Wolfman is Back Page 6

  Briscoe sighed. “We all need to be worried.”

  There was yelling from above. A man with cameras slung around his neck raced down the embankment with cops close behind. As he reached the river, he raised a camera as a constable tackled him. They rolled into the river. The cameraman came up sputtering. “You idiot! You ruined my cameras. I’ll sue your ass.”

  As the cameraman crawled out of the water, Briscoe extended a hand. The cameraman grabbed Briscoe’s hand and climbed onto the riverbank. Briscoe swung the cameraman’s arm behind his back and slapped on one handcuff, then the other. “You’re under arrest for contaminating my crime scene, asshole.” Briscoe pushed him toward the dry constable. “Take him downtown. Book him and seize his cameras.”

  Fola was back with the spineboard and more cops. They slid the spineboard under the victim, strapped her in, and wrapped her in more blankets. With the help of the officers, they carried the girl up the riverbank to the ambulance.

  As Fola climbed into the driver’s seat and Maggie into the back, she said to Fola, “Let’s get going and make some noise. Let the Holy Cross Hospital know we’ll be there in about three minutes with a critical rape victim.” She waved to Briscoe and slammed the ambulance door as they sped off, sirens wailing.

  Saturday Early Morning

  Brad found Maggie in the emergency department coffee room. He took a seat across from her. She stopped writing her report and set her clipboard on a chair.

  “How’s the girl?” he asked.

  “She’s still unconscious,” Maggie said. “There’s no doubt she was raped, but I don’t know why she’s unconscious. It could have been from a number of things. The emergency physician is assessing her now. Then he’ll send her for X-rays and analyze her blood. Until the results are back it’s hard to say what her prognosis will be. Do you know her name?”

  “Briscoe tracked down the foreman of the barns and got her name,” Brad said. “Billy-Lou Hanlon. She works at the Stampede barns in the morning, then goes to school. She’s training to be a barrel racer. The work in the morning pays for her lessons and the cost of owning a horse.”

  “Jeez, that’s the shits,” Maggie said.

  Brad closed his eyes. His chin dropped to his chest. An overpowering sadness weighed down on him. Wolfe on the loose made him sick. Two years ago, when Wolfe was near death and tied to a post, Brad wished they’d left him to die. Now a teen was dead and another clinging to life. He vowed he wouldn’t make that mistake again. Wolfe needed to die. He lifted his head and leaned back in his chair.

  “Where’s Briscoe?” Maggie asked.

  “He went to pick up her parents and bring them here. He said her truck is missing. We’ve put out an APB. Briscoe thinks Wolfe took it. They found an abandoned car near the barns. He’s pretty sure it’s Wolfe’s. This is messed up. How do I find this animal before he gets to his next victim? How does a man that size hide?”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Maggie said.

  “Not sitting here, I won’t.” He stood and kissed Maggie on her forehead. “Are you heading home?”

  “As soon as I finish this report we’ll drive to the station and then home for sleep. When will you be home?”

  Brad shook his head. “I have no clue. I’ll check on Billy-Lou later.” He walked to the door, stopped and turned to Maggie. “With Wolfe on the loose, you need to be very careful at work. Don’t take any chances. Call for police backup if anything seems suspicious.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Maggie said. “But yes, I’ll be extra careful.”

  Brad nodded as he left the coffee room. He walked through the emergency department heading toward his truck.

  “Hello, Detective Coulter,” a voice called. “Welcome back.”

  He stopped and turned. “Hello, Tina.”

  “That’s Detective Davidson to you.” She hugged him.

  Brad stepped back. “I heard you’d made detective. Sex Crimes. Congratulations—I think.”

  “Thanks,” Tina said. “I’d like to interview the girl. Is she awake?”

  Brad shook his head. “She’s unconscious. Her name is Billy-Lou Hanlon.”

  “Okay,” Tina said. “I’ll check back later.”

  “Let me know what she says.”

