Chapter 21

Spence had just concluded his reviews and was exiting the room when Jack arrived. On their stroll back to their vehicle Spence updated Jack on his review.

‘It looks like the camera was moved and then returned,’ Spence said. ’Up until 1.54am the fixed camera recorded the key cabinet and its immediate surrounds uninterrupted. At 1.55am the recording shows the camera was moved upwards, to the right, so the key cupboard was no longer visible. The camera then recorded the white ceiling.

‘At 4.35am the camera was returned to its proper recording position, covering the key cabinet. The camera does not capture who moved it on either occasion,’ Spence said. ‘I had the Security Officer check the entrance and surrounding external fixed cameras to see if he could identify anyone walking to the Valet inlet, but this too proved fruitless.’

‘I don’t like that fat prick,’ Jack said. He held strong suspicions Wylie was possibly involved in some way. ‘He knows more than he is letting on,’ Jack added. ‘You know he was the minder of the cabinet key on the night McDougall’s car was driven out of the garage.’

‘That would not surprise me at all,’ Spence said.

During the drive back to the office Jack summed up what was learned from the Waldorf. ’The vehicle suspected of being used in the 3rd murder- McDougall’s Mercedes- was taken from a car parking space that was conveniently out of view of any CCTV cameras.

’McDougall did not leave his room all night and quite possibly, did not know his car was gone. This would be confirmed when McDougall was able to be interviewed.

’The driver of McDougall’s car did not appear to try and conceal his face as he drove it out of the garage, presumably because he already knew the camera was too far away to distinguish facial features and characteristics.

’The camera that recorded the key cabinet was moved shortly before McDougall’s vehicle left the garage, obviously to prevent the person accessing the vehicle’s keys from being detected on CCTV footage.

‘The camera was returned to its proper viewing position shortly after the car returned. The suspect driver was then able to exit the garage and avoid being caught on any CCTV cameras. To do this with confidence, he would require knowledge of the camera blind spots.’

‘I forgot to mention…’ Spence began. ‘Just out of curiosity, I asked the Security Officer to bring up the footage for the same time from the night before and the night after the 17th. As expected, the camera did not move at all during those shifts.’

Jack shook his head. ‘Someone who works at the Waldorf, with a knowledge on what the CCTV cameras depict, is either our killer, or is in some way helping our killer… That you can be sure of,’ Jack said.

‘My money’s on that fat prick Wylie,’ Spence said.

‘What we need now is for Barry McDougall to come in for a chat,’ Jack said.

No sooner had Jack’s words left his mouth when his cell phone began ringing. Jack retrieved the cell from his inner suit jacket pocket and answered the call.

‘Jack Head… Good… Yep…That’s right.’ Jack glanced at Spence. His beaming smile suggested good news. ‘OK, we’ll be five minutes.’ Jack disconnected the call and returned his cell to his pocket. ‘Ask and you shall receive,’ he smugly said.

‘Don’t tell me money-man McDougall is at the station now,’ Spence said. Jack’s smug grin was the only response Spence needed.

---

Both Detectives made their way up from the under-building garage to the Police station front counter. Jack had a brief chat with the Desk Sergeant.

The Sergeant indicated a short plump gentleman wearing thick glasses, sitting in the front row of chairs in the pubic waiting area. ‘Says his name is-’

‘Barry McDougall,’ Jack finished the Sergeant’s sentence.

‘Correct. Apparently, you wanted to see him.’

Jack made his way to the public waiting area. As he approached, he caught the eye of McDougall, whose reaction suggested he anticipated it was Jack approaching him.

‘Mr. McDougall…?’ Jack said.

McDougall stood to his feet. He smiled and extended his hand. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘You must be Lieutenant Head.’

The gentleman shook hands. McDougall’s hand was small, like a child’s and plump. Jack’s massive meat cleaver hand completely engulfed the smaller man’s hand.

The painting hanging over the fireplace in McDougall’s sitting room flattered how this guy appeared in real life. He was a short, corpulent man with the top of his balding head only coming up to Jack’s chest.

His male pattern baldness contributed to the appearance he was much older than his fifty-six years. The thick lens of his dark framed glasses magnified his eyes to twice their actual size. Life did not imitate art in this case.

‘You met my wife yesterday, I think it was,’ McDougall said to open the conversation, ‘and she told me you wanted to see me.’

‘That’s correct,’ Jack said. ‘Thanks for coming down.’

Jack extended his hand towards the interior of the police station. ‘If you could accompany me please,’ Jack said. They moved towards a door situated to the side of the front desk. ‘Did you drive down here this evening?’ Jack asked as they walked.

‘I did. I am on my way back home after I finish here.’

‘Is your car parked out the front?’ Jack asked.

‘It is… Is that OK?’

Jack raised his hand. ‘Yes, of course. It’s fine.’ Jack wasn’t concerned about where McDougall had parked his car, he was interested in the car and what evidence it may contain.

Jack escorted McDougall to an interview room usually utilized for compiling witness and victim statements. These were separate rooms to the intimidating interrogation room. Spence met them in the room a short time later.

Jack explained to McDougall why the police wished to speak to him. McDougall confirmed that he was in New York City from the 15th to the 17th.

He also confirmed that he drove his black Mercedes to the Waldorf Astoria hotel where he stayed. He told Jack that his Mercedes was Valet parked when he first arrived and he did not use it again until he checked out on the 18th.

His business meetings were all near the hotel, so he traveled by foot, cab or subway.

Although diminutive in height, McDougall’s voice was deep and assertive. He was in no way introverted or nerdy. He spoke with confidence and implied power in his voice that suggested corporate leadership and strength.

He was clearly a clever and intelligent man that commanded respect. He was a short alpha-male personality and for some reason, Jack developed a liking to him.

McDougall confirmed that he did not lend his Mercedes keys to anyone, nor did anyone have permission to use his car, while he stayed at the hotel.

