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He made a group call and had everybody assemble in a parking lot of the high school. A large oak tree provided shade as they awaited Peter’s call. Wayne asked, “Are you sure this is our guy? Is it possible the kid could be wrong?”
Blake was going through Wake County’s land records trying to get a location for the killer’s house. “There’s always a chance, but the kid seemed damn sure this is our man. Plus, according to the kid’s father, this Thacher guy takes a vacation at the same time each year, in June.”
At that moment all their phones rang. It was Peter with a conference call. “I’ll be sending each of you all this information but I wanted to go over it with you in case I’ve missed something you wanted or needed. The person you’re dealing with is Howard John Thacher, age 42, married once – wife died while out of the country on vacation in Germany. The wife had no living family and was buried in Germany. There are no details of the death other than accidental. There is one interesting note: the vacation was during the month of June. He has been employed at Aline High School for 18 years – the only job he has ever had. He has won a Teacher of the Year award more than once. He has no police record, not even a parking ticket. He owns a Ford pickup, but I can’t find where he has bought tags for it in the last eight years – it may not run. Here is his home address: 452 North Lake Street. It’s about five blocks from where you are now. A local police officer is on his way with the two warrants you wanted. Anything else I can do for you?”
Blake looked around and then answered for the group. “You’ve done a great job, Peter. I see a patrol car coming down the street now. We’ll let you know what we find in Thacher’s house. Tonight we’ll gear up with vests and cameras and stay that way until this is over. You’ll be able to watch the show from your couch.”
Peter waved and said, “Be careful. Mary says this guy probably won’t give up peacefully.”
The police officer got out of his car. “Which one of you is Agent Harris?”
Blake approached the officer. “I’m Agent Harris. I believe you have something for me?”
The policeman handed him the two warrants and a clipboard for him to sign. He then got in his car and drove away.
Blake opened each warrant and read them to make sure they covered what his team was about to do. “Okay, they look good. We’ll go in the largest SUV and leave the others here. I don’t want this to be a big show. We just go in and look around until we find something to justify the arrest.”
They entered Thacher’s house from the rear. Peter had had the alarm cut off, and the lock was easy to pick. The team moved through the house like ants looking for sugar. The place was spotless, nothing at all out of place. Tony commented, “This house is like a showroom – like no one has ever lived here.”
Wayne was standing in the middle of the living room, his head slowly rotating as he took in every inch of his surroundings. “There’s something wrong with this room.”
Shelley came and stood by him. “I don’t see anything but over-neatness.”
Suddenly Wayne headed toward the wall. “It’s this bookcase. Everything in here matches the décor, but not this bookcase. It has no business being here.”
Tony and Taylor had come to see what was going on, and as Wayne felt along the sides of the bookcase, the others helped. They began to remove books and other objects from the shelves. When Tony tried to move a metal replica of Michelangelo’s “David,” it fell over and the bookcase began to move, slowly revealing an entrance to the basement.
With guns drawn and flashlights on, Wayne, Tony, and Taylor slowly descended the stairs into the darkness at the bottom. They were spooked for a moment when lights suddenly came on to illuminate the stairs and the room below. Only then did Shelley shout from the top of the stairs, “Hey, there’s a light switch up here.”
The three men stood looking at the walls until, finally, Taylor hollered, “Shelley, get Blake and come down here.”
The walls were like a giant travelogue of death. Thacher seemed to have taken pictures of his killings. It was a sort of vacationer’s scrapbook. Along with the murder victims, he had pictures of the cities: skylines, rivers, bridges, highrises. He had stubs from buses he had ridden and even receipts from restaurants he had eaten at. In the middle of the room was a recliner that could be rotated. There was a box of tissues and a bottle of hand lotion on the floor beside the recliner. Against the wall was a table with a stool. On the table were sharpening stones and a box holding three push knives. Blake said in almost a whisper, “Don’t touch anything. Everybody back upstairs. Shelley, I want you to go to the SUV and get the camera. Then you, and you only, come back down and get pictures of everything – twice if you have to, but make sure you don’t miss a thing.”
Back in the living room, Wayne said, “There’s no doubt now – we have the right guy.”
Blake took out his phone. “Everybody calm down, this isn’t over yet. Hello, Peter, I need you to alert the local FBI office here to have a team standing by to collect evidence. We found the killer’s nest and it seems to have photographs of every kill he has made. We’re going to close a lot of cold cases with this bust.”
The train rumbled out of Atlanta. John Thacher was on his way home. Even with the disruption in Dallas, it had been a pretty good vacation. The disruption had also given him a new mode of transportation. The train was a little more expensive, but they would still be looking for him on the buses and, besides, the train was a lot more fun. He couldn’t wait to get home and post his new pictures on the wall.
Blake left Wayne and Tony at Thacher’s house to continue the search, while he and Shelley and Taylor moved the other two SUVs back to the motel to collect the bulletproof vests, 2-way radios, and more cameras, which they piled into the oversized SUV. Then they picked up fast food and returned to the house.
