No Mercy (8 page)

Ashley spoke up. “Do you know anything about these girls?”

The prisoner laughed and said, “Gentlemen, I'm in prison. How in the world would I know anything about this?” He spoke with such a superior, sarcastic tone in his voice that Detective Lieutenant Cronin asked Ashley to leave the room. The ADA complied but reminded Cronin he would be in the next room watching.

Cronin and O'Connor were sitting in silence staring at each other by the time Ashley reached the next room to view from behind the one-way mirror. He put his hands up to his chin as his thoughts ran wild as the two continued to stare at each other. Finally, Cronin moved his hands as O'Connor jumped from nervousness but tried to cover himself. Cronin stood up and walked over to the other side of the table. ADA Ashley was sweating bullets, hoping he would not have to run into the room.

He whispered to himself, “It's on tape, Kevin.”

Cronin bent down to O'Connor's ear and spoke in a tone that was a little bit louder than a whisper.

“You don't want me to find out that you're involved in all this, and I will tell you why. I'm smarter than you for one, and two, I have many people I know who are prisoners here that don't like inmates that beat up the elderly. You see, if you beat the elderly, then you wouldn't think twice about beating up their own mothers. Do you understand me?”

O'Connor looked up at the detective and replied, “I didn't beat up the elderly.”

As Cronin walked around to his side of the table again, he replied, “They will believe me over you, and besides, even a twelve-year-old girl got the best of you.” He was referring to Lindsey Wilkerson's photographic memory. O'Connor stood up angrily as Ashley opened the door to the room again.

“OK, I think playtime is over.”

“Listen, O'Connor, if you have anything to say, now is the time,” Cronin prodded.

“Go to hell,” the inmate replied.

“No,” Ashley replied as he pushed Cronin toward the door, “you ruined your life as well as others'.”

As the officer escorted Cronin and Ashley toward the front, Ashley requested the list of all the visitors that had signed in during the eighteen months O'Connor had been at Bedford Hills Men's Prison. The facility was only three years old and only a mile away from the famous Bedford Hills Women's Prison.

“Sir,” the officer answered, “Detective Lieutenant Cronin asked for this yesterday, and it was faxed to him.” Ashley looked over at him as he walked out the front door. They had much to talk about on the drive back to Long Island.

Only ninety minutes had passed when the guard came back to O'Connor's prison cell to tell him the police were back. They led O'Connor back to the interrogation room and he sat alone looking around the room.

Finally he spoke to the mirror facing him. “I told you guys that I don't know anything.” His voice got louder. “Screw you! I'm not going to talk anymore!” The figure behind the mirror moved toward the door and walked into the room and sat down across from the startled former agent. It was Bud Johnson.

“Hello dickhead, or maybe I should say
asshole
.” Another reference to O'Connor being shot in the ass continued to be humorous to the detective.

“What do you want?” O'Connor yelled.

“Shut up!” Bud answered. “I drove two and a half hours just to see you today, just to say some words to your face, so listen up.” Bud turned around at the mirror, which was a sign to the officer to turn off the video as a favor. “I don't know if you have anything to do with the Music Club Murders or not, but I will tell you . . . look at me!” he yelled as O'Connor moved his eyes.

Bud stood up and got in O'Connor's face as the officer behind the mirror grew nervous. Bud forced O'Connor to look directly at him. “If I find out you have anything to do with this or if Deborah Lance is harmed in any way, I will hurt you bad,” he said as he moved his lips toward the prisoner's ears. “And then you will suffer. Death would be painless, so I will make sure you suffer. Do you understand me?” There was silence from O'Connor as the detective looked for acknowledgement on the prisoner's face.

“Speak up,” Bud said. “I want you to tell me you understand me.” The man once feared as the Voice simply said, “Yes, I understand.”

“OK,” Bud said. “I have to go catch more bad guys, so you have a great day, and maybe I can come back and visit you again and maybe even sing a song for you, but if I do come back it will be very important for you that Deborah Lance is alive and healthy.” The detective walked out of the room as O'Connor just sat there not believing what had just happened. Bud collected his belongings, including his firearm, from the locker and signed out on the log sheet to make the two-and-a-half-hour drive back to Long Island.

During his ride back, he confirmed the videos from the three clubs on the night of the murders were waiting for him at the precinct. Confirmation was also given that phone records from all three girls were also waiting for him. He pulled over after about an hour and did something he hadn't done for over eight months. He sent Deborah a text message with a trivia question:
What is the most successful sequel franchise in history?
He was still sitting in his car when she answered,
You are silly, but it’s James Bond
. He laughed out loud, as he knew many people thought the James Bond franchise was the most successful due to the longevity, but by box-office standards he knew it was the Harry Potter movies that had the most success.

