Catch & Neutralize (17 page)

“We work on our own as well. CAN Institute Investigators keep up-to-date with the happenings in their own states and report any suspicious activity. We target all criminals that local authorities have trouble capturing, but our main goal is helping women and children. Or, should I say, children and women? Children are higher on the list because of their innocence and need for adult care.

“Remember that woman in Arkansas? Crystal King? A neighbor reported she heard a child crying in the next apartment at all hours of the day and night. It turned out Ms. King was leaving her undernourished 3-year-old in a dog crate while she went out clubbing or recovering from the night before. Not cool. We took care of that issue in a way the local authorities couldn’t. The toddler is now happy and healthy with a loving couple. The CAN Institute does extensive background checks on those adoptive parents we work with. Plus, they do random checks to make sure all stays well.”

“Sounds like I chose the right company to work with.”

Tiffany laughed. “Yes, but
they
chose
you
. You were fully investigated before being approached by a CAN Institute Recruiter. Everyone is. That’s the way it works. It’s harder to get into The Institute than the FBI. The Institute is now run exclusively by women. They allow some men, but only as contractors. None will ever advance to the top.”

“Hey, what I did to Stockton…not just to his skin. I sliced through the back of his ankles with that potato peeler. Well, more like sawing with that little instrument. Either way, his feet don’t work anymore. He’s…”

“Those were your orders,” Tiffany interrupted, “I know. I got a text message from The Institute. They don’t usually communicate like that, but it was the only way. They told me to provide the weapon, a potato peeler, just like they told you to use it on him. I know they’ve been in communication with you. Even if I don’t know details, I’m not stupid.”

“I wonder why they’re not sharing information with both of us. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We are not a team, Angie. We’re working individually towards the same goal. Don’t focus on the corporate teamwork sham. The Institute isn’t like that. Just so you know, Stockton Wood is to be treated with our highest level of punishment due to his severe abuse of power. He’s an officer of the law, supposed to protect and serve. Instead, he’s been using that power to abuse children and to let other abusers go free. He promotes cruelty and deserves what you did, Angie.” Tiffany spoke through tight lips. “Also, I want you to know, the way he treated me when we were dating has nothing to do with any of this.”

“Thanks for giving me inside information.” Angie ground one fist against her palm as if smashing a target’s face. “We’ve got orders to follow. Let’s get to work.”

~

Rolling and bumping the luggage hitch, Tiffany maneuvered the equivalent of a medieval metal wagon to the stairs. The oversized left wheel squeaked and spun like those found on worn out grocery carts. Tiffany pulled a lever on one side causing the other half to rise. The end result looked like a mesh wheelchair, cushionless and perfect for wheeling unfortunate individuals to Tiffany’s dungeon torture chamber.

“All right,” Tiffany said looking up the stairwell. “This is where I’ll need your help, Angie.”

Angie squinted She grabbed the raised end of the hitch, the end requiring the least amount of work. “Ya know, Tiffany, I could really use a drink right about now.”

“Yeah, okay.” Tiffany pushed her glasses up. “Let’s get this upstairs and then we’ll have a drink. Two, if you want.”

“I’m so thirsty all of a sudden.”

“You want to grab a water? There’s a case or two in the pantry.”

“No,” Angie said with a head shake. “I’d prefer a
real
drink, if you know what I mean.”

“Totally. We’ll need to address your recent alcohol overindulgence soon, before it gets out of hand.” Tiffany stooped grabbing the lower end of the hitch. “Ready?”

Lugging the hitch upstairs was uneventful. Angie lost hold only once, meaning it fell all the way down only once. Tiffany laughed and Angie cursed as they made their way down for a second go round.

At the top, Tiffany maneuvered the odd looking contraption into her room with Angie on her heels. Tiffany stopped short. Angie, busy not paying attention, ran into her.

“Jeeze, Tiffany! Wh…” Angie stopped mid-word.

They both stared at the empty, blood-soaked chair Stockton had once occupied.

“Well,” Angie’s eyes bolted around the room, “where’d he go?”

“Probably not too far with that skin and ankle problem you gave him.”

Tiffany tucked the hitch’s handle in place and scanned the floor. A slimy path lined from chair to bathroom. Tiffany turned to Angie and planted a finger before her closed lips. After Angie nodded, Tiffany pointed at the smeared blood. She looked back at Angie to confirm understanding. To be sure, Tiffany put a finger to Angie’s lips. Another nod from Angie gave confirmation she understood to keep her trap shut.

