. like he was their own; they were even his God Parents. Shane had given David, Sr. career advice and had helped him make it to Lieutenant, a rank that Sarah was up for.
“Sergeant Spano,” She said into her cell phone as it rang. Shane had been lost in thought and hadn’t heard her cell phone go off. He noticed his own was vibrating across the table heading for the edge.
“Chief Lancing,” Shane said, picking the phone up and answering it before it tumbled off the desk. It was one of the new IPhone 4G’s, complete with the free case that supposedly stopped all the issues it had with the signal. Which, it didn’t work for anything other than making it more bulky. The person on the other end finished speaking and he looked up at Sarah; no doubt she was getting the same phone call and could hear what was going on. “Over at the school?” Shane asked leaning back and opening the mini blinds covering the window to the right of his desk. He looked across the street at Downey High School and didn’t see anything unusual.
“Thank you,” Sarah said as she hung her phone up. Shane clipped his onto the utility belt he wore and stood up adjusting the bulky police equipment he wore around his waist.
“Let’s go to work, Sergeant,” Shane said. They exited the office and walked down the hallway to the exit door that opened up to the secure parking lot where the Downey Police kept their fleet of black and white cruisers and unmarked sedans and SUV’s.
“This is Sergeant Spano, I need a bus at 2400 Brookshire Ave and a CI team,” She called into the radio. Shane started up the black and white marked police Ford Expedition and Sarah jumped in.
“Homicide,” Shane said as he shot across the street into the massive Downey High school campus. Sarah nodded, knowing the day was only going to go south from here.
“This isn’t what I wanted to do today,” Sarah said as the Police SUV pulled up to a stop at the High School Gym. Chief Lancing climbed out of the truck and strode towards the building. He noted campus security had the area blocked off, but who knew what damage they had done to the actual crime scene? Veteran reporter and novelist Steven Graves ran across the street to the city’s High School trying to catch up to the female cop the city was paying him to write about. So far she had no vision, no direction, and when he tried to glamorize her not-so-awesome career, she had gotten mad. So what if he tweaked her story a little, the evening news was tweaked all the time. History was tweaked, everyone knew it. It was all about the story and getting people to read your story. Who cares if the minor details were bullshit? The general public never knew anyway. They only knew what you told them.
“Whew,” He said out of breath as he ran up to the three police vehicles that were now parked at the school’s gym. “You didn’t wait for me, what do we got here?”
“We,” Detective Spano said pointing to herself and then him, “have nothing. Get behind the yellow tape please.”
“Hey, I have every right to be here,” He said as he touched the police access badge he wore on his shirt. “I can go anywhere you can.”
“Except to the ladies locker room,” Shane said. “Leave it alone Graves, she wants some room to work, which is kind of hard when you’re up her ass all the time. Have you not ever heard the term observe, then report?”
“Yeah, I have,” Steve said as he relaxed a little bit. “What happened here?”
“A strangulation of a seventeen year old white female and we’re starting to check for the obvious,” Shane said. “Sometimes crimes like this are part of additional crimes such as rape, robbery, assault, etc. So we’re going to be kind of busy.”
“Wow,” Steve said, “and to think, this city is normally so quiet.” He took out a notebook and started writing, Shane let him. It was no doubt the lame starting to one of his books that would come out about his time with the DPD. Shane was sure that in a few months Oprah would be pushing all of America to read the triumphant stories of the Downey Police and the courageous, yet slightly exaggerated tales from the mean streets of one of the cleanest cities in Southern California. Downey was nowhere near to being the cities of Long Beach or Compton and there weren’t the gang problems that they had up in Los Angeles. Their gang problem was under the control of the GOOD Unit, “Gangs Out of Downey.” The department had six officers undercover in a couple of the local street gangs and the LA County Sheriff’s “Operation Safe Streets” operated throughout the area keeping the problem under somewhat control. It was the taggers and the “street crews” that drove the department crazy. Not gang members, the “street crews” were kids with art talent and no other way to express their art than by “tagging” buildings, street signs, and a month ago a police car that had been parked in front of the Stonewood Shopping center, the mall that served the city of Downey.
