His car radio blaring, Bosco tried to put tonight's events behind him. He knew his abrupt departure from Haggarty's would surely gain him a lecture from Faith, but all he cared about was getting home. He figured any unwanted speeches from his partner would perhaps be deterred if he arrived at the precinct early enough and got out of the locker room before she got there.
His partner's motherly ranting and raving was the least of his worries. He hated to admit it, but he was barely functioning on two or three hours of sleep a night and knew he needed more. He still hadn't eaten and the thought of food held no interest for him.
Bosco noticed an open market ahead, and as much as he didn't want to, forced himself to pull up to it. He was out of mostly everything he used on a daily basis and would have to replenish his stock sooner or later. He vowed to perform the chore as quickly as possible.
The caffeine tablets and eye drops were on the top of his list along with bottled water and various paper products. He grabbed a box of energy bars as he headed for the register.
Due to the recent violent robberies, he carefully and thoroughly scanned each individual in the store while he waited in the short line. Unlike the Jolly's incident, he now carried his off-duty weapon and was prepared for any unexpected trouble. He paid extra attention to where each customer's hands were placed and what they were holding as they carried on with their shopping. He was aware that three of the four male Caucasian customers, himself included, were of average height and weight, as was the man he hoped to apprehend. The thought crossed his mind of how difficult it was to locate and arrest someone so ordinary in a population the size of New York City.
He turned his head and looked up and down each aisle as he aimlessly inched closer to the counter, but none of the faces matched the one imbedded in his memory.
"Sir..."? He heard the clerk address him.
"Yes..." Bosco replied as he looked at the petite woman behind the cash register.
"I asked if you found everything you needed." The patient female continued.
"Oh...yeah, I did...thanks." Bosco answered, lost in thought as he set the few items on the counter and waited for the total amount he owed to be tabulated. He focused on the door as it opened and observed a young couple enter the building.
"That will be 21.97." The clerk said as she bagged the items.
Bosco paid and thanked the cashier as he left the store, still observant of his surroundings as he entered his car.
He recently had the Mustang detailed and was proud of the outcome. Jimmy Dougherty used to tease him relentlessly and called the car 'a chick magnet', bragging how he didn't need a muscle car of his own since the female sex was attracted to him, not a pile of metal. "Man...things sure change!" He said to himself, amused by the flashback.
Last he heard, Jimmy and Kim were together again. In fact, they were rumored to be engaged, ready to give marriage a second chance. Even though the firefighter got on his nerves at times, Bosco hoped only the best for the Dougherty clan. He briefly wondered if he'd ever marry and father a child, as a sudden, loud car horn and bright headlights brought him back to full attention.
"Watch where you are going, stupid man!" The angry taxi driver yelled out of the open cab window in broken English as he held up his middle finger in sheer annoyance.
"Sorry man." Bosco quietly responded, his voice barely above a whisper, knowing the irate foreigner never heard his half-hearted apology.
He continued for a few more blocks and parked in the small lot of the building next to his own, wishing there would be more adequate lighting. Even so, he was pleasantly surprised to find an empty spot. He preferred off street parking but very rarely got it. He felt his car was safer in the confines of a lot than on the open street. He made sure to remove his purchase and locked the vehicle.
Bosco entered the apartment building and checked his mail. The box contained nothing but bills which he tossed into his bag. He unlocked the second set of doors and trudged up the stairway to the third floor, deciding not to wait for the stuffy elevator.
He locked the apartment door as he walked in, a habit he never forgot, seeing the horrifying things he witnessed as a cop. The dining area, table ceiling light he left on day and night, still glowed to welcome him.
He set the bag of items on the table and dropped his hoodie on the sofa, completely forgetting about the envelope Stevens gave him earlier. He checked his messages and sure enough, there was a terse but furious one from his partner. He knew she'd be angry but he didn't expect her to be livid. He would have to listen to her rambling lecture at the house, or, no doubt, sometime during patrol and wasn't looking forward to it. He double checked the alarm setting which showed four am.
The urge to lay down was overwhelming and won over his nightly ritual. He was fast asleep within a matter of seconds.
The cop went about his business never noticing the man on the bicycle as he followed him to the store and to his home, nor did he see him as he watched him park and enter the apartment building.
