Read Head Shot (A Thriller): A Crime and Suspense Thriller Online
Authors: Dani Amore
Eighty-Four
Nancy Bishop stood in front of the small, picturesque cabin by the lake. Hastily erected rope was strung from tree trunk to tree trunk, the northwoods version of a cordoned off crime scene.
She looked at Crumbaker who was still struggling to adjust his camera and gear.
At last, he finished checking his light meter, then hoisted the camera on his shoulder. The telltale red light clicked on and Nancy Bishop began her report.
"I'm standing in front of Lost Lake Lodge, the home of Ron and Rose Sharpe, near Rodgers Bay, Michigan. According to police, it was at this cabin earlier this morning that the fugitive and suspected serial killer Joe Ferkovich took the people residing here hostage. Authorities say they found the car of murdered police officer Benjamin Soergel, about a half mile east of the cabin."
She paused as a breeze blew a strand of hair across her face. Inside, she was struggling to stay calm. Saying Ben's name to the camera had been difficult, but she was holding it together now.
"One of the captives is believed to have been Mike Sharpe, the actor who portrayed Ferkovich on the show
Nation’s Most Wanted
. The police believe Ferkovich watched the broadcast of the show, and the chase which ensued when a civilian, Hank Campbell, mistook Mike Sharpe for Joe Ferkovich."
She stepped to her left and Crumbaker followed her as more of the cabin came into view.
"I spoke with Rodgers Bay Police Chief Don Lenzen this morning, and he confirmed that Mike Sharpe did not want to press charges against Hank Campbell, so Campbell was released this morning. Apparently, Campbell came here, to Lost Lake Lodge, to apologize to Mike Sharpe face-to-face. Authorities say that when he arrived, he saw what was occurring inside the cabin, and shot Ferkovich, killing him instantly."
Several patrolmen walked behind Nancy. The ambulance had already departed, but the cops were still working to record the crime scene.
"The other victims were Ron Sharpe, Rose Sharpe, Laurie Bradford, and Mike Sharpe. They were all taken for medical treatment, although none are believed to be in serious condition."
"Again, suspected serial killer Joe Ferkovich is dead. We'll be back this evening with more coverage of this breaking story. Nancy Bishop. Channel 6 news."
After several seconds, the light blinked off of Joel Crumbaker's camera and he lowered it from his shoulder, scooped up the sandbags next to his lighting tripod, and carried it all back to the van. When he returned, Nancy was standing in front of the crime scene tape, looking longingly at the lake.
"It's pretty, isn't it?" she asked.
"Very."
She turned and looked at him, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"So do you want to start calling me 'boss' now or when we get back to Milwaukee?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Aaron retired. He felt a pain in his left arm, went to the hospital, and turned out he was having a heart attack."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah, he decided he better get to Florida and make a few casts for tarpon while he still can."
"How did you find out?"
"Al Cupertino."
"Ooh, the big guy himself. And let me guess, he offered you Aaron's job."
"More or less."
"You accepted?"
"More or less."
"I just can't picture you part of management."
"You better, Buster, or you're screwed."
Eighty-Five
The phone rang and Mike heard Beta's voice on the other end.
"My God, Michael, I just heard, are you all right?" she asked. Mike thought he heard some actual sincerity in the question.
"Hanging in there, what's up?" he said.
"Look, I don't want to bother you right now with business, I suspect your family needs you."
"You figured right."
"All I'll say is that there are some very interested parties in your story, both in terms of rights and possible projects. So when you get back out here, you're going to be a very busy boy."
Mike couldn't help but take the bait.
"What parties?"
"Two producers, their studios, as well as Tom Cruise's production company, and several literary agents. The book deal alone will get you into the mid-six figures."
Mike successfully bit his tongue.
"And, of course, you'll have the option of playing yourself in the film."
The number she'd thrown out was staggering, but as quickly as he'd been staggered by the amount, he pulled himself together.
"I appreciate the call, Beta, I should be back in L.A. in a week or two. We'll talk then?"
"Count on it, Mike. I'll make my schedule work around yours."
He almost laughed out loud at the idea.
Mike hung up and looked at the motley group assembled on the verandah. The entire cabin interior was a crime scene, incongruous chalk outline and all.
He moved to the deck and stood next to Laurie and Detective Mitchell.
Mitchell handed a business card to Mike.
"Call me if you need anything, I'll be in town for a couple of more days before heading back to Milwaukee."
They nodded a good-bye and Mike took Laurie by the hand. Together they walked down the small stone pathway to the lake. He led her down the pier and they stepped onto the pontoon boat still moored to the end of the dock. It bobbed and swayed gently as it took on its new cargo.
Mike sat on one of the upholstered seats at the rear of the boat, and looked out over the lake. He put his arms around Laurie's waist and pulled her onto his lap.
"Well, I sure know how to show a girl a good time, don't I?"
"Yeah, I was just thinking how right you were about what a peaceful vacation it would be."
He laughed sheepishly and slowly pulled the jewelry box out of his pocket.