He didn’t notice anything different about his vehicle when he drove it, after he checked out from the Waldorf.

He was incensed when he found out his vehicle had been driven by someone, while he stayed at the hotel. He informed the detectives that he intended to make a formal complaint to hotel management.

He was horrified when told his car may have used in a homicide to transport a body. But the Coup de Grace was when he was told that his vehicle was evidence in an ongoing homicide investigation and it would have to be impounded while forensics examined it for evidence.

‘That was one week ago from what you’re telling me…’ McDougall said. ‘There won’t be any evidence in the car now… Will there?’ His confident tone faded with his uncertainty in these areas. ‘I’ve been driving it all this time.’

‘If you are the only driver of your vehicle, and you haven’t taken passengers, or used the trunk much, then there could still be some vital evidence in your vehicle,’ Jack said. ‘We won’t know until we take a look. We will also need to take some elimination fingerprints from you so we can identify any of your finger prints in your vehicle.’

A detailed statement was taken from McDougall. His black Mercedes was moved to the forensics garage for examination, while his elimination fingerprints were taken.

---

McDougall stood bent over the wash up area scrubbing his fingertips trying to remove the residual black fingerprint ink stains from his fingers.

He glanced over a shoulder to Spence. ‘If my car is able to assist you in your investigation, then I don’t mind, really,’ he reassured. ‘If you require my car for a day, or two it’s OK. I have some work I can do in the city. I just need my overnight bag from the trunk. I always carry changes of clothes in the event my work causes me to stay longer than anticipated,’ McDougall said.

Once all the formalities were completed, Spence escorted McDougall from the back-of-house area to the police station front foyer. McDougall rejected Spence’s offer for a lift anywhere.

As they shook hands prior to parting ways, McDougall told Spence that although he was slightly inconvenienced by what had happened, he was happy to help in any way he could and hoped his information was useful to them.

---

Jack was back at his desk after the weekend break. He held a fresh brewed coffee from his favorite café, to help kick start his Monday morning.

In preparedness for the new working week he flipped over the pages of his desktop calendar from last Friday’s date to display Monday March 26.

Over the weekend, he tried to occupy his time constructively, but the weather wasn’t kind. Apart from his morning run, when you live on your own and are forced indoors by inclement weather, you tend to do a lot of deep thinking.

Despite the occasional ball game on ESPN, Jack wasn’t a TV watcher, so he spent most of his evening hours with Rosie at her bar on Friday and Saturday night.

When she closed up, he spent the nights with Rosie at her place. She was a great distraction for Jack. He didn’t think about his work the whole time he was in her company.

With fresh coffees and Monday morning expressions on their faces, the Homicide team gathered for their regular morning muster to discuss the status of the ongoing caseloads. The team meeting atmosphere was a relaxed environment; the only stipulation was that they were attentive.

Some Detectives perch themselves on the front edge of desks, others lounge back in their chairs, while some reclined with their feet crossed over on their desk.

The update revealed the teams were investigating a stabbing murder from a robbery gone wrong, a drive by shooting death of a fifteen-year-old boy, a drug related shooting homicide, a rape and murder of a thirty-five-year-old woman in her home and of course, the Cryptic Killer.

Each team provided a situation report updating the status of their investigation. One case was close to arresting the offenders. One team was conducting neighborhood door knock inquiries. In another, the case had only just been reported and then there was Jack’s case, the oldest case, and probably one of the least advanced of all current caseloads. This had more to do with the guile and sophistication of the Cryptic Killer, rather than Jack’s abilities as a Detective.

Chapter 22

Just over a week and one half had passed since the last letter was received. All available leads had been followed and to this point, all inquiries had gone stale for Jack.

The remaining five luxury vehicles, visited by Jak’s team members, exonerated all five vehicles, as none were in New York City on Friday the 16th.

Jack’s inquiries therefore found that of the 19 black colored luxury vehicles in the New York area, only one was in New York on March 16 – the vehicle owned by Barry McDougall.

If Desiree was correct in her observations, Jack knew this suggested McDougall’s vehicle was used to pick up Amber from her street corner in the early hours of the 17th.

What was not known was, what happened after she was picked up. Did the driver drop her off after he had finished with her services and then the killer took her, or was the killer driving the car that picked her up…?

Jack’s inquiries with Barry McDougall and the Waldorf Astoria suggested to him the strong possibility that the driver of the car was the killer, and not just a John.

As expected, the forensic examination of McDougall’s car failed to locate any usable evidence.

The killer had gone to a great deal of trouble to use a vehicle from the Hotel garage, most likely with the assistance of Valet staff who helped him avoid CCTV cameras.

He then returned the vehicle around three hours later. The time the vehicle was away and the trouble taken to acquire it, was not consistent with someone taking the car just to pick up a street hooker.

It was now time to follow up on something that had been bothering Jack.

He waited until 9am before calling the Waldorf Astoria, to speak to a Senior Manager. His call was put through to a female, who identified herself as Vanessa, Executive Manager of the Hotel.

Jack introduced himself and advised Vanessa that he required some information about staff who worked at the hotel on particular days.

Vanessa advised Jack she was happy to help ‘New York’s finest’, but unfortunately, she did not know who Jack was. He was after all just a voice on the other end of her telephone. She did not know if he was in fact a police officer.

Jack commended her for her caution and suggested she look up the telephone number for the police, dial it, and ask for Lieutenant Jack Head from Homicide. Vanessa said she would do that straight away. Jack hung up his phone to await her return call.

Fifteen minutes passed without a call. Jack started to wonder if she had given him the slip. He decided to drive down there and meet her in person.

He removed his pistol from his top drawer, but before he could prove his firearm, his desk phone warbled. Vanessa had finally returned his call and was satisfied he was the police.

‘It is imperative that what we discuss remains strictly confidential,’ Jack stressed.

