The Cost
By: Mariel
Chapter 37
Rather than taking time to stop and talk with him in person, Jack phoned Terry while on the way down the elevator. "You hear about Hutchinson Ave?" he asked.
When Baldwin answered in the affirmative, Jack told him, "Sam and I are on the way there now. I need you to send someone to 'Malcomb's Fine Furniture' in our place. Explain what we need and get them out there as soon as you can." He stopped to listen a moment, then said, "Yeah, that's right. Sam says it's just a small place. Let me know what they find. And for heaven's sake, make sure you send someone with a head on their shoulders."
Samantha looked over at him, noting both the comment and the tone in which it was made. To have spoken that way, Jack had to be feeling more stress than he was showing. Looking away, she admitted to herself that she'd have been lying if she said she didn't feel it too.
Pressure was mounting from all directions. Van Doren needed some positive results fast, or her fight to keep Jack on the case would be lost. The press was out for a story, and this case had become their cause celebre, no matter that the sensationalism they lent to the proceedings helped nothing. And Jack - she glanced at him quickly as the elevator slid to a stop. Another body. Another boy dead. It didn't matter how much Jack understood it wasn't his fault, he was still going to assume blame...
The elevator door opened with a slow swoosh. Sending a small prayer to anyone listening that it all be over soon, she stepped forward.
* * * * * * * * * *
Thirty minutes later, they stood beside the body of Spaulding's most recent victim. It wasn't easy to look at. This boy had been more severely tortured and beaten than any of the previous ones, and by the time Jack turned away, the image of the broken body had been added permanently to his mental album of horrors. Taking his cell phone out, he pressed buttons, then held it to his ear. When the phone picked up on the other end, his voice rasped, "He's going over the deep end fast, Terry. The body's a mess. It's like he wanted to tear it apart."
He listened a moment, then shook his head. "We don't know. The state the body's in, it's impossible to tell. Have any of the teams reported back in? Has anyone been reported missing?"
Samantha, who had moved away from the body when Jack had, looked back at it. Could that broken lump of flesh be one of the boys whose picture they'd examined and whose file they'd read last night? Could any of the smiling features they'd seen in all those countless files be hidden beneath the abrasions, bruises and swelling? She closed her eyes, for a moment overwhelmed.
When she opened them, however, she did so with a new resolve. What was done, was done. You couldn't change the past; you could only use it to help you in the future. This boy was dead - now they had to concentrate on preventing it from happening to another.
Jack was still on the phone. Concentrating on the one-sided conversation again, she heard him say, "The timing and the ferocity are both important-" He stopped abruptly, listening, then shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
Jack turned to look at the body. "There may be a chance he's on a spree, but I don't see him being at the point where he'd kill anyone who crossed his path-" Again, he was cut off, and he stopped to listen. Walking away from the body towards the doorway, he finally said, "Check in with the teams out working on the Academy students. Martin and Danny should have something by now, too. See if any of the boys are not where they're supposed to be. Check with NYPD to see if they have anything. That's all we can do for now." Again, he listened a moment, then said goodbye and hung up.
"We've got to find out who this kid is," he said, turning to look across the room at the body.
Samantha, who had followed him, nodded. Both turned when Vivian approached them. "Spaulding has definitely been living here. My guess is not too long ago." She looked around the room and explained, "There's no dust, so he couldn't have moved out too long ago." Glancing back at where the body still lay, she added, "Why he left his calling card here is anyone's guess."
Samantha looked at Jack. "His having moved out recently fits in with the furniture thing. He's moved somewhere more permanent. You obviously don't buy new furniture for a place like this."
Jack looked at her, glad for the distraction. "Good observation. Terry's going to call us as soon as the team he sent out to Malcomb's calls in. Maybe they'll have something we can work with."
* * * * * * * * * * *
Jack watched as the body was carried through the front door and out to the waiting ambulance. Photographers, reporters, and the merely curious milled about outside. They obeyed the yellow police tape put up to keep the more aggressively interested at bay, but still created a presence that made those responsible for keeping the area secure nervously alert. The reporters, of course, were thrusting their microphones into the face of anyone on the other side of the tape that came within range, hoping for something interesting to report- or, barring that, something that with a little ingenuity could be made to sound interesting.
