Apocalypse Island (32 page)

“How long ago did Wolf leave the office?”

“About an hour.”

“Thank you.” Jennings pushed the off button and dialed Cavanaugh’s number. Cavanaugh had been watching Wolf for more than a month now, ever since the killings had begun and Jennings had found the first band fliers near the body. Jennings allowed Cavanaugh freedom of movement when it came to Wolf, knowing that Wolf’s schedule was screwy and that the detective would not let Wolf pull anything over on him. Jennings’s hope was that Cavanaugh knew where Wolf was at this very moment. More than once over the course of the past month he’d found himself wondering when Cavanaugh slept. As the phone continued to ring he wondered if the detective was sleeping now. But Cavanaugh did not pick up and Jennings hung up in frustration.

Darkness was falling.

Jennings had to turn on his headlights. He could not stop his mind as he maneuvered his car through heavy rush hour traffic. It had been more than two weeks since Cavanaugh had confessed that his wife had left him, and Jennings wondered about the man. He knew him yet he didn’t
really
know him. Jennings had allowed himself to be kept in the dark for years by Cavanaugh and the chief on two cases, one that had gotten his best friend killed and one where the murder of a young woman had been covered up. Now he was starting to think the two cases might be linked.

He’d always believed that the force did what it had to do to protect its own, and he’d stayed silent because of that reasoning. It was common in forces everywhere, something known as the blue wall of silence. But now he was questioning everything including his own judgment in these matters. Too many questions and contradictions were bubbling to the surface and Jennings knew that it was time for someone to come clean with him.

He liked Kate Cavanaugh, and he wondered how she was getting along. Actually he wondered where Kate had gone when she’d left her husband. Why hadn’t Cavanaugh mentioned her recently? Strange. Or maybe not so strange. Cavanaugh had been acting totally fucking wacky lately. The Cavanaughs had two kids, both were away at college. How were they handling this? Did they even know what was going on? Of course they did.

He couldn’t think about Cavanaugh now. He had to find Wolf and bring him in, and he needed to make sure Laura was okay. He turned right off Congress Street and then took a quick left onto Sparrow. He pulled up in front of Wolf’s apartment building and got out of the car, gazing up toward the second floor. Not much activity up there. No lights in the windows. It was almost the dinner hour and most people would soon be arriving home from work, fixing supper and settling in for the night ahead.

Wolf, he knew, worked nights with his band. They’d been at Portland’s Cavern Club for the past two weeks and Jennings knew that they were so popular that the owner had extended them for another two weeks. But it didn’t look like Wolf would be playing tonight. He was going in for questioning, possibly being booked for murder.

And although Jennings believed that this needed to be done, there seemed to be a lot of unanswered questions. Wolf was a troubled individual; this was a fact, but even so, and even with all the evidence pointing to Wolf, Jennings was still having a hard time wrapping his brain around why Wolf would be killing innocent young women. He was popular, talented, good looking. So was Ted Bundy, a cold little voice told him, and Bundy was rich besides. None of those things stopped him from being one of the most notorious serial killers in history.

Just the same, deep down, he didn’t want to believe Wolf was the killer. Unless he was trying to get caught no killer would leave such blatant and incriminating evidence at all the crime scenes. Were those band fliers left there by someone trying to point the finger at Wolf? If so, then why? If the killer wanted Wolf out of the way why then didn’t he just kill him? Maybe he wanted Wolf to suffer. Perhaps five years in prison hadn’t been suffering enough.

On the other hand, he had to consider the possibility that Wolf
was
the killer and that he liked playing games and that everything he’d done up till now was designed as an insanity defense.

Jennings went into the building and trudged up the stairs to the second floor, knocking on Wolf’s door. There was no answer. A door down the hall opened and an elderly woman stepped out of an apartment staring suspiciously at him.

“I’m a cop,” Jennings said. “I’m looking for Wolf.”

“Came home about an hour ago,” the woman said. “Don’t know if he’s still there.” Her expression of suspicion collapsed and was replaced by a worried frown. “Might be something wrong in apartment seven.”

