Relentless (Elisabeth Reinhardt Book 1) (24 page)

More settled now, Custer and Slim took part in the discussion. It was easier to play along than to resist him. They named teachers and
doctors. They named store owners in the little market where she did odd jobs. They talked back and forth about each person who was mentioned. The principal of the school was a probably not. He was a grumpy old guy who didn’t seem to like the kids a lot. Then there was the school secretary. She was a little better, but was scared of the principal and wouldn’t do anything like that on her own. They went down the list of teachers, this one was too sickly, that one had too many children, that one was married and taking care of her sick mother. On and on it went.  They really didn’t remember much about those days. A lot had happened since then. But Jake was certain that the answers were in Hurricane. They decided to work on changing their appearance so they could infiltrate their own home turf. It was exciting to Jake. Like some Bible hero infiltrating the camp of the enemy.

Slim and Custer were sharing a bed, and dozing when Jake suddenly turned the volume up and shouted, “There we are again. Listen up you guys!” They all stared intently at the TV, anxiety mounting. The news anchor was saying, “…..
in connection with the rapes and deaths of 5 young women whose bodies were found…” 

“
See, I told you it was a good idea to leave that fucking mountain top. We were missing out on all this good stuff hiding up there. This is where the action is.” Slim and Custer had different ideas. They didn’t need to be down here in the real world watching their faces on TV and hearing that a national manhunt for them was underway. They wanted to go back up the mountain and wait til the spring thaw.

“Jake,” Custer started,
“I think …”

Jake interrupted suddenly, “We’re going
home to Hurricane, boys,” he declared suddenly, “We need to get information and figure things out. Cus, go get us some hair dye, scissors and some new clothes. We are going to change our looks get ourselves all cleaned up and walk right into the Lion’s den, get it, Leo the Lion??” He hooted with pride at his clever joke. “Lion’s den … Law Enforcement Officers… L E O’s,” he repeated laughing loudly.

“
And bring us some food, too,” Jake called to Custer’s departing back, “We’re heading home boys, walking into the lion’s den. It’s where everything’s happening and we’re not going to miss it. We’re gonna need a new set of wheels, we’ve had these ones too long, I think. Custer hold on a sec, I’ll drive you and get us another car, and then I’ll swing by and pick you up. Slim you stay here and keep up with the news; I’ll want a full report when I get back.

Sighing Custer
paused, counted the money in his wallet and walked out the door with Jake right behind him. As they drove Jake grinned that snarling grin of his and started his singsong chant, “
Come out, come out, wherever you are. Reggie Lee we’re coming for you…..
Reeggieee…
”

Thinly coated monitor leads ran from various points on the twin girls’ bodies to elevated screens positioned near the babies and also at the nursing station. A cadre of numbers and lines in primary colors flashed across several monitors. To the uninformed eye, they meant nothing, but to the trained eye they meant everything: information about heart rate, heart rhythm, blood pressure, oxygen levels in the blood and respiratory rate. Staff members were assigned to watch these monitors. The twins were in critical condition. They had survived the first surgery but that surgery had been stopped mid-way so that the babies could stabilize. It was decided that they would be sedated and monitored until they were strong enough to endure another surgery. This was critical work and often had to be done in stages.

Gina Reynolds sat next to the nurse on monitor duty and studied the screens. She was especially concerned about the cardiac information.
The heart rate was high, blood pressure low and pulse rate inconsistent. It had been three days since the twins had been in the OR and they had been in this ‘resting state’ since that time. Nothing had changed except their medications. The dilemma was that each baby needed different treatment, but since they were conjoined and their bloodstreams comingled, each baby could not receive the exact treatment she needed without running the risk of it having a negative impact on her twin. Jane, ‘her baby’ though a bit larger than her twin sister, had more trouble with her heart and lungs. As she watched the monitors, she could see that her heart was having difficulty pumping, perhaps due to sluggish valves in her left aorta, which an earlier ECHO had diagnosed. The baby was not in imminent danger but the situation had to be addressed quickly. Gina reached for her phone and paged Goeff Reed to the NICU. Within minutes, he was at her side.

“Jane’s in trouble,” Gina said, “I need to give her an anticoagulant, but the concern is Judy
, her blood is fine, thinning it may cause problems.”