Standing inside, looking out through one of the boarded up windows, Jack grimaced in distaste and wondered what it would be like to earn one's living that way. Realising the thought was more than a little unfair - and due only to his recent less-than-pleasant media experience - he looked at Samantha, who, like a shadow, had been carefully following him about since they'd left the Federal Building.
"I wonder if we should say something to them," he said.
Samantha looked at him, surprised. There were many things Jack did, but speak to the press under anything other than duress or as part of a ploy to draw out a suspect? She had a hard time imagining it. Then she re- evaluated. Speaking to the press now would let Spaulding know Jack was still in control. Whether or not that would help or hinder things, she wasn't sure. It did bring forth the worried thought that it might push Spaulding over the edge he seemed to be sitting on so precariously. "What if he sees your talking to the press now as a challenge?" she asked. "What if it pushes him into going on that spree you were talking about with Terry?"
Jack held her gaze wordlessly, then turned to look out the window again. Slowly, he nodded. He couldn't handle another death on his conscience. Moving to face her, he made his decision. "Yeah, you're right." Then, looking about, he asked in a totally different tone, "But if I'm not going to talk to them, I want to avoid them. How good are you at leaving by the back way so no one sees you?"
She smiled. "Better than you'd ever imagine."
His lips curved. "We already know I'm an expert. We'll be back in the office before they know we're not here."
Samantha raised an eyebrow at the casual reference to his once frequent use of the rear exit of her apartment building. Saying nothing, however, she followed him towards where she knew a door led out to the back alley. They could circle around and be in their car without anyone knowing they'd left the building - provided there was no one staking out the back.
As luck would have it, the press had decided all the entertainment lay in the body now safely ensconced in the ambulance. The alley was clear, and they returned to the Federal Building without incident.
* * * * * * * * * * * * "I sent Fred Smith and a guy by the name of Cooper out to the furniture store," Terry reported as soon as Jack entered the office area. "And how did I get roped into being your person in charge when you're away?"
"Right place, right time," Jack said, striding past his friend and entering his office. Turning when he reached his desk, he asked, "So, what did they find?"
"Guy answering Spaudling's description walked into the store a few days ago and bought some furniture - nice, leather stuff. About eight thousand dollars worth. Had it delivered to a place in the Bronx. Our guys followed the lead and discovered the address was one of those storage places. They tracked down the truck driver, and he said when he got there, there were instructions for him to leave everything in a particular storage garage. He did as he was told, locked up like the note said, and left. He saw no one. Our guys had the storage garage opened, but there was nothing there. Spaulding had already cleared it out."
"So he's not quite as crazy as we could have hoped," Jack commented, feeling a sense of disappointment.
"Nope. It'd've been nice if he'd just had it delivered to his new place."
"Damn. Have they looked into the particulars of who rented the space? They'll need to check truck rentals, too. He'd have needed something to move everything from point 'A' to point 'B'."
"And considering the size and amount of furniture, he'd have had to hire someone to help, too. They're working on that now." There was a pause, then Terry said, "We do have one potential ace up our sleeve."
Jack looked up, his interest caught. "What do you mean?"
"Well, apparently one of the chairs Spaulding ordered wasn't ready. They're to deliver it tomorrow."
Jack's brows furrowed. "No way."
"I kid you not."
"So if we-"
"Exactly. This could be the opportunity we've been waiting for."
Thinking rapidly, Jack said, "To stay on the safe side, we've got to continue keeping an eye on the Academy kids."
Terri nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. He might decide to do someone in before the new chair arrives. I don't think he's on much of a schedule."
"So we stake out the storage compartment." Jack's voice held a touch of wonder at how simple that sounded.
"That's what I'd do if I were you." He bent over to pick up his briefcase. "And on that happy note," he said, hefting the weight of it in his left hand, "I must bid you adieu, my friend."