Steve watched as the police did their mundane tasks, it was all by-the-book and step by step, like they were following a script. Which from what he knew, they were. Everything was preplanned and followed in steps. It really wasn’t all that exciting and it wasn’t anything spectacular. In fact, it was kind of boring. None of the cops had their pistols withdrawn; no one was running around yelling. The police vehicles that arrived next came with their lights off and no siren but then you wouldn’t need them since the victim was already dead and gone. Timing wasn’t of the essence anymore; they would surely take the time to go through the gym with a fine tooth comb. Shit, there was no reason for him to be here, he thought to himself. He could easily go back to the station and re-write this story with more detail, more drama, and more action. He could really turn this around and put a love story gone wrong twist to it. He could see it as a movie, possibly starring that kid from the “Twilight” movies.
Sarah, inside the gym away from her biographer, stood over the body of the 17 year old victim as Detective Daniel Rossi snapped pictures with a really nice Cannon camera. Times like this always reminded her of some kind of macabre photo shoot for dead models. The detective on camera detail moved around and took exact photos, ones that would hold up in court if they managed to get a suspect for this.
“Pretty sad, Sergeant,” Detective Rossi said as he stepped back to get a wider angle photo. Sarah nodded, but didn’t say anything, this wasn’t her case. She was only there to supervise and she knew Shane was prepping her for the Lieutenant position once it was vacated by Lieutenant Miller’s retirement next month. So her team of detectives, many of whom had once worked patrol with her a few years back, would tackle this one and report directly to her. She had the field time, but the actual leg work was done by the junior detectives, such as Daniel Rossi.
“If you need anything, I’ll be with the chief,” Sarah said as she walked away, feeling sickened. Someone was going to be getting a dreaded visit from the police this afternoon and she wasn’t overly excited about that fact. She trusted Rossi to handle this, he was nicknamed “Columbo” not only for his New York accent or the fact he looked like a younger Peter Falk, but his instincts were sharp and he had an attention to detail that paid off big time.
The man crammed in the ventilation duct watched as the pretty female cop walked away and headed out the door. He liked the sound of her high heels on the cement flooring of the gym, the smooth look of her legs as they disappeared into her very smart looking skirt and matching jacket. She was a red head, but he didn’t think it was real. She was about five foot five, maybe five six but that could be the heels giving her an extra inch or two and she was about one hundred and fifty to one hundred and sixty pounds. She looked nice, not model thin, but pleasant enough to still get men to turn and look at her when she walked by, which is what he was doing right now.
He gave her his approval and settled in for a lengthy wait. They would tear the gym apart, but they would never look in the air ducts because for all they knew the killer was sitting in class waiting for the cops to find a clue and come get his ass. Nope, that wasn’t going to happen in this case. He was smarter than the average bear and he wasn’t moving until all these cops were gone, plus an hour or two after that. Besides, they only used ventilation ducts in movies and on TV. But this female cop, now she had his attention. Who was she? Was she from Downey, or was she Sheriff? He would have to find out soon, she had piqued his interest.
The cop with the camera had spoken to her like she was a boss, someone of importance. He sighed and waited for the cops to leave, he knew it would be awhile. They were dusting for prints, snapping photos, comparing notes. The Tech people were swabbing lockers, the body, and everything else around the body. But when you had been doing this as successfully as he had, for as long as he had, you knew not to rush the exit. This wasn’t the first time he’d have to sit and wait for city cops to finish their work and leave and he knew that with some luck it wouldn’t be his last.
“Well,” Shane asked as Sarah came back outside. “What’s your take on this detective? Do you think the killer is still in class somewhere here on campus?” Sarah shook her head and took one of the cigarettes that Shane offered. She was a smoker, something she had tried unsuccessfully tried to quit several times. Downey Police had origionally been a non-smoking department, prohibiting officers from smoking on and off duty. When Shane took over as Chief of Police in 2001 he changed the rules. Now, it was only non-smoking in the building and in marked vehicles.
“No, the suspect is not a student,” She said as she lit it and exhaled smoke. “At least not here at this school. This happened before school even started, plus there isn’t any hate, anger, frustration, or rage in this killing. This isn’t a break up gone bad. It’s almost like it was done by-the-book and then left for us to find. Like a display, in a museum.” She took another drag on her cigarette and waited for the chief’s response. He looked at her thoughtfully. He had seen the body himself and she was laid out with her hands across her chest.
