ACT 3
Back at the station, August was sitting at his desk when Chase returned from the
interrogation room. "How'd it go?"
"Nowhere." Chase dropped into his chair. "Guy claims he didn't see anything, and
that he ran because he thought we were bounty hunters looking for him and had the
wrong address."
James came up with a Styrofoam cup of coffee and said, "Well, detectives in
Seattle definitely don't have the same driving skills as you, Chase." He took a drink.
August laughed. "That might actually be a good thing," he said. James laughed,
and got a wry glance from Chase.
"Any word yet from forensics?" James asked, taking a drink.
Chase shook his head. "Nothing came up, but Cragmeyer's on his way to the judge's
house. Maybe he can turn up something there."
"Cragmeyer?" James asked.
"He's our head of forensics," August said, adding with a laugh, "Do yourself a
favor and don't go anywhere near his lab. You'll regret it."
The room was dark, partially lit by light coming from an unseen source. The room was
occupied by only one person, Vanessa. She was sitting, her hands tied behind the back
of the chair, and a strip of duct tape over her mouth. Tears dotted her cheeks. A
shadow flickered over the wall behind her, and suddenly, Ryan Thomas appeared and
kneeled before her.
"Don't worry, my little princess," he said, brushing a strand of her out of her
face. "It will over be over soon. Very soon." He leaned closer to her until his face
was just inches from her's. "You're a very pretty girl, you know that? Maybe after all
this is done, we can spend a little intimate time together."
She spit in his face, and he looked at her fiercely. She held his glare, refusing
to be intimidated. He wiped at his cheek and looked at her. For a moment, she thought
he was going to hit her, but was surprised when he said, "Or maybe not," then stood and
walked away.
Alison followed Chase to the coffee machine. "No," he said, pouring himself a cup.
"You're not going home. It's too dangerous with Thomas still on the lose." He set the
coffee pot back into its place and walked to his desk.
"I can't stay here forever, Chase," she said. "I have to go home eventually, and
I'd rather go home now. Right now."
Chase sat in his chair, taking another drink. "I said no, Alison," he repeated.
"It's just too dangerous."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "You know, I haven't done anything illegal,"
she said, "so you can't keep me from going."
"I could fake an indecent exposure report," he said, flipping through some
papers.
She rolled her eyes, glancing around, trying to think of what to do. "Okay," she
said. "Okay, how about this?" He leaned back, listening. "You let me go home, and I'll
agree to let a uniformed team stay outside and watch over me. Deal?"
Chase hesitated, then gave in with a sigh. "Okay. But I'm driving you home."
She held up her hands. "Fine."
Chase got up and grabbed his coat. "Be right back, August."
It was evening as Chase drove Alison back to her place. A black-and-white cop car was
behind them. As they drove, Alison glanced over and said, "Are you doing okay, Chase?
I read about what happened in the papers."
Chase was silent for a moment, obviously not wanting to talk about it. Then he
said, "I'm hanging in there. It's not easy, but I'm hanging in there."
"I felt terrible when I heard about it," she said, looking out her window. "I
wanted to call, but didn't quite know what to say. I'm sorry."
He looked at her. "Thanks."
In another ten minutes, he pulled into the driveway of her house as the patrol
unit braked alongside the curb. Chase and Alison got out and walked up to the front
door. He waited on the steps while she unlocked the door. "Do you want to come in for
awhile?" she asked.
"Thanks, but I gotta get back to the station incase any breaks come in the case.
If you need anything, though, call me right away. Okay?"
She nodded. "Sure. Good night."
"Good night." He was turning as she shut the door when his cell phone rang. He
took it out and answered as he walked back to the driveway. "McDonald," he said.
"Chase, it's Richardson."
"What's up?"
"I just talked to Cragmeyer," he said. "He found a print at the judge's house.
It belongs to a man named Robert Driscoll, and we got his address. It's an apartment
complex at 416 North Frances St., in Brentwood, Number D-9. August and James are
already en route."
"I'm on my way." He turned the phone off and hurried to his car.
August pulled up outside of the complex just seconds before Chase did. "Hey, partner,"
August said as he and James climbed out. "How'd things go with Ms. Hart?"
"Fine. I'm hoping she uses her head and stays at home until this is finished."
They walked inside and climbed the steps to the fourth floor. They moved down the
hall, searching the doors, trying to see the numbers hidden behind thick dust and rust.