Jack looked up at him in surprise.
"Hey," the tall man said with a smile, "I have a real job, you know. The B&B murders, remember? The reason I'm here in the first place? They found another body over in Jersey early this morning. Just got the call. They're sending a car over; I should be outta here in about fifteen minutes or so."
Jack took a moment to take it in. Looking at his friend solemnly, he held his gaze and said, "I've appreciated your help. Thanks."
Terry made a deprecating gesture. His eyes crinkling in a knowing smile, he said, "It was like old times, wasn't it? Sometimes I miss this stuff, you know." "I know, I know - but you'd never put up with the traffic. You've said that already. Besides, you love tracking those serial crazies."
"That's true. It'd be hard to give up the good life." Sobering, Terry said, "I don't know what to say about the other stuff."
Jack shrugged, knowing what he was referring to. "Life's a bitch."
"Yeah," his friend responded, wishing there were some words of wisdom he could add. "Be good to yourself - and do the best you can, okay?"
"I always do, Terry," Jack replied, wishing he knew what 'the best' was. Not wanting to delve into things, he inhaled quickly and turned his attention to Terry's case. "That's three bodies you've had in this area, isn't it?"
Understanding, Terry allowed him the change of topic. "Yeah. The second one I looked at I'm not sure belongs to my serial guy, but the one phoned in this morning sounds like a dead ringer - pardon the pun. The body I was originally called in to look at was definitely part of the series."
"Any closer to finding him?"
"We're closer to finding him every time he kills someone and lets us find the body, Jack. You know that."
"Yeah, but it's a costly way of doing business."
Terry nodded slowly. Jack was right: too many bodies had to add up before they got the sum that pinpointed the murderer and put him away. There was little to be done about it, though. Fate was a hard task master, and those who died- He pulled his mind away from that train of thought. "We'll get him, and you'll get Spaulding. It's just a matter of time."
Jack suppressed a sigh. Time. It was a precious commodity, and, for some poor teen, it was likely running out.
End Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Rather than taking time to stop and talk with him in person, Jack phoned Terry while on the way down the elevator. "You hear about Hutchinson Ave?" he asked.
When Baldwin answered in the affirmative, Jack told him, "Sam and I are on the way there now. I need you to send someone to 'Malcomb's Fine Furniture' in our place. Explain what we need and get them out there as soon as you can." He stopped to listen a moment, then said, "Yeah, that's right. Sam says it's just a small place. Let me know what they find. And for heaven's sake, make sure you send someone with a head on their shoulders."
Samantha looked over at him, noting both the comment and the tone in which it was made. To have spoken that way, Jack had to be feeling more stress than he was showing. Looking away, she admitted to herself that she'd have been lying if she said she didn't feel it too.
Pressure was mounting from all directions. Van Doren needed some positive results fast, or her fight to keep Jack on the case would be lost. The press was out for a story, and this case had become their cause celebre, no matter that the sensationalism they lent to the proceedings helped nothing. And Jack - she glanced at him quickly as the elevator slid to a stop. Another body. Another boy dead. It didn't matter how much Jack understood it wasn't his fault, he was still going to assume blame...
The elevator door opened with a slow swoosh. Sending a small prayer to anyone listening that it all be over soon, she stepped forward.
* * * * * * * * * *
Thirty minutes later, they stood beside the body of Spaulding's most recent victim. It wasn't easy to look at. This boy had been more severely tortured and beaten than any of the previous ones, and by the time Jack turned away, the image of the broken body had been added permanently to his mental album of horrors. Taking his cell phone out, he pressed buttons, then held it to his ear. When the phone picked up on the other end, his voice rasped, "He's going over the deep end fast, Terry. The body's a mess. It's like he wanted to tear it apart."
He listened a moment, then shook his head. "We don't know. The state the body's in, it's impossible to tell. Have any of the teams reported back in? Has anyone been reported missing?"