“We’ve seen something like this before,” He said. Sarah nodded, they had. Only once and it had been about a year ago. There had been a housewife found in her home by her husband and though she had been murdered, there were no signs of rape, robbery, anger, rage, or any emotion. She had been strangled and laid out as if asleep. They had guessed that the killer may have been staging a love scene, where he could rape the body in a more natural position. She had looked asleep as well and the cops knew that from their experience it wasn’t odd for victims to be placed in a more serene position. Rossi and his partner, Detective Jones had been working the case and were currently looking at the husband’s girlfriend. Surprise, surprise, he had a woman on the side. This fact could easily explain a reason to why the victim hadn’t been sexually assaulted and why nothing had been stolen from the house. Why steal it, when after the wife is dead, it becomes yours anyway? That was the theory that the Downey Police were going with, since it was more than half of the homicides they dealt with on a yearly basis. In Southern California, divorce was more expensive than getting a criminal defense attorney to fight a murder charge.
“That case is still open,” Sarah said as she thought about the unsolved murder. Sure, the husband had a motive but his alibi was air tight. He had sixteen prominent Downey business owners who could place him in his office all day at various points. It wasn’t that they would lie for him either, he wasn’t old Downey money. He probably was innocent, but they had to check everything out anyway. Especially since his girlfriend had moved in a week after the funeral, right after Goodwill had taken all of the wife’s clothing away. It had seemed a little convenient, but convenience didn’t always mean motive.
“See if anything matches between these two cases,” Shane said. “We’re not going to go through this again.” Sarah nodded at her boss and knew what he meant. The City of Downey had once been home to the worst serial killer since Ted Bundy about seventeen years before and then a Detective Sergeant, Chief Shane Lancing had lost his first wife Anne to Clyde James Hoffman Serial Killer et al. Brittany, Shane’s former partner and now wife of seventeen years, had almost been victim number forty nine. Shane had made sure that any killings that matched were stopped cold. It now seemed that all the serial killers of the world knew to stay the hell away from anywhere near the city of Downey and the surrounding areas. Los Angeles hadn’t seen a serial killer since Hoffman and Shane wanted to keep it that way.
“If this matches sir, I know what to do.” She said as she flicked her cigarette into the grass. All of the Downey Police knew what to do in the case of a serial killer. You gave the chief everything you had and then you stood back and he handled it. Well, he would if the serial killer community had felt safe anywhere near the city of Downey. Shane was like a fire alarm and he sat quietly waiting for someone to break the glass. Rumor around the water cooler was that if Chief Lancing ever got his hands on a serial killer, he would save the state the money it would cost to incarcerate the criminal by sending the poor bastard to judgment himself.
“So is it real bad?” Steve asked her as he stepped out from behind the SUV holding his notebook. He was being a ghoul and that was another thing that bothered her about him. If he really was like that guy in the old TV show “Castle” then he would be of some help. But he wasn’t.
“Go in and look,” Sarah said almost daring him. “Any death is bad.” Graves was a seasoned reporter who had been to several homicides and here he was, acting like a rookie.
“No, I mean is she all mangled and cut up?” He asked looking a little too excited.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sarah asked, a horrified look passing over her face. She turned her back to him in disgust and walked away, hoping to catch up to Chief Lancing as he walked towards the school administration office. Her heels clacked on the sidewalk and Shane slowed his walk down so she could catch up.
“Tired of the writer huh?” He asked her, already knowing the answer.
“He’s a little off,” She said as she walked to his left.
“I’ll have him follow Captain Tanner,” Shane said. “Then maybe when this case closes we can have him back to our people at Robbery homicide. But that will be only if the new lieutenant lets him.”
“Hopefully,” Sarah said not catching Shane said new lieutenant. Shane smiled and decided that he’d promote her later today when her husband David was available. His shift with the LAPD could be cut short since Shane’s wife was now the station commander of the LAPD’s 77th Division and David was one of her officers. Shane was able to be there when Brittany promoted David to Sergeant and Brittany had been there when Shane promoted Sarah to Sergeant.
They were like family and their careers were celebrated by both families. Promoting Sarah to lieutenant was a long time coming and it would sure be a nice pay raise for the family. David had actually made Lieutenant a year ago, but Shane had been away in DC at a Law Enforcement conference so he had missed out, but had taken the couple and their baby out a month later for a late celebration. Sarah had tested for and passed the lieutenants exam and David had known for over a month that she had been selected for promotion. Lieutenant Miller had put in thirty solid years with the Downey Police and he was all but retired, so he had green lighted Sarah taking the reins of the Detective Bureau while he scouted out places to retire in Florida and South Carolina.