“Who are you?”

“Mrs. Rosenberg.”

Jennings stared. “Who lives in apartment seven?”

    “Old man Tripp. Haven’t seen him all day. Not like him. He’s usually the first one out in the morning to get the paper, and he wanders the halls during the day. I’ve knocked on his door three times but he won’t answer.”

“Have you tried calling him?”

“No phone.”

Jennings didn’t have time for this. Nevertheless he went down the hall to apartment number seven and knocked. He tried the door but it was locked.

“What’d you say his name was?”

“Raymond Tripp.”

“Mr. Tripp,” Jennings called several times but no one answered. He backed away looking at the door.

“He’s been having a lot of trouble with Wolf,” Mrs. Rosenberg said. “Actually we all have. Awful noises in the night.”

“Yeah, I heard something about that,” Jennings said. “Someone called the station and complained.”

“It was Tripp. He’s confronted Wolf several times,” Mrs. Rosenberg told Jennings. “Not too pleasant, I’ll tell you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Angry stuff. A lot of shouting and bad words.”

Jennings pointed at the door. “You think Wolf...?”

“Don’t know what to think. Just worried is all.”

Jennings walked toward the woman pulling a card from his pocket. “Tell you what. If you haven’t seen or heard from him by morning call me at this number.”

“Might be too late then,” said the woman.

“There’s nothing I can do until he’s been reported missing by a relative.”

“Got a daughter in California but she wouldn’t know anything. Never comes to visit. Never writes to him. We’re all he has.”

Jennings thought for a moment. “Tell you what. I’ll make a call, send someone over. But call the station if he comes back.”

The woman agreed and went back into her apartment.

Jennings went back to Wolf’s door and tried the knob. It was unlocked so he opened it.

“Wolf?” he called out. No answer. He let himself in and looked around being careful not to touch anything. Nothing incriminating jumped out at him. In the bedroom he saw the balled-up blood-stained sheets in the corner, got down and inspected them. “Jesus,” he whispered. He stood up and went to the open window, stuck his head out and looked down into the alley. He wondered why Wolf would leave the window open with expensive music equipment right here in the bedroom. Unless he’d heard him coming and had made a run for it.
Maybe the little bastard
is
guilty.

Jennings squeezed his bulk out through the window and made his way down the fire escape. It was almost dark now but in the dim light he could see that the fire escape had gotten some use of late. He bent down inspecting the prints but could not make sense of them. Disgusted, he walked out of the alley and back around to his car. He picked up his phone and called the station, explained the situation with Raymond Tripp and asked for a patrol to be sent over.

Afterwards he sat in his car watching Wolf’s apartment as darkness closed in on the city. Nothing felt right. These killings were spooking the shit out of him. He watched as a squad car pulled up out front and two uniformed officers got out. He left his car and led them into the building, following them upstairs to Raymond Tripp’s apartment.

It only took a few seconds to break the lock on the door. Raymond Tripp lay dead on the threshold of his bedroom in a pool of blood. He’d been stabbed multiple times in the back. It looked like he’d been trying to flee from his assailant. Jennings called the crime lab then went down to his car leaving the patrolmen with the body. He picked up his cell and dialed as darkness engulfed the city.

Chapter 76

Laura sat in silence, her eyes closed and her throbbing head resting against the seat-back. She was trying to decide if she was going to answer Wolf’s question with the truth or more lies. Something told her that lying would be futile. Wolf wasn’t a dummy. He already knew about her.

“Answer my question, Laura. What were you doing in my apartment?”

“I heard you. Christ, give me a minute.” Laura’s cell phone began playing Warren Zevon’s Werewolves of London. She heaved a deep sigh, picked it out of her pocket and threw it on the seat.

“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Wolf said.

Laura watched Wolf carefully for a long moment before picking up the phone and pressing the on button.

“Hello?”

“Laura, where the hell are you?”

She sat straight up in her seat wincing from the pain. She’d hit the ground pretty hard when that monster had dropped her and she suspected she’d be sore for a few days. “What’s going on?” she said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Where have you been?”