Samantha, who had moved away from the body when Jack had, looked back at it. Could that broken lump of flesh be one of the boys whose picture they'd examined and whose file they'd read last night? Could any of the smiling features they'd seen in all those countless files be hidden beneath the abrasions, bruises and swelling? She closed her eyes, for a moment overwhelmed.
When she opened them, however, she did so with a new resolve. What was done, was done. You couldn't change the past; you could only use it to help you in the future. This boy was dead - now they had to concentrate on preventing it from happening to another.
Jack was still on the phone. Concentrating on the one-sided conversation again, she heard him say, "The timing and the ferocity are both important-" He stopped abruptly, listening, then shook his head. "No, I don't think so."
Jack turned to look at the body. "There may be a chance he's on a spree, but I don't see him being at the point where he'd kill anyone who crossed his path-" Again, he was cut off, and he stopped to listen. Walking away from the body towards the doorway, he finally said, "Check in with the teams out working on the Academy students. Martin and Danny should have something by now, too. See if any of the boys are not where they're supposed to be. Check with NYPD to see if they have anything. That's all we can do for now." Again, he listened a moment, then said goodbye and hung up.
"We've got to find out who this kid is," he said, turning to look across the room at the body.
Samantha, who had followed him, nodded. Both turned when Vivian approached them. "Spaulding has definitely been living here. My guess is not too long ago." She looked around the room and explained, "There's no dust, so he couldn't have moved out too long ago." Glancing back at where the body still lay, she added, "Why he left his calling card here is anyone's guess."
Samantha looked at Jack. "His having moved out recently fits in with the furniture thing. He's moved somewhere more permanent. You obviously don't buy new furniture for a place like this."
Jack looked at her, glad for the distraction. "Good observation. Terry's going to call us as soon as the team he sent out to Malcomb's calls in. Maybe they'll have something we can work with."
* * * * * * * * * * *
Jack watched as the body was carried through the front door and out to the waiting ambulance. Photographers, reporters, and the merely curious milled about outside. They obeyed the yellow police tape put up to keep the more aggressively interested at bay, but still created a presence that made those responsible for keeping the area secure nervously alert. The reporters, of course, were thrusting their microphones into the face of anyone on the other side of the tape that came within range, hoping for something interesting to report- or, barring that, something that with a little ingenuity could be made to sound interesting.
Standing inside, looking out through one of the boarded up windows, Jack grimaced in distaste and wondered what it would be like to earn one's living that way. Realising the thought was more than a little unfair - and due only to his recent less-than-pleasant media experience - he looked at Samantha, who, like a shadow, had been carefully following him about since they'd left the Federal Building.
"I wonder if we should say something to them," he said.
Samantha looked at him, surprised. There were many things Jack did, but speak to the press under anything other than duress or as part of a ploy to draw out a suspect? She had a hard time imagining it. Then she re- evaluated. Speaking to the press now would let Spaulding know Jack was still in control. Whether or not that would help or hinder things, she wasn't sure. It did bring forth the worried thought that it might push Spaulding over the edge he seemed to be sitting on so precariously. "What if he sees your talking to the press now as a challenge?" she asked. "What if it pushes him into going on that spree you were talking about with Terry?"
Jack held her gaze wordlessly, then turned to look out the window again. Slowly, he nodded. He couldn't handle another death on his conscience. Moving to face her, he made his decision. "Yeah, you're right." Then, looking about, he asked in a totally different tone, "But if I'm not going to talk to them, I want to avoid them. How good are you at leaving by the back way so no one sees you?"
She smiled. "Better than you'd ever imagine."
His lips curved. "We already know I'm an expert. We'll be back in the office before they know we're not here."
Samantha raised an eyebrow at the casual reference to his once frequent use of the rear exit of her apartment building. Saying nothing, however, she followed him towards where she knew a door led out to the back alley. They could circle around and be in their car without anyone knowing they'd left the building - provided there was no one staking out the back.
As luck would have it, the press had decided all the entertainment lay in the body now safely ensconced in the ambulance. The alley was clear, and they returned to the Federal Building without incident.
