Collateral Damage

Collateral Damage

          The material in front of me had grown over the months from a thin folder to so many records, documents, and other pieces of evidence that a file box was needed. As I stood beside the conference table, I removed the lid of the box and stared at the files and envelopes. Somewhere in here is the answer. I know it’s here. What have we missed? I rubbed my forehead.

          We knew several names the killer had used. His birth name was Cain Fields. His sister called him J.R. He used Norman Fields, Norma Fields (posing as his sister), and Midnight, which we used for him. He had to be somewhere. Someone had to know him, someone still alive. His need to kill those he considered cripples didn’t stop him from gaining financially from his murders, since he obtained accidental insurance on each victim before arranging the accidental death of each. He didn’t hesitate to remove, permanently, anyone he considered a possible roadblock, either. That box held everything we had discovered: the deaths and insurance claims for seven men; evidence of his attempt on my life and his poisoning of a policeman in that attempt; the facts about his murdering one of our own dispatchers because she could identify him.

          “Hey, Martin, what are you doing?” Kyle, one of my friends and another member of the task force trying to catch the Midnight killer, asked from behind me. “Yeah, stupid question. You’re hoping an answer will pop out of the box. Man, we’ve shifted through that stuff so much that we should have it all memorized by now.”

          “I know, but I keep thinking we’ve missed something.” I used my cane to limp across the room and then straddled a chair by the window between the conference room and the bullpen, where detectives worked. Some interviewed victims, suspects, or witnesses, while others typed on keyboards or talked on the phone. Across the room, a slender man, maybe in his late twenties, leaned against the wall by the door leading to the hall. “Kyle, see that guy by the door?” Before Kyle could answer, the dark-haired man’s eyes met mine. He gave a brief salute before pushing away from the wall and walking away and out the door.

          “Can’t see anything but a back, if that guy that just left is the one.” Kyle frowned. “But his back . . . Something about the way he walks.” He ran from the room, wove around desks, and streaked into the hall, with me hobbling as fast as I could behind him.

          We ignored questions from the other detectives until I reached the desk closest to the door. I paused long enough to tell Detective Ray Jones, “Call the front and have them stop a young man, late twenties, early thirties, dark hair, slender, white shirt, black jeans.”

          I arrived by the front door to find Kyle and a couple of uniformed officers talking to the shift officer at the desk. “Any sign?” I asked.

          “Nope,” Kyle answered as he strode toward me, “but Wright here told me something interesting. Seems the man we were chasing might be one who had been around here several times before the dispatcher was killed. He’s the one who passed himself off as a computer tech.”

          “Did anyone see where he went?” I demanded.

          “Well, lieutenant,” the desk sergeant answered, “no one came this way, not any man any way.”

          “Then he must have gone into another room or section.” I turned to go back the way I came.

          “Hey, you think you’re the only detective around here?” Kyle grabbed my arm. “There are already uniforms searching the building.”

          “Good.” Something struck me. “Wait, sarge, you said no man came this way. Who did?”

          The beefy sergeant shrugged. “A couple of nuns.”

          “Crap!” Kyle stomped over to the door to the outside. “We missed him.”

          “Kyle, wait!” I called as he pushed the door open. “I have an idea.” I turned to the sergeant. “We installed video cameras after Midnight got in and messed with the computers. So, where are the tapes?”

          “I see where you’re going, Lieutenant Rogers,” the sarge said. “I’ll have the tapes brought to you.”

          The big detective nearly knocked me to my knees with his “light” slug on my shoulder. “Great thinking, Martin. Let’s get back upstairs and get the TV ready.”

          We had the TV/VCR set up in the conference room when two uniformed officers brought in two file boxes of video tapes. “This box holds the first group. They are ‘filed’ by date.” Officer Wright plopped his box on the table in the middle of the room. The other officer placed his beside the first box.

          “Thanks, men.” Kyle removed the lid from the first box. “Don’t know how long this will take, but I’ll get them back wherever they go.”

          Officer Wright replied, “The sarge thought I should watch them with you. I, uh, saw the guy several times when he was here posing as a computer tech, and when he visited the dispatcher he killed, while I was on desk duty. If he has been back, maybe I can help.”

          “Good idea, Wright.” I waved a hand toward a chair. “Have a seat, and let’s begin.”

          As Kyle inserted the first tape into the machine, the other officer left, shutting the door behind him. We had been straining our eyes for about two hours, as Kyle fast forwarded tape after tape, when Wright and I both yelled, “That’s him.” Kyle stopped the tape and rewound it to the spot where “he” was entering the front door of the station.