"Here we are," Chase said, stopping and pointing at a door. "D-9. Let's see if anyone's
home." He knocked on the door.
"Yeah! Who is it!?" the response came seconds later.
"Mr. Driscoll? LAPD, we'd like to ask you a couple questions."
Glass shattered, and Chase looked at August as they all drew their guns. "Why
didn't we just the bust the door in and take him down?"
August nodded. "I think we'll have to do that more often."
Chase had the door open in one kick, and he and James hurried in while August ran
back for the stairs. They ran across the cramped apartment to the window and spotted
Driscoll fleeing down the fire-escape. They climbed through and gave chase.
Driscoll moved quick, feet clattering on the steel steps. James followed right
behind Chase as they hurried to keep up. He reached the last level and hit the release
for the final ladder. He wait impatiently as it lowered down with a racket, glancing
back up at the two detectives who were almost upon him. The ladder was fully extended
within a few seconds, and he quickly started climbing down.
He reached the end of the ladder and dropped the remaining few feet. When he
regained his footing, he saw he was standing right in front of August, who was sitting
on the hood of his car. He lifted a hand, and a pair of handcuffs dangled from his
finger. "Do you like this new LAPD-style jewelry that's going around?" he asked.
Driscoll sat across the table from Chase and August in the interrogation room. James
stood in the adjacent observation room, flipping through the man's file while watching
through the two-way mirror. "Where's Vanessa Ford?" Chase demanded, but the man
refused to answer. "Why were your fingerprints found at the judge's house?" Again, no
answer.
"You know, pal," August said, leaning forward, "we pulled your file. We've got
you on numerous wants for burglary, grand theft, arson, and attempted murder. Either
way you play this, your butt's in trouble big time."
Driscoll looked between the two nervously, then sighed, giving in. "Okay," he
said. "I helped
Ryan escape from the hospital."
"Why?" Chase asked.
"When he first started making headlines, I knew--I knew this guy was a brilliant
one. You don't get brilliance much anymore with the psychos of today. But this guy
. . . man was he brilliant. Killed all his victims in a completely different way to
throw off the suggestion of a serial killer? Brilliant. Use a different weapon each
time? Brilliant. Pick victims that had no connection to one another? Brilliant,
brilliant, brilliant."
August leaned back in his chair. "What happened after you helped him escape?"
"I took him to a place he told me he often went to be alone," Driscoll said. "He
was still weak, recovering from the surgery and all. He wasn't in any condition to
kill the people he wanted to. So I, I did it for him."
"How did he contact you?" Chase asked.
"He didn't. He only talked to Caroline Whitmore. He asked her to help him escape,
but she couldn't work up the nerve to do it. So she asked me to. I met her at one of
our meetings."
"Meetings?"
"I'm part of a group that has weekly meetings for fans of prison inmates," he
said. "I set everything up with her, and she got the time and location from him and
passed them on to me. Of course, as a result of all that, I was also supposed to kill
her as well. And Alison Hart." He looked at Chase. "And you."
"Where's Vanessa Ford?" Chase asked again.
"I don't know who that is," he said.
"She was the young lady you kidnapped from my house."
"Well, it wasn't me. It was Ryan, then. Yeah, I was supposed to go there to get
you for him, but he changed his mind last minute. Said he was feeling strong again and
wanted you personally, so he went instead. Guess you weren't there so he grabbed whoever
was."
"Do you know where he might have taken her?"
Driscoll shook his head. "I've said all I know, and I won't say anymore."
Moments later, Chase lead Driscoll out of the interrogation room and turned him
over to a uniformed officer, who took him away down the hall. Chase looked at August as
James met them in the hall. "Talk about a psycho," he said. "Weekly meetings for fans
of prison inmates?"
"Sure have come a long way since Monday night football, hu?" James said, and walked
with them down the hall.
It was around ten when Captain Jensen stepped out of his office, turning the light off
and shutting the door behind him. Pulling is coat on, he walked into the main squad area.
Chase was at his desk, lost in a mess of papers and manila folders. "Chase," he said,
"it's late. You should go home and get some rest."
Chase leaned back in his chair, sighing. "I know, Captain," he said. "I will. I
just need to finish filling out these papers."
Jensen glanced around the room. "Where's James?"
"August is showing him around the rest of the station."
Jensen laughed. "I had to rescue him from Cragmeyer earlier," he said. "He got on
a roll trying to explain all kinds of these new experimental forensics techniques he's
been working on." They both laughed. "Well, good night, Chase. See in the morning. And
get some sleep." He walked away.