‘I understand.’

‘Now, do you have access to all staff rosters for the months of January and February…?’

‘I do. Which employees are you interested in Detective?’ she asked.

‘At this stage, I would prefer to give you some dates, and from that, if you could tell me who was rostered to work the night shifts on those dates.’

‘Oh, Okay. What dates do you need?’

‘I’m looking for the Valet Supervisors who were rostered for night shift from the 18th to the 19th January and from the 15th to 16th February.’ Jack could hear the computer keys being tapped.

‘OK,’ Vanessa said. ‘Our records show Brenton Wylie was the rostered night shift Valet Parking Supervisor for both shifts that you have inquired about.’

The news caused Jack to nod knowingly, as he scribbled down Wylie’s name, heavily underlining it several times. He knew there was something about that kid he didn’t like and it wasn’t just his annoying personality.

The shifts Jack asked about, the ones where Wylie was working, were the dates of the Cryptic Killer’s first two murders.

‘So he was rostered for both those shifts?’ Jack clarified.

‘That’s correct Detective.’

‘Are you able to confirm if he actually worked those shifts? He didn’t report in sick, or swap a shift?’ Jack asked.

‘Yes, he worked both shifts,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if I ask why the Homicide police are interested in Brenton, Detective? Has he done something that I should be aware of?’

Jack provided his standard non-committal response. ‘Not at this stage ma’am… We’re just conducting inquiries.’

Jack wasn’t aware if the first two murders were similar to the 3rd in that they involved the use of a car stolen from the Waldorf. But it started to appear like they did.

He took a punt just to see who was working Valet, and by coincidence, or otherwise, Wylie just so happened to be working on the same nights as the first two murders as well.

For the first time in the investigation Jack had a sniff of a suspect. But was Wylie directly involved in any of the three murders? Would it be possible for him to leave his post during a shift, commit the murders and then return unnoticed? It’s possible, but was it likely?

Wylie could be providing the keys and moving the cameras to assist the killer steal the cars. But why? What’s in it for him? And if so, this suggested he could know who the killer was, or at least, be able to ID him. Could this be the breakthrough he looked for?

‘Ah, when is Brenton next rostered to work, Vanessa?’ Jack asked.

‘What’s today… Monday the 26th’, she said answering her own question, as she tapped on the computer keys. ‘OK… he is on rostered days off at the moment… Ah… Let me see…He’s due back on…night shift on Saturday 31st’, she eventually said.

Jack reminded Vanessa of the importance of his inquiries remaining confidential and he ended the phone call.

At this stage Jack realized that most of the information about Wylie was circumstantial, at best. Without evidence to prove Wylie was assisting the killer acquire vehicles, he risked Wylie alerting the killer that the cops were on to his car theft racket. And this would be detrimental to the investigation. This one had to be managed carefully.

After hanging up the phone, Jack reclined back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. His eyes moved to the three faces on his whiteboard smiling back at him. His focus moved to the three previous letters he’d received.

He wondered, if his suspicions about Wylie were correct, then Saturday 31st could have more significance than Wylie’s return to work date.

---

Jack and Spence decided to get some fresh air. The stuffy recirculated air in their office was tiring. Both men exited the building and decided to take a stroll towards Chinatown, to see what was happening out on the streets.

The fresh air instantly re-oxygenated the blood flow to their brains. The day was overcast and the breeze was a little cool, but it wasn’t as noticeable when walking.

As they neared Chinatown the smell of the cuisines from the various restaurants activated their hunger rumbles.

A roadside hot dog vendor caught Spence’s eye. He nudged Jack then pointed to the vendor. ‘Hot Dog?’ he suggested. Jack nodded in agreement.

While Spence ordered the hot dogs, Jack peeled off and leaned a shoulder against a light pole, watching the steady flow of traffic pass by.

Jack’s traffic watching was interrupted when a female voice called his name from behind. ‘Jack…?’

Jack pushed himself away from the light pole and turned to the voice. It was his ex-wife, Caitlyn. She held shopping bags in each hand. She smiled at Jack. ‘I thought that was you… How are you…?’ She approached him, elevated herself onto her toes and kissed him on his cheek.

‘Good… I’m good. You…?’ he asked. He was a little cautious not to show too much interest, for no reason other than the fact they were divorced and did not keep in contact. Plus, he didn’t want to show her that he still loved her.

‘What brings you down here?’ he asked.

Jack had only seen Caitlyn once or twice since the divorce. It wasn’t a bitter break up. She still loved him dearly, but his job just kept them apart. It forced them to live separate lives.

They were able to part friends, as friendly as you can when you decide to separate. They just never kept in touch when she moved.

‘I’m down here with work for the day, so I thought I would do a bit of shopping in my lunch break.’ She lifted up her shopping bags.

‘Are you still doing the Business Development Consulting…?’ Jack asked.

Caitlyn smiled and rolled her eyes. ‘Still doing it. I have some clients in New York City, which is why I’m here.’

Jack nodded his understanding.

Spence watched the interaction from the hot dog vendor. He knew Caitlyn well and often reminded Jack that he let that one get away.

‘How are the boys?’ Jack said, with a hint of melancholy.

‘Oh, they’re great…’

Jack couldn’t remember the last time he saw his sons, but it would have been several years. He thought about them often and he missed them greatly, but they were effectively estranged from him. ‘Wasn’t it Dan’s 24th birthday last month…?’ Jack asked.

‘That’s right.’ Caitlyn smiled at him. She appeared impressed Jack remembered, given his years of forgetting everyone’s birthdays. ‘We all went out for dinner to celebrate.’

‘That would have been wonderful…’ he said. His remorseful eyes fell heavily. His voice revealed a hint of disappointment and regret.

Caitlyn rested her shopping bags on the ground and removed her cell phone from her purse. ‘Here…’ she tapped on her cell. ‘These are some photos from Dan’s dinner.’