Scott remained exactly where they’d left him and appeared to be asleep.

“What’s the plan?” Angie whispered into Tiffany’s ear, cascading a waterfall of goose bumps down her right side.

Movement caught Tiffany’s peripherals. She held up two fingers, a 1970s peace sign. Her head tilted knowingly and she smiled.

Returning the smile, Angie’s head slanted back exposing her bruised neck.

There he was: one second on the bed, the next executing a seriously bad move. Seizing the opportunity, Tiffany slid her peace sign closed and pulling back, she turned and jabbed Scott’s throat. Hard.

Thumping to the floor, Scott fell silent. He laid with elbows bent, hands back. Although his eyes were open, they appeared distant and unfocused.

“That’s what you get,” Tiffany directed to Scott in a low whisper, “when you don’t plan a decent attack.”

“I didn’t see him get up. Good thing you did.” Angie’s eyes were wide. “Look.” She pointed at the floor. “He had the scissors.” She picked them up and placed them back on the table.

Tiffany nodded. Avoiding the bloody streak, she made her way over to the zip ties and grabbed a handful.

“Damn,” Angie said bending to get a better look at Scott, “you got him good.”

Two finger imprints stood out on his pale Adam’s apple.

“I need to put more of these on him,” Tiffany held up the zip ties, “attach him to the bed. Not sure how long he’ll be dazed, but probably not very.”

Bending over Scott, she zipped him to the bottom wooden rungs by both hands and feet. His body lay on the floor, parallel to the bed.

“He was totally getting under my skin, squirrelly and all over the place. Never knowing what he’d do next. I couldn’t take any more.” Shaking her head to emphasize each word, Tiffany said, “Not. One. More. Second.”

“What’re we going to do with him?” Angie appeared confused, her eyes squinty.

“Not sure yet. Scott is much worse than you think. Have you heard about The Invisible Rapist?”

“The one that’s been drugging and raping all of those college girls?”

“Yep, twelve so far. Two of those poor girls have turned up pregnant.” Tiffany glanced at Scott. “He has to be dealt with, but we need to wait for instructions from the CAN Institute.”

“You’re right. This is a job. It’s not up to us to decide his…” Angie stopped talking, her eyes showing a horrible realization.

“What?” Concern spilled from Tiffany. “What is it?”

“I left my contact device in the bathroom.”

“All of The Institute’s devices are thumbprint protected,” Tiffany said. “The devices are cleverly disguised. Don’t worry. Which did you get?”

“A mirrored compact. And, you’re right. Stockton’s never going to figure it out… unless he already knows.”

“He doesn’t.”

Angie shifted. “Are you sure? I mean, you used to date him. There’s no way he could’ve found out? Found something while you were asleep?”

“No, I’m sure. I told you, I’m not a soldier. I only provide counseling for soldiers. Soldiers in need of service are referred to me by The Institute, and then those soldiers contact me directly. I don’t have an Institute issued device. Not until next month after I complete training.”

“So, you’re absolutely sure Stockton didn’t find any of your notes or rummage through your patient files? There’s no chance you could’ve left your computer lying around for him to take a peek?”

Tiffany shook her head. “Not a chance. I’m a hundred percent positive.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“What we need to do is collect Stockton the Skinless and Scott the Invisible Rapist, get them secured in the basement. Then, we’ll get cleaned up. Aside from that, we need to get rid of Stockton’s cop car. We can pull it into the garage for now.”

“Are you sure about that?” Angie’s eyebrows rose. “I’m pretty certain cop cars have trackers.”

Tiffany grinned. “Not Stockton’s. He jammed it somehow. They keep replacing it, and he keeps jamming it. Stockton’s extracurricular activities are not ones he wants to share with the police force. He doesn’t want them tracking his location. We can chat about those specifics over dinner if you’ve got the stomach for it.”

Chapter 31

Officer Stockton Wood sat leaning against the bathroom wall, body fluids staining it and the floor beneath. He’d managed to slip his undershorts back on before crawling in. With eyes half-closed and mostly naked, his chest rose and fell steadily. Angie’s purse lay next to him, contents splayed over the floor.

He gripped her cell phone. Who to call? His buddies at the police station were the obvious answer, but no. There’d be too many questions, a police investigation—one of those deep and dirty investigations—where they’d find the truth. He’d go to prison. Bad things happen to police officers in prison.

