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He gave up and went inside. He told the guard he had an appointment with Ms. Warner and took a seat to wait for the escort to take him on the 3rd-floor elevator.
After the elevator ascended and its rear door opened, Blake stepped out to find June waiting and ready to enfold him in her arms. “Blake, I’m so happy to see you up and about!” The guard closed the elevator door and was gone.
Surprised by this reception and still trying to regain his balance, Blake said, “Thank you, June. I’m told I almost didn’t make it.”
She guided him with her arm through his. “Come sit down and we’ll talk.”
June gestured to a chair in front of her desk. “Have a seat and let’s get down to business.”
Blake took the seat and waited for her to begin, but she said nothing. Suddenly Blake burst out. “I’m sorry, I only know what I’ve been told. But I also know I fucked up, and I’m sure of that.”
June opened the file on her desk. “Your team tried to cover for you but I can read between the lines. You were sleeping with the serial killer that you were sent to arrest. How the hell is that possible?”
Blake felt the sweat forming in the middle of his back. “There had been no indication that she had anything to do with the murders. In fact, if not for what I have been told, I would still stand by that opinion. The woman was crazy about the ax, and I never saw one machete in her house or the barn. Serial killers stay with what they know, and she knew the ax.”
June fished out a photo from the file and handed it to Blake. “I received this from the FBI. Betty Walker had a hidden room behind the stack of hay. In this room they found over 100 machetes. She was a collector. She had them from every country in the world. She also had a pole to practice her chops on. She had four axes and 100 machetes. You tell me, Blake: what do you think now was her weapon of choice?”
Blake turned the picture over and slid it back onto June’s desk. “I don’t know what to say. You’ll have my letter of resignation today.”
June stood up and walked to the wall of glass behind her desk and looked out over the well-kept lawns and wooded areas of A.P.S. “No, you don’t get off that easy. You’ve put together a damn good team, who, despite you, have taken down a serial killer. When I offered you this job, I wasn’t looking for a street cop. I was looking for a leader, but not a ‘follow me, boys, over the wall’ kind of leader. From now on you do not take point on any cases or go into the field without clearing it with me. You stay in the office and send your people out. You do that, and we’ll forget this conversation ever took place.”
Blake stood up. “I can do that.”
June pressed a button on her desk and walked to Blake’s side, where she put her arm through his and walked him back to the elevator. “How are you coming with my son’s killer.”
He wished he had good news for her, but, in truth, he had nothing. “We have started a profile, but we may have to wait until he kills again in order to try to get ahead of him.”
She patted his arm and told the escort, “Take my friend to his office. And Blake, keep me up to date – I would like weekly reports.”
Some days earlier, Wayne Roberts had walked to the Elmwood Cemetery, near the site of one of the murders. He needed to check the site out, but right now the cemetery seemed to him like a safe place to hole up for the night. Up to then, he had slept in the open fields where a murder had taken place. This place, however, looked promising.
He was tired. Walking had never been his choice of exercise, and the lack of food was wearing on him. He turned off Crump Boulevard and headed south along the back side of the cemetery looking for a secluded spot. Off to his right, opposite the cemetery and about 300 yards from the street, were some large concrete drainage pipes that had been discarded after a construction job. He walked toward the pipes, thinking they might offer shelter from the cool night air.
As he rounded the first pipe, he was confronted by three white men, all of them apparently homeless. He turned with the intent of leaving, only to find himself face-to-face with the two men he had had the fight with on the first day of his life on the street. “Well, if it isn’t the nigger that stole my knife!”
Wayne thought about pulling the knife out, but it would only add a weapon to the fight that was coming. While he was considering his options, the three other men had moved up behind him, grabbed his arms, and were pinning them back. After that everything became a blur. He hit someone and someone hit him. He kicked the man in front of him and someone hit him in the head with something, and then the lights went out.
When he awoke, it was dark and he was cold. His coat and shoes were gone, and when he felt the back of his head, he discovered a big goose egg, but no blood. He moved closer to one of the pipes and soon fell asleep.
The morning came with the sun’s direct rays warming his body. Wayne opened his eyes and before realizing that he wasn’t in his nice warm bed at home, he thought that he was dreaming about lying in the dirt next to a big concrete pipe. But this was real, and his home was nowhere in sight.
With a deep in-and-out of breath, he came awake and reached for the bag that he had tied around his waist, only to discover that it was gone. In the bag, he had had 20 $1 bills, for an emergency.
He made himself stand and forced his body to carry him back to the main street. A patrol car stopped in front of him as he stepped onto the sidewalk. “Hey, buddy, are you okay?”
Wayne wasn’t that clear-headed yet, but he knew he needed help. “I’ve been mugged. They took my coat, shoes, and money.”
The policeman in the passenger seat got out and opened the back door. “Get in and we’ll drop you at the mission on Union Avenue.”
Wayne got in and leaned back on the hard plastic seat. The officer who had opened the door for him turned and asked, “Are you Manning’s guy?”
The sound of Taylor Manning’s name coming out of the policeman’s mouth threw Wayne for a moment, and he didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Okay, just thought we’d ask.”
They let him out at the mission without another word and drove off. Wayne now regretted not admitting he was Manning’s guy. He couldn’t understand why he hadn’t gone with them to their station. All it would have taken was a yes to their question.
He watched the police car drive away and was suddenly startled by someone taking ahold of his arms. “Come with us, we’ll help you.”
The two men from the mission took him to a shower and threw his clothes away. When he finished showering and stepped out, he found a small plastic bag containing travel-size toiletries. He shaved and brushed his teeth. He tried to comb his hair, but soon gave up.
A smiling man stepped into the changing room with fresh clothes. “I’m Nick. You’re safe here. No one will hurt you.”
| Copyright © 2019, 2020 by Ed Rogers |
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