Beyond the Mask Read online

  “Both of them,” Franklin said. “I set up the feed in our conference room.”

  “Good. Let’s go take a look at them.”

  The conference room consisted of a long wood table with a grouping of chairs around it. It looked like something you’d see at a boardroom.

  There was an ancient Zenith television with a DVD player hooked up to it.

  “I made copies,” Franklin said as they sat down. He picked up a remote control and pushed play.

  “The first video is the Warden leaving.”

  Frank watched as Hatchet strode towards the door. He stopped to say something to one of his guards, and for a moment his face turned towards the camera. He was smiling.

  Of course he was smiling, Frank thought. The bastard had just secured my job, hadn’t he?

  It was an unproductive thought and Frank fought to suppress it. Such emotion would not be good for the investigation.

  Hatchet broke off from the guard and paused only at the door to swipe his card. Then he was out the door and into the parking lot. The disc cut off and there were a few seconds of blue screen before it came on again.

  “This is the parking lot feed,” Franklin said.

  “Where’s Hatchet?” Frank asked.

  “Look at the time stamp,” Franklin replied.

  Frank looked to the bottom right of the screen and saw that it read four forty-five.

  He was about to ask what they were looking at this for, when a figured appeared at the right of the screen.

  It was clearly a man, the definition of the muscles stood out against the black hoodie that he wore. The hood was turned up and pulled down over his face. He kept his back to the cameras as he walked across the parking lot.

  Frank could see where the man was headed. He felt an urge to shout out at the screen and scare him off, but of course he couldn’t do that; this had already happened.

  The man wore jeans and plain white sneakers. He traveled in a loping gate as he kept his back on the building.

  When he reached Hatchet’s car he pulled something out of his pocket. It looked like a long metal rod. The guy leaned close to the car, shielding what he was doing with the bulk of his body.

  He was too big to be Ellison, and that was a shame, but he was also too big to be Bentley.

  The man pulled the bar up and slid it back into his pants. Then he opened the door. When he reached his hand out, Frank could see that he was wearing gloves.

  He opened the door and pressed a button on the side of the door. Then, he closed the driver’s door and opened the back.

  Frank watched as he slid in there and then down and out of view.

  The feed stopped again and there was more blue.

  “Of course the real feed is uninterrupted,” Franklin said. “When you told me that you needed the feed; I figured out that something that happened to the Warden. Is he…?”

  “Yes,” Frank said.

  Franklin’s face tightened and that was it.

  “Anyway, I thought I better look through the entire feed.” Franklin pointed at the screen. “That guy, whoever he is, didn’t get out of the car for the rest of the night. He stayed in the back of the Warden’s car, hunched down like that, for about six hours.”

  The feed resumed again and this time it showed Hatchet exiting the building. He took something out of his pocket, Frank could barely make it out, but he knew what it was by the way the Warden pointed it at his car. It was his keys.

  The car lights blinked once and Hatchet opened the door. He was holding the manila folder in his hand and he tossed it on the passenger seat as he got into his car.

  Then the head lights snapped on and Hatchet drove out of his parking spot and off the left side of the camera.

  Franklin lifted the remote and pressed stopped.

  “When the Warden left, that guy was in his backseat.”

  “With what we found, that makes sense,” Frank said. “The question is, who the hell is he?”

  Franklin stood up and pressed eject on the player. The disc came out and he handed it over to Frank.

  “I don’t know, but I hope when you catch him they bring him here.”

  Frank walked away, not liking the fire that burned in the officer’s eyes.

  Twenty

  I.

  Normally, Frank would have walked over to the station, but he had driven to the jail and parked his car in front, so he drove it the short distance and parked in his spot.

  He had no sooner exited his car, then his cell phone rang.

  “Adams, do you have something?”

  “No,” Adams replied. “There’s nothing going on here, sir. A few of the guys are starting to get tired. They won’t say anything, but I can hear it over the radio.”

  Frank glanced at his watch. It was just after three o’clock.

  Fucker is lying low, Frank thought. Bentley was wrong; he can control it, at least a little bit.

  “Pull ‘em,” Frank said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “You’re the one telling me that they need to go home.”

  “I got sleep,” Adams said. “I can stay as long as you need.”

  Frank smiled at the phone. “I appreciate that.” Frank paused in front of the door to the station. There were no cars in the parking lot.

  “We’re running on a skeleton crew right now and we need some of those guys to be fresh for their normal duties tonight. Here’s what I need you to do. Pull everyone that works on the night shift and send them home.”

  “Okay,” Adams said.

  “Tell Michaels to come back to the station. He’ll hate it, but tell him that it’s an order.”

  “That will be a fun conversation,” Adams said.

  “Don’t forget that you’re the ranking officer in the department now. Then I want you to pull half of the day time patrollers and put them on their normal assignments. I don’t know, maybe Ellison will venture out of his normal comfort zone.”

  “Consider it all done,” Adams said.