Jack accepted the cell and glanced at the photographs. His expression was clearly one of mixed emotions. He was happy to see his boys again, but he was saddened he wasn’t part of their lives.

He silently viewed the photos of what was once his family. His interest firmly focused on his boys and how they have matured into fine looking young men. His feelings were bitter-sweet. They all looked so happy, but he was not part of it.

‘They look great. Thanks for that Lynnie.’ He handed back her cell.

She smiled as she accepted it. ‘They’re both great boys, Jack.’

‘What are they up to these days…?’

‘Dan is doing the final year of his Masters in finance. He has his sights firmly set on Wall Street…’ She smiled proudly.

‘Good for him… Doesn’t hurt to aim high. Can be lucrative, if he can get a foot in the door…’

‘And Maxi is a consultant of sorts. He loves it. He floats between here and California doing contract work for different firms… Actually…’ She paused to check her watch. ‘I think he’s in California at the moment. I don’t get to see much of either of them these days.’

Jack nodded in response. He smiled as he watched Caitlyn proudly talk about their boys. ‘That’s great to hear…’ Jack said.

He gestured towards Spence at the Hot Dog vendor. ‘You remember Spence…’

Spence smiled and waved.

‘Of course I do. How are you, Doug?’ Her customary greeting sounded genuine.

‘I’m good Caitlyn.’ Spence said. He approached Caitlyn and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Are you still up in Jersey…? Maplewood, wasn’t it…?’ Spence was only making small talk.

‘Maplewood. That’s right.’ She nodded.

Spence nodded and smiled. ‘That’s great.’ He gestured towards the vendor. ‘Excuse me, Caitlyn,’ he said, ‘it was good to see you again…’ He moved over to the collect the hot dogs.

‘So how are you doing…?’ Jack said.

‘Well, I remarried. You knew I remarried, didn’t you?’

Jack shook his head. ‘No. No, I didn’t know. Good for you,’ Jack said. Even though he had no right to, it stung a little bit when heard the news she had remarried.

Caitlyn scoffed and rolled her eyes. ‘Seems as though I’m not meant to be married, Jack… It didn’t last. We separated six months ago,’ she said.

‘I’m sorry to hear, Lynnie,’ Jack said. He lied.

‘No, it’s all good. I live on my own now, well, with Dan when he isn’t at his girlfriend’s, but mostly on my own and I’m loving it,’ she said.

‘Good for you,’ Jack said.

The friendly small talk had all but run its race. Awkward silent pauses started to dominate their chance encounter.

They both exchanged the standard, ‘you’re looking well’ compliments to each other. Then came the ‘it was great to see you again’ comments.

Following a kiss on the cheek and a brief embrace, they parted ways. Caitlyn moved deeper into Chinatown and the Detectives opted to return to the office.

Jack was more refreshed from the exposure to the fresh air as he strolled chomping down on his hot dog. But if he was true to himself, the true reason he felt better was because he bumped in to Caitlyn. It was so good to see her again.

Chapter 23

He slowly stepped his way down into the basement. The eerie sound of timber treads creaking, broke the silence. The hall light bleeding in from the doorway above, silhouetted his body against the darkness of the dimly lit stairs.

The man’s eyes were firmly fixed on the small room at the foot of the stairs. A large slide bolt and padlock secured this room that was once used for storage, but was now a place utilized for far more devious and sinister purposes.

After stepping inside, he clicked on a low wattage desk light that hovered over his laptop. The dull light blended away into the darkness.

In the fading shadows, the wall in front of him revealed a mixture of the grey and black shades from the collection of newspaper clippings pasted across the wall. Each clipping was a reference to the same subject.

Several clippings had a large photograph under a large headline. Some clippings had small photographs. Others had just text articles, but regardless of the format, they all had one thing in common; the subject of news article.

Each news article that lined the wall like a mosaic wallpaper, was a report on New York Homicide Detective, Lieutenant Jack Head. Most were extolling his superior policing, following the successful arrests and prosecution of violent murderers. Others were media interviews about the status of ongoing cases, but one constant was, Jack Head.

The dates on each article suggested he had been collecting them for some time; over many years in fact. But why? Why was he so interested in what Lieutenant Jack Head had done, or how he did it?

Why did he collect the articles like a proud parent, whose child’s picture appeared in the local newspaper? Was he recognizing his brilliance as a Detective? Or was he a disgruntled previous collar with a revenge wish?

Seated at his desk, camouflaged by the darkness that extended to each corner of the room, his silhouetted body was slightly hunched over his keyboard, as he typed.

The desktop light cast dancing shadows across the laptop keyboard from his typing hands and reflected a blend of black and brown shadows up his face.

Moments of pausing in contemplation were followed by frantic typing. It was as though his fingers couldn’t type his thoughts quick enough. Longer pauses from typing were used to consult nearby reference material, before returning to his typing.

Once he had finished, he saved the typed page under the Cryptic file name, “A warning to players”. He smiled to himself, quietly pleased with his guile.

The man reclined back in his chair and extended his arms out horizontally to his side, to stretch. He yawned, then opened the top desk drawer and slipped out a pair of latex gloves from a box and promptly snapped them on.

With his gloves in place he loaded a single page of lemon-yellow paper into his printer, then printed the file on his laptop screen. While the printer did its job, he removed a standard business sized, lemon-yellow envelope from a drawer.

When the printer ejected page, he slid the printed document from the printer’s tray and held it under the light to examine the print quality before proof reading the contents.

Satisfied with his work, he placed the single page onto the desk and placed the envelope into the printer document feeder to print the recipient’s name and address.

After tri-folding the single page typed letter, he carefully slid it into the envelope. A piece of clear Sellotape was attached to the envelope’s rear flap to securely seal it.