The murderer knew where his prey resided, that was sufficient for now. He rode off into the stillness of the night as the thunder and lightening of an approaching storm heralded its impending fury. The killer planned to return well before daybreak.
"You sure you're okay back there?" Davis asked the rear seat passenger. "I know there isn't much leg room."
"I'm fine. You didn't have to drive me though. I could have taken a cab." Faith replied as she stared out the window. The streets were soaked by the passing storm and a light drizzle continued. She left Bosco a message earlier and would have her say in person later.
"I promised Bos I'd take you home." The handsome driver responded.
"Don't be too hard on him Faith." Sully chimed in. "We all have bad days."
"Yeah...well...his bad days have turned into bad weeks and I'm kinda getting sick of it." She answered in annoyance, remembering how immature Bosco could be at times.
"What's up with him anyway?" Sullivan questioned. "He looks like crap lately." He stated in a serious tone.
"I'm not sure Sully. He isn't saying much." She thought back to her conversation with her partner earlier that night, unsure how much information to divulge to the two men. "I do know he's hiding something though."
"You think he's in some kind of trouble?" Ty cast a concerned glance in the rear view mirror. "He's gotta know we'll do whatever to help." He turned to Faith as he waited for the light to change.
"Davis is right Faith. All he has to do is ask." The veteran officer in the passenger seat confirmed his partner's assistance, even though he knew Boscorelli well enough to believe that the younger officer usually kept private matters to himself.
"Thanks guys. I'll make sure he knows that." Faith answered as they pulled up to her building. "And thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it." She responded as she exited the car. "See you both later."
"Good night Faith." They simultaneously said as they watched her walk into the main entrance.
"Shit...man, I'd hate to be Bosco when she catches up to him this afternoon." Ty said, unsure how seriously to take the whole situation.
"Yeah...I know." Sully answered with a far away look.
"What are you thinking?" Davis asked as he pulled away from the curb.
"Bosco's place is on the way to mine. Maybe we should check if his car's there." Sullivan suggested.
"He was in a foul mood tonight. Maybe he just wanted to drink alone." Ty offered.
"Maybe...but it would be better if he did it at home than at another bar." Sully stated as they passed O'Malley's and he scanned the parking lot, relieved the Mustang wasn't there.
"Hey...everything okay?" Fred sleepily asked as Faith entered their bedroom.
"Yeah...it is now that I'm home. I hope I didn't wake you." She said as she walked over to her husband and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"No...you didn't. I was getting worried though...it's almost two." Fred replied.
"I know...I'm sorry...I didn't think we'd be out so late and..." She began as Fred interrupted.
"Faith...the last time you came home this late from a night out, Sullivan had a crisis. Who is it now...or do I even have to ask?" Her husband persisted.
"No Fred...its nothing like that." She reassured him. "Go back to sleep." She said as she went into the bathroom, hoping she was right.
The cold blooded killer was back at 1844, 148th Street within forty five minutes. The storm passed through quickly and left the streets emptier than usual. A definite plus, he thought.
The lingering, wormy scent of the heavy downpour filled the air. For a split second, the aroma took him back to his childhood and reminded him of the glee filled times he and his brother spent looking for night crawlers after a storm and proudly using them for fishing the next morning.
He climbed the few steps to the first set of double doors and entered the vestibule of the building. The next set of doors was, unfortunately, locked. He looked over the mailboxes in front of him until he found the one that interested him. M. Boscorelli, #10, which he correctly assumed was also the apartment number. He realized apartment ten was on the third floor, not a plus. He could see an elevator through the small glass portion on the old, thick wooden door. A possible plus. He considered himself a patient man and would find out another night.
He went back outside and headed for the parking lot. After carefully surveying the area, he went about his business, enveloped by the partial fog, very dark night, and dimly lit surroundings.
"Well...what do you think?" Davis asked as they drove by Bosco's apartment complex. "Everything looks quiet enough."
"Yeah...I guess...slow down...there's a parking lot ahead." Sully suggested, not noticing the blue Mustang on the street. He was beginning to feel a little ridiculous as their quest progressed, nevertheless, he knew the short trip would calm any uneasiness on his part if Bosco was at home. "Hold up...I see it...there, against the wall." As meticulous as usual the older officer noted.
