Roger Stelljes - The St. Paul Conspiracy

Bouchard had the knife out of his coat pocket and was ready to pop it open and move on Knapp when his earpiece exploded, “Abort! Abort! Abort!” It caused him to wince, which Knapp noticed.

“You all right.”

“Yeah, fine,” Bouchard replied, quickly slipping the knife back into his coat pocket. He glanced right at the mirror and saw the fat detective approaching. Lich, noticing them both, darted into the toilet stall. Knapp finished, walked over to the sink, gave his hands a quick wash, took a quick look at his face in the mirror, ran his hand through his hair and headed out. Bouchard waited fifteen seconds and did the same.

Viper stared at the backdoor. What the hell happened? He got his answer soon enough when Knapp, no worse for wear, came back into the bar. Fifteen seconds later Bouchard shuffled down the hall and retook his stool at the end of the bar.

Bouchard spoke softly into his collar, “Do we bail?”

“Hold tight, we might get another shot.”

They didn’t. Knapp quickly finished what was left of his beer, dropped a five on the bar, nodded good night to the bartender and walked out the back, where the eyes of at least ten cops would be on him.

Before Knapp went home, he gave them all something to chew on. He sat in his car, not leaving, waiting on Linda. After she left to go home, he waited five minutes and cruised the back of the bar. He stopped, got out and walked between the bar and the building next door, a small paint store. Mac had walked in the gap earlier in the day. There was five or six feet between the two buildings. It was a weaving dirt path, strewn with weeds, broken glass and crushed beer cans. It was dark, lit only by an occasional second-floor light turned on in either of the two buildings. It was the perfect hiding place.

“That’s where he’ll wait,” Mac uttered into the radio, watching Knapp through a night scope borrowed from the feds.

“You bet your ass,” Riley responded.

Knapp got back into his Pontiac and headed home. The second shift followed him home to Hudson and put him to bed.

It was 3:15 a.m. and they were at the Gas amp; Shop lot.

Riley and Rockford were waiting when Mac and Lich pulled in. When they were getting out of the van, Riley bellowed, “Is he getting ready?”

“I think he is ready,” Mac replied. “What do you think, Dick?”

Lich shrugged, “Still haven’t seen the van.”

Riley nodded. “That’ll be the sign. We’ll know for sure then. The four of us meet with the chief in the morning for an update. He was nice enough to give us till 10:00 a.m.”

Everyone nodded. Everyone was exhausted. Everyone headed home.

Viper admired the thoroughness of Knapp in stalking his prey. She was always alone when she left at night. The area behind the bar was dark. It was a good spot. Were it not for the police being right on top of him, he’d get away with it. Again.

The police were thorough in stalking their prey as well. Viper, while frustrated by it, admired the tracking job they were doing. They had a large crew and had been masterful in following him. There was a different cop in the bar every night. They had different cars and vans every day. They rotated the tail well, never getting too close. The familiarity with Knapp’s movements and routes had made that easier, but they had done well nevertheless.

It made it difficult for Viper and Bouchard to get at Knapp. They’d missed their best shot.

Knapp left his hiding place, got into his car and drove away.

Tonight’s little recon mission left no doubt he was ready to move. It wouldn’t be long now and one thing was clear. Viper had to find a way to get to Knapp before McRyan and company did.

Bouchard shook his head, “It’ll be tomorrow night.”

Viper agreed. They needed to move fast. But how?

The meeting started at 10:00 a.m., the night crew still with Knapp, watching him making his way to work. Captain Peters, Helen Anderson, Sylvia Miller, Riley, Lich, Rock, Sally, and Mac were all in attendance. As expected, Channel 6 had run another scathing story on the serial killer and the lack of progress on the investigation. The force was carved in the sweeps story, and Flanagan was seething. Mac had never seen him so mad. He wanted Knapp, if for no other reason, to stick it back in the media’s face.

“Pat, where are we at on Knapp?”

“Could be anytime now, Chief.”

“Tonight?”

“We hope so,” Riles replied, perverse as it sounded, wanting a serial killer to make a move. “Obviously, we can’t predict for-”

“I know, I know,” Flanagan replied, waving him off. “I’m getting fuckin’ inpatient. That Channel fucking 6 is skewering us, and I’m sick of it.”

“Can’t force Knapp to attack, Chief,” Anderson said.

“I know, it’s just… frustrating. You boys are doing good work here. We have our guy, and then those fuckin’ bastards at Channel 6 with this story.” City council members and the mayor had already been on the chief, demanding answers, as if finding a serial killer was a political problem one could solve with a phone call.

“I hear you, Chief,” echoed Miller. “But when we catch this guy, we can spin this. This Knapp isn’t an idiot; we’ll make sure that gets out. We’ll play the work these guys are doing, how they broke the case, tailing this guy while Channel 6 was putting together it’s carve job.” Then she flashed a vicious smile. “Maybe, we’ll give Channel 12 an exclusive, since they’ve showed some restraint.”

“That all assumes we’re going to catch this asshole,” the chief noted. “Pat, where we at on that?”

“We’re good.” Riles went over the planning with everyone. “We have the place covered, and air support’s set up. I’m inside the bar with Doug Long. Rock’ll be next door. Mac and Lich are across the street. Linda Bradley is with us and ready. We’ll get him.”

“Is it just you five?”

“No, no. We’ll have other units in the area, but we have to keep them back until he moves. We don’t want to spook him. The guy was a Marine. He’s got to be checking behind him from time to time. I don’t want to have him abort.”

“I don’t want him getting away,” the chief said, concern in his voice.

“He won’t,” Riles assured.

“Once we get him, then what?” Rock asked.

“I want this bastard in court quickly. I want his arrest to be public. I want a fuckin’ perp walk,” the chief said. “Sylvia?”

“I can handle that,” Miller replied. “We’ll have as early a press conference as possible. We’ll set the time for the perp walk so the media can cover it. Riley and Rockford can walk him in. It’ll be great theatre.”

“How about you, Helen?”

“Publicity? Moi? Far be it from me to stand in the way,” replied a smiling Anderson, drawing a knowing chuckle. “We could have him in court the next day, I think. Sally?”

“We can. Detective Riley has kept me in the loop,” not to mention Mac, nocturnally. “I’ll have things ready for a quick hearing if need be.”

“Good. I want a public spectacle of this thing. The department needs that. Sylvia, Helen, Ms. Kennedy, Marion, I want you to stick around so we can discuss that further. Riles, you and the boys go catch that piece of shit.”

Viper contemplated his next move while sitting on the boss’s couch, drinking a bottled water. They missed Knapp. It was a good plan. Dumb luck really. If Lich hadn’t walked in, Knapp would have been gone. Shit happens. Viper didn’t explain it quite that way to the boss, but that was the gist of what happened.