The two of them considered the various options and decided that the risk of doing nothing put Jane in more trouble than the risk to Judy of doing something. They decided that they would
put Jane on an aspirin regimen. They knew that this situation could not continue indefinitely. That presented a dire predicament because separating the twins would soon become imperative whether the babies were ready for the next surgery or not.

Goeff and Gina sat together and discussed their cases thoroughly. The twins, identical biologically, were medically
different. Judy had both kidney and liver readings that could be problematic, but her heart and lungs were strong. Jane was the reverse with good kidney and liver functioning, but had heart and lung difficulties. Her blood pressure readings were often dangerously high and she had a congenital condition that caused her aortic valve to ‘regurgitate’ or close ineffectively. Because of their medical anomalies, treatments were required for each baby that were contraindicated for her twin. The doctors developed a three column chart and painstakingly detailed every medical problem for each baby, its appropriate treatment and its possible problem for each twin. In a third column was a discussion of possible outcomes for withholding treatment until after the twins could be separated. They would present this as a power point at the next multi-disciplinary conference to get input and suggestions. As they left the NICU, they were met by their ‘escorts’ and the four rode down in the elevator together. As they exited on level 3 of the parking garage, they were barraged by a group of reporters who managed to evade security and set up camp near their waiting cars. How the press managed this and how they knew which cars they would be using was a question never to be answered, because in the haze of flashing cameras and the barrage of questions, both doctors were pressed into a single car that surged out into city streets. In less than 30 seconds, they knew they were being followed. The media was giving chase; they wanted information on the twins and were willing to go to extraordinary lengths to get it. Gina and Goeff stared out the rear window until the escort instructed them to lie down on the back seat. Obediently, they put their heads down while the escorts radioed for assistance. It took about 10 minutes for the police to catch up with them and round up the pursuers. By that time, it was about 10PM and both were hungry so they decided to pull in to a TGI Friday for dinner. Gina and Goeff had never really spent personal time together and it was awkward for them to find themselves seated across from each other with their escorts on either side.

The
se escorts were part of a newly hired team employed by Protect and Serve. They scanned the area and maintained radio contact with their supervisor, Pablo Ruiz. He had told them that the real danger on this case was not the paparazzi, but the Parkland Killers. Without revealing too much, he let them know that Gina could be in mortal danger and they could never relax their guard when on duty. While Goeff was not directly a target of the killers, his life would be at stake if the killers struck. The escorts were on high alert. One man kept his eyes on the front door, the other watched as the swinging kitchen door swung back and forth. Within minutes, they had every person in the restaurant mentally tagged. Unobtrusively they used their cell phones to send photographs of everyone in the room to their headquarters staff that ran the images through criminal identification software soon identifying diners and servers who might be possible threats. Although they ordered meals and were physically present, the escorts focused on their jobs. Once Gina and Goeff realized they were essentially alone at the table, their conversation became more casual. They started by exchanging opinions about their work, the hospital staff and policies and then moved into more personal areas. Goeff was from Wichita and had gone to medical school at the University of Michigan. He had never been married and lived in a condo near the hospital. Gina told him her standard superficial story about growing up in Asheville and hiking in the North Carolina Mountains. She hoped he couldn’t tell how anxious she was talking about her youth. When she talked about her childhood, there was a part of her that seemed to detach, listening to every word and watching her from afar. Gina worried that her voice sounded hollow and strange and that Goeff would sense how anxious she was. She was glad that the escorts were otherwise occupied or she’d have to worry about them, too. They were pretty observant.

T
hey were finishing their coffee when a commotion drew their attention to the front door. Through the plate glass window they could see several people struggling and shouting. Without waiting to see what the problem was, the four of them moved in tandem through the kitchen to a back alley and slid into a dark sedan waiting for them. The man riding shotgun kept up a running commentary with someone through his earwig. They were apparently following someone’s directions as the car wove through the city streets for the next forty minutes. Gina was nodding off when the car pulled up to her condo building.