“I need the school closed tomorrow, have the grief counselors meet at the city library across the street,” Shane said as he briefed the Principal, Dr. Paul Madsen. Madsen looked ill and the two officers standing before him knew that along with the death of this student, his career had just died. He was no Allen Layne, the celebrated former high school principal the new sports stadium was named after, but he had managed to get the job as principal done right. Well, until today that was. The city council would demand blood and if there wasn’t a suspect in a day, Dr. Madsen would find himself looking for a new job.
“I see,” Dr. Madsen said, eyeing the Chief. Dr. Madsen didn’t like to be told how to run his school, especially by a city cop who might have at the most, a Bachelor’s degree. “I have already alerted the parents to start coming to get their kids; do they need to be interviewed before they leave?”
“Yes,” Shane said. “So we’ll contact those we may need to speak to. Have her parents been notified?”
“No sir,” Dr. Madsen said. “We wanted the police to handle it, they’re better prepared. Here is her information.” He handed Shane a three by five index card with Melissa Hess’s home address already written neatly on it. Chicken shit bastard, Shane thought. Sure, the Downey Police has no problem telling people their child was dead. Wasn’t this assholes degree in Child Psychology? Let the good doctor deliver the bad news, he could assist the family in dealing with the grief.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Shane said, not really meaning it and turned to leave the office. Sarah followed suit and spoke to him outside away from the school’s administration.
“You want me to go too?” She asked touching his shoulder.
“Yeah, I know it sucks but maybe having a woman there will soften the blow,” He said knowing it wasn’t true. If Sarah was going to become a lieutenant she needed to see this and be part of it so when she asked her officers to do it, she would know what exactly she was asking them to do.
Melissa Hess’s mom was the only one home when the two police officers arrived at their home on a nice residential street in Downey. Only a few blocks from the school, the yards were pristine and the driveways lacked the oil stains and cracks that were all but a signature to neighborhoods throughout Southern California. There was a Neighborhood Association and from the looks of Dolan Avenue, a very active one. Shane had taken his personal vehicle to this event, a 2010 Dodge Charger and was followed by a marked Downey Police Ford Police Interceptor.
The uniformed officers waited at the curb while Shane and his senior detective rang the doorbell, readying themselves for grief that was sure to follow. Shane had sadly grown used to delivering bad news, a skill he had learned in the military a week after his unit with the 75th Ranger Regiment returned from Operation Desert Storm. Shane had told six families to their face that their husband/son/nephew/ was not returning home due to his fuck up. He wore the Medal of Honor on his neck in his full dress uniform, but despite the medals and heroism he felt that there were six families he had failed. The house was one of the newer houses being added to Downey since the beginning of the decade, replacing the “Gingerbread” houses. This house was probably all of three thousand square feet complete with a second floor and a three car garage. Who had three cars these days when gas was not quite four dollars a gallon?
“Mrs. Hess?” Shane asked as he held up his badge. Sarah had hers hanging off of a chain around her neck US Marshal style and held up her department issued ID. “I’m Downey Chief of Police Shane Lancing and this is Detective Sergeant Sarah Spano.” Mrs. Hess glanced at Shane’s badge and read the name off of Sarah’s ID card. She noticed that on the woman officer’s ID card, where it said “Department” it read “Robbery/Homicide.”
“No!” Mrs. Hess screamed before they could break the bad news to her. She started crying and as she collapsed, Shane grabbed her and kept her from hitting the ground. Sarah assisted Shane in getting Mrs. Hess to the couch as the two uniformed officers sprinted up to the house. It wasn’t for about an hour that Mrs. Hess could speak, so the officers waited patiently, talking to her and trying to sooth the trauma. Mr. Hess left work immediately and joined his grief stricken wife at their home.
“What can you tell me?” Charles Hess asked, trying to keep it together and doing a decent job. He hadn’t screamed for revenge or blood, but Shane could see it in his eyes, just under the glassy sheen they had taken on.
“She was strangled about eight this morning before school started and she was found during first period physical education,” Sarah said. “That’s about all we know right now pending the outcome of the investigation, which is still ongoing.”
“Was she, um,” Charles asked, trying not finishing the question, not wanting the answer.
“No,” Shane said. “There were no other signs of trauma.” Charles nodded, not really feeling relieved but glad his daughter hadn’t been raped first and suffered before she died.