He pulled back onto the road as he started speaking aloud, and looked up at the sky. “It’s me again. I have kept my word about keeping the lines of communication open. I have done my best, and now there is still work to do on my language. You must admit it's been better. Life is full of challenges, with both good times and bad, and I'm asking for you again to give me the strength. Dear Lord, protect Deborah. I don't know if this is about her, but my gut tells me it might be. My heart wants me to be sure. I've kept my promise to you. Please help me again. Your presence gives me peace, and I am thankful for you. Strengthen me according to your word.” It was one of his favorite psalms, Psalm 119:28, that Lindsey brought to his life.

His concentration broke as his phone rang. It was Paul, who demanded,

“Just where in the hell are you?”

Bud replied, “I will be in the office in one hour, Paul.”

Paul fired back, “Where have you been?”

“Visiting some fat ass,” Bud said as he hung up.

Paul just stared into the phone as he shook his head and continued to read O'Malley's reports on the case, to which Paul assigned the name the Music Club Murders.

Deborah Lance was upstairs going over grading papers for her class when her father walked in to give her a hug. “Everything OK, sweetheart?”

Deborah gave her father a kiss and answered, “Gee, all of a sudden I'm starting to get all this attention from some of my favorite men.”

“Who else?” her father asked.

“Well, Bud, as you know. We have become more about being friends this past year, but he actually asked me out to dinner tomorrow night. He wants me, with his other friends, to help him move in and has been sending me texts like he used to when we were a couple.”

“Well,” her dad replied, “maybe he has missed you, love.” “Maybe,” she replied.

As her father walked out of her office, he knew why Bud was in contact with her. He was happy about it, but he worried about his daughter's emotions about Bud.

Deborah continued to grade her students' papers with written notes. She found out early in her career that her students responded better when they received more than just a grade. She dropped her pen and started thinking about what had happened today with Bud. He always made her laugh, which is what she had always liked best about him. She picked up her phone and sent him a text:
I heard the Henry Hallock house may be haunted
. She laughed out loud when she heard back from him, thanking her and Paul for all the wonderful information they had given him.

As Bud pulled up to headquarters he was remembering what attracted him to her in the first place.

Cronin and Ashley had been back for over an hour when Detective Bud Johnson was called into Cronin's office. As he stepped in, both Ashley and Cronin stopped their discussion and looked at him. Bud's head was moving sideways as he was alternating looking at them when the boss spoke up, asking, “Anything you would like to tell us, Detective?”

Bud had a look of puzzlement on his face, but before he could speak the ADA spoke.

“Do you think it was a good idea to visit O'Connor and let it slip that you would ‘make him suffer' if something happened to the Lance girl?”

Bud raised his hands up as he replied, “Who said that?” Ashley answered quickly, “O'Connor.”

“There you go,” Bud replied. “I visited him to see if he was aware of anything, but he's a killer who's angry I shot him in the ass. It does not surprise me he said I spoke those words to him.”

Ashley just nodded as he looked at Cronin. “I've got work to do on the other side of the building, Kevin. I will call you later.”

“OK,” Cronin replied. “Shut the door on your way out.”

As the door shut the detective lieutenant spoke to Bud. “Stay away from O'Connor, Detective, no good can come from it for you.” Bud just stood and wanted to ask how he knew so fast but decided against it.

“Yes sir,” he said as he opened the door and walked out. He walked into the tech room and asked them to prepare the videos from the club. He knew it was going to be a long night. He was in the room for fifteen minutes when a bag of popcorn tapped him on the shoulder. It was Paul.

“I know how much you like your popcorn while watching movies, partner.”

Bud smiled as he took the bag and said, “Let's get together in the morning.”

Paul spoke again. “We can discuss the tapes and the reports I read today.”

Bud answered, “Thanks for the popcorn.”

The films started, but Detective Johnson's mind was elsewhere as he sent Lynagh a text about where they were. He got an answer that they were outside the gate at the mansion and it was apparent Deborah was in for the evening. He sent a text back to them to let him know if she left the house before they left the detail for the evening.

Paul was exhausted by the time he left headquarters for the evening. He drove to Rachelle's house to check on the dogs before visiting her while hosting at Z Pita. He would get into trouble if he verbally said “Rachelle's house” in front of her, because there was sensitivity about it actually being Rachelle's and Madison's house. He didn't want to deal with that, so he tried to remain disciplined on the ownership of the house.