  Frank hung up. The man was proving to be a better asset than Frank had originally thought. Maybe being thrown in jail had been a kick in the ass? Or maybe, and this was a darker thought, Frank had been so preoccupied with his old-boy network with Rick that he couldn’t see what was right in front of his eyes.

  It made him wonder what else he might have missed, and that was a thought that frightened him too much to contemplate.

  Gloria gave him her usual smile as he walked in the door.

  “Any calls?”

  “The normal from the press,” Gloria said. “I swear that Ben Cole from channel six is my new best friend.”

  Frank paused with his hand on the door. He walked back to Gloria’s window. “Call him. Call them all. Tell them that I want a press conference at five o’clock.”

  Gloria’s mouth dropped open. “You’re going to hold a press conference?”

  “First time for everything,” Frank said. “Just tell them to be gentle.”

  II.

  He was sitting in his office when Michaels hammered on the door.

  “Come in,” Frank said.

  The sergeant walked in. He looked out of breath and his face was red.

  “Problem?”

  “Sir, I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

  “Close the door please.”

  Michaels stared at him.

  “If you’d like to have a conversation, I’d like you to close the door.”

  Michaels turned around and shut the door.

  “Take a seat.”

  He followed orders.

  “Now, what is it you don’t understand?”

  “This patrol was important to you. You said we were going to catch this guy. Then you don’t show up for it, you bring Adams in and I’m taking orders from him, then you pull the guys off of the patrol and send me back here.”

  “I had other business today,” Frank said.

  “This should be your fucking business,” Michaels said. T
he veins were starting to bulge in his neck.

  Frank controlled his breathing. He felt his lungs fill and then empty. He counted silently before he spoke. “You need to remember who you’re talking to. I know more than anyone how important this is. How many serial killers have you tracked?”

  Michaels said nothing.

  “So don’t try to tell me my business. And the next time you come in here with that kind of attitude will be the last time, do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” Michaels muttered.

  Frank’s voice lost its sharp edge. “You’re passionate, and that’s wonderful, but you can’t drive yourself crazy. Ellison isn’t coming out today. He’s staying under his rock.”

  “How can you know that?”

  “Because no one has been murdered except for Hatchet.”

  “I heard,” Michaels said.

  “That wasn’t Ellison. I don’t know who it was, but we’ve got him on video.”

  “Why did you pull the patrol?”

  “Because Yucca is a big county and I need those men fresh. More than that, Ellison is dangerous and sending sleep-deprived deputies in his path is a good way to get people killed.”

  “Rick had gotten sleep.”

  Frank felt the sting of those words. “Yes and look what happened to him. Deputies that are tired will be less observant and that makes them ready-made victims.”

  “I want this guy,” Michaels said.

  “I know you do. So do I, and we’ll get him. He can’t hide forever. Someone is bound to see him.”

  “The next person that sees him will be number six,” Michaels said.

  “Roman has some evidence that he’s processing in his lab,” Frank said. “I have a press conference to get ready for, but I’d like to have a report on what he’s found before I give it. Why don’t you go down there and find out if he’s got anything?”

  Michaels stood. His body was stiff. “Yes sir.”

  Frank smiled as he watched him walk out the door and wondered if Dunham had suffered from the same feelings that Frank was going through. He thought about the conversation he’d had with Dunham when he had been pulled off the Braddock case and he was sure of it.

  III.

  A few of the deputies had set up a podium at the bottom of the steps to the station. The people from the various news services had then set up their microphones at the podium. So that, when Frank walked out, it looked as though someone had planted a garden of black plastic and foam. Complete with colorful lettering on the side to let the viewers know which channel had set up a feed.

  There were several reporters standing in a cluster in front of the podium. Some of them held tape recorders, others had pads of paper. Most of them just stood there with their own hand-held microphones next to men who carried large cameras.

  All the camera people were men. Frank supposed they had to be; the things looked like they probably weighed close to a hundred pounds.

  Shouts of questions and conversation erupted as Frank walked out of the station. He had put on his brown dress uniform. Appearance was so important after all, though he had decided against the hat.

  Frank walked up to the podium and held out his hands, as if in benediction, to quiet the gob of reporters.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I have a few statements to make on the progress of our cases and then I will be open to questions.”

  They stopped their chatter.

  “First, I would like to inform you that we have suffered a terrible tragedy today. Warden Spencer Hatchet was found murdered in his car early this morning.”

  There was no shock on any of their faces. Frank was still unsure exactly how they came about all the information they acquired, but they seemed to get it just as fast as the police did.

  “I would like to assure you that this was not the act of Harvey Ellison. He has been ruled out as a suspect in this murder and this murder alone. We have strong evidence that another man, a single individual, committed these crimes.

  Harvey Ellison is the prime suspect in five murders over the past week. You have all received copies of his picture and I would ask that you continue to broadcast this information to your audience.”

  There was more muted chatter, but Frank spoke through it.