Even worse for police officers with a fondness for underage hotties. Not like it was his fault. Most 12-year-olds looked 18, in his opinion, with their short shorts and halter tops and high-heeled sandals. Most of them winking and flirting and shaking their asses, practically begging for it.

Those little bimbos egged him on, excited him, pissed him off. What other choice did he have? It was their fault, not his. They got what they wanted in the end. And, so did he.

Stockton knew what he had to do. His only choice was to call a criminal, one of those he’d helped. They owed him,
all
of them owed him. He had one in mind, one he had hardcore evidence on locked up in his attic.

Stockton brought the phone closer to his face, eyeballing the screen and dialing carefully.

“Yo?” A cocky voice answered. Loud rap music played in the background. “Speak it fast. We be workin’.”

“Sharkey?” Stockton rasped. “Sharkey, Officer Wood. I need your help.”

“Yo, Wood. We be busy makin’ yo movies. What’d up?”

“Bring everyone to Bell Manor. Armed. I’m locked in an upstairs bathroom. My ex and two of her friends are trying to kill me. I’ve been drugged, beat, cut up. I can’t walk. Grab your crew and get your asses here. Now.”

No sounds other than rap music.

“NOW, Sharkey, if you know what’s best for you.” Stockton disconnected and tossed the phone behind the shower door. It clattered against tile and slid to the drain.

He wasn’t sure how much time he had before Sharkey and his crew made it here for the rescue, or how much time he had before his crazy ex decided to hang a noose around him. He should’ve known better than to date a psychologist. All of those bitches were out of their minds.

Stockton slid the rest of Angie’s things back inside her purse. He slung it up and sideways, relieved it landed on the counter.

He’d already looked around for a weapon, found nothing except that stupid gardening shovel. He hid it on the floor behind him, and then carefully removed his blood-soaked underwear. They felt tight, mushy, and too uncomfortable to deal with. He tossed them at the shower, heard them land with a soggy splat. Dark droplets of blood spattered against white tiles.

Nothing more he could do in this condition. He sat back and waited.

Chapter 32

Angie knew she couldn’t divulge information as that was against the CAN Institute Oath, but there was nothing against asking questions. At least she knew Tiffany’s role now, and the reason they want her protected.

Angie watched Tiffany grab the hitch and start rolling it towards the bathroom. By the blood smears, it was obvious that’s where Stockton went.

She turned to Angie. “This is my first assignment in the field. I thought it’d be fun to give the soldier thing a try. Not something I want to give up my psychology career to do, but something extra on the side. I’d really like to do more for the CAN Institute cause.” She focused on Angie’s eyes, tone sincere. “You didn’t know you’d be working with a fledgling. Thank you for accepting me.”

“I’m also a fledgling. Never had two targets at once. It’s nice to have help. Makes catching and neutralizing less overwhelming.”

“Tonight’s a busy night, probably too much for any one soldier.” Tiffany adjusted her glasses. “My cousin is meeting us here for dinner. She’s bringing a third target, a real worst of the worst monster. I’ll tell you more about him later. For now, let’s take care of Stockton the Skinless.”

“Ha! Stockton the Skinless,” Scott repeated from the floor, “I like that. You should make him the main course at your family get together.”

Angie gushed sarcasm: “I was thinking that should be you, Scotty boy. But then, on second thought, I don’t think I could bring myself to eat a pile of shit.” Her tone became serious, “Why did you hurt all of those girls? Why would you try hurting me, Scott? Do you think I’m some kind of easy asshole?”

He spoke up, his voice full of contempt. “You’re a foul, home wrecking, alcoholic, cheating whore. You use your brainy husband’s money for self-indulgent surgeries, expensive crap you don’t need, and fuck fests with every guy around. Every guy except me. Figured it was my turn for a go ‘round.” Scott chuckled at Angie’s expression and continued, “And that, Sugar Fake Tits, is why I think you’re an asshole.”

“Actually, Scott, you don’t have a clue about what you’re saying. You’re the asshole.” Angie’s grin lit up her face. “You tried to blackmail me into giving you a large sum of money as well as manipulate me into sleeping with you, which by the way, is NEVER going to happen. You’re an unpleasant, selfish little boy who runs around trying to stick it into any woman you can drug. Pathetic, really.” Angie’s eyes slid from Scott’s face to his feet and back up. “I’m sure there are a ton more reasons why YOU are the asshole here, but I’m not privy to all of that info just yet. I’ll let you know as it becomes available.”