Gil
McCray stood at his condo window on the second floor and watched them pull up. He then moved to his desk and watched her on the monitor as she entered her condo. He only felt that she was safe when he was with her or watching her. There was something about this woman that was so vulnerable it was almost frightening. Strong and in control when on the job, she was fragile underneath. He felt an almost compulsive need to take care of her, to protect her. He watched as she fed the cat and got ready for bed. He thought he saw her lips moving as she busied herself with her bedtime tasks. He tried to make out her words. They seemed short and rhythmic. He decided she must be praying or something. He watched as Gina opened her night table drawer and pulled something out. In her small hand, the gun seemed heavy and huge. Its cold grey metal seemed to comfort her as she slipped it under her pillow and turned out her light.

“
Jake, this is crazy man,” Slim repeated over and over again. But Jake was determined.

“
We’re going back home, boys. That’s where she was. There’s someone there who knows what happened to her. I’m going to find her, Man, I’ve been asking the wrong people or maybe I’ve been asking the right people the wrong way.” He giggled at his little word play, “Someone helped her and I’m going to find out who they were.”

“Jake, slow down, Man,” Custer shrieked from the backseat, “Slow down, for shit’s sake! You’re going to get us killed.”

“Or arrested for speeding,” Slim added. “Slowwww Down, for Christ’s sake you’ll get us killed!”

“Hurricane,” Jake sung out, “that’s where our first kill was that’s where our last kill was and that’s where we’re going!  All the cops in the world are looking everywhere for us and they’ll never be looking for us back home! Good old Hurricane! It’s a perfect plan, boys. Damn, it’s a perfect plan. Just you stick with old Jake, my friends
, and he will lead you to the Promised Land. Shit, I’m like one of those bible people, Jesus or Moses or someone. Leading my flock to the Promised Land! And you, my friends, are my flock. My own fuckin’ flock,” He cackled again. “Holy Land here we come! The cops will never expect us to be there right under their noses. Those assholes are probably combing through every park in the country looking for us and we’ll be right under their noses!” He whooped loudly and took a swig of his beer, “We’ll face down those cops. We’re going to find the trail to Reggie Lee and we’re going to find out what they know about us and we’re going to drive the whole damn police force out of their fuckin’ minds. This is going to be great, just great!” As he rattled on, Slim and Custer exchanged eye rolls. Their ‘leader’ had gone over the edge and was completely nuts. He was going to get them all killed. They were scared and they were also excited. They hadn’t ever seen him this crazy before, but his wild ideas were like the old days when they were young and daring. Those had been exciting times. Wild and Free!

When Custer had returned to the motel with their disguise supplies, they took turns showering, cut and dyed their hair and put on clean new clothes. Jake ranted and raved the whole time about his new plan and how they were going to go back to Hurricane, right into the Leo the Lion’s den. “Leo the Lion,” he sang out, “we’re coming for you! Reggie Lee and Leo we’re coming for you!
Come out Come out wherever you are, Reggie Lee we’re coming for you! Come out Come out wherever you are!!
” He sang louder, laughing at his cleverness. He was invincible, pure and strong and brave. He would sail back into Hurricane and defeat the enemy. He would reign supreme. He would find out what the police knew about them, and how to avoid capture. He would defeat those stupid cops. They ruined his life. Always stopping him from doing what he wanted to do, always catching him and putting him in jail. They were to blame for all his bad luck. He’d be a happy man if it weren’t for the cops always chasing him and trying to kill him. Well he’d show them who was boss. He was indomitable. Like that snowman. The indomitable snowman or was it om
bomital? And that was so stupid, anyway. Who ever heard of a powerful snowman? ‘That was just stupid,’ he thought as he rinsed the dye out of his hair revealing a sickly color.
He stared at his reflection in the mirror and screamed, “CUSTER get in here!!!” Custer and Slim raced to the doorway and stared at Jake’s hair. It was green. Jake had chosen the blonde hair dye and on top of his natural black hair it turned green. Jake screamed about how stupid Custer was for letting him buy the wrong stuff until Custer raced out the door to buy more hair dye. Two hours later, clean shaven sporting sludge-colored hair, dressed in new jeans and a flannel shirt, Jake stretched out on the bed waiting for Slim to get back with their ride.

Slim, appointed to steal another ride returned with
a black ‘98 Chevy truck he’d lifted from the back of a run-down strip mall. It was plain, rusted and would not attract attention, but he thought it would do well enough on the snowy roads cause it had chains on the wheels. They walked out of the motel without paying their bill, piled their stuff in the truck and headed toward Hurricane. The truck had holes in the floorboards and worn out shock absorbers, so the ride was bumpy and cold. It just started to snow again, a heavy wet snow fated to freeze into solid ice once the temperature dropped, when the argument got more intense. Jake was convinced his plan was solid, Slim and Custer wanted to run.  The argument intensified into a fight and the fight to verbal attacks until Jake pulled his gun from his waistband and threatened to shoot them both if they didn’t shut up.