  “We have strong evidence that Ellison is still in the area. For anyone out there who sees Ellison, please do not approach him. He is considered extremely dangerous. If you see him, please contact the Yucca County Sheriff’s office. The number should be on the bottom of your screens now.”

  Frank cleared his throat and readied for the barrage that was about to assault him.

  “I will now take a few questions.”

  Hands rose immediately and Frank felt like a first-year teacher at a school for the gifted. The sight of all those arms raised was a little overwhelming. Frank looked out over the sea of faces and found Ben Cole. He was wearing a red blazer, which was the prominent color of channel 4’s logo. His black hair was slicked back, making him look like a mobster’s strong man. It was his signature look. He was Gloria’s new phone boyfriend; it was as good a place as any to start.

  “Ben,” Frank said, pointing in his direction.

  “Sheriff Miles, how can you be sure that Warden Hatchet wasn’t another victim of Ellison’s?”

  Frank allowed himself a small smile. It was the question he wanted. Really the only question that he cared about, because it was a piece of information that they didn’t already have.

  “Our forensics team found a hair in the back seat of the Warden’s car. DNA testing found a match in our system and this person is now the main suspect in our investigation.”

  Frank stepped back from the microphone and scanned the crowd to signify that he had finished his answer.

  The reporters were shouting questions and waving their hands wildly. They looked like a group of seals barking at him for fish.

  “You,” Frank said. He pointed towards a shapely blonde woman in a blue blouse and skirt. She looked familiar but he couldn’t recall her name.

  The rest of the rabble quieted at once. They had their own rules governing these press conferences. It was a bizarre kind of civility in the midst of their chaotic hand waving.

  “Can you tell us who the suspect is?”

  “It’s still a little early in the investigation to reveal more details than I already have,” Frank said. “All I can tell you is that we are very confident that our suspect is the man who killed Warden Hatchet.”

  Frank picked another reporter.

  “Your patrol today failed to find Ellison. Are you sure that he’s still in the area? How do you know he hasn’t fled?”

  “We have reliable information that Harvey Ellison is still in Yucca County. Apprehending this criminal is the top priority of the Sheriff’s department.”

  More hand waving, more shouted questions.

  “At this time, that’s all I have for you. Please remember that if you encounter Harvey Ellison to avoid direct contact and call the Sheriff’s department immediately.”

  Frank stepped away from the podium. The shouts continued behind him until he entered the building.

  Twenty-One

  Alison heard a thump at the front door. She sat up in bed, the sheet falling from her body to reveal her breasts.

  It had been more than a month since her and Bob had made love. The sweet little girl lying in her crib in the next room was the reason. The doctor had taken pains to instruct them that sex would be a bad idea after the cesarean section.

  Alison and Bob had marked the date on the calendar and they had counted down the days, both of them feeling the excitement build.

  Taking care of little Madison was more than a full time job, but they had still found time for some fooling around. Nothing more than heavy petting and kissing, but it was enough to froth them both up to the point where they thought they were going to explode.

  Several times she had offered to relieve Bob’s pressure, but he had refused each time. He had told her tha
t if she couldn’t, he wouldn’t.

  It was both sweet and irritating. She appreciated the sentiment, but sometimes wished that he would just allow himself to relax and let her do something just for him.

  None of that mattered now, though. Madison was sleeping in her crib, she had begun a fairly regular schedule and Alison had timed everything so that they could have at least an hour of uninterrupted time when Bob got home from work.

  The bedroom light was on, Bob liked to see her when they had sex; she looked at the clock by the bed. Nine o’clock. Bob had left work a little early.

  Warmth and moisture radiated from her groin. Without thinking about it, she had begun to rock a little on the bed with the thought of him.

  “I’m up here,” Alison called. She took pains to pitch her voice low, so as to not disturb the baby.

  The only response from below was a grunt of effort. She heard the low scraping sound of dragging and wondered what Bob had brought home.

  He had always talked about wanting to try a sex swing, but would he really have stopped to buy one before coming home?

  Alison wondered how long it would take to install something like that. How long would they have after putting something like that up?

  Besides, that was more for a rigorous and panting fuck. What she wanted to do was make love. Soft and tender.

  Apprehension assailed her. Bob might be disappointed if she suggested that they hold off on using the swing for another day.

  But it was silly to think about such things when she had no idea what he was bringing in.

  Then his feet were on the stairs. She had expected him to race up, but he was taking them one at a time. Maybe whatever it was he had dragged in had tired him out.

  “I’m all ready for you,” Alison purred.

  Then a figure filled the bedroom doorway. He was smaller than Bob, not as muscular. His face looked vaguely familiar.

  He stood there in the doorway, looking at her. There was a knife in his hand and blood smeared across the front of his clothes.

  Alison was frozen. Her throat felt locked and her muscles had seemed to rebel against her brain.

  “Well look at this,” the man said. “All laid out for me.”

  Alison’s throat opened and she let out a piercing scream. The man advanced on her but, as her lungs emptied and her scream died down, another sound made it through the din.