Tiffany held a hand over her mouth, a botched attempt at holding back a laugh. “It’s so cute how you two are fighting over who’s the asshole. It’s obvious Scott is the winner of that category.” Tiffany’s gaze jumped from one to the other.

“Whatever.” Scott’s voice softened. “I didn’t hurt those girls. I really didn’t. They would’ve dated me anyway. One of them, Christina, I think her name was, gave me a birthday present last year. One of those expensive, overpowering colognes with a lame ‘I Love You’ birthday card. She was nice and all, but I didn’t want a relationship. Still don’t. I just want what I want without the hassle of dating and wooing and gallantry.”

“That’s not true, Scotty boy. You did hurt those girls. You’re a thief. You took something they weren’t willing to give. I suggest you keep your mouth shut or Angie’s going to have some more fun with that potato peeler.”

Scott turned away, his head almost under the bed.

Tiffany took the hitch handle. She and Angie followed the ketchup colored smears leading into the bathroom.

~

“Well, at least he’s still breathing, I guess.” Angie gave him a once over. She grabbed a hand towel hanging near the sink and tossed it over Stockton’s lap. Blood immediately began seeping through the thick material. His wiry bird nest of pubic hair rendered a puffy tent under the towel. “Jeez, he’s appalling. Think we should zip tie him and leave him right where he is?”

“My gut tells me we should stick to our original plan. Keeping him in here is a bad idea. If he should escape somehow… I’d hate to wake up to him holding a knife to my throat.” Tiffany nibbled her bottom lip, eyes still on Stockton. “I’m not sure how long The Institute is going to keep him with us or if they even know he’s here. The basement is much safer.”

“You’re right. Let’s get him down there.”

Tiffany pulled the bath towel Scott used earlier. It was still damp. “Here,” she said handing it to Angie. “Put this around Stockton. I’ll go get the plastic wrap. And,” she pulled the gun from her pocket, “take this.”

Angie accepted the weapon. “I’ve never had to kill a target. My assignments have always been to catch and neutralize, as in The Institute’s name. In the past three years,
eliminate
hasn’t been part of it.”

“Rare for soldiers like you, but it does happen. There’s actually a division that takes care of eliminations.”

Angie peered at the partially skinned man. The exposed muscles were pink and shiny.

“He looks so gross.” She averted her eyes. “You really caught him with child porn?”

“In the act.” Tiffany’s mouth bent into a display of revulsion. “He is the worst kind of criminal, and his punishment will mirror his crimes.”

Angie’s head bobbed agreement. “So, what happened?”

“We’d only been dating a couple of months, everything fresh and new. I told him I needed to go out of town for work. He offered to water my plants and keep an eye on things. It was a medical conference: Advancements on the Study of Personality Disorders. I deal with these issues on a daily basis and eager to get new insight. So, I agreed to let Stockton housesit. He’s a police officer. Having him stay would be good, right? Anyway, the last speaker came down with the flu or something. The day was canceled, so I drove back early.”

Tiffany snatched the towel from Angie’s hands, twirled it into a makeshift whip, and snapped it at Stockton’s raw chest. It missed. She twirled the towel for another go. This time, a direct hit.

Stockton screamed grabbing himself, tears streaming. “Why are you doing this? There will be repercussions.”

“You seriously don’t get it, do you? It’s because you deserve it, baby killer. Do you even know who I am, Stockton? Who my cousin is? Do you remember what you did?”

Tiffany sniffed hard, sucking up as much snot as possible and then hawked a sizable loogie at Stockton. The glob of phlegm slid down his nose and hung from his chin before plopping onto his stomach.

“You’re right about one thing: there will be repercussions You can’t use your police connections to get out of this one, officer.” Ridicule laced her words. “They’re never going to find you once we’re finished. Guaranteed.”

“I didn’t…”

Tiffany cut him off midsentence, “Oh, shut the fuck up. Nobody cares.”

She returned attention to Angie. “Anyway, I got home early and found him with a stack of magazines, horrible magazines with young girls. Mid-teens. Nude. And what was playing on my big screen TV… I’ll never be able to get those images out of my head. Turns out this pervert,” she paused to towel snap Stockton’s skin splotched thigh causing another yelp, “this pervert borrowed said filth from the police evidence locker.

