CHAPTER FOUR
"In any homicide, your best piece of evidence is lying on the floor."
What Cops Know edited by Connie Fletcher
The Punisher's Safe House, Queens, New York
Frank Castle entered the safe house around midnight. Within minutes, he had stripped down to his underwear and began performing first aid on his wounds. The modest sized bathroom contained several military grade first aid kits, emergency medical books and a copy of Gray's Anatomy. After careful self-examination, the wound was not as life threatening as it felt; it was nothing more than a rather deep flesh wound that dragged along the left side of the lower abdomen. Castle treated it with some disinfectant to the immediate area, followed by stitches and butterfly clamps to seal the wound. Finally, he wrapped some gauze and surgical tape around his body. With the physical treatment complete, took some antibiotics and even a tetanus injection to prevent infection. When it was all complete, he took a couple of low strength painkillers so he could sleep without being completely out of it. He lay down on the bed and thought of his next move.
Like many of his crash pads located strategically around the five boroughs, they were all furnished almost exactly the same way: Spartan. Each one had a television, a stocked fridge, table and chair, and a bed. There was also a small supply of weapons in the closet. There were neither pictures on the wall nor any potted plants; things that would make a place feel like home. The last time he felt at home was when his wife and children were alive over thirty years ago. Any evidence of his former life was locked away in his main base of operations in the basement of a building in Brooklyn.
After eluding the police, the objective was to get to the subway quickly before the cops could mount a search for him. Once he was mobile, he made several stops around Manhattan, the Bronx and Queens to throw off the trail. It wasn't as easy as it sounded when you're sporting a knife wound and sweating from loss of blood. While on the run, Castle treated the wound with nothing more than a handful of paper towels from a subway bathroom.
Castle didn't know what hurt more: the wound to his side or his wounded pride. It had to be the strangest case of bad luck in history. Only a few hours earlier, the Punisher had read an article about the "Park Predator" terrorizing the city and he almost took the son of a bitch out after disrupting the arms sale. Castle began his doctoring with a combination of antibiotics and painkillers. The painkillers would help him sleep while the medicine does its work. As soon as his wounds healed, he would make the final judgment of the Park Predator his top priority.
THE AREA AROUND SUNSET PARK was illuminated with police strobe lights. There were police officers doing various tasks such as securing the crime scene and creating a perimeter with police tape, taking eye witness statements and keeping the media and the other onlookers away from the park and the entrance to the apartment building nearby. There were also forensic technicians gathering evidence and taking photographs, the flashes increasing the strobe effect to the scene. Last but not least, two ambulances were there, one crew treating the victim in the park and the two officers; the other was from the medical examiner's office to take the dead bodies away. There was a crowd observing the whole scene, with reporters setting up for the latest news update, as well as people recording with their camera phones. Oddly ironic, the neighborhood around Sunset Park was the safest place in the city for the moment.
Several minutes later, detectives Harold Schwartz and Jason Riesman from the Major Case Task Force arrived on the scene. Both men were white, in their thirties and in good condition. Schwartz was about 5'8" but weighed around 170lbs. Despite being in his thirties, his balding brown hair made him look older. Though not the biggest, the fastest or the strongest in his division, he made up for it with his determination and intelligence. It was these qualities that gave him one of the best closure rates in homicide.
Riesman not only was about two inches taller and five pounds heavier than his partner, but also worked out quite regularly. Like his partner, he too had a keen mind that complimented his stubbornness to get to the heart of any mystery. The two of them have been partners for five years after Riesman transferred to major case from narcotics. Many times these detectives were put on serial offender cases and high priority investigations such as this one.
The two detectives met up with the people in charge of the crime scene. The two men were Officer Eddie Guerra and Lieutenant James Bowen McClain of the Emergency Services Unit; the NYPD's equivalent of a SWAT team.
"So," Schwartz said after the four of them shook hands and introduced themselves, "what's the bottom line? Where's the crime scene?"
"Crime scenes, you mean." McClain said with a sarcastic grin on his moon like face. "In the park, we've got both a sexual assault that has all the earmarks of a Park Predator attack, and an assault on two officers who said that they had a run in with the Punisher. The two officers and the rape victim are ok."
Riesman gave a small sigh of relief at the update. "Where are the three of them now?"
"The woman, one Maria LeClaire according to her ID, was rushed over to Maimonides Med Center nearby. She's touch and go at best; the bastard really worked her over. The two officers have only minor injuries and we've taken their statements already; they're waiting by their patrol car."
"Ok," Schwartz replied after jotting down some notes. "What about the other crime scene?"