  “You bet. I’m working on something that might help us track down Wolfe. The FBI has a new team that investigates rapists and serial killers. It’s pretty new, but I’ve read their research and course material. The idea is that you gather as much information as you can on the cases and look for patterns or linkages. You compare what you have on your suspect with that of other, similar suspects. I’ll collect everything we have on Wolfe, age of victims, nationality, lifestyle, and the details of the attacks, and put together an analysis. It might assist us in finding him.”

  “Good luck with that,” Brad said. “We already know he likes young, blonde teens. We know he’s a sexual deviant. What you’re doing might work if we didn’t know who the assailant was, but we know it’s Wolfe. I’m not sure there’s much you can add.”

  “You’d be surprised what information I can dig up.”

  “Okay, so if it is Wolfe, and I know it is, why’d he kill the prostitute?” Brad asked. “He abused Annie two years ago over weeks. The bite marks and cigarette burns are consistent with his MO. But it was about sex, domination, not torture, not murder. He kept Annie and Sissy alive.”

  “A man changes in jail,” Davidson said. “Two years without a woman may have resulted in explosive pent-up need. Perhaps once that need is met, he will fall back into old patterns. The serious head injury two years ago didn’t help. He’s had time to fantasize about what he’d do when he got out. We thought it wouldn’t happen until he’d served at least fifteen years of his life sentence. This will go one of two ways—either this satisfied his need for sex and violence, or this was practice for his real target.”

  “These attacks are random,” Brad said. “One a hooker and the other a hardworking kid.”

  “You’re right. I’m sure he went looking for the hooker, young and blonde. Billy-Lou might have been all about opportunity, but they both have a lot of similarities—they look like Annie.”

  “Annie’s his target?” Brad asked.

  Davidson shrugged. “No way to tell for sure, but she might be. He also made descriptive threats to the crown prosecutor. She’s older, but attractive, blond, and slim.”

  “That description fits a lot of ladies, including you.”

  “I suppose,” Davidson said. “Either he’s after Annie and Blighe, and he’ll strike soon, or these two attacks gave him a taste of domination and torture, and he’ll escalate. Any young blonde would be a potential target. No matter which direction he goes, it’s going to get worse.”

  “Worse than this?” Brad asked.

  “Much worse. The United States has some very sadistic rapists. We haven’t seen that here. Although Wolfe would be right up there with the worst in the US.”

  A black Suburban parked beside them. Sam Steele and Charlie Zerr, dressed in tactical gear, climbed out and walked toward Brad. Steele and Brad had worked on the Tactical Support Unit for almost five years. They’d become friends and stayed friends even when Brad was promoted to sergeant in TSU. He hadn’t seen much of his friend this last year while studying law.

  After returning from Vietnam in 1975, Zerr had joined the police in 1976. His training as an Army Ranger with the United States Army got him fast-tracked into TSU. While Steele saw the humorous side of everything, Zerr was more serious with a dark sense of humor.

  “Are you following me?”

  “Maggie hired us to keep an eye on you,” Steele said.

  “And she’s not paying us enough,” Zerr added.

  Davidson stepped closer to Zerr, holding out her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Tina Davidson.”

  “Charlie Zerr. I’ve heard about you.”

  “From who?”

  “Brad.”

  “All good things, I
’m sure.” She glanced at Brad.

  “Nothing but the best,” Brad said.

  Davidson glanced at Zerr’s left hand. “No ring, but then most cops don’t wear a ring. Are you single?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We should stay in touch.” Tina turned back to Brad. “And you? Still single?”

  “Not if Maggie has her way,” Steele said. “Wedding bells are in his future.”

  “I see,” Tina said with a chill.

  “Do you think we can get back on target,” Brad said. “If Wolfe got off on this, what’ll he do next?”

  “As I said, he might be okay for a day or two, or weeks. He’ll relive this over and over until it takes hold of him. Then he’ll go hunting.”

  “Hunting?” Steele asked.