“CAN Institute looked into the case, and it turns out Stockton was the arresting officer. The arresting officer that failed to do his job properly, so the photographers and filmmaking creeps were let go on some bullshit technicality.”

Teeth gritted and showing, Tiffany snapped Stockton again with the towel. Chest ribbons flapped wetly. A high-pitched howl filled the room.

“If I have to tell you to shut up one more time, baby killer, I’m going to remove you from your penis. Got it?”

More tears ran down Stockton’s cheeks. “Yes,” barely audible.

“I don’t have any proof, Angie, but I’d bet Ol’ Skinless here messed up the arrests on purpose so his buddies could continue taking pictures and making movies abusing adolescents.”

Angie’s face shimmered with pure red-hot rage, a rage so complete and consuming the devil himself would bow down in respect. Two long strides and Angie’s shoe connected with Stockton’s head sending it sideways, knocking him into the shower door. His upper body bounced inside, exposing the hidden shovel.

She bent snatching up the potential weapon, used it to scoop up his undies. Her phone underneath, smeared with his blood.

“He’s used my cell phone. Tried to hide it in the shower.”

Angie used a towel to wipe it then pushed through to Recent Calls, tapping on the last number. A male answered on the first ring. Although loud Rap music caused background interference, she heard the speaker clearly.

“Yo, Wood. Hold up. We comin’. See ya in thirty.”

Angie ended the call.

“He’s got backup coming. Thirty minutes away.”

Tiffany’s face hardened. “Figures. I’m going to get the stuff we need to get him out of here.” She turned to the door, hesitated, and turned back. “Check your device,” she said before resuming her exit.

Sliding the phone in her purse, Angie rummaged for the compact.

The new message, complete with photos, read:

Target One, Hold for Possible Elimination & Death Pit Disposal.

Target Two, Hold for Extraction.

Angie poked her head out the door, watched Tiffany check Scott’s restrains, watched her put a hand up indicating she didn’t want Scott to speak. She collected the luggage carrier, placed the large roll of plastic wrap inside, and wheeled it into the bathroom.

“CAN Institute wants us to hold Scott for pickup. They also want us to hold Stockton for Elimination and Death Pit disposal.” Angie held the compact up so Tiffany could see. “Death Pit? What the hell does that mean?”

“No problem. We’ll still need to get them downstairs. Everything we need is there.”

“I understand that much, Tiffany. I’m not sure about this Death Pit. Where is it? What is it?”

“It’s a little ways from here, higher on the mountain. It’ll be easier for me to show you than tell you. But, they want us to
hold
Stockton. The Institute wants to deal with his elimination and everything after that. Based on the shape he’s in, they’d better hurry it up. And the Death Pit is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a place where The Institute disposes of dead criminals. It’s a place of disappearance.” Tiffany pointed at the plastic wrap. “Help me with this.”

When they finished wrapping Stockton, he looked like an old-fashioned mummy with a new twist. The see-through cellophane would be almost sexy if not for Stockton’s open wounds. They’d been careful not to cover his eyes, nose, or mouth. They weren’t ready for him to die. There was payback to deal with, and it was time Stockton paid up.

Tiffany flicked the tip of Stockton’s nose without response.

“The plan is to lock him in one of the rooms and deal with his rescue team. Once that’s handled, we’ll get this mess cleaned up and get Scott down there. Also, there’s the cop car to move. Sometimes extraction takes a few days. Don’t want it sitting in the middle of my yard. Target three is connected to Stockton. I don’t want him recognizing it when he shows up with my cousin. There’s more to this story. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Angie’s head bobbed once. “Okay. The things you’re going to tell me keep multiplying, but I get it. One thing at a time.”

The ladies wrapped their arms around Stockton’s plastic shell and heaved him onto the luggage carrier, cellophane crackling with the movement.

Angie took a deep breath and released. “Damn, he’s heavy.” Shaking her head, she grabbed the carrier’s handle and maneuvered Stockton around most of the red streaks smeared over the floor.

“He looks like some kind of gigantic alien fish or something,” Tiffany said, outwardly mesmerized.

“Yeah, let’s get his ass to the dungeon.”

They pulled him downstairs, the trek easier than anticipated. Although Stockton bumped and slid in the luggage carrier, he never fell out. Angie gave silent thanks to its inventor for the additional mesh device added for transport.

Angie pulled the Officer Skinless contraption behind Tiffany. Although she wasn’t sure how Tiffany had gotten in front, she liked her being there. Anyone following behind made Angie nervous.