          There on the screen we could see the face clearly, the face that I had seen briefly before without knowing whom I saw. I hobbled to the TV. “We need to get this to the experts in the lab. They can get us some stills off this.” I tapped the reproduction of the face we had been trying to find for months. “We’ll get him now.”

          “Wright, would you mind watching the rest of the types and noting any other times this guy shows up?” Kyle removed the tape from the VCR. “I’ll take this on to the lab, Martin, if you’ll call the captain and let him know.”

          That night I sat in my living room with my fiancée, Lisa, watching the news. A jolt of something, maybe pleasure, shot through me as the photo of the killer flashed on the screen and the news commentator asked viewers to notify the police if they saw or know anything about the “Midnight killer.”

          Lisa laid her head against my shoulder. “That is one person I would love to prosecute and gladly ask for the death penalty.”

          “I know, sweetheart. I don’t know of anyone in the D.A.’s office who doesn’t agree with you.” I hugged her close to me. “But I really hope you don’t get the case. You’ve been mired in the investigation enough as a member of the task force.”

          She sighed. “I don’t think the D.A. will assign it to anyone. He’ll want this case himself.”

          When we gathered in the conference room the next morning, a list of “sightings” waited. We divided the list among the ten of us on the task force before heading for the phones. Officer Wright continued his job of watching tapes. He had found at least five other times the killer had visited the station in the tapes in the first box, five times since he murdered the dispatcher, five times without anyone recognizing him. How does he do it? How does he blend in so that no one “sees” him unless he wants them to?

          “Hey, Rogers,” Detective Connors called. “I think I have something here.”

          I left my desk to hobble to the one he was using. “Okay, what do you have?”

          He handed me a sheet of paper with his notes. “This woman says someone matching our man’s photo has a place in her apartment house. There’s the address, phone number, and her name.”

          “Let’s go.” I motioned for everyone to return to the conference room. “Connors, would you notify the captain before you join us?”

          “Sure,” he answered as he picked up the phone.

          We sent a surveillance team to watch the apartment as we planned the operation. In less than an hour, we donned our bullet-proof vests, checked our guns, loaded into vehicles, and sped to an apartment on the south side of the city, warrant in the captain’s hand. The surveillance team reported that the suspect entered his apartment fifteen minutes before we left the station, and no one had left. God, please let this be the end of this nightmare. Let us get him.” I silently prayed. Yeah, a hard-nosed cop prays, often.

          Lisa remained in the car, which left to wait at the entrance to the complex, as I joined the other members of the task force. Six uniformed officers circled the outside of the building to stop anyone trying to escape the building.

          “I don’t care what you need to do; don’t let that bastard get away,” the captain told us before we went into “attack and arrest” mode.

          Another detective and good friend, Frank, and Kyle and I crept up one side of the metal stairs to the landing where the doors to four apartments opened. We took our places on either side of the door to the apartment where we expected to find Midnight. Other members quietly knocked on the doors to the other apartments, and if anyone answered, the police officer showed his or her badge and followed the person inside. Others guarded the bottom of the stairs. I held up three fingers, lowered one, then a second. When I lowered the third, I pounded on the door and called, “Police! Open up!”

          From inside a voice yelled, “I have a bomb. I’ll set it off. You won’t take me!”

          Kyle leaned over the railing of the landing to peek in the uncovered window. “Shit, he looks like he’s got it strapped to his chest.”

          “I see you looking. Believe me now. Back off , or I’ll take everyone in this building with me.” He laughed. “Thought you would get me, but no one gets me unless I want them to.”

          I motioned Frank to my side. “Tell everyone downstairs what’s happened. Tell them to clear this building and then the rest of the complex. Fast!”

          Kyle started knocking on the doors of the other apartments on this level, whispering to the task force member who answered. In seconds, the officers led the occupants onto the landing and down the stairs. Everyone hurried but remained quiet, except a small boy who kept asking, “Where we going?” Finally his mother handed the baby in her arms to the officer and scooped up her son, whispering urgently in his ear.

          When Frank returned, he whispered, “The captain says they will have everyone in this building clear in less than ten minutes and the rest of the complex in maybe thirty. They’ll start with this unit and work outward.”

          “Good. There’s no way out for him, and he has to know that. The man has nothing to lose.” I lowered myself to the top step. “We need to give the others time to get those people out of here. Who wants to try to reason with him?” I jerked my thumb toward the door.