“I know this is a tough time,” Sarah said trying to hold herself together. “But can you tell me if Melissa had been having trouble with anyone at school, or maybe here at home?” Mrs. Hess shook her head no and Mr. Hess looked up thoughtfully and shook his head no as well.
“All she had was a boyfriend,” Charles said. “They got along great as far as we know. God, this will destroy him.”
“We’ll need to talk to him anyway,” Shane said. “Look, I understand that this is a horrible event and I want to thank you for talking to us. Here is my card,” he said as he handed them his department issued business card with his home number written on the back. “If you think of anything later on, or need anything, call me anytime. Detective Spano too, she will be heading up this investigation.” Sarah nodded and handed her card over as well, along with her home number and cell.
“Anytime,” Sarah said. “It’s what I get paid for.” Shane and Sarah stood and let themselves out, leaving the Hess’s to deal with their grief in private.
“I want a car here, full time for a few days,” Shane said to the patrol officers that followed them out. “Park in front of the house or in the neighbor’s driveway, I could care less. But there will be someone visibly here; the murderer may not be done.”
“Yes sir,” The first uniformed officer said. “We’ll start first shift.” Shane nodded and he and Sarah left the now destroyed home of the Hess family. Shane could understand it when cops or soldiers were killed in the line of duty; it was the nature of the beast. But when you send your kid to school, it was the last thing you would ever expect to happen. It was the most horrible thing you could ever go through, and Shane felt for the family. He glanced over at Sarah and he could see that her eyes were watery. She was still human and no doubt trying not to imagine this happening to little David.
“How you doing, kid?” He asked her. She sighed and looked out the passenger window at the city that she normally felt safe in.
“I’ll be okay, but this really sucks,” She said, her voice faltering. Shane knew if he pushed her, she’d start crying so he dropped it. David would get her to open up about it at home so he let it go. She was “at work” and her professionalism was of the finest caliber. When they arrived back to the station, Sarah noticed that David and Commander Lancing, Shane’s wife Brittany, were waiting on them. After what she had just gone through, her heart jumped. Family at the station could be a good thing, but after today who knows?
“Hey, rough day?” David asked, who had already been briefed by detective Rossi about their current case.
“Yeah, I just want to get home and see my baby,” Sarah said trying to smile but failing. Seeing David had made her feel a little better, but her baby could always make her bad days get better.
“Oh, we’ll he’s in the lounge with Gabriel,” David said. Gabriel Davis was Sarah’s partner from as far back as her time in traffic. They had both been assigned to the detective bureau within weeks of each other and shared that special bond that only police officers who spent more time together than with their spouses could form.
“I want to give my baby a hug,” Sarah said as she hugged David. The officers walked into the police station and made their way to the break room.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant!” Lieutenant Miller said as she came through the door. Almost all the officers on duty were crammed in there and her son, David Jr, ran up and hugged her leg.
“What?” Sarah asked as she picked up her son.
“Attention to orders!” Shane barked at his cops who then snapped to the position of attention. “The city of Downey wishes to announce the advancement of Sergeant Sarah Spano from Detective Sergeant to Lieutenant, effective immediately.” David stepped in front of her and removed her silver Sergeant’s badge from her chain around her neck and handed her a black case. Sarah opened it and the badge of a lieutenant gleamed, highlighting her face.
“Congratulations, Lieutenant,” David said as he hugged his wife. She hugged him back and hung the badge off her chain. Lieutenant Miller, Chief Lancing, Commander Lancing, Sergeant Davis and a slew of other officers stood in line to shake her hand.
“So, take some time to set up your office,” Shane said smiling. “You have about an hour, and then I want a suspect in custody.” He was smiling at her, but she knew he was only slightly kidding.
“Yes sir,” Sarah said as she shook hands with almost all the cops on duty in the city at that time.
“Looks good on you, sweet heart,” Brittany said hugging her. Brittany Lancing was more like an older sister to her, even though Shane acted more like a father figure.
“Thank you,” Sarah said. Brittany was as close to a best friend as she had, outside of David. She and Brittany knew things about each other that their husbands did not, but that was how women operated. Neither David nor Shane had ever tried to figure it out, they just accepted it.
“Well, you’re my boss again,” Gabriel Davis said as he shook her hand. “Way to go, ma’am.”
