Chapter 13: Darkness at the Oasis
Residence of Freddie Heggs
Turtle Head Road
10:30 PM
Bill Harvey, Jay Halstead, Hailey Upton, and Juan Cortez stealthily arrived and made their way up to the double-wide trailer that was home to Freddie Heggs, who they all now knew was an alias for Ryan Cardenas.
The white clapboard trailer sat far off the roadway on Turtle Head Road, which was in close proximity to Winterville's Route 6, where the Tucker Farm was located. There were no vehicles in the driveway, the trailer itself was completely dark, and the mailbox at the edge of the driveway was full with what appeared to be about two weeks' worth of uncollected mail. By the looks of things, no one had been present at the trailer for an extended period of time.
Harvey was clad in his FBI windbreaker with a plain black cotton t-shirt and a bulletproof vest underneath, black cargo pants, and black combat boots. The Chicago detectives all wore Chicago Police windbreakers over their respective attire with their CPD badges on chains around their necks, with all of them also wearing bulletproof vests underneath.
Finally, Juan Cortez had swapped out his normally tropical apparel for a black cotton turtleneck, blue jeans, and black hiking boots. Over his shirt, he wore a bulletproof vest he had been loaned by the Winterville PD, and he was without a hat, which was a rarity for him. He was also now armed with a silver Smith and Wesson .357 Model 60 revolver that Hank Voight had allowed him to borrow.
The 3 law enforcement officers and their now deputized Yaran counterpart carefully made their way up onto the trailer's front porch, with Harvey at the forefront and the others right behind him in what was known as a "stacked" tactical formation. Harvey quietly withdrew his Beretta PX4 Compact handgun from his black leather shoulder holster with his right hand before using his left to loudly knock on the front door.
"Freddie Heggs!" Harvey hollered, "FBI! Open the damn door now or we're coming in!"
Getting no answer after a few seconds, Harvey looked to the others behind him. "Exigent circumstances?" he whispered to them. The others all nodded in agreement.
Harvey nodded back before stepping slightly back, cocking a leg, and kicking at the front door. It took him 3 kicks before the door finally burst free of its housing, at which point they made their way inside, guns drawn and tactically clearing every room.
"Living room is clear!" Halstead called out. The living room was furnished by nothing but a beige couch and what looked like a handmade wooden coffee table, with no TV anywhere in sight.
"Kitchen's clear!" Upton hollered. The small kitchen came complete with a wraparound counter, which was decked out with white tiling and matching white tile shelving. No dishes were in the sink, the table sat empty, and the entire kitchen itself was so clean that it was essentially sterile. The pungent aroma of bleach hung in the air.
Harvey and Juan made their way into the only bedroom in the farthest rear section of the trailer. After tactically clearing every corner, the pair noticed a perfectly-made queen-size bed, a small nightstand with nothing but a cheap table lamp atop it, and a large brown oak writing desk sitting against the right-side wall. The desktop was littered with papers and opened file folders.
Directly above the desk was a large rectangular cork-backed display board. Tacked up on it were not only photographs and various reports intricately detailing the comings and goings of the so-called Black Star Killer's 3 victims, but also discreetly taken surveillance photos of every law enforcement officer investigating the case.
Seeing this, Juan stepped backwards to the bedroom's doorway. "Detectives!" he called to them, "You should come see this!"
Halstead and Upton soon joined them. "What's up?" Halstead asked.
A now uneasy Harvey pointed to the images on the cork board. "He's been a busy boy," he said, "He's done surveillance on all the victims and us, too. He's got you guys, me, Troy, Abby, Porter, Franco, Mannell, and even a printed screen grab of Juan checking in with Customs at Logan Airport."
Upton stepped further into the room and pointed to a trio of enlarged black and white photos that were also tacked upon the board. "Not only that," she said, "He's been watching Hank, Jay, and I as well. These photos are of us getting out of the car at Winterville PD after we first arrived in town."
Harvey stepped over beside her and nodded at the photos before looking down and examining the different sets of papers littering the desktop. He picked up one particular set of papers and had his interest peaked. "Hey Hailey?" he inquired, "Is your full name Hailey Ann Upton by chance?"
Upton raised an eyebrow. "Yeah," she replied, "Why?"
Harvey passed her the papers. "Those are a copy of your transcripts from the University of Chicago," he said, "There's a copy of your degree on the bottom there."
A now engrossed Upton took over for Harvey and started mulling over all the papers. "Holy shit," she said, "Jay, he's gotten ahold of all our CPD personnel jackets, too."
