Oliver Stark - 88 Killer

The man turned to the now waking children. He opened his backpack and took out the body bags. He looked at the phone on the side. All he could hear was a voice calling for the officer. He picked up the cell and put it to his ear, then he killed the call.

On the other end of the line, Harper hit the wheel. ‘We’ve been cut off.’ He screeched around a corner.

‘What?’ said Denise.

‘It means he’s in the house.’

The Safe House, Manhattan

March 12, 11.59 p.m.

As they arrived at the safe house, Harper looked for the car parked across the street. It was gone. Harper got out of the car, Denise following quickly behind. He told her to wait at the entrance and walked around the house. At the back of the house, he saw a strange shadow. There was something large hanging from a rope.

He felt his pulse quicken and for a moment he thought the figure was dead. Moving closer, he saw a female officer with the rope pulled tight around her shoulders.

She saw Harper in the dark and called out, ‘He’s gone. He’s taken the kids.’

‘We’ll get you down,’ shouted Harper.

‘No,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to get him. I think they’re alive. I caught his license-plate as he drove off.’

Harper was astonished. ‘Well done, that’s got to help.’

‘I feel so guilty,’ she said. ‘I was looking after them.’

‘You shouldn’t have been alone,’ said Harper. She told him the license-plate and Harper called it in immediately to Dispatch.

With a racing pulse, he moved quickly into the house. The social worker was sitting in an armchair facing the TV, motionless. Denise flinched. ‘Are you all right?’ Harper asked.

‘He said he’d kill them if I moved,’ she explained, a look of terror across her face.

‘Did you see what he looked like?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘He was wearing a balaclava.’

‘Stay here,’ said Harper. Denise sat beside the woman and comforted her while Harper ran upstairs. A moment later he reappeared in the living room. ‘There’s nothing there. He was hiding in the closet. I need to haul the officer in the window. Denise, I need your help.’

He turned to the social worker. ‘What happened? Just tell me.’

‘He took them, in two bags. Black bags.’

Harper called base and gave them the lowdown. They’d send an ambulance, and backup was already on its way. He then took Denise upstairs and together, they pulled Officer Candy Simons back through the window. They untied her and she flung her arms at them. ‘Leave me, for God’s sake. Go after him.’

Harper and Denise headed for the car. They had no idea which way to turn.

‘What about the car, Tom? Where do we go?’

‘I’m thinking,’ said Harper.

‘So am I. And I think the reason the kids aren’t dead is because he’s not tortured them yet. That’s what he needs to do before he kills. Mark them and torture them. We’ve got time, but it’s not much.’

Harper looked at her for a second. ‘Let’s go.’

As they sped back to Brooklyn, Harper reckoned that the kids would soon be in a lock-up or worse. He knew the driver of the red car wouldn’t risk speeding, but would keep to the legal limit. That was their advantage. They had the license-plate out there. Someone had to spot it.

He called up Eddie Kasper who was back at the scene in Borough Park, helping the clean-up. ‘I need to know the places these guys go when they’ve got something to hide. You’ve got twenty or more prisoners — find out which ones are most afraid and cut them a deal. I need a lock-up, a location, anything.’

‘I’ll see if anyone knows anything,’ said Eddie.

Harper hung up.

‘How did he know where they were?’ asked Denise when they arrived at McRory’s.

‘I don’t know,’ said Harper. ‘But I will find out.’

It took ten minutes for the red car to turn up on the police radio.

‘What have you got?’ asked Harper.

‘There’s a red car parked in Bedford-Stuyvesant. Plates match. It’s just been taken inside a lock-up of some sort.’

‘Don’t spook him,’ said Harper. ‘He’s got the two children. Just give us the location and tell them to set up roadblocks. If he drives off again, I don’t want him getting far.’

They traveled for about ten minutes. There was silence in the car. Harper turned into the street that Dispatch had given him and killed the lights. He then called the patrol car.

‘I’m going in direct. Got to see if the kids are still there. Most likely, he’s switched cars, come from the side street.’

Harper and Levene got out of their car. Ahead of them was a row of lock-up garages in a courtyard. Tall buildings flanked the lock-ups and two alleyways led between these buildings on either side.

‘You hold back,’ said Harper. Denise stood at the car as ordered. She watched as Harper walked towards the row of garages. He looked inside the one that was open, but it was pitch black. There wasn’t much light in the courtyard. The greasy asphalt shone in the moonlight, but the whole area was full of shadows and alleys. Whoever had taken them could be anywhere.

Harper held his Glock firmly in his right hand. He crept to the left of the lock-up, down a side street then came back. Hearing something, he turned quickly. It was a low thump. He listened intently. Someone was inside the garage, kicking at something. That meant that the driver had probably left the kids.

His pulse raced. The two children were still in the car then, still alive. Harper started to run back towards the lock-up. He only half-caught sight of something over to his right — a red cigarette end or a glint of light. The sound of a gunshot woke the night. A bullet hit the ground by Harper’s feet and ricocheted into a large metal door. Harper heard the patrol cops in the distance; they had started to run towards the sound. He pointed his gun into the alley and fired six shots into the darkness.

Nothing. Whoever had been there, had gone. Harper stared at the scene, trying to work out what had happened.

Denise was standing by the car, hidden in darkness. Harper decided he couldn’t wait another minute for patrol. He had to chase the killer down. He got up and started towards the alley, trying to get cover before heading into the darkness.

Harper hit the wall and leaned into the alleyway, gun first. It was too dark to see a goddamn thing. He stepped into the shadows. It was a risk, but he figured the sound of the uniformed officers running and shouting could have spooked the killer.

As Harper disappeared into the alleyway, a figure appeared from the next alleyway up and moved to follow him.

From the far side of the alleyway, Denise stared out, her hands shaking. Alone and exposed, she could hear the running footsteps of the two patrolmen coming up behind her and suddenly felt afraid. Her heart beat fast, and her legs felt weak.

‘It’s all going to be okay,’ she told herself and moved a couple of steps towards the alleyway. She stopped by the side of the car. At that moment, a shadow emerged about fifteen yards in front of her — a figure holding a gun. Denise stared across at the killer. The shaking moved throughout her body. She steadied herself and tried to breathe.

From where she was, she could see the garage and the alleyway where Harper had followed the killer, but the killer had doubled back and was now behind him. What could she do? Her throat was dry.

Denise tried to remember what Mac had told her, but she couldn’t. The whole psychological change that Mac talked about was already happening to her. ‘You’ve got to be a predator to stop your body preparing yourself to die.’ She knew she couldn’t shout to Harper. She was unarmed. The killer would turn, take her out and then wait for Harper.