With Cruel Intent (32 page)

brick but much too flexible. Taking the

tape from the bottom of the parcel, he

uncovered a pile of US $100 bills almost

too thick to hold in one hand. The thief, in

all his years of taking what was not his,

had never encountered such an awesome

prize. Returning the items to the box he

went inside and began counting, 700, 725,

750, and placed the last, crisp bill on the

table. He sat back in one of the chairs, ran

his fingers through his dark hair, while

staring at the eight small stacks of

hundreds that he had organized on the

table.

“Who in the hell, keeps $75,000 in

cash in their desk drawer?”

The first thing that came to mind

was the mob. Maybe a drug dealer, but

after much self-debate he decided he’d

found somebody’s stash, money the

private citizen did not want to declare to

Uncle Sam for tax purposes. Most likely

he wouldn’t report it to the police either.

That would create all kinds of questions

from the IRS, the jewelry would be

replaced by the insurance so he didn’t feel

the least bit bad about that, he never did.

The money, however, gave him a boost in

self-confidence and made him think that

perhaps the risk had paid off. Anyway,

wouldn’t be long before he’d be cashed

out and on his way.

“Should have spent one of these

hundreds

having

the

box

properly

installed, jackass!” he said, mocking the

absent victim. “I’m making a call but they

ain’t gonna hear about this cash,” he

laughed to himself, as he retrieved the

untraceable phone from his jacket, dialed

and waited.

“Lester, what’s up my friend?”

Felix was in an especially good mood

after the reports of the morning. “Your

work last night was brilliant! Absolutely

brilliant, could not have done it better

myself.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why you

hired me, remember?” Lester responded.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to use our

real names in our correspondence, even

on the phone?”

“Pshaw, that Jeremy, he’s wound

so tight he farts diamonds. There's not

going be anybody listening to this

conversation. These phones are solid

don’t worry about it. Have you given any

thought to where you’ll hit next? One more

this week will put us over the top, my

man.”

“Why was this guy talking like

we’re best friends? I probably wouldn’t

be doing this if he wasn’t a friend of a

friend of an acquaintance but we ain’t

friends,” he thought, but did not say. “I’ve

got a couple ideas for tomorrow but I’m

laying low today. Too much police

activity to be out, especially if somebody

ID’d my van in the area.”

“I see from the reports that you

were able to search the place for

valuables. Come up with anything?” Felix

asked, expecting a cut if there was

anything of significance.

“Naw, not really, a couple

necklaces and a watch but I think it’s a

Chinese knock off,” Lester said, keeping

the money, gun and valuable jewelry to

himself.

“Too bad, would have been more

worth the risk, I guess. I’m meeting with

the other guys tomorrow to see where we

go from here, but you’re doing great. I’ll

report that to them,” the low level wise

guy indicated.

“Okay, but I feel like I should be

brought up to speed on where this is all

headed, I get the fact that you want the

people in that area to panic and have it

affect the real estate market but there has

to be a bigger picture. I just feel that I

should be brought in, you know have a

bigger piece of the pie,” he said, trying to

feel his way through the conversation.

“Like who is this Jeremy guy, what has he

got to do with anything? That’s the first

I’ve heard you even mention his name.”

“Jeremy who? You didn’t hear me

say anything about any Jeremy. I’ve said

enough, just keep doing your job and don’t

get greedy,” Felix indicated, getting a bit

annoyed with the thief.

“Okay, okay, hold your horses, I

get the picture, but let me tell you this all

stops right now if I don’t see another 5

G’s in that envelope dropped in my

mailbox tomorrow. You understand? And

don’t YOU get greedy. I’m the one

assuming all the risk! I’m the one creating

the panic! Without me you got nothing!

You hear me? You got that, Felix?” Lester

exaggerated his inflections into the small

cell phone mouthpiece and promptly

clipped it closed. “If that money isn’t

there tomorrow I’m done, I’m done,” he

said, tossing the phone on the table,

knocking bills everywhere.

* * *

Mrs. Ella Wild was exhausted.

The Wednesday evening self-defense

class the night before had been more than

she or her husband had counted on. There

were too many people to work with in one

session, so they ended up having most of

the newcomers wait until the first class

was over, then taught it all over again to

everyone that had patiently waited, which

was significant. The majority of those

present were women and most of those

spurred on by the recent activities of the

predator. Pink and her husband, Dave,

understood the insecurities and fears of

those they taught so they were happy to

help, but it had taken its toll. Ella ached in

every joint and the pain medication taken

with breakfast had not fully kicked in yet.

Standing before her students she struggled

to stay focused and hoped the class would

be able to carry the discussion so she

didn’t have to.