"That's good then...right?" Ty inquired. "If he's up to something, he probably wouldn't be at home." The young man reasoned.
"Maybe..." Sully's voice trailed off, remembering that he was at home, alone, when his fellow officers came to his rescue and escorted him to the wooded cabin that cold winter night. "Well...at least he's here. We'll talk to him tomorrow." He added, with some reluctance, nonetheless, sure it would be better to confront Bosco at the house than to wake him now. "Home James!" He teased his partner in a lighthearted manner.
"Yes Sir!" Ty played along, responding in a professional tone, as they both chuckled, unaware of the man hidden in the shadows next to the impeccable Mustang.
After three hours, two of which held the luxury of much needed sleep, Bosco climbed out of bed. The alarm would be going off shortly anyway he reasoned, wishing he could have slept longer.
It would be getting light within the next half hour or so. There was still some time for a quick drive by of the previous murder/robbery locations. Maybe he would get lucky and spot the killer, he thought, as he finished in the bathroom.
The apartment was stifling and he craved the fresh morning air. He grabbed an energy bar, two caffeine tablets, and a bottle of room temperature water, which he, unfortunately, forgot to refrigerate last night, and rushed out the door and down three flights of stairs.
The early morning air was damp and chilly and sent a sudden shiver through his body. A feeling of foreboding or doom, he wasn't sure which since it passed in an instant, filled his senses. For a split second, he felt like an animal going off to slaughter, unaware of it's fateful destiny.
He cautiously stepped onto the sidewalk with heightened awareness and carefully scanned his surroundings. Just as he was about to chide himself on his absurd behavior, he stepped further into the parking lot but didn't get far before he noticed the horrifying sight before him.
His most prized possession was beyond ruin. He ran the few short steps to his beloved car as his anger intensified, all thought of his previous anxiety replaced by sheer stupefaction.
The deep blue, metallic factory paint on the Mustang was now mostly covered by a repulsive, fluorescent orange and green. From hood to trunk, including the roof, windows, and wheel covers, his car looked like a psychedelic display on a ruined masterpiece. A savage, graffitied act of vandalism on a priceless Picasso.
"Son of a bitch!" Bosco cursed out loud as he took in the awful sight while walking around the car and surveying the damage. "Damn it!" Who would possibly commit such a heinous act, he agonized.
He quickly ran to the sidewalk and inspected the street in both directions. He then maneuvered discreetly into the lot, but not a soul was to be seen. Upon further inspection, he realized the paint was mostly dry which lead him to believe the cruel act must have occurred at least a couple of hours ago.
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket as he noticed an envelope on the windshield under the driver's side wiper blade. He delayed a second, knowing if he touched the sealed paper, he would compromise any possible evidence the area held. In that moment, desire ruled over common sense and he eagerly tore the envelope apart, removing the folded sheet of paper as his heart raced mercilessly. The message it contained brought back his earlier feelings of trepidation and doom.
I KNOW WHERE YOU WORK AND NOW I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE -
BY THE TIME YOU READ THIS, THERE WILL BE ANOTHER ROBBERY
AND PERHAPS EVEN ANOTHER DEATH - HOW DOES IT FEEL TO KNOW
INNOCENT PEOPLE ARE DYING AND YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING TO
STOP IT! - HOW DOES IT FEEL KNOWING YOUR DAYS ARE NUMBERED?
He crumbled the note as sheer dread threatened to consume him while he again took in his immediate surroundings. He was followed home! Was he being watched now? Was there another robbery by the madman as the note suggested? Another murder? He shoved the wrinkled paper into his hoodie pocket and felt the envelope he received earlier from Stevens, which he'd completely forgotten about. He pulled the envelope from his pocket and tore it open.
YOU'LL NEVER GET ME! - WATCH YOUR BACK, PIG! - I HAVE A
BULLET WITH YOUR NAME ON IT!
Bosco stood in the parking lot, dumbfounded, as he considered his options while feelings of helplessness and genuine fear overcame him.