          “Doesn’t that responsibility go with the job?” Frank asked. “You have the rank, not us.”

          “Glad you’re my friend,” I quipped. “Okay, guess here goes.” I stood and moved to stand beside the door, reaching across to knock on the metal surface.

          “Go away! I’ll do it. I’ll blow us all up.” The voice squeaked as he shouted.

          “I just want to talk to you. Man, if we’ve going to go, don’t you think we should at least introduce ourselves?” I paused. “My name is Martin Rogers, but you know that. You’ve known for at least a year, haven’t you?”

          “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know you.”

          “You don’t know me? I was sure you did.” What in the . . . I don’t know what . . . “Okay, I introduced myself. Why don’t you tell me who you are?”

          “What difference would that make?” The man sounded breathless; I could hear him gasping for breath.

          “Look, I’m just trying to find out who you are, trying to be friendly.” This doesn’t make sense. Midnight has always been cool, too cool. This guy is panicking. I motioned for Kyle and Mike.

          “My name is Jason, okay? Happy?” The man inside yelled.

          I bent close to other two. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this doesn’t sound like Midnight. This guy is ready to go. Get out of here, now.”

          “Man, you’re the slowest of all of us,” Frank whispered back as he pointed to my cane. “You introduce me to the nut, and then you and Kyle take off. I won’t be far behind you, probably will pass you on the way.”

          I clasped Frank’s hand before standing against the door again. “Listen, I want you to meet a friend of mine. His name is Frank. Frank, this is Jason on the other side of the door.”

          Kyle grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the stairs. I looked back at Frank, but he just grinned as he asked the human bomb, “Do you like football? You know the Sooners are off to a great start this year.”

          “What in the hell do I care?” the man screamed.

          I moved as fast as I could. Kyle streaked toward the line of police officers in the street beside their vehicles. By the time I reached the first car, the driver had the door open and practically pushed me on the seat. Before I could hook the seat belt, we were rushing toward safety. I twisted my head to see out the back window. All but one of the other cars followed closely behind us. The last thing I saw before the car turned the corner was Frank sprinting toward the remaining car as Kyle held the backdoor of the squad car open.

          Just as we reached the command center set up at the entrance to the apartment complex, a blast sent a fire ball to the sky and lifted the car from the road. We bounced as the vehicle hit the pavement again. The driver stopped the car, and I piled out as quickly as possible. I could see flames licking the sky above the roof tops of apartment buildings between where the bomb had gone off and where we stood watching. The car with Frank and Kyle parked at the side of the street, and the occupants joined the rest of us staring at the billowing fire.

          God, please, dear God, I prayed, let that mad man be Midnight. But something inside me said, “Don’t bet on it.”

* * * * * *

          I couldn’t resist. I had to see what was happening in the police station, right in the heart of the homicide department, under Rogers’ nose. That son of a bitch came close to getting me, caused me to have to kill that policewoman. All his fault. I thought I fit in as I usually did, leaning against the wall next to where a detective interviewed some slob who’d watched another slob kill some bum. I learned a lot just watching and listening. I knew that a task force had been set up to catch me and wanted to know more about it. I couldn’t believe they thought they could catch me.

          Rogers limped into the conference room. He leaned over some box on the table. His big friend, named Lyle or Kyle or something like that, entered and said something. Rogers straddled a chair and stared out the window between the room full of desks and the conference room. Our eyes met. Oh, shit. I’d better get out of here. I flicked him a salute and left as nonchalantly as I could. Good thing I planned for emergencies. I always plan. I thought as I quickly walked to the women’s restroom to the left of the squad room and across the hall.

          I pushed open the door and slipped into the first stall. Good thing no one saw me, since I didn’t want to leave a body on the premises, yet. Standing on the commode, I reached up and lifted the ceiling tile out of the way and removed the large bag. After replacing the tile, I stepped down and took off my shoes, pants, and shirt before dressing in women’s slacks, a padded bra, and a tee shirt. I covered my hair with a long, blond wig. Finally I put my feet into flats and covered my eyes with wrap-around sun glasses. I stuffed my other clothes in the bag, slung it over my shoulder, and left the restroom. I started toward the front door of the station when I literally ran into a policeman.

          “Uh, um, sorry, ma’am,” he muttered.

          “No problem.” I used my husky, sexy voice. As I sauntered on down the hall, I glanced over my shoulder. He stood watching me, so I put a bit of a sway in my walk. Stupid fools.

          As I entered the front lobby, Rogers, that friend of his, and some uniforms stood around trying to find me. I paused and waited.