She had not had time to review

and mark the assignment given out a few

days before but she was impressed with

the dozen she had evaluated. “I take it

many of you are quite interested in the

recent events north of the city?” she said,

more as a question than a statement. “I’m

intrigued. Why is that? Why would you be

so interested in the acts of a degenerate

and the suffering that he causes? Granted, I

sort of get it, after all this is the Deviant

Behavior Course, but I think it goes

beyond that. I think for many of you it’s

like a train wreck, you just can’t help

yourself, you just can’t help but having to

look. Am I right?” No one volunteered an

answer; afraid they might get their head

taken off with the mood she seemed to be

in this morning.

“While you are sitting there trying

to decide if you have the courage to

answer, let me say this, I love it, to a

degree that is. I hate the pain and suffering

these people cause, the loss of life, the

uncertainty they create, the fear they

instill, but I love studying their deviant

minds and what it is about them that makes

them tick. It is people like you and me that

have the capacity within us to stop these

beasts and bring them to justice. That’s

why I teach this course. That’s why I push

you to learn more than I know. To

understand them in ways that I cannot, you

need to be better than I ever was. I believe

some of you will get there and make me

proud, and the rest of you, well, the world

needs ditch diggers too, my dad always

used to say.”

This drew some laughter from the

uneasy students, but those who connected

with her on the level she intended, knew

she was talking to them, Seymour Wood

was one of them. Most of the students had

seen the news that morning and were

curious what Pink would do with the story

during class today.

“Let’s do something different

today, shall we?” she inquired. “I want

this half of the room to be the Sheriff’s

Office.” She waved her hand indicating

the right half of the room. “And you,”

waving her hand to the remainder of the

group to the left, “will be the predator or

stalker as you like.” The students taunted

and jeered at each other across the

classroom. “Okay now, settle down a bit,

I’m going to give you a few questions to

consider. Work together as a unit and

come up with some concrete answers.”

“Sheriff’s, okay this morning

you’ve had your third B&E within three

weeks with an increasing propensity

towards violence. The populous is scared,

housewives are buying handguns, you

have little if no clues, what do you do?”

Ella asked.

“Serial

predators,

you

have

successfully claimed three victims in three

weeks and your confidence is soaring.

What do you do now? What’s your

agenda? Why are you doing what you’re

doing? Who are you?” she asked the other

half of the class.

She gave the group about ten

minutes to discuss the questions among

themselves and asked them to assign a

spokesperson for their side. Seymour was

chosen to represent his side of the

discussion, the Sheriff’s Office, and a

heavy set black girl, named Tequina, was

chosen as the representative for the

degenerates.

“Okay Seymour, let’s start with

you. First let’s see what you’ve got to say,

then we’ll have the predators ask any

questions they may have, then we’ll

switch. Sound good?” Pink directed and

the students listened.

A nervous Seymour walked to the

front of the class, a pad of paper held with

their ideas in hand. “A couple of us went

to the press conference the Sheriff’s

Office did this morning and they still

claim they have very few clues. We think

they are just telling the public enough to

keep them happy but they are not releasing

everything they know. Mrs. Wild, I think

you would consider that SOP, right,

Standard Operating Procedure?”

“I’d say you are right on there.

There will be things they’ve discovered

that they will hold back to strengthen their

case once they bust somebody and have to

prosecute,” she agreed.

“With three crime scenes behind

them, we were in agreement that they

would be looking for similarities between

those three, and trying to connect them to

any known criminal behavior or patterns.

Forensics would be scouring these places

for clues and trying to confirm that the

same person is responsible for each.

Sheriff Lupo is not denying that at this

point, and he’s given up the theory that it’s

a prankster or one of us.” His fellow

students laughed.

“Good, but what would you be

doing now, this afternoon after the press

conference, what do you think the officers

were assigned to do?” Pink pushed him.

“I’m sure they were back in all

three neighborhoods going door to door

interviewing people, trying to draw

information out of neighbors that think they

don’t know anything. Somewhere out there

someone has seen this guy or his car or

noticed something out of the ordinary and

it’s the officer’s job to drag it out of them.

We didn’t think he was selecting his

victims at random, however, we think

there is some sort of a pattern to his work.

We also think he’s a local boy, knows the

area and knows his way around. Bottom

line, he likes what he is doing and is

learning to love it.”

“I’d tend to agree, good work.

Okay predators, any questions for Deputy

Seymour and company?”

A few questions were offered and

discussed but nothing Seymour couldn’t

handle. The floor was then given to

Tequina and she did the same for the other

side of the room. They offered some good

suggestions but Ella wanted them to see

inside the guy's head. “What is his

motivation? Why is he doing this?” she