"Good night, Captain." Chase went back to his papers and looked to see where he
had left off.
Moments later, August and James returned in a hurry. "Caroline Whitmore's on the
move," August said.
Chase looked up. "What?"
"Her phone tap picked up a call between her and Thomas. She's on her way to meet
him."
"Do we know where?"
"Yeah, come on. I'll tell you on the way."
Jumping to his feet, Chase grabbed his coat and ran with them down the hall.
ACT 4
They had the sirens turned off. They needed all the advantage they could in taking Thomas
by surprise. The direction August gave took them to a large warehouse along the waterfront.
Chase slowed his speed and pulled up alongside a dumpster, concealing themselves from view
of Warehouse 8, where Thomas had told Caroline to go over the phone.
"Okay. What do we do know, partner?" August asked.
"We go in nice and quiet. Chances are Vanessa's in there. If we're spotted or he
senses us, he might kill her. So we do this smooth and by the numbers."
August looked shocked. "Smooth and by the numbers?" he asked. "Chase McDonald?
Wow. That's like asking the media to be unbiased for a day."
James laughed.
They exited the car and made their way toward the warehouse with guns drawn,
stopping for cover every few yards to make sure the coast was clear before proceeding.
When they finally got to within twenty feet of the building, Chase said, "We go through
that door there." He pointed. A door in the side of the building was ajar, held open by
a wooden crate. "Remember: smooth and by the numbers. Go."
They ran for the warehouse and hurried in one by one. Once inside, they split up
and started the search. Chase thought he heard voices as he moved down the hall. He
lightened his steps as he near a door. He eased it open and looked it, but saw nothing.
The room was dark. He went in and saw another door, outlined with light coming from the
next room. Slowly opening that door, Chase saw he was in the actual open area of the
warehouse, crowded with large wooden shipping crates and other junk. The voices sounded
like they were coming from the same room.
He entered and pushed the door up behind him, then took off moving through the
maze of boxes. The voices grew louder and louder, until he finally spotted them.
Peering around the corner of a stack of crates, he spotted Thomas and Caroline. They
were talking quietly among themselves. She looked like she was crying, and he was
comforting her, his hands on her shoulders.
Chase also spotted Vanessa. She was strapped to a wooden carving table, duct tape
over her mouth. He wanted to charge Thomas and take him down, but he knew doing so
would put Vanessa at great risk, so he had to fight back the urge. He turned away and
sat down on the floor, his back against a crate, trying to think of what to do. And
calling for August and James was out of the question.
He was still thinking when he suddenly heard Caroline yell out, "No!" He peered
back around the crate. Vanessa, too, had her head turned to see what she was yelling
about. "No," she repeated. "You can't."
"But honey, there's no other way," Thomas told her. "It's the only way for us
to be together."
"No. I won't let you kill her." Caroline moved for the table and tried to take
off the first of the three straps holding Vanessa down, but Thomas grabbed her arm
and violently pulled her away.
"And I won't let you do that," Thomas said. The anger was showing in his voice
and face.
"This is the only way. They have to pay for what they did. They all have to pay."
"What's happened to you?" she asked. "You were always so calm and polite over
the computer."
"That was just a cover," he said. "Couldn't you tell? You really think a serial
killer would act the way I did when we chatted? I was warming you up so you could help
me escape when I got to the hospital. But of course, you had to chicken out and get
someone else to do if for you. You're no wife of mine."
"Ryan, don't say that. We can still work this out. You don't have to kill them
for us to be together."
Thomas exploded with anger. "Yes! I do!" Chase felt the need to charge approaching,
but held it back as best he could. Thomas was stalking in circles, the anger building,
his voice growing louder and louder as he screamed about needing justice.
Caroline continued to plead with him. "Please, Thomas. Don't do this," she begged.
"If you do, then you can forget about us. Because if you kill this young girl and those
other two, we're finished."
"I've already decided we're finished," he set, then raised his gun and shot her.
Caroline screamed out, falling back to the floor. "Consider us divorced."
Chase jumped out from behind the crates, gun aimed. "Drop it, Thomas!"
He looked over and laughed. "Well," he said. "If it isn't the esteemed Detective
Chase McDonald. The man whose arrest and testimony helped put me away for life. For
life!"
"Drop the gun, Ryan."
"You know, if it's any consolation, I was gonna kill you last because you were
the best. Hell, I even thought I might convince you join me on my new spree."