"Well, I don't think the excitement's over just yet."
She looked down at his hand and her eyes rose to meet his.
"Laurie, I've been beat up, shot, and beat up again this vacation, but I figure if you say no, I'll feel worse than all of it combined."
Laurie looked down at the ring as Mike continued.
"I got off the phone with Beta, and I don’t know what the next step will be for me, but I do know that I love you more than anything in the world, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Mike let out a deep breath.
"Laurie, will you marry me?"
She looked at him as a teardrop trickled from her eye.
"Yes."
They embraced, and she took his face into her hands.
"And if you want to come back here, leave L.A., that's fine with me,” she said. “After making anorexic models with heroin habits look beautiful through the lens, just think what I can do with a bald eagle perched on a tree with one of these beautiful sunsets behind him."
He shook his head.
"I can't imagine. You'll have to show me."
They hugged again, and made their way to the cabin. The loon called from the lake as they stepped off the pier.
Eighty-Six
Ray Mitchell leaned against the side of his car, the faint breeze blowing off of Lake Superior was cold, a chilly premonition of the brutal weather on its way. Ray had once lived for two years in northern Wisconsin and he had never forgotten the winters. Not only were they unbelievably cold with severe snow accumulation from the lake effect, they realistically lasted nine months. Spring, summer, and fall had approximately one month each.
He turned up the collar of his jacket and looked back at the cemetery. Joe Ferkovich's funeral had just finished. There was a small contingent of reporters, Mary Ferkovich, and a few people whose reason for being there he could only guess.
Ray had spent the last two days wrapping up loose ends before preparing to return to the city. Krahn had left the day before. Early this morning Ray had gotten a call from Chief Trimble; the old man wanted him back in a hurry, saying that someone needed to step in and take over Soergel's responsibilities.
The suggestion had momentarily floored Ray. He would be a Lieutenant.
The prospect of more money was immediately offset by the fact that he would do less detective work, and that idea did not please him. But he knew Michelle would urge him to take it, Lord knew they needed more money, especially considering how much work needed to be done on the house.
Ray wasn't sure how he would feel about taking over Soergel's job. There had been no love lost between the two, but still, the idea of being an opportunist after a cop had been killed didn't sit well with Ray.
He opened the driver's door and got behind the wheel.
Ray took one last look at the cemetery, then looked out over the big body of water to his left. The blue sky was startling beautiful, completely free of clouds. He took out his notepad and placed it inside the bulky folder with all of the paperwork on the Ferkovich case. He closed the flap and stretched the elastic band around the body of the folder. He would place it in his office file cabinet under "cases closed."
He buckled his seat belt and automatically reached for the cup of coffee waiting in the cupholder. The cup was halfway to his mouth when he stopped. He looked back at the cemetery, then up to the brilliant blue sky. He opened the door and poured the coffee onto the pavement.
It was going to be a long drive back.
Eighty-Seven
The plush, white leather couch in the green room of the
Tonight Show
sagged uncomfortably under the incredible weight of Hank Campbell. He hefted his tenth bottle of Budweiser to his lips, drinking half of its contents with one big slurp.
He had to give these people credit, he thought to himself, they sure knew how to take care of people.
"Hi, honey," he said to a tall brunette who walked into the green room followed by several men in suits.
"Hello," said Sigourney Weaver.
Hank watched as the little men in suits ushered the tall, good-looking gal to the other end of the room. She couldn't possibly be seeing either one of them, he thought. She needs a big man.
"Hey," he said. Everyone turned to look at him. "Ya' want a beer?"
"No thank you," she said.
Hank shrugged his massive shoulders.
One of the suits went to talk to the show's producer, and the other one answered a call on his cell phone. Hank took the opportunity to walk over to where the woman was sitting.
"What are you on the show for?" he asked.
"I'm promoting my new movie, Aliens 5."
She ran her eyes over the new suit the show had bought him.
"And you?"
He smiled.
"Oh, I blew some guy's head off."
"Really."
"Yeah. I shot someone else, too, but that was the wrong guy. I got it right the second time, though."
"Well good for you."
A page appeared at the doorway to the studio.
"Hank Campbell. You're on after the commercial break."
The big man drained the rest of his beer and set it on the table next to Sigourney Weaver.
"You wanna get some pizza after the show?" he asked.
She smiled as politely as possible.
"Mr. Campbell," the page said, as sternly as she could muster. "We need you here, now."
"Gotta go, babe."
"Good luck," she said, and watched his massive bulk lumber toward the curtain.
The page escorted him to the side of the stage. The show's producer looked at the big man, the smell of beer coming off the man in waves, confirming to the producer that he was right in assuming this segment would require plenty of editing.
Hank heard the host mention his name, as well as Ferkovich's, then he felt hands pushing him onto the stage. He walked slowly, the bright lights making him feel warm, as did the sound of thunderous applause filling the studio.
THE END
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About the Author
Dani Amore is a crime novelist living in Los Angeles, California.