“Work with me on this,” he demanded. Reluctantly they acquiesced. As they rode along
they concocted a plan. They would start at the Raines Family Farm and use one of the cabins there as home base, if the cops weren’t there. They weren’t sure exactly how much the police knew, but it seemed that they knew a hell of a lot. If that was the Raines farm on the TV, they were out of luck, yet maybe it was some other farm, don’t all old farms look alike? If they’d been to the farm and left, maybe Earl and Hattie would have information for them. Then they would find out what the cops knew about them. Then they would find his old cellmate’s brother or someone else who worked at the police station, maybe even a reporter who would give them the scoop on the investigation. Jake was still thinking about finding ‘his girl,’ but decided not to bring that up just yet. He was wondering who she talked to in school, like a teacher or counselor, he never asked Hattie about that. He decided to ask his ‘sisters’ too, thinking they were girls and might know that kind of stuff.  He decided not to share these thoughts with the gang. They were too upset now and they weren’t buying into the whole Reggie thing.

“I can’t do this without, you guys. You have to help me. This will be our last big stop I promise,”
he said, “then we’ll concentrate on one big score and retire. Maybe buy us a place out west. You know ride horses and become cowboys. Be an easy life riding and drinking and picking up girls. Big place out there. Lots of girls and lots of places to hide. What d’ya think?”

Slim and Custer were silent.
‘
Cowboys my ass,’
they thought. Non-verbally supporting each other, feeling trapped with their leader getting more bizarre by the minute. They knew they were stuck for the moment with him driving like a maniac and talking nonsense about driving straight into the Lion’s Den. The whole thing was crazy, besides, Jake didn’t even like horses! ‘
Cowboys my ass,
’ they thought. No, they had to get away from him. They exchanged looks and thought ‘
first opportunity we’ll turn the tables and run.
’ This nitwit thought they could just drive into their old hometown dressed up in new clothes, with new hair styles in a stolen car and walk around talking to people about a nationwide manhunt
for them
and ask questions about a girl who’s been missing for 20 years! Really, no one would get suspicious. Really, that’s what he thought? As they bided their time waiting for the right time to either kill him, set up a trap for him or just run like hell, they pretended to go along with him. At least that’s what they told themselves as they struggled with directions, found fast food places, counted their weapons and made sure that they could get to the Raines Family Farm without being noticed. It was about 4pm and getting dark when they approached the dirt road leading into the farm. A half mile away, they saw the bright flashing lights of emergency and police vehicles. The place was ablaze.  Lights were on in every room in the house, barn and outbuildings. Dogs barked incessantly and men’s voices could be heard calling to one another or talking over cell phones. The place hadn’t seen so much activity since the first Alcott Earl Raines had moved his clan here nearly a century ago. Adrenaline pumping, Jake drove past the farm and pulled off onto a small hunting path. They were silent for a while. Taking it all in; it was what they sort of expected, but seeing it and thinking about it were two entirely different things.

“What
d’ya think, boys?” Jake asked, suddenly very democratic. Custer thought they should turn around and head for safety. Slim thought they should head back to town and see what they could learn there. Slim was badly in need of a fix and the idea of getting hooked up with a local dealer greatly influenced his thinking. Custer gave him a dirty look, knowing the real motives for such a stupid suggestion. “I think we should get on top of the mountain so we can see what they’re up to,” Jake said. He was excited now, feeling danger in the air.

“Are you crazy? They’ll see us up there,” the two yelled in unison.

“Not if we see them first,” Jake exclaimed getting out of the car.

“Jake, wait,” they yelled.

But Jake was getting himself ready for the hike. Packing guns and ammo, water and snacks into his backpack. ”I just want to take a look,” he said, “We don’t have to DO anything, we can just look. You coming?” he called back at them.