  “Unfortunately, that’s the right word—he has a type. This girl is sixteen or seventeen. So was the prostitute and so is Annie. When he gets the urge again, that’s the type he’ll look for.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunday Morning

  Brad and Maggie were enjoying an early-morning jog through Bowness Park. Lobo plodded beside them, whimpering occasionally. He wanted to run free. They’d run in silence on the first loop around the park, each lost in their own thoughts.

  “What’re you thinking?” Maggie asked.

  “There you go, using your paramedic superpower again.”

  “It’s not that hard. As you were running you pursed your lips, chewed your lips, crinkled your nose, and you have a pissed-off look on your face.”

  Brad laughed. “That sounds more like a focal seizure. See, you teach me stuff and I remember.”

  “So, what’s up?”

  “I don’t know how we’re going to catch Wolfe. His two attacks were random—nothing at all to link them. He’s consistent in what he does so we know he’s responsible for the attacks. As far as I can tell, he’s doing this alone and doesn’t have any friends he can count on.”

  “What about the Hells Angels?”

  “He’d be crazy to contact them. Pickens and Wolfe never got along. Saying they hated each other is mild. Wolfe would need to be very desperate before he contacted Pickens. He’d kill Wolfe if he contacted the HA.”

  Lobo raced ahead, dove into the river, and lay in the shallows, cooling off. Brad and Maggie sat on a rock.

  “Are you glad you took this new job?”

  “Sure, it’s great. I didn’t think I’d ever see Wolfe again, let alone be hunting him. I figured it would be other shitrats.”

  “You and Devlin know Wolfe best. You two are the right guys for this.”

  “Not that it’s helping us right now. I don’t want to think about this anymore today. How’s your rookie?”

  Maggie leaned back on the rock and watched Lobo. “Still needs more experience to get used to the reality of the work. It’s not pretty on the streets, the things you see. I don’t know how much he gets that yet.”

  “I remember a rookie paramedic a few years ago. She was pretty naïve about life on the street. She turned out okay.”

  Maggie punched Brad on the arm. “Turned out okay!”

  “Ouch. Lobo, help!” Lobo lifted his head, then dropped it back in the water.

  Maggie laughed. “He still loves me the most.”

  “Never been a doubt about that.”

  “He doesn’t dive for rocks anymore?”

  “Once we started doing attack training, I guess diving for rocks was boring. But Lobo gets pretty wound up when he’s attacking Sam.”

  “What does Sam think of this?” Maggie asked.

  “He says he hates it, but he doesn’t mean that. It’s his way of burning off stress and instead of jogging to keep in shape, Lobo gives him a good workout.”

  Maggie stood and stretched. “Should we head back?”

  “Lobo, time to go home.”

  He stood, stretched, and shook. Maggie was the closest and took most of the water.

  They kept a slow pace on the way home. Lobo caught the scent of something, probably a squirrel, and zig-zagged in front of them, nose to the ground, but failed to locate his quarry.

  “So, Tina Davidson is on the case with you.”

  “What?” Brad turned to Maggie.

  “Yesterday right after you left the coffee room, I headed to the trauma room to get some more patient information. You and Tina were having a pretty intense conversation.”

  “Yeah, sure. She’s in sex crimes now and she’s assigned to the case. She was just asking what I knew.”

  “You two were pretty close together. I saw Tina giving you the puppy dog eyes, ‘Oh Brad.’”

  “What, no, that’s not it at all. Well, maybe she still thinks she has a chance, but, no way—”

  Maggie laughed. “You don’t need to get defensive.”

  “I’m not, it’s just—”

  Maggie shook her head. “I stopped worrying about Tina years ago. But it’s fun to watch you squirm. Race you home.” Maggie took off in a full sprint, Lobo at her side.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monday Morning

  Brad and Griffin were in the meeting room having coffee when the door opened. Deputy Chief Archer walked in, Devlin and Davidson close behind.

  Brad jumped out of his chair.