“Don’t ma’am me, Gabriel,” She said. “You’re still my partner.” He smiled, nodded and stepped out of the way, allowing the rank and file cops to congratulate the new Chief of Detectives. Sarah Spano was well liked in the department and she had earned the respect of the cops there from day one, even though her first case had taken down another respected detective. But that was Sarah, when you’re wrong . . . you’re wrong.
“So, let’s go out to dinner,” David said from behind her, “the two of us, the little dude and the Lancing’s, its party time.”
“Deal,” Sarah said as the cops started to go back to work. “Gabriel, let me know what the M. E. says if his report comes back tonight.”
“No problem . . . Sarah,” He said almost calling her ma’am again. He wanted to ma’am her, but she was three years younger than him. That and she wouldn’t want it. She wasn’t like that, hadn’t been when she made Sergeant before him and she wouldn’t be that way now. There was a lieutenant’s spot open in traffic, but he liked being a detective more so he stayed being a Sergeant. He hated wearing a uniform now and he liked the getting to the bottom of cases that, as a patrol or traffic officer, he would never be able to see all the way through.
“In fact,” Sarah said, “since we know it’s going to be awhile, why not join us?” Gabriel nodded; it would be good to get away from the office. The rest of the team was over at the high school conducting interviews and sweeping the crime scene so they were going to be busy for quite a while.
“So how does it feel?” Brittany asked Sarah later as they sat around a large table at an Applebee’s. The friends had decided to have dinner there and possibly go bowling afterwards across the street at Bowl-O-Rama, since David Jr loved to bowl. They had to use the bumpers for him, but he owned his own five pound ball, had a cute little shirt and the women agreed that he was adorable when he was bowling.
“I love it,” Sarah said. “It feels great, but do I get a key to the executive bathroom?” Brittany smiled, slightly touching the Brigadier General’s star on her collar; she had once been a young lieutenant and remembered when she had made that rank. It had come with a heavy cost, but she knew exactly how Sarah was feeling at this exact moment. Shane laughed and took a sip of his beer.
“If we had one, you know you would,” He said. “But you do get the keys to your own vehicle, city policy.”
“That’s a bonus,” Sarah said. “It’ll be nice to have the city pay for my gas instead of myself.” She sipped her Dr. Pepper and looked up at her husband and extended family. They were beaming with pride for her and they knew she had come a long way from an Army spouse to where she was now. She was in love with her life and she would change nothing about it. Now she was focused on the case and where it would lead. She started to review the facts in her head which weren’t many but she had to stay on top of her game so they didn’t miss anything.
“No thinking about work,” Shane said. “I know it’s in that little mind of yours, leave it alone.” Sarah smiled, he had caught her. It was hard to deal with a homicide one minute and be happy and celebrating the next. She doubted the Hess family were planning a trip to bowling or dinner out, or anything else anytime soon besides a funeral. The world was a fucked up place, she noted.
“Good, because I was about to start a ma’am and sir-a-thon since I seem to be the only Sergeant left here,” Gabriel said.
“Your day is coming too, Detective,” Shane said. “There are a few more LT slots coming open in the next few months and you stand out amongst your peers.”
“Thank you sir,” Gabriel said sipping his beer. He was a lucky officer and he knew it. His partner was a great person, his chief a living legend and he loved his job. Much more than the Marine Corps, which he had honorably served four years with and a deployment to Iraq during Operation Iraqi Freedom under his belt, he brought a focused and dedicated officer to the ranks of the Downey Police.
The killer noticed cops were finally done with their interviews and had killed all the lights on their way out. Awfully green of them, he thought to himself. Downey’s finest had found nothing in their sweep of the gym, like he knew they wouldn’t and had called it a day. He had been trained in his craft and you didn’t get to this level of success by leaving trace elements behind, or having sex with the body. He had read of people who had done that, only to be caught later through DNA. Those were the ones he was never going to be like, the ones who didn’t do it for the thrill of the hunt but to make the urges to kill cease. He was a totally different style of operator; this wasn’t about anything other than if he could get away with it or not, a twisted game of cat and mouse with the local cops. Never did he cause the same cause of death, never with the same type of person because that’s how patterns were built. It might be a white female today, but what about next time?