“You know where I’ve been. Listen, I can’t talk right now.”

“Are you with Wolf?”

“Yes.”

“Are you all right?”

“Of course.”

“He’s a murderer, Laura.”

“You’re wrong.”

“No, I’m right! Listen, we found the place Wolf told you about and there was another body. The place was rigged with explosives and I lost an officer. The whole scene was just as Wolf described it.”

“Shit!” she said.

“Something else,” Jennings said. “We just found Wolf’s elderly neighbor stabbed to death in his apartment. He was butchered in cold blood. Some of the other neighbors say he’s been fighting with Wolf over noise. You still think he’s innocent?”

She looked over at Wolf who was giving her sidelong glances. “Yes, I do.”

“Laura, goddamn it, you listen to me. I want you to bring him in right now, understand?”

“I can’t.”

“There’s an APB out on him. If you protect him you’ll be arrested.”

Laura was silent for a long moment in thought. Finally she said, “I can’t do it.”

“Then I’ll assume you’re being held against your will.”

“Not true. Listen, I have to go.”

“Jesus, Laura, you’ve got a thing for him, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Laura said, unsure if it was true or not. What she did know for certain was if she defied Jennings and went with Wolf, harbored him, her career as a police officer was probably over.

“Laura, I care very much about you. You’ve got to promise me you’ll watch him carefully.”

“I promise I will. I have to go now. I’ll call you later.” She put her finger on the off button, knowing in that moment that her life would never again be the same. Almost immediately the phone started ringing. She ignored it this time.

“You bitch,” Wolf said. “Why did you lie to me?”

Laura stared at him. “I want to help you,” she said, “but I’m out on a limb here.”

Wolf angrily maneuvered the car to the side of the street and stopped. “Tell me how this happened.”

“Listen, my assignment was to get close to you, see if you were the one killing those girls. But when I met you I felt something. I knew you weren’t a murderer.” An unmarked patrol car sped past them heading uptown. The warbling sound of emergency vehicle sirens seemed to be everywhere. “Come on, drive,” Laura said. “We’ve got to get out of town.”

“What? Are you, nuts? I can’t leave town. I’ve got a gig tonight.”

“Smarten up, Wolf, for Christ’s sake! You’re not playing any more gigs for a long time.”

“What’s going on?”

“You’re wanted for murder.”

“What?”

“You know that place you said you dreamed about?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it was real and they found another body. Evidently it was rigged with explosives and an officer is dead.”

“You told them about my dream?”

“Get a clue, Wolf. I told them everything.”

“Christ,” he said, fuming. “You fucking little cunt!”

“I’m not going to apologize. I was doing my job.”

“Your job? Did that include raping me?”

“I didn’t rape you, so shut the fuck up about it!”

“All right! Jesus Christ.”

Laura glared at Wolf. “That’s not all,” she said. “They found a neighbor of yours stabbed to death. Evidently he’s been giving you shit about noise or something.”

“Oh, God, no,
I
didn’t kill him. I swear I didn’t.”

“I believe you, Danny. Trouble is, no one else does.”

“What’ll we do now?”

“I need a place where I can think. We can’t go back to your place. We can’t go to mine.”

“Christ I don’t believe this.”

“Believe it, Wolf. And believe also that you’re in a shit-load of trouble.”

“Who was that on the phone?”

“Jennings.”

“But how do you…?”

“Know him? He was a friend of my father’s. I’ve known him all my life. When he needed someone undercover he called me. Big mistake on his part.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t even know if I’m the killer. Just take me in.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because something doesn’t feel right and I don’t think you’d be safe in jail.”

Chapter 77

Laura sat up and looked around at the street. Her body stiffened when she saw another police cruiser, emergency lights flashing, cross over the street behind them. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” she said. “Wait a minute! Do you even have a driver’s license?”

“No.”

“Get out. I’m driving.”

They traded places, Laura taking the driver’s seat.

“Are you okay to drive?” Wolf asked.