As usual, as he entered the house Wes was the first to greet him, and Craven took his time to say hello with the attitude of “What took you so long?” He checked their water dishes and found a note left for him that said,
I love you
. He picked up a pen and wrote,
Me too, XOXO
. He decided to take the dogs down Prospect Street to Main Street so they could see Rachelle, whom he called “Mama” to the dogs.

“Let's go see Mama, boys.” When he reached the back of the restaurant, Joey Z was in the back trying to help a regular find a parking spot. It was early October, but traffic still created a parking issue in the small village. In fact it was becoming a heated subject at times. Many customers had stopped coming to certain restaurants due to the lack of parking. During the summer the village had decided to repave a section of one of the parking lots, which created even less space. Yet the constables were driving around looking for tickets to write. It was making many proprietors in the village upset over losing customers over the issue.

“Joey Z, when you go in, ask Rachelle to come out back for a minute. Don't tell her the dogs are here,” Paul asked.

Joey Z went inside, giving Paul the thumbs-up, and it was only three or four minutes before Rachelle came out to greet her family.

“Ahh,” she said, “all the boys in my life,” and she hugged Paul. Even Craven was excited to see her as the dogs jumped in her arms as she went down on her knees.

Officer Justin Healey sent Detective Cronin a text that they were leaving the Lance mansion for the evening. They waited for ten minutes before Healey said, “Should we leave or wait for Cronin to confirm?”

Lynagh answered quickly, “We wait for his blessing.”

It was four minutes later when they got a reply from Cronin:
Enjoy the evening
.

P
aul requested to have a meeting Sunday at headquarters to review the case and check on the status of everyone's progress. He had a bulletin board of the three young women who were killed and a blackboard to make notes as each detective reported to him. Detective O'Malley was first. He reported the young woman killed in Manhattan, Alicia Hudson—5'5”, long hair, brunette, aged twenty-five—was a grad student at New York University. A regular at Skyline every Saturday. She had a boyfriend, Arthur Winston, twenty-four, also a student at New York University. Alicia had no record and was an excellent student throughout her life. O'Malley went on to explain that unlike the other two women, she was outside the club when she was killed. He continued to speak as Paul made notes on the blackboard. Alicia was from Stony Brook, Long Island.

“Excuse me for a second, Detective,” Paul interrupted. “Where are the other two victims from?”

Officer Franks and Dugan flipped the pages of their notes, and Franks said, “Kate Summers was from Setauket and Michelle Cartwright was from Huntington Station.” Paul stared at the photos, turning his head at an angle as he focused on them.

Detective Lieutenant Cronin stood in the room and remained silent as Detective Powers took command of this case. He asked O'Malley more questions about the detectives on the case in New York City. He asked about the background of the boyfriends of the girls to Franks and Dugan. They looked over at Detective Hansen, who found no connection between the boyfriends and nothing unusual about their backgrounds.

Paul looked at Dugan and Franks again and said, “Jobs, what did the girls do?”

“We know Michelle Cartwright was a New York Film Academy student, who worked at Hour Glass restaurant in Hell's Kitchen, dormed at the school but was from Huntington Station. Kate Summers was a teacher in St. James, and Alicia Hudson lived in Smithtown and worked at Luso's restaurant near her apartment as a hostess. One of the common threads was they all were from Suffolk County, Long Island.”

“OK, guys, listen up. There are other common denominators here. They all had notes left with them, they were all pretty brunettes, they were all in dance clubs the night they were murdered—except Alicia, who had just left the club. They were all between the ages of twenty-three and twenty-eight.

Hansen spoke up. “They all lived on the North Shore and commuted west to work or school.”

Paul turned around to Bud and asked, “Anything on the tapes?”

“We have a masked man with a baseball cap coming out of the room at the City club and the women's room at the Pajama Club. There was nothing like that at Skyline. I will be reviewing the tapes all day today without interruption. There has to be more. One thing is for sure: it's the same guy. The two videos with the mask are clearly the same guy.”

“What about . . .” Paul started to speak then hesitated. “What about their vehicles?”

Hansen spoke up. “Only Kate Summers had a vehicle, and even then she got a ride to the club from her friends. They all commuted to work or school on the Long Island Rail Road.”