What about a black man or a feeble elderly person? The list was endless; the world had thousands of types of people in it. Ted Bundy had gone after white women, John Wayne Gacy and Jeffery Dahmer had loved the boys. Richard Ramirez, whom he had interviewed through his last job, had targeted people in houses. Mostly women, but he was kind of random too. He would have been unstoppable, except for that fact that he had been identified on TV and chased like an animal through the streets of Los Angeles. Those people had almost killed him too and had it not been for an LAPD unit arriving quickly, they actually might have succeeded. He waited about an hour and a half after the cops had left and dropped out of the ceiling, rolling off some lockers, and hitting the floor. He brushed himself off and calmly walked out of the gym through the rear exit and across Allen Layne Stadium’s football field to freedom. He consciously made sure the traffic cameras never got a good look at his face and he pulled his hat down and his collar up. Popped collars might be considered homosexual in some circles, but without it he could find himself sitting in a prison for a long time which is somewhere a person with his background and history never needed to ever be.
“Where have you been, it’s almost midnight?” His girlfriend asked him as he came through the door of their apartment. He was smiling and enjoying the rush of another successful mission completed.
“You know, busy day and then that killing at the school,” He said making conversation. It was important to maintain a normal life, when you are leading two individual lives with one being far more exciting than the other.
“It was horrible the news said some young woman was murdered,” His girlfriend Kelly said as he sat on the couch next to her. “James, what kind of city is this?”
“A normally safe one, dear,” He said as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Usually very safe, things like this are rare.” This was what he liked about himself; he could play a game with the cops all day and then come home to normality. Leading the double life and being successful at it was another one of his goals. How long could this continue to go on? He wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t ready to stop. The cops had nothing and he had everything.
“Are you working the case?” Kelly asked as he unholstered his sidearm and set it on the kitchen table with his car keys.
“They’ll call when they need the FBI,” He said as he laid his shield on the table next to the weapon. It wasn’t worth anything anymore; they had stripped him of everything back in Virginia when they suspended him pending a murder investigation. Since then, he had promised himself to be a better killer and not being so blunt when getting to the point, which was of course, killing people for fun and for the thrill of it all. He hadn’t always been this way, he started out life normal. He wasn’t secretly homosexual, hadn’t killed small animals growing up, and only started his killing spree two years ago when he was interviewing a suspect in a string of murders in the Richmond area. He had been mesmerized by the suspects lack of fear and immense hatred of women. He himself didn’t have that, he actually was fond of the fairer sex. Well, to a point but that suspect had shown him power that he could not get as a Federal Agent or even as a person.
“So this is the video from the security tape at the High School?” Sarah asked the next morning as Detective Rossi showed her the surveillance tape from Downey High. It was dark and grainy, typical of cheap electronics, but you could see someone come out of the gym about an hour and a half after the last officers left the crime scene. Their subject appeared to be an adult male and he walked through the football field, hopped a fence and walked up towards Lakewood Boulevard, the street that ran next to the mall that took up eighty percent of the city block. “He was in the gym the whole time?” Sarah asked angrily. “How the hell did we miss that?”
“They found an open air duct above some lockers. It seems that he climbed up and waited for us to leave,” Detective Rossi said, looking guilty. It was a rookie mistake they had all made.
“Are there any traffic cameras on Lakewood?” Sarah asked, hoping they could erase their fuck up. It was a long shot, but it was worth the effort. Most major cities used traffic cams to record traffic, take pictures of speeders and light runners, and every so often they’d catch an accident or suspect casually walking down the street. Sarah expected to get video of him walking down the street, calmly with his hands in his pockets.
“No ma’am,” Detective Rossi said. “It doesn’t have a big enough cross street to have one. They only run them on Firestone and Florence.”
“Damn it, now we have to go down there and check out each individual ATM machine cameras and you know how the banks hate that,” Sarah said. Rossi nodded, most of the time the bank managers would love nothing more than to help, but they usually had to get permission from corporate and sometimes that took a day or two.
“So, maybe he was doing a little late night cardio,” Sergeant Davis said as he walked in on the conversation. He wasn’t working this case; he was on a home invasion robbery that had taken place literally on the border between the cities of Downey and Bellflower along Foster Road, but since the city of Bellflower didn’t currently have its own police department, all inter-jurisdiction actions had to be handled through the LA County Sheriff’s office.
They were now claiming a jurisdictional grievance and since though the physical address of the home was in the city Downey; the majority of the house was on Bellflower property. The Sheriff’s department swore up and down the border was Foster Road and had even hired a land surveyor who was out there today marking off the boundary lines and building a case, just not the home invasion robbery case. But Davis knew that Foster Road was an unofficial boundary and all of the houses on Foster Road after Bellflower Boulevard were in the City of Downey. The Sheriff’s were busy using resources to get Downey to hand over the case, which was growing colder every day.