* * * * * * * * * * * * "I sent Fred Smith and a guy by the name of Cooper out to the furniture store," Terry reported as soon as Jack entered the office area. "And how did I get roped into being your person in charge when you're away?"
"Right place, right time," Jack said, striding past his friend and entering his office. Turning when he reached his desk, he asked, "So, what did they find?"
"Guy answering Spaudling's description walked into the store a few days ago and bought some furniture - nice, leather stuff. About eight thousand dollars worth. Had it delivered to a place in the Bronx. Our guys followed the lead and discovered the address was one of those storage places. They tracked down the truck driver, and he said when he got there, there were instructions for him to leave everything in a particular storage garage. He did as he was told, locked up like the note said, and left. He saw no one. Our guys had the storage garage opened, but there was nothing there. Spaulding had already cleared it out."
"So he's not quite as crazy as we could have hoped," Jack commented, feeling a sense of disappointment.
"Nope. It'd've been nice if he'd just had it delivered to his new place."
"Damn. Have they looked into the particulars of who rented the space? They'll need to check truck rentals, too. He'd have needed something to move everything from point 'A' to point 'B'."
"And considering the size and amount of furniture, he'd have had to hire someone to help, too. They're working on that now." There was a pause, then Terry said, "We do have one potential ace up our sleeve."
Jack looked up, his interest caught. "What do you mean?"
"Well, apparently one of the chairs Spaulding ordered wasn't ready. They're to deliver it tomorrow."
Jack's brows furrowed. "No way."
"I kid you not."
"So if we-"
"Exactly. This could be the opportunity we've been waiting for."
Thinking rapidly, Jack said, "To stay on the safe side, we've got to continue keeping an eye on the Academy kids."
Terri nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. He might decide to do someone in before the new chair arrives. I don't think he's on much of a schedule."
"So we stake out the storage compartment." Jack's voice held a touch of wonder at how simple that sounded.
"That's what I'd do if I were you." He bent over to pick up his briefcase. "And on that happy note," he said, hefting the weight of it in his left hand, "I must bid you adieu, my friend."
Jack looked up at him in surprise.
"Hey," the tall man said with a smile, "I have a real job, you know. The B&B murders, remember? The reason I'm here in the first place? They found another body over in Jersey early this morning. Just got the call. They're sending a car over; I should be outta here in about fifteen minutes or so."
Jack took a moment to take it in. Looking at his friend solemnly, he held his gaze and said, "I've appreciated your help. Thanks."
Terry made a deprecating gesture. His eyes crinkling in a knowing smile, he said, "It was like old times, wasn't it? Sometimes I miss this stuff, you know." "I know, I know - but you'd never put up with the traffic. You've said that already. Besides, you love tracking those serial crazies."
"That's true. It'd be hard to give up the good life." Sobering, Terry said, "I don't know what to say about the other stuff."
Jack shrugged, knowing what he was referring to. "Life's a bitch."
"Yeah," his friend responded, wishing there were some words of wisdom he could add. "Be good to yourself - and do the best you can, okay?"
"I always do, Terry," Jack replied, wishing he knew what 'the best' was. Not wanting to delve into things, he inhaled quickly and turned his attention to Terry's case. "That's three bodies you've had in this area, isn't it?"
Understanding, Terry allowed him the change of topic. "Yeah. The second one I looked at I'm not sure belongs to my serial guy, but the one phoned in this morning sounds like a dead ringer - pardon the pun. The body I was originally called in to look at was definitely part of the series."
"Any closer to finding him?"
"We're closer to finding him every time he kills someone and lets us find the body, Jack. You know that."
"Yeah, but it's a costly way of doing business."
Terry nodded slowly. Jack was right: too many bodies had to add up before they got the sum that pinpointed the murderer and put him away. There was little to be done about it, though. Fate was a hard task master, and those who died- He pulled his mind away from that train of thought. "We'll get him, and you'll get Spaulding. It's just a matter of time."
Jack suppressed a sigh. Time. It was a precious commodity, and, for some poor teen, it was likely running out.
End Chapter 37