The Parkland Killers stood knee deep in snow looking down at an unbelievable scene.
Uniforms swarmed all over the place. It was like the family farm had been turned into a Hollywood movie set over night. Lights, camera, action! Police, FBI agents, crime scene investigators, reporters and search dogs were everywhere. Yellow crime scene tape was strung up blocking off the driveway and house. ‘This is weird, man,’ he thought, ‘They’re here cause of me!’ He thought he saw Hattie at the kitchen window and could barely make out Clint’s shadow standing near the barn door. He decided Dale was probably around here somewhere, too. That upset him. He had felt a kinship with Clint and Dale and the idea that they were helping the cops, well that just pissed him off. Impulsively he raised his rifle and focused his site on the barn door, but Slim stopped him.

“Easy, Buddy,” he said, “Don’t waste energy on this. We can always get him later if you want. Too many cops around now. It’d be suicide.” Jake let himself be talked out of the shot, but he was jumpy and really wanted to hurt someone.

“I’m gonna get a little closer,” he said moving slowly down the mountain. He had gone about 100 yards when he stumbled and fell. The crackling sound of broken branches rang out like gunshots in the still frozen night air. Instantly the police dogs alerted barking, growling and tugging at their leashes. Everyone stared up the mountainside unable to tell if the sound was from wildlife or the killers had returned. Chester, a long time woodsman made the decision.

“Go
!” he said, “That sound didn’t come from any kind of animal I ever heard. There’s someone up there!”

The chase began as
the canine teams led dozens of police and FBI agents up the mountain through knee deep snow. Pale flashlight beams darted here and there in the dark forest. Reinforcements arrived and joined the search. Dogs barked, boots crunched and voices cut through the night air. At the top of the mountain the Parkland Killers momentarily immobilized, stared at the approaching army. Dogs would track them through the snow. The cops would find their truck within minutes. They turned off their flashlights, deciding it was better to track by moonlight and headed for their old hiding place, not knowing that it had been discovered earlier in the day. Crime scene tape could be seen hundreds of yards away, glistening in the moonlight. ‘We’re screwed,’ they thought.  “Head toward the river,” Jake hissed, and in an ironic twist of fate the killers headed through the forest following the trail that had led Reggie Lee to safety so many years before.

They wadded into the
partially frozen water and let it carry them downstream past the farm. Any sounds they made were muted by the rush of the icy water. They could hear men yelling and dogs yelping as they crisscrossed the river trying to pick up their trail. Up and down the river banks they wove looking for footprints and giving the dogs time to catch the scent. Meantime Jake had a plan. “We’ll double back to the farmhouse,” he whispered, “I’ve got to get my stuff from Hattie.”

“
You’re crazy, Man,” the other two protested, “the place is swarming with cops.”

“
No, they are all out here looking for us, it will be safe, I have to get my stuff before the cops get it. That’s evidence, Man, evidence against us! We’ve got to go back and get my shit!”

Will Schmidt, monitoring the police radios, was alerted to a car theft that had taken place just a few hours ago near Mt. Sterling, KY not far from
Rte. 64, which leads directly into Hurricane. Local police searched the area near the theft and located a small motel. The motel manager reported renting a room to a man matching one of the killers’ descriptions. The manager said that they had left without paying the bill. Police were delighted to hear that the cleaning woman had not yet gotten into that room to clean it. CSI searched the room and found tags from newly purchased clothing, used hair dye packages and hunks of cut hair.  They contacted the State Police who contacted the Multi-State Task Force. Based on new information coming in, they constructed images approximating what the killers might look like now.  BOLO’s were updated and distributed to the media for immediate public dissemination.

While police searched the property, Hattie sat at her kitchen table, loaded with cups and plates, looking at her hands folded in front of her. It looked like she was praying. She had been talking to the police and preparing food and hot drinks for them for hours. She was running out of food and energy. She felt upset and exhausted. ‘When will this be over?’ she wondered. She wanted
the police to go away so she could go upstairs and lie down. She wanted to talk to Earl and find out what he thought about this. Earl always seemed to know about these things and she really needed help. She could not imagine that Jake was as bad as they said he was. How could he be? After all, he’d lived there with them for years. She wondered about his father, her former brother-in-law and if he had been in touch with Jake. She had not heard from him for years. He had stopped calling to see how Jake was. She remembered when Jake was about 10 he said his father was coming for him soon, he never did. Hattie didn’t even know if the man was still alive, him being a heavy drinker and all.