“Sit your coffee down and tell me how the home invasion is going,” Sarah said as she turned to him. He nodded and sat his massive AM/PM convenience store sixty-four ounce coffee mug onto the desk. It was a gallon of coffee and he’d no doubt have it gone by 10 am and be awake till way after midnight.
“Sheriff is playing games on this one, but while they have been focused on who gets the case, I did some investigating and seems that little Malik Harris,” Davis said tossing a file onto the desk, “is someone we need to speak to. It seems he suddenly got a PS3 and some games, but his mom and dad are stone cold broke.” Sarah picked up the file and read about Malik Harris, aged sixteen. Former Bellflower High School student, known gang ties, two priors for vandalism and assault. His parents both had lengthy records for drugs and drug related charges, letting Sarah know that the apple indeed, does not fall far from the tree.
“Call the Lakewood Sheriff’s station, that’s where Bellflower’s chain of command is. Ask to speak to a Captain Robert Forrest and tell him that you work for me and see how much cooperation you suddenly get,” Sarah said. “He’s an old friend of David’s.”
“Got it and hopefully sometime today I can see if the PS3 Harris now has matches the missing one from the Ford family,” Davis said. Sarah nodded and Davis sipped his massive, seizure inducing coffee cup. It wasn’t even a coffee cup; it was more like a mini keg of coffee. What made it worse was that AM/PM, the retail chain of convenience stores sold these coffee kegs for a little over a dollar. “So a murder and then this is what we get for evidence?” Davis said as he leaned into the TV screen focusing on the murder investigation. “Well, good luck it’s all pixilated. Damn cheap ass video systems. I’ve seen better footage of Bigfoot”
“It’s something,” Sarah said. “Okay, get out there and canvas those ATM machines and see if we can get the direction he headed. Check the mall too; since it is right there, hopefully maybe their parking lot cameras picked something up. Also, since Florence and Lakewood have a traffic cameras see if maybe he went towards them.”
“Yes ma’am,” Rossi said as he stood up and left the detectives office to get the rest of the videos.
“So LT, how does it feel?” Davis asked Sarah.
“It’s going to take some getting used to,” She said as she smiled. It did feel good, she thought to herself. Lieutenant Miller had done a decent job of being the boss but he was an old school police officer who yelled, got red faced and preferred to lead from his office.
“Well, no one deserved it more,” Davis said, “except for maybe me.” He smiled at her and patted her back.
“There is still an LT spot open in traffic,” Sarah said pointing at the traffic office.
“Nah, I like it here. Besides, you now ride a desk and I get to ride around all day and bust dumb asses,” He said leaning back in the chair. “But hey, I am glad it’s you and not some asshole that got to where they were going by college and knowing the right people. You’ll be fine and we’re all behind you.”
“Thanks, Gabriel,” Sarah said. “That means a lot.” She gathered up the file and walked away to her office, leaving Gabriel with his massive cup of coffee. He flipped on the computer at the desk and went to work, trying to find known associates of a Mr. Malik Miller, AKA Big Willie. What the hell kind of gang moniker was that? Gabriel wondered to himself. Big Willie sounded like a bad porno name, not the name of a feared local street hood. Sarah sat down at her own desk and tried to finish putting her stuff away. Her office was almost complete, minus a few things here and there. Her family photos adorned the walls of her office, certificates from Downey, awards from the PD and her Master’s Degree diploma, framed in a nice Honey Pine, was behind her on the wall. She had a wooden desk; it was possibly oak like Shane’s, with a couch and coffee table in front of it. The window was to the right of her desk and the door was to the left and she had a coat rack and a place to hang her actual uniform, which she had hung. Her uniform was now sporting the gold LT bars on the collar, versus the silver Staff Sergeant stripes that had been there less than 24 hours ago. Davis was the other Staff Sergeant, so Rossi had a good chance of picking up the rocker, making him the second Staff Sergeant. It was about a three hundred dollar a month promotion and it came with more responsibility. He could handle it; Rossi was a fast talking, quick thinking transfer from the NYPD. It had been the NYPD’s loss and Downey’s gain since he had come from the infamous NYPD ESU. She knew their resident “Columbo” was destined for greatness.