When he was done, he dropped the sealed envelope onto the desk. He leaned forward onto his elbows and raised his eyes to the shadowed wall in front of him. His eyes scanned over the mass of dark and light grey shades of dimly illuminated newspaper articles. A devious smile emerged across his face. All he needed was a stamp and it was ready to be posted.

The man dragged off his gloves then removed his cell phone from a pocket. He levered open the back cover and flicked out the small battery. He then gently slid out the SIM card, which he immediately replaced with another SIM he had sitting on his desk. He then reassembled the phone.

After the phone had methodically completed its system reboot, he sent a text message.

“Hot date lined up need a sweet ride. When r u next working”

The reply text message was promptly returned. “Cool. Sat Sun Mon Tue.”

“Good. will b in touch,” the man replied then quickly reversed his earlier actions and replaced the original SIM card back into his phone.

All was now in readiness. He now had his date. The desk light was extinguished and the small storage room once again stood in total darkness, secured by the slide bolt and the oversized padlock.

---

Jack was at his desk when the afternoon mail was delivered. He spread the envelopes, knocking the pile of letters apart, so he could see who they were from, before deciding if he could be bothered to open any of them, just yet.

An envelope with the familiar FBI logo with “PRIVATE and CONFIDENTIAL” emblazoned across it in red ink, caught his eye. He lifted that envelope.

Federal Bureau of Investigation, National Center for the Analysis of Violent Crime, Critical Incident Response Group, he read.

‘Looks like the profile from the Feds,’ Jack yelled to Spence, who was seated at his desk outside Jack’s office.

Jack slipped on his reading glasses and ripped into the envelope. He swiveled his chair to the side and crossed his legs in readiness to read the FBI’s reply.

Spence strolled into Jack’s office and slumped down in the visitor’s chair at Jack’s desk. He watched on as Jack read the letter to himself.

“The Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU) has examined all available information in regard to your matters.

This included, CCTV footage, photographs of the crime scenes, autopsy reports, victims’ profiles, police reports, and witness statements.

The resultant Psychological Profile and Behavioral Analysis has been provided and is not for publication, or circulation to anyone outside your department.

Apart from the CCTV footage provided, there has been no evidence provided to the FBI that would assist in determining the physical description of this unknown subject (“UNSUB”).

The CCTV footage provided depicts a driver of the subject vehicle, however there is no evidence provided at this time to suggest the driver of the vehicle is the unsub. The CCTV footage provided however suggests the driver of the vehicle is;

Adult male;

Caucasian;

Mid to late twenties;

The Unsub’s Psychological and Behavioral Profile

Based on the case file information this Unsub has been classified as an “Organized Murderer”. Organized murderers have advanced social skills, plan their crimes, display control over their victim using their social skills, leave little forensic evidence or clues, and often engage in sexual acts with the victim before the murder.

The strength required to snap the C2 and C3 cerebral Vertebrae suggests the Unsub is a male of considerable strength and power. Possibly has some form of training in unarmed subjugation.

Victims are all young-adult Caucasian female street prostitutes. This suggests the killer is most probably Caucasian.

The killings do not appear to be motivated by uncontrollable urges or desires. He kills his victims quickly, which suggests a feeling of remorse towards them.

Although he is murdering prostitutes, the killings do not appear to be targeted hate crimes against prostitutes. There is no evidence he participates in sexual intercourse with his victims; possibly hires them for oral sex as a lure before killing them. The lack of extreme violence suggests the murders are not because of the killer’s feelings of inadequacy or impotency.

He does not despise them for their lifestyle – he shows some care in the way he lays out their bodies, which are intentionally not well hidden. He wants them to be discovered.

He has no interest in his victims; they are chosen at random because he views them as easy targets. Street prostitution is illegal, therefore there is a reluctance among prostitutes to voluntarily speak to law enforcement and it is not unusual for them to get into stranger’s vehicles.

The crimes are well planned. He has meticulous attention to detail. He acts alone because he needs to control his environment.

He is not concerned that his crimes follow a particular pattern.

He is of superior intelligence and well educated. He is a strong controlling personality with extreme self-confidence, possibly a superiority complex, or even narcissism.

Has a thorough knowledge of crime scene forensics and law enforcement.

He has a disregard for the law. Possibly has committed other crimes previously and never been held to account.

He is careful not to leave incriminating evidence at his crime scenes, but he leaves a clue for the police as to where he will dump the victim’s body.

He is clearly confident the cipher he has employed in his letters is solid enough to stave off decryption, but he will have a contingency plan, in case the letters are deciphered.

The time between killings is reducing.

He is growing in confidence with every attack. This may cause him to make mistakes.

This unsub will continue to offend until he is caught.

Modus Operandi and Signature

Signature

Prior to the perpetration of the murder, coded letters are sent to police with hidden clues that another death is pending; the method he will use to kill his victim and where the body will be dumped.

All his victims have been killed instantly by snapping their C2 and/or C3 Cerebral Vertebrae.

The absence of bruising or physical injury suggests the victims were not forcibly abducted.

Toxicology reports indicate the victims were not drugged.

The lack of defensive wounds on the victims suggests a surprise attack.

Modus Operandi

His MO is to steal luxury motor vehicles from a hotel car park, possibly assisted in some way by a hotel employee and he uses the vehicle to pick up a street prostitute and take her to a remote location and kill her.

The vehicle is then used to transport the body to the dumping site, before the vehicle is cleaned internally and returned to the hotel, before the owner knows it was gone.

All victims have been picked up from around the same general area in Lower Manhattan and with exception of one, the bodies were dumped in relative close proximity to where they were picked up.

This could suggest the Unsub is committing crimes within the comfort zone of an area within which he resides or works.

FBI records have not matched this MO to any known offender or suspect.