They had no idea where Thacher would be returning home from. Wayne and Tony, stationed in the house, would just have to wait for the door to open, while Blake and Taylor and Shelley sat in the oversized SUV across the street, with the driver’s door nearest the house. By the next afternoon everybody was tired, and Blake tried to pick up their spirits. “Okay, it’s Friday afternoon. He’ll probably be here sometime today, or at least he’s on his way. It could be tomorrow. In any case, we have to stay sharp, because it could be within the next 5 minutes.”
Blake’s phone rang and he could see it was June. Her voice sounded warm and caring for a change. “We have a report of three more murders, in Atlanta. He’s getting close to home, Blake.”
Blake looked around the street and felt the pressure come down on him. “I know, June. We’re doing all we can. If he comes back here, to his house, we’ll have him.”
June said, “I know you’re working hard to get him, but if we miss him this time he may go to ground and never be caught.”
Blake was getting a pain in his temples. “June, I have to get back to work. I’ll let you know when we have him.” He pressed the button to disconnect without saying good-bye.
Taylor, who sat behind the wheel with Shelley in the passenger seat beside him, asked, “What the hell is that kid on the bike doing?”
Blake put his phone away and looked where Taylor was pointing. “Shit, that’s the kid from the hardware store!” He hit the button on his radio. “Stay down and away from the windows! Some kid is coming to the door.”
They watched the kid walk to the door and ring the bell. And then they watched a taxi stop in front of the house, and Thacher step out of the taxi on the side opposite them. They heard Thacher holler to the kid, “Hey, Tommy, are you looking for me? I just got home.”
Blake hit his radio once more. “Open the front door and pull that kid inside, fast!”
The door jerked open, but it startled Tommy, who took off running toward Thacher. The taxi pulled away and Thacher stood there holding his backpack, watching Tommy run away from men who had been hiding in his house. When Tommy reached Thacher, Thacher dropped his backpack to reach out for Tommy and pull him against his chest.
Blake saw Thacher pull something out of a pocket and put it next to the base of Tommy’s skull. Thacher started backing away from his house, moving slowly down the sidewalk in the same direction the SUV was pointing.
Tony and Wayne had now come out of the house with their guns drawn. Tony hollered, “Give it up, Thacher, it’s all over. There’s no place for you to go.”
Taylor looked around at Blake. “How do you want to play this? I don’t think he’s seen us. I might be able to drive past him and pin him between us and Tony and Wayne.”
In his mind, Blake kept seeing the kid dropping to the ground dead. “Let’s do that – try to trap him between us. We have to save that kid, but we can’t let Thacher get away. Shelley, I need you to come back here and get your rifle ready. If you can get a headshot, I want you to take it.”
Blake helped Shelley climb back. “Taylor, stop about 10 feet past Thacher and park the SUV at an angle in the middle of the street. Then step out and leave the door open. I’ll step out from the back and leave my door open too. Shelley, while we confront Thacher, with both doors open, you should have a shot. Get into a firing position as soon as you possibly can after we stop.”
The SUV moved forward and halted and everybody acted at once. Thacher was at a loss as to what to do. Blake shouted, “Put the knife down. You’re surrounded. Let’s end this with no one dying.”
The words were hardly out of Blake’s mouth before Shelley fired, with a shot that sounded like a cannon going off behind Blake and Taylor, both of whom ducked involuntarily, but not before they witnessed the red spray exploding from Thacher’s head. Blake stood and ran toward Tommy, who had a trail of urine running down his leg and across the sidewalk. He wrapped his arms around the kid and whispered, “It’s okay, we’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
The FBI team processed the house. They found bus and train receipts and tranfers and stubs, from which they mapped Thacher’s travels from Dallas. The reason for the killings died with Thacher. The newspapers said a joint task force made up of the FBI and Homeland Security had been working for a year on the case and had at last caught the killer.
Blake’s team was questioned by just about everybody, which delayed their return to the Hideaway by two days, until Monday morning. While they were all happy, they were also dead tired. The trip had taken a lot out of the team.
On the first table as they entered the Hideaway was a vase of flowers and airline tickets for a paid vacation to the Island of Roatán.
The note read: I slept all night – the first time since my son died. Thank you all.
Acknowledgments
BODY COUNT: Killers has been a different direction for me in as much as it is a law and order kind of a book. First, I would like to thank Morris Dean, who edited the book and offered me guiding insight into the valleys of the unknown. Second, thanks to my daughter, Shelley Nowak, for the photograph on the front cover, and to the rest of my family for putting up with the hours I spend away from them. Also, I wish to thank those who read the manuscript and offered blurbs for the back cover – thank you from the bottom of my heart for such kind words.
| Copyright © 2019, 2020 by Ed Rogers |
I lent a friend some of my books. She texted me, “Really enjoyed the Body Count series. Great story!”
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