  “Relax.” Archer took a chair. “I’d hoped that we’d have early success in apprehending Wolfe. That didn’t work out. Starting right now you four are leading the hunt for Wolfe. Drop everything else. I know you’ve been doing that informally, but today it’s official. Figure out what you need—manpower, equipment, warrants, whatever—and I’ll make it happen. But you four need to stop this son of a bitch. One more assault or death and we’ll have a full-scale panic on our hands. We keep this team confidential. No fancy code names.”

  “Too bad,” Devlin said. “I was kinda hoping for Rabid Wolf Patrol.”

  Archer glared at Devlin. “What progress have you made?”

  They looked at each other around the table. No one wanted to start the conversation. Brad set his coffee cup on the table and leaned forward. “We don’t have much. Any place we thought Wolfe would go, or anyone we thought he’d reach out to, is a dead end.”

  “You’re sure he’s responsible for the assaults?”

  “Positive,” Brad said. “I think he came to Calgary immediately after escaping in Edmonton. He made a lot of threats at his trial. I think he plans to carry out these threats. So far, his victims have been random. At some point he’ll go after one of his targets.”

  “I’ve talked with the RCMP. They’re going to put some of their guys on this as well.”

  “Well, there goes our secrecy,” Brad said.

  Archer grinned. “As sure as we are that Wolfe is still here, I’d be negligent if I didn’t let the RCMP know. Hell, he could be in Yorkton, Saskatchewan, by now.”

  “I don’t think so,” Brad said.

  “Why not?”

  “First, who’d go to Yorkton? Second, Wolfe doesn’t run, he’s too high on himself. He’s having fun and not going anywhere. It’s a game to him. He’ll keep killing until he makes good on his threats or we stop him.”

  “Who do you have under protection?”

  “We’ve got a police team with the crown prosecutor Jenni Blighe. I’ve got a private security team with Annie and she’s in a secure complex.”

  Archer nodded and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Who else did Wolfe threaten?”

  Brad glanced around the table. The others were perfectly happy that Brad had taken the lead. They had no intention of taking it away from him.

  “Davidson.”

  Archer glanced across the table at Davidson. “Maybe you shouldn’t be on this team.”

  “There’s no way you’re taking me off this,” she said. “Brad’s not the only one who was involved in the biker war two years ago. I saw Wolfe up close, and I saw what he did to Annie and Sissy. I want his ass back in prison. Please, Chief, I can help. Outside this building I’m with a partner o
r someone from this room.”

  “I’d feel better if you had a protection detail.”

  “Not now. Not yet. That would slow me down. You said we needed to catch Wolfe quick. I can’t be burdened with bodyguards.”

  Archer looked around the room. There was silence for almost a minute. “Okay. None of you work alone. Never. If you don’t have a partner, you don’t go out on the street. Understood?”

  They all nodded.

  “I can ask some of my old team on TSU if they’re willing to do some extra work,” Brad said. “I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance for overtime, and a piece of Wolfe.”

  “Okay, I can live with that, for now,” Archer said. “You need to resolve this, soon.”

  “What about going public?” Davidson asked. “Let the public know about Wolfe. We might get tips that way.”

  Archer stood and put on his coat. “We can’t go to the media. Not yet. We’ve managed to keep Wolfe’s name out of the press so far. But that won’t last. You need to capture him fast. Once his name goes public, we won’t be able to get ahead of the panic. And it’ll make Wolfe extra careful.”

  Monday Night

  Brad had two choices for a partner. Sam Steele and Charlie Zerr were the guys Brad had counted on many times. They both had military experience and were calm under pressure. Either one of them would be perfect. Brad called Steele first. He couldn’t get away. His wife, Emma, didn’t like regular night shifts, let alone volunteering for extra work—and certainly not with Brad. He talked Charlie Zerr into working with him. Brad drove to Zerr’s house.

  Zerr met him at the end of the driveway. “Are you kidding? We’re going to talk to hookers in a new Firebird?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Brad asked. “They’ll think we’re high rollers.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus. That’s not the high-end stroll.”

  “I’ll let you drive.”

  “As much as I’d like to drive, I’ll leave that to you.”