Paul nodded and said, “There has to be another common denominator. OK, listen up. Bud, look at these tapes really closely; there has to be something we are missing. Did they give you all the tapes? Detective O'Malley, check if the railroad has any video. Pick up Arthur Winston and the other boyfriends for questioning, find out any connection between them. Question the friends who brought each of the girls to the clubs. Report anything back if you have concerns. I have sent the images of these victims to all the music and dance clubs on Long Island. They were asked to report if there is a hit on a young woman filling the description. In the meantime Detective Lieutenant Cronin, sir, I would like to get Detective Baker made up and dressed up in the style of the victims and see if anything starts to happen. We will find out if the clubs are cooperative in reporting her to us, and we will see if this is just random killing of brunettes. I know she is scheduled to go to the correctional facility, but until then I think we can use her.”

Cronin hesitated before he spoke. “Go ahead and get her ready.”

Paul smiled and extended courtesy to the boss, asking, “Any comments or suggestions?”

Cronin moved away from the wall toward the table of police officers and detectives as he said, “Be careful. What bothers me the most about this case is the notes he is leaving with the bodies.
If I can’t have you, no one will
. He is directing anger toward one individual, yet killing women that look alike. My opinion is this is about one person angry at someone and they won't stop until the real person is out of the way. Also, don't inform the clubs you're sending someone in undercover. You don't want them to be or act any differently than they would normally.”

“Boss,” Bud asked, “why go through all this trouble with the other girls?”

“Because,” Cronin replied, “it’s about hurting others he feels hatred toward. That's where we come in. We have ourselves another puzzle, gentlemen.” He looked at Paul and asked, “What are you doing today?”

The detective answered, “Hansen and I are going to each of the victim's homes and apartments to take a look around. Then we are going to visit the clubs when they reopen Tuesday. I would also like to pull Lynagh and Healey off the Lance detail tomorrow and put Hansen and Wyatt on it.” Bud looked up with interest, but Paul put out his hand for Bud to please stay quiet. “No offense to anyone, but I would prefer they were used in the clubs for the next few nights as we check into them further, especially with Baker being there.”

“Granted,” Cronin said as he left the room.

The detective lieutenant went to his desk and enjoyed the slow pace of phone calls, emails, and people interruption that went along with normal hours of the week. His thoughts were broken up by a phone call from the sergeant at the front of the headquarters building. “Sir, there is mail addressed to you marked personal that's been here since yesterday.” Cronin stood up and left the Priority 1 area and took the five-minute walk to the front. He would normally have Gina get it, but he felt like taking a walk. As soon as he arrived the envelope was handed to him and he opened it up. He unfolded the paper and read:

He folded up the paper and walked back to his office and called John Ashley. Instead of saying hello the ADA answered with, “It's Sunday for shit's sake.”

Cronin answered him, “The conversation I had with you in my office behind closed doors. Well, we have to get ready.” The phone clicked without Ashley saying anything.

Bud went back to the video room and had the tech man who wasn't happy he was called in on a Sunday put the three club videos side by side on the large wall as he sat down with a pad and paper and watched intently. He was getting bored after about an hour when he noticed on one of the videos a man with long hair handing a piece of paper to the DJ. The man playing the music nodded his head as the man walked away. Bud scanned the crowd to see if he could find Kate Summers. He saw her dancing on the screen when he yelled up to Bob the technician and asked if the video played the music. Bob turned it on and it was a song Bud had never heard before. He scanned the crowd on the video to see who was dancing and to find the man who requested the song.

He started yelling up to Bob to close in on some of the patrons when his eye caught a man with long hair handing a piece of paper on the other video. “Stop!” he yelled. “Just play the other two.” He watched intently as the DJ started playing a song. Bud moved up to the screen to watch Alicia Hudson at Skyline dance to a song that sounded like the same group as the Summers video but with different lyrics. Bud was feeling anxious as he watched the man eyeing Alicia dancing to the song.

“Who the hell are you?” Bud spoke aloud as he tried to get a good glimpse of his face. The man had so much hair that it was difficult. He fit the body type of the man who walked out of the private room with the hat and mask on. Whomever he was, he was aware of how to avoid facial recognition from video cameras.

Bud called Paul with his findings. “I think you should get a hold of the DJs, get them in here tomorrow, and show them the video of the man requesting the songs. Also, the City club, go to the private room and check the playlist in the room of the songs played. It may be a long shot, but there may be a connection.”

As Bud was talking to Paul, he had Bob rewind the tape to one hour before Kate Summers entered the room. “Well,” he said to Paul, “I'm feeling better that there is most likely no connection to Deborah. I just will have to make sure she doesn't go to any club until this damn thing is over.”

“Good job, partner,” Paul replied. “Take the rest of the day off.” Paul couldn't help but laugh when he said it. There was always something funny about telling someone who came to work on a Sunday to take the rest of the day off.