Halstead went over to his partner and looked over her shoulder as she continued going through everything. "Damn Hailey," he said, "He's even got some of our internal reports. Your action reports from when you were undercover with that meth ring, your transfer order when you joined us in Intelligence. This dude really did his homework."
Harvey then found something else. "You aren't kidding, dude" he said, "I just found both mine and Troy's degrees from the FBI Academy in here. He's also somehow got a copy of Troy's FBI resignation letter and my early retirement papers." He then shuffled through some more papers. Picking another small stack of them up, he sighed in frustration. "Son of a bitch," he muttered.
Halstead went over to him. "What?" he asked.
"This fucker's got my goddamn CIA dossier and my use of force report from when I shot his half-brother in Yara," Harvey barked, "He's been following our every move."
Route 6
10:45 PM
Meanwhile, Troy Harrison, Hank Voight, and Abigail Asher were rolling along Route 6 in one of the black Ford Expedition SUVs. Harrison was driving while Voight rode shotgun next to him and Asher sat in the backseat. Voight and Asher looked out their respective windows diligently, on the lookout for the missing 1980 Mercury Zephyr station wagon.
This bubble of conscientious silence was interrupted by the shrill ringing of Harrison's cell phone. Noticing that it was Bill Harvey calling, the sheriff took one hand off the wheel for a moment to press the speakerphone button. "Hey Bill," Harrison greeted, "What's up?"
"We just went through our boy's trailer out here on Turtle Head," Harvey explained, "He had a shit-ton of research on all of us. Hailey and Jay's CPD personnel jackets, our FBI information, my CIA files and reports, a copy of Guy Marvel's book on the Eden's Gate thing…the list goes on."
"So," Voight cut in, "What you're saying is that this piece of shit's been planning this for a long time."
"It would definitely appear that way," Harvey replied, "Yeah."
"Where are you guys now?" Harrison asked.
"We sealed the trailer and called the State Police," Harvey said, "They're rolling some troopers to us now and they're almost here."
Just then, Harrison's phone beeped, indicating a call waiting. "Hang on a minute, Bill" Harrison said, "Jayden Porter's on the other line. I'm going to conference him in."
Harrison used his free hand to conference the police chief into their conversation. "Hey Jayden," he greeted, "You're conferenced in with me, Bill, Hank, and Abby. What's going on?"
"Hey guys," Porter replied from the phone, "We just got a nine-one-one call reporting a sighting of the Zephyr. The caller gave a perfectly-matching license number."
"Where at?" Asher asked.
"Oasis Park," Porter said from the phone, "The entrance down the road from the hospital."
"That spot where the pump house is?" Harvey inquired from his end of the line.
"You got it," Porter replied, "Franco and I are on our way there now from the station. Officer Munroe's right behind us."
"Copy that," Harrison said, "Bill, change of plans, man. You, Jay, and Hailey meet us at the park entrance."
"The troopers are pulling in now," Harvey replied, "We'll talk to them really quickly and then meet you there."
"Cool," Harrison said, "Jayden, is there a way you can have somebody covering all the park entrances in case Cardenas bolts on us?"
"Robbie Mannell sent some additional VSP units to back us up," Porter replied, "I'll have them post up at each entrance gate."
"Sounds great," Harrison said, "We'll see you guys in a bit."
Oasis Park
Hospital Drive entrance
10 Minutes Later
All 9 of the responding officers arrived at the Hospital Drive entrance of Oasis Park. Rolling up on the scene, they took sight of the discarded 1980 Mercury Zephyr station wagon. The vehicle was crudely parked in one of the farthest public parking spots right in front of a small sewage pump house building.
Harrison jumped out of the Expedition and carefully withdrew his Sig-Sauer P-226 handgun from his shoulder holster. He carefully checked around the castoff vehicle and, upon finding no occupants inside, turned and shook his head to the others.
"Empty," he quietly said before putting his free hand in the center of the hood, "Engine's cold, too. This thing's been here a while."
Stepping forward, Chief Porter noticed that the bright yellow steel entrance gate that provided ingress to the park's rear hiking trail was wide open. "That should be closed," he said, "The park usually closes at seven p.m."
"Right," Harrison said, "Everyone keep your weapons hot and let's stack up on the trail. I've got a bad feeling about this."
Everyone did as the sheriff had instructed and drew their respective firearms, falling into a line-style stacking formation as they quietly started making their way onto the wooded hiking trail. Harrison led the pack and got about 50 feet in when he saw a glint of light hit the center of his vest.
"What the fuck?" he muttered.
Realizing what was about to potentially happen, Lieutenant Asher's eyes went wide. "Troy!" she hollered, "Get down!"
A single gunshot then cracked through the perceived serenity of the night air.