Disclaimer:

Psychological and Behavioral profiling is not an exact science and should only be used to assist in identifying possible suspects. The above psychological and Behavioral profile provided has been based on the limited information made available to the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit. The discovery of further evidence or information when considered in its entirety may alter the outcome of this offender’s profile.”

‘Any good…?’ Spence asked when Jack lowered the letter.

Jack gently lobbed the letter towards Spence. ‘Given the small amount of information we gave the Feds, it goes into a bit of detail…’ Jack began. ‘But, it didn’t really contain anything we hadn’t already considered.’

Spence lifted the letter and read it through. When he finished, he returned the letter to Jack. ‘Doesn’t help much at all, does it…? Nothing new,’ Spence said. Like Jack, his expectations appeared to be also slightly deflated.

Jack copied the FBI letter in preparedness for distribution to his team members at the daily morning muster tomorrow.

Chapter 24

Thursday afternoon in Washington Square Park was warm with an agreeable gentle breeze. The brilliant blue sky blended from cobalt blue to azure and was almost unhindered by the sparse coverage of small fluffy white cumulus clouds.

Most of the buildings surrounding the popular park belonged to New York University. The park was a popular place for students to meet and relax before, or after classes.

Light numbers of visitors to the park gathered around the large centrally located Washington’s fountain, while others were posing for photos in front of the towering Washington’s arch at the gateway to Fifth Avenue. Others simply passed through as a short cut to their destination.

Lawn areas bathed in sunshine were occupied by University students sitting in groups, or just taking time out on their own to relax or read.

Shaded park benches around the perimeter of the square were filled by people choosing to sit and rest, or just soak in the ambiance. Other university students challenged their minds against one another in the park’s outdoor Chess playing area.

For Emma Fisher, the lure of the lush sun-soaked lawns of Washington Square Park was a pleasant alternative to the stuffy University library, to read over her course notes.

She was casually dressed in her light grey baggy sweat pants and a sloppy fitting purple NYU hoodie. Her shoulder length strawberry blonde hair was tucked up under a baseball cap.

Her choice of clothing did nothing for her natural beauty and masked her femininity and her fit athletic figure.

She sat crossed legged on the lawn facing the direction of the fountain, with the sun on her back. Her elbows rested on her knees and her head was lowered as she focused on her reading material resting on the lawn in front of her.

Emma was a vibrant and attractive twenty-two-year-old senior, studying her final year of law at NYU. Originally from Philadelphia where she grew up living with her mother, she moved to New York after high school to study a law degree.

After two years living in campus accommodation, she decided it was time to move into her own apartment to maintain her privacy. She saved enough money for a deposit and rent down-payment through her regular part time job.

Weeks of fruitless searching for an apartment did nothing to dampen her enthusiasm and eventually, her persistence paid off. She was fortunate enough to find the perfect apartment at reasonable rent on the 12th floor at Peter Cooper Village in Stuyvesant Town, East Village.

Her modern one-bedroom apartment, complete with ebony finished timber floors and large windows, overlooked what she referred to as her million-dollar views of the East River, across to Northern Brooklyn.

At night the mesmerizing view across the river to Brooklyn was a tranquil sea of sparkling street and building lights that gently flickered against the darkened night sky.

Her apartment boasted a sizable kitchen, complete with all appliances, separate dining room and a large living room. Her huge master bedroom came complete with en-suited bathroom and walk in closet. She felt it was perfect and only a thirty-minute walk, or twenty minutes by bus to NYU.

Emma lifted her eyes from her books and scanned the park as she took a refreshing drink from her water bottle. She noticed the breeze had cooled and the number of people in the park had noticeably reduced.

The shadows from the park’s trees hand lengthened and now stretched towards the central fountain. The best part of the afternoon had passed and was giving way to the approaching evening.

Emma checked her watch. She raised a single eyebrow in surprise that 2½ hours had passed by since she first sat down on the lawn. She closed her books and packed them into her backpack.

She removed her iPad, booted it up and navigated to her Instagram Page, where she read through her many news feeds and messages.

She then posted a new status to her loyal following, to advise them she would be working tonight from 10pm and would love to catch up with anyone who happened to be in the area.

Emma then packed up her back pack and hitched a single strap over one shoulder. After a quick check of where she sat, she made her way across the park towards the bus stop on Fifth Avenue to fight for a seat with the evening peak commuters, as she made her way home.

---

Jack and Spence spent the afternoon in Jack’s office going over the Cryptic Killer case. They reviewed what evidence they had, what evidence was needed and they mapped out what avenues of inquiries remained.

Both men agreed that the Waldorf Astoria Valet Supervisor, Brenton Wylie was still an important piece of this cryptic puzzle.

Jack updated Spence on how earlier in the week he tried to contact Wylie on his cell, on three occasions, but all calls went to Wylie’s voice mail.

He left messages on each occasion however Wylie failed to return his calls. He suspected that Wylie was intentionally ignoring his calls, which only caused him to dislike Wylie even more.

Not to be denied, on Wednesday morning Jack drove out to Wylie’s home address in Brooklyn for a cold-call visit. His knocks at Wylie’s apartment door went unanswered, suggesting nobody was home, but his instincts suspected Wylie was refusing to open the door.

Jack made some inquiries with Wylie’s neighbors, who confirmed Wylie lived at the apartment alone. As far as they knew he was home. He had certainly not gone away anywhere for his days off. One neighbor said she passed Wylie in the hallway about fifteen minutes earlier, when he was returning to his apartment.

‘I thought, fuck him,’ Jack blurted, with his contempt for Wylie peaking. ‘For ignoring me… I’ll just drag him away from his work on Saturday night.’

‘Sounds fair to me,’ Spence said.

---

Both men had spent several hours concentrating as they reviewed the case file. Spence lounged back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. He glanced across the desk at Jack.

‘I could go a real coffee right now,’ Spence suggested.