“Gee,” Bud replied, “thanks.”

He sent Deborah a text:
Hello, Deborah, this is your detective just saying hello
. As he prepared to leave, his eye caught the bouncer, Bruce Roberts, being handed a bill discreetly on the tape. “Roll it back ten seconds Bob.” The video ran again. “Stop!” It was a $100 bill being slipped into his hand. Bud called Paul back and told him he needed to bring in Bruce Roberts as well on Monday.

The detective asked Bob to play it again after his call to Paul ended. He moved in closer to the screen as he spoke to it, saying, “What the fish is going on?” Bud had been working hard on the use of his language since Lindsey's influence on him and the
Jesus Calling
book. He began to substitute the word
fish
whenever he really wanted to say the other four-letter word. He would slip at times, but he was aware and tried hard. He stayed for another ten minutes looking at the films again and asked Bob to have them aligned up from all three clubs running based on the same time from 8:00 pm on for Monday. He was hoping to see one common denominator of all three clubs.

As he walked through the Priority 1 area to collect some things from his desk, he sent Deborah another text asking if he could see her in an hour. As always she answered him within a minute; she could punch the keys as fast as he read.
See you in an hour,
she wrote back
. It will be nice to see you outside of work again
. Bud smiled, but he was glad Deborah wasn't there to see the confused look on his face as he struggled to convince himself whether it was pleasure or work. He smiled again when he decided it was a combination of both. He left the building in a good mood, feeling confident this was about a serial killer and not about Deborah.

Paul didn't want to wait until Monday to find out why Bruce Roberts was slipped a $100 bill. He knew Bud was meeting Deborah in an hour, so he called Lynagh and Healey to question him first. He looked at Hansen and told him to go home for the evening but to take Wyatt and pick up the DJs from the clubs Monday morning and bring them down to headquarters. Paul would normally send a text to O'Malley, but the senior detective was not the greatest at utilizing BlackBerries and iPhones. When O'Malley picked up Detective Powers's call, he was told to get with the city detectives to coordinate bringing the DJ who worked the Skyline to headquarters. O'Malley was already won over by Paul Powers's ability to run an investigation and had resigned himself to being an integral part of a Priority 1 investigation now known by the name Paul assigned to it, the Music Club Murders. He made his calls to set up the pickup for the next day. He had already decided to bring in both the DJ and his setup man who was responsible for the equipment and insuring all the electronics ran smoothly in case there was a need.

Lynagh and Healey were parked on Cliff Road by the dead-end circle three-quarters of the way around facing south so they could see anyone driving toward the house and have the harbor in back of them.

The time spent waiting for Bud to pick up Deborah was not even noticed as George Lynagh said, “Do you miss the girl?”

Justin Healey looked over at his partner and immediately knew who he meant.

“Yes,” he said, “I do miss her. I wanted to see her grow up; I wanted her to tell us all the things that she has remembered forever. I wanted to see her and Bud go at it with each other while not having to worry about her life at the same time, but most of all I would have liked to be a part of her life. I became very fond of her.” He hesitated for a moment as he looked around searching for words. “Here we are less than a half mile from her house, and both Bud and I haven't seen her in well over a year. I understand the parents' wishes, I do. She doesn't need to be reminded of what happened as a twelve-year-old.”

His voice cracked a bit, which surprised Lynagh, and then he continued to speak. “She is becoming a beautiful young lady, and I know she is driving all the boys and teachers crazy by now.” Healey forced a nervous laugh. Lynagh smiled as he saw the pride in Healey's face as he continued to talk about Lindsey Wilkerson. She had been twelve years old at the time of the Face of Fear investigation. It was her photographic memory and high IQ that was the downfall of the Voice, former FBI Agent Jason “Jack” O'Connor, and put him away for life behind bars. It was Officer Lynagh and Paul Powers who were downstairs in the house while Officer Healey was in the upstairs bathroom with Lindsey and her parents, who were hunkered down in the hot tub when the attackers came. Healey, suffering from serious wounds from shotgun blasts, sat against the wall with his shotgun ready to protect the family. This was only minutes after Healey saved the girl's life by shooting one of O'Connor's cronies through the head after climbing through her bedroom window.

Lynagh continued to let Healey express himself even though this was the longest answer to a question he had ever asked, but it was OK. He saw a side to Healey he had not seen before. It was an emotional side that indicated genuine feelings about the girl who would always consider him her protector. Lynagh looked out the window as he saw Bud drive up to the gate, punch in numbers, and go in, but he let Healey continue to speak anyway.