Officer Guerra pointed in the direction of the apartment building with police personnel going in and out of it. "Triple homicide, from the looks of it. I'd suggest you put something on your shoes before you go down there."
"By the way," Riesman said, "What are you guys doing here?"
McClain replied with a smirk, "Standard procedure whenever the Punisher commits a crime. We arrive and search for the son of a bitch."
The detectives decided to split up and look at the crime scenes with one of the plain clothes officers each. It was shaping up to be one real long night.
SCHWARTZ AND MCCLAIN were looking over the grisly tableau in the boiler room of the apartment building. Schwartz was looking at where the bodies were lying and he had to admit that this had the earmarks of a professional hit. Each body was lying on the cold cement floor in the same positions when they fell. Only one of them had time to get a weapon out. The fact that no one in the building heard any shots meant a silencer was used. This was also confirmed by the telltale burn marks on two of the victim's clothes. Off to the side next to a badly dressed man was a large silver suitcase holding automatic weapons.
"Take a look at this," Schwartz said with a sound of astonishment in his voice as he held up one of the AKs. "Something tells me that this don't look like a circle jerk."
"We've already got IDs on the two gangbangers," McClain said consulting his notes. "Eugene Stover and Antwon Miller, both of them are members of S.I.K., meaning Staten Island Killers. Basically a bunch of wannabe Bloods looking to carve out a piece of the action in town. We're waiting on the ID of that guy in the suit"
"You know what I think? I'll bet that the Punisher took these guys out and then headed into the park to get to the subway for a quick getaway. On his way there, he sees the woman in the park getting attacked and steps in to stop the rape."
"Then the beat cops enter the park and see him and he makes his escape," Lt. McClain said, finishing the detective's theory. "Let's get out of here so the CSIs can do their jobs."
AS THE DETECTIVES WERE BUSY GETTING THE FACTS, Lindsay Rollins was inside the nightclub not far away from the park. She and her friends were enjoying a night on the town when she realized that her sister Carol hadn't come in yet. She stepped outside to look for her and discovered something that chilled her to the bone. She saw her little sister lying very still in a secluded spot between the club and another building. Her dress was in tatters and her face looked like someone had been beating her. She was covered not only in blood from the slashed throat but also with a foul smelling clear liquid. Finally, after a few seconds that felt like an eternity, Lindsay Rollins screamed for help.
DETECTIVE RIESMAN AND OFFICER GUERRA were taking the statements of the two beat cops. Riesman felt sympathy for officers Klug and Ortega. After all, it's not every day you get a chance to see one of New York's most infamous residents; especially when they're within breathing distance. Ortega had a Band-Aid on his face where Klug's weapon was thrown at him. Klug was unharmed except for his wounded pride.
"So, you guys were passing by when you heard a scream coming inside the park. Then, when you entered, you saw the Punisher fighting a man who ran off and you tried to arrest him.
"You got it," Ortega said while holding an ice pack to his face. "I could see that the man the Punisher was fighting was white wearing a hooded sweatshirt and jeans. He took off through the trees to the north. We confronted the Punisher and he dropped this gun. At that point he...he got the better of us." Ortega's gazed toward the ground at his last statement, his feeling of embarrassment trying to overpower him.
"Hey," Jason Riesman said with an encouraging tone. "You guys did everything by the book and you made sure the woman survived until the paramedics arrived. One thing though, you sure that this guy you confronted was the Punisher?"
Officer Klug gave a rueful smile at what he thought to be a dumb question. "Trust us; his picture is hanging up in every squad room in the five boroughs, it was him. Besides, who else with except for him walks around town with a big white skull on his t-shirt?"
The detective gave a little smirk at that statement. The Punisher was to New York City what Bigfoot was to the Pacific Northwest; if you saw him, you wouldn't confuse him with anyone else. After a few more minutes of taking statements, he met up with his partner and officer McCann. The four of them exchanged notes. Suddenly, another officer ran up to the four of them.
"We just got a report of a second attack not far from here over at a nightclub. Paramedics said that she was dead before they got there."
WITHIN MINUTES, the four of them arrived at the new crime scene and they all were feeling a sense of embarrassment and anger. Near the crime scene, Lindsay Rollins was a nonfunctioning mess crying her eyes out while breathing into an oxygen mask. Detective Schwartz was pissed off because this happened while they were all looking over the two crime scenes less than a couple blocks away. Soon, all four of them were feeling the same sense of anger as he was.
At nearly every homicide he had been to, when he found himself standing over a victim, he knew that this person's murder would be avenged no matter what. Here was this beautiful young woman, one minute out with her friends with not a care in the world, and the next she's lying dead in an alley like a discarded tissue. That was when he said to himself: We're gonna get you, you son of a bitch.