‘Good call,’ Jack said. He removed a folded $20 bill from his shirt pocket and flicked it across the desk to Spence, like a casino dealer distributing a playing card. ‘My treat,’ he said as the twenty came to rest in front of Spence.

Spence scooped up the note from the desk and made his way to their favorite coffee shop.

He would only have been gone two minutes when Jack heard Spence’s distressed voice call out from the Bull Pen.

‘Jobs… You better get out here… Now.’ His tone was direct.

Jack emerged from his office. He frowned his confusion when he noticed Spence seated at his desk.

‘What happened to the coffees?’ he asked.

Jack’s smiling expression instantly wiped. His eyes locked onto the lemon-yellow envelope in Spence’s latex-gloved hand.

Jack stopped in his tracks, as if shot. His shoulders slumped. His face now mirrored the same expression of trepidation as Spence.

‘Lemon yellow paper…’ he said knowingly.

Spence nodded slowly. He tilted the envelope towards Jack to show the letter inside.

Jack rolled his eyes. ’What’s that… Two weeks…? He asked.

‘Yep… Fifteen days to be exact,’ Spence said. ‘The time between letters is getting shorter.’

Jack watched Spence carefully remove the letter from the envelope, then slowly open the tri-folded letter. Spence left the letter sitting on his desk. The fold caused each end of the letter to rise upwards like butterfly wings.

Jack retrieved two clear evidence bags from the supply cupboard and handed them the Spence.

Once the envelope and letter were safely sealed in the clear evidence bags, Jack accepted the letter from Spence. His questioning eyes scanned over the contents.

Letter number four had arrived. It was identical to the previous three letters. There was a literary quote, several Cryptic Clues and rows of numbers.

Jack remembered what Matthew Curry told him previously, so he looked closer at the cryptic clues. Just like the previous letter, this one also had some small dots and a hyphen inconspicuously positioned in the clues. ‘If the killer was consistent, these would be the clues that revealed the coordinates for a library or similar location for books,’ Jack said, thinking out loud.

Further examination detected dots and a hyphen in the string of numbers. ‘They will be the coordinates to where the body would be dumped.’

Jack handed the evidence bag to Spence. ‘Get a copy of the letter and then enter the originals into evidence,’ Jack said. ‘Then get the originals down to prints to get them analyzed, ASAP,’ Jack barked. ‘My office when you’re done, Spence.’

Once Spence had left, Jack addressed the entire team, all of whom had witnessed what had just occurred. ‘Listen up…’ Jack began. ‘Effective immediately… All your cases are on hold,’ he said. ‘This case is now our number one priority… You will all be required to help on this one… I will update everyone shortly with your tasks,’ he said, then returned to his office.

Spence returned to Jack’s office about fifteen minutes later, having completed his list of assigned tasks. He flopped down into the visitor’s chair opposite Jack and slid the copy of the 4th letter onto the desk. Jack didn’t notice the letter. His focus was fixed on the whiteboard.

‘The murders have gone from five weeks, to three weeks, to now two weeks,’ he said while staring at the whiteboard. ‘The time between killings is reducing considerably.’ The concern lines from a fortnight ago returned to Jack’s face.

‘But we’ve got Matthew Curry,’ Spence said. His tone was upbeat.

Jack scanned his desk. ‘Where’s the copy? Ahh…’ He lifted the letter and read the opening quote.

“There are two classes of people in this world, those who sin, and those who are sinned against; if a man must belong to either, he had better belong to the first than to the second.”

Jack lifted his eyes to Spence. Both men shared a glance that confirmed neither understood the significance of the quote.

Next, Jack accessed his Google search engine and typed in the latest quote. He rubbed his hands together while he waited for the results.

‘OK.’ Jack squinted while he read from the computer screen. ‘According to this… The quote is by Samuel Butler.’ Jack lifted his eyes to Spence. ‘Do you know who that is?’

Spence shook his head. ‘No idea…’

Jack’s focus returned to the screen. ‘Ah… It says here he was an English novelist… Another quote from an English writer,’ Jack noted. He continued reading. ‘He was born in 1835 and died in 1902.’

‘Does it say there what book the quote is from, Jobs?’

Jack read from the screen. ’OK… It says here the quote is from the novel, “The Way of All Flesh,” he said. ‘So it looks like we know the novel, next we need to get these cryptic clues answered so we can decipher the message.’

‘Do you want to use Curry again, or the intelligence boys, given we now know how to decipher the letter now?’ Spence said.

Jack’s eyes flicked to Spence. He sat back from his computer screen and rubbed a thoughtful hand across his mouth. ‘Who is most suitable… Or qualified…?’ Jack said, thinking out loud. ‘The intelligence boys are law enforcement… Matthew Curry is just a clever kid… But still a civilian…’ He said.

’But Matt knows exactly how to crack this cipher. He’s already done it three times,’ Spence said.

Jack nodded. ‘I agree. I think we’ll break protocol and use Matty…’ Jack said. ‘Time is of the essence and he’ll be able to knock this over quickly. We just have to be sure he will maintain the confidentiality of what he reads.’

Spence nodded in agreement at Jack’s choice. ‘I agree.’

Jack’s mind started to tick over. Spence obviously noticed his boss was deep in contemplation. ‘What’s on your mind Jobs?’

Jack flicked the stubble up the side of his face. ‘If this letter is consistent with the others we received…’ Jack paused. His focus shifted to the whiteboard. ‘We have forty-eight hours to stop him,’ Jack said.

Spence shrugged. ‘Nothing new there, Jobs.’

Jack’s frowning focus shifted to Spence. ‘Forty-eight hours from today would be what day…?’

‘Saturday…’ Spence said. He shook his head. ‘Where you going with this?’

‘When is that fat prick’s first shift back from rest days…?’ Jack asked knowingly.

Spence’s eyebrows arched. ‘Saturday night…’ Spence said.