         “Kyle, any sign?” Rogers asked.

          “Nope,” the man he called Kyle answered, “but Wright here told me something interesting. Seems the man we were chasing might be one who had been around here several times before that dispatcher was killed. He’s the one who passed himself off as a computer tech.”

         Oh, shit. Another loose end. Well, he won’t recognize me now. I started toward the door when something turned my blood cold.

          “Kyle, wait!” Rogers called as the other man pushed the door open. “I have an idea.” He turned to the sergeant as I acted as if I were looking at some pamphlets. “We installed video cameras after Midnight got in and messed with the computers. So, where are the tapes?”

          I felt as if a black blanket was starting to cover my sight. Video cameras? They set up cameras, and I never knew. I should have known. Why hadn’t I realized . . .

          “I see where you’re going, Lieutenant Rogers,” the sarge said. “I’ll have the tapes brought to you.”

          I forced myself out of the station, down the steps, and to the parking lot where I had left my car, well, the car I was using. Good ole Jason didn’t have the brains to understand simple addition. Multiplication, much less manipulation, was beyond him for sure. He couldn’t even see how much we resembled each other, well, how much we would if he were cleaned up. His scraggy beard and long, greasy hair hid the resemblance well.


          I sat behind the steering wheel trying to decide what to do next. What a laugh. I’m surrounded by idiots, always have been. Except Norma, no, not Norma, not my sister. She loved me, married that old man so I’d have a home. He killed her because she protected me, but I make sure cripples pay. That Rogers fooled me, but he’ll pay some more. At least he still has to use a cane, thanks to me. I almost finished him off that time.

          “Okay,” I thought aloud, “they’re going to find my face on some of those tapes. How can I keep out of their hands?” Knowing that my stay in Oklahoma City was over, I needed to find a way to get away and stop them from looking for me. “Of course, got it.” I started the car, smiling.

          As I watched the news later, I felt the rage boil inside me. “They didn’t waste any time finding a photo of me.” I threw the lamp across the room. “Damn! I have to hurry. Don’t like to hurry. Bet the old biddy in the front office won’t wait to contact someone.”

          I grabbed the phone and called Jason’s cell number.

          I waited the next day for the police to show up. I knew Rogers would be one of the bunch that would show up at my apartment. I wanted to take him out, and if there was also collateral damage, so be it - everything ended with a big bang. That’s funny, my own big bang theory.

          The task force arrived. I watched from the window as unformed officers surrounded the building. I heard them go into the other apartments. Then Rogers heroically pounded on the apartment door. It’s going to work. He’s right where I want him.

          “Go away! I’ll do it. I’ll blow us all up.”

          “I just want to talk to you. Man, if we’ve going to go, don’t you think we should at least introduce ourselves?” Rogers paused. “My name is Martin Rogers, but you know that. You’ve known for at least a year, haven’t you?”

          “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know you.”

          “You don’t know me? I was sure you did. Okay, I introduced myself. Why don’t you tell me who you are?” Rogers answered.

          No! Everything started crumbling. I told him not to talk except to say . . I missed what Rogers said.

          “My name is Jason, okay? Happy?” The man inside yelled. Noooo! The stupid fool!

          I couldn’t wait. I started to slip out the window of the apartment right under mine when someone knocked on the door. I glanced out the window and saw the patrolling officer. Answering the door seemed the better choice. I opened it a crack. “Yes?”

          “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we have a situation. We need everyone to leave immediately and get as far away from this building as possible.” The policeman tipped his hat before moving to the next apartment.

          Hiding a laugh, I hurried from the apartment and to Jason’s car at the curb. As quickly as possible without calling attention to myself, I drove out of the entrance to the complex before pulling the car to the side of the road.

          “Sorry, friend, but you couldn’t even follow the script.” I slipped the electronic control box from the pocket of my slacks and stroked the button.

          I sighed, as I remember setting up my “collateral damage.” Jason would do anything I asked, even shave and let me cut his hair. He showered and put on some of my clothes. As long as I kept shoveling the heroin into his arm, he agreed to anything. What a laugh. He didn’t know the job I wanted him to do involved getting a real bang. He thought he would just keep the cops at bay until I could escape. What a dope. Heheheh, what a dope! What a pun. I pushed the button.

         The sound of the explosion and the sight of the fire ball shooting toward the sky warmed my soul. I glanced in the back seat, where my computer and bags sat waiting to start our new life, before I shoved the gear shift into drive and left the fire blazing.