"Why didn't you offer it sooner?" Chase asked, stepping forward. "Afraid I'd say
no?"
Thomas shook his head. "If you had said no, I would have just killed you," he
said. "I was afraid you'd say yes."
Before Chase could react, Thomas raised his gun and fired. Chase ducked behind a
stack of crates as the bullets splintered the edge of one. He fired around the corner.
Thomas ran for cover, but took a bullet in the left shoulder. He stumbled forward,
firing random shots back behind him to give him time.
Chase looked around just in time to see him leaving through another door. As he
ran for Vanessa, August and James came running into the room. "You hit?" James asked.
"No, I'm fine." Chase laid his gun down on the table, and he and August went
about untying the straps that held Vanessa down.
James knelt and checked Caroline for a pulse. "She's dead," he said, standing.
Chase helped Vanessa off the table, then pulled the tape from her mouth. She put
her arms around him. "Chase," she said, crying. "I was so scared."
"It's okay, it's okay," he said, then pulled her off of him. "I have to go after
him. August, take her back outside and call an ambulance." Without waiting for a
response, he grabbed his gun and ran for the door Thomas had left through.
"Mac!" August shouted. "Mac!"
Ignoring his partner, Chase threw the door open and disappeared into the hall.
Chase stopped as he exited out the back of the warehouse. A blood trail was at his
feet, running out toward the water. He moved forward, the gravel crunching under his
shoes. He came over the final rise and looked around. Down on the other side were a
series of piers with boats anchored to them. He saw movement at one and slowly made his
way toward it.
Thomas untied the ropes holding the boat to the pier and jumped in, trying to
find some way to start the boat. Chase came down the dock, gun raised. "Hold it right
there, Thomas," he shouted. "Don't try anything. Get off the boat."
He whipped his gun up, but he wasn't quick enough this time. Chase fired a single
shot. Thomas staggered back, the gun dropping for his hand. When Chase saw what was
about to happen, he ran forward, but was too late. Thomas, clutching the wound in his
stomach, toppled over the side of the boat and splashed into the water.
August came running down the dock, gun in hand. He stopped behind Chase. "What
happened?" he asked.
Chase turned. "It's over," he said.
August lowered his gun, and he and Chase headed back.
The next morning, Chase, August, and James were sitting in Jensen's office. "Driscoll,"
Jensen was saying, "is going to be tried for murder, accessory to murder, and
harboring and abetting. Along with the other unrelated charges."
Chase laughed. "Talk about tough luck, hu?"
"And don't worry about waiting for Thomas to magically reappear in a few months
for more revenge. His body was found just a few hours ago. It's definitely over."
August sighed. "That's a relief. Just when you thought you'd seen enough movies to
know the killer always returns after falling into the water."
"Well, congratulations on a job well done," the captain told them. "And James. I
look forward to having you on our team."
"Thank you, Captain," he said. "Though after experiencing Chase's driving first
hand, I might go back to Seattle."
Everyone but Chase laughed. "Ha ha," he said flatly.
August shut the door as they stepped out of the office. "Thanks for showing me a
great first few days in L.A., guys," James said with a smile.
Chase laughed. "No problem."
"I'll catch you two later," he said, then moved down the hall.
As they walked back to their desk, they found a surprise sitting in Chase's chair.
It was Vanessa. August walked on to his desk, pretending to whistle as if he didn't see
anything. "Vanessa," Chase said.
She got up and walked around the desk. "I came by to tell you I've been excepted
into an art college back East," she said.
He smiled. "Really. Well, that's great. You've certainly earned it."
"I just wanted to say thank you for giving me all the pointers," she said, adding
with a smile, "and for saving my life and all last night."
Before Chase could respond, she put her arms around and gave him a long kiss.
August's eyes widened at the surprising act, and he quickly turned back to his computer,
whistling. As she pulled back, she smiled and said, "Well, guess I'll see you around."
Chase was still recovering from the kiss. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Take care. Good
luck."
Giving him one last coy smile, she turned and left. All the cops and detectives
stoped to watch her leave. There was definitely something magical about the way she
moved in her clothes. August stepped up behind him. "You know, Mac," he said. "I think
you missed the perfect opportunity to have nothing but pure excitement in your life."
Chase shook his head, smiling, watching as she disappeared around the far corner.
"For some reason," he said, "I've got a feeling I'll be seeing her again."
| INDEX |