The murderer tossed and turned on the uncomfortable mattress in the sweltering bedroom for what seemed like hours. He returned to the apartment a short time ago, on the verge of another robbery he had planned to execute at a nearby convenience store. All seemed in order, however, when he felt for his gun and was ready to brandish the weapon and shove it into the face of the unsuspecting cashier, two uniformed police officers strolled into the establishment. Needless to say, he got out of the store in a hurry after purchasing a pack of cigarettes and avoiding all eye contact. Tomorrow was another day with the promise of another opportunity, he thought to himself as a wicked smile formed on his parched lips.
He thought of his recent work of art on the immaculate metal canvas. Even though it was truly a shame to disfigure such a fine piece of machinery, he was quite pleased with his artistic endeavor. He finally fell into a restless sleep, wishing he could see the arrogant pigs surprised and anguished expression when he would first witness the colorful display.
Visions of the last night he spent with his brother filled his subconscious. It was the night they finally decided to leave the City and head out West. They didn't have enough money for two, one-way bus tickets to get far enough, but Danny, ever the optimist, had a plan, and after much convincing, and without divulging any details, got his brother to meet him in Grant Park in ten minutes.
The killer remembered the pleading look in his younger brother's eyes, and even though he went against his better judgment and didn't want to separate, Danny always had a way of talking people into doing things they weren't sure about. For a split second, he also remembered the disgusting array of smells emitting from the rotting garbage that assaulted his senses, and the large rat that scurried past him that hot, humid night in the dark alley as he waited a minute or two before he continued to the Park.
When he reached his deserted destination, he hid behind some dense brush and shrubbery next to a large oak, for what seemed like several minutes, until he finally noticed his brother nearing from the distance. He was close enough to see that Danny was out of breath with beads of perspiration covering his handsome, young face. He also noticed the bag his brother clutched close to his side.
As he prepared to crawl from his hiding place and confront Danny, two police cars, in full pursuit mode, barreled over the curb and into the pristine Park on either side of his brother. Danny tried to run but a third patrol car pulled up to trap the young man. The cops threw their RMP doors open and cowered behind them, weapons drawn and yelling demands.
Before he could call to Danny, his brother pulled out a handgun from the waistband of his jeans and raised the weapon, surely an innocent attempt to give himself up. Suddenly, the eerie silence was broken by gunshots, drowning out the screams he made to his brother, the anguish in his voice overpowered by the loud police gunfire. The terrible carnage he witnessed before him was played out as if in slow motion.
"What in God's name is Danny doing with a gun!" His mind screamed in shocked surprise as he saw his beloved brother fall to the ground. As much as he wanted to run to Danny's side, the fear he experienced at that moment caused him to back further into the dark park, never being seen by the ruthless pigs as they slowly converged towards the fallen body like a pack of hungry wolves. The cruiser headlights and spotlights reflected off of the bright red, life-sustaining liquid flowing from the unmoving form and onto the meticulously manicured landscaping.
He turned to run from the awful sight, crying uncontrollably as he did so, right into the arms of Boscorelli...
The killer abruptly sat up in bed as fear and guilt overwhelmed him. His heart beating rapidly as a cold sweat covered his shivering body. After several seconds, he realized he relived the awful nightmare yet again. He was alone in the dark room, the window fan blowing fiercely in his face as tears of grief for his lost brother stung his eyes. Even though Boscorelli wasn't one of the cops on the scene that horrible night, he knew with the pig dead and gone, the terrible nightmares would finally cease. Whether the thought was rational or not, he didn't care, he knew the deed he had in mind would have to be performed tonight.
The well dressed, middle aged man entered the ornate office and took his usual seat at the head of the long table. He addressed four others who were almost as well outfitted and already seated. "Any word on his whereabouts?"
"Not yet sir. We have some leads though. It shouldn't be long now." One of the men answered.
"Good...make sure of that! As you all know, I'll be leaving for a short trip the day after tomorrow and I want the situation taken care of promptly." The middle aged man continued. "Do I make myself clear?" He asked as he slammed his alligator skinned briefcase shut.
"Yes sir...very clear." The second man responded.
"Excellent! Now on to other, equally important issues." The well dressed individual continued, as he lit his favorite brand of Cuban cigar.
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