Jack nodded slowly. ‘I don’t think it is a coincidence Spence. The more I think about it, the more I am certain that Wylie is somehow involved. We just have to find to what extent.’

Jack checked his watch and noted that the business day was nearing an end. This meant office workers across the city would be bursting from their buildings, racing impatiently towards their nightly commute home. And that included Matthew.

’Get his work number from his statement and catch him before he goes home. I want him here tonight,’ Jack ordered.

‘I’m on it.’ Spence jumped from his chair and exited the office.

About ten minutes later Spence leaned in through Jack’s office door to inform him Matthew was on his way.

‘What did you tell him?’ Jack asked.

‘Not much… Just asked him to come down to the police station before he goes home and stressed it was important… He seemed happy with that.’

Jack nodded and Spence was gone.

Jack dialed the Gnome’s extension. He was not as concerned about contacting him this time. Jack felt confident that he was already ahead of the killer and with a bit of luck, they might be able to prevent this 4th murder.

The phone answered after two rings. Jack informed the Gnome that the 4th letter had just arrived. He updated the Captain on what his plans were and how he intended to try and prevent this next murder. This included in the short term, bringing in Matthew Curry to have the letter cracked tonight.

The Captain offered some initial resistance on his decision to use a civilian in a murder investigation, but after a compelling argument from Jack as to why Matthew was more qualified, the Captain conceded that he probably was the best suited person for the job.

Jack reassured the Gnome that they knew a lot more and were in a much stronger position than when they received the 3rd letter two weeks ago. It was now up to Matthew Curry to crack this latest cipher – and quickly.

Chapter 25

With her bus approaching the intersection with 15th Street, Emma pressed the “Next Stop” button. The familiar ‘Ding’ registered her request. In preparation, she slid her butt to the front of her seat, picked up her back pack and sat it on her lap.

Twenty-five minutes on a public bus, although a convenient way to get to and from school, was about all she could tolerate.

The bus jolted to a stop then released gushes of air from the brakes. After a brief pause the middle exit doors sprung open. Emma stood in line with the other alighting passengers, waiting for her turn to exit.

The bus conveniently stopped right at the top of Stuyvesant Town, leaving only a short stroll to her apartment.

As she stepped from the bus onto First Avenue to commence her short stroll home, her senses were awakened by the tantalizing aroma wafting from her favorite Chinese restaurant.

She immediately considered what options she had in her apartment for dinner tonight. She eventually succumbed to the enticing odors and bought some Chinese takeout on the way home.

By the time she arrived at her apartment, she was salivating in anticipation of her ready-made dinner. She placed her keys into a bowl on the kitchen bench and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

She moved to her lounge room, turned on the TV and sat back on her couch with her legs crossed, enjoying her Chinese takeout, while catching up on daily events on the evening news.

---

With her stomach now full she started to relax as she reclined back onto her couch. She could quite easily take a nap right now, but she only had about one hour before she had to get ready for work. So snoozing, despite how tempting that sounded, was not an option.

Instead, to keep moving and stay awake, she decided to tidy up after dinner. Her empty Chinese food container and chop sticks were discarded into the kitchen trash and the empty water bottle went into her recyclables bin. She looked around her apartment to check she had everything. That was easy, she shrugged.

On her way to her bedroom, she turned off the TV and turned on her CD player, opting to leave whatever CD was in there from the last time. The dulcet tones of Bruno Mars thumped from her speakers.

Emma sang and danced along as she ran herself a bath. While it filled, she went about laying out her work clothes for tonight.

Once the bath was full, she poured herself a glass of red wine before returning to the stream-filled bathroom. She lowered herself into the soothing hot water, exhaling gently from the tingling sensation of the hot water on her skin.

The thick layer of soft soapy bubbles rose up under her chin as she reclined back into the tub. Emma casually sipped on her wine as she savored one of life’s simple pleasures.

---

It was a little after 6pm by the time Matthew Curry finally arrived at the station and was escorted up to the Homicide squad room. Spence met him in the Bull Pen and relieved the uniform officer of his escort duties.

After shaking hands, Spence thanked Matt for coming down on such short notice and told him to take a seat while he spoke to the boss.

Jack was on the phone when Spence leaned in though Jack’s office door. Jack held up a finger to Spence, then gestured to the chair at his desk. Spence slid into the chair opposite Jack.

Jack hung up the phone a short time later. ‘What’s up?’

‘Matthew Curry’s here. Do you want to bring him up to speed?’

‘Sure, bring him in.’

Spence returned to Jack’s office almost immediately with Matthew in tow. ‘You remember Lieutenant Jack Head,’ Spence said.

Jack eagerly pushed himself away from his desk, like he was excited to see Matthew – which of course he was. He quickly walked around to Matt’s side of the desk with his hand extended to Matt. Matt accepted the gesture with a single shake. Greetings were exchanged.

‘You remember the letter you deciphered for us a few weeks ago…’ Jack said. Matthew nodded in response. ‘Do you think you could do that again?’

Matthew stared blankly back at Jack, then his puzzled gaze shifted to Spence. His single eyebrow was raised in an expression of clear confusion. ’What… You want me to decipher the same letter again…?′

Jack’s eyes lifted to Spence. He frowned. ‘What… No… Look… Sit down.’ Jack indicated the visitor’s chair at his desk.

Matthew calmly lowered himself into the chair and glanced up at the standing Jack and Spence.

Jack perched himself on the front of his desk beside Matthew with his arms crossed as he spoke. ‘Are you interested in helping us again with some more code breaking?’ Jack said.

‘Absolutely.’ His eagerness overflowed.

‘Good. This may take some time. Do you have any plans for tonight?’ Jack asked.

‘No. No. I’m good.’

‘Now,’ Jack said firmly. He leaned in towards Matthew. ‘What you are about to see and hear is part of an ongoing murder investigation. It cannot leave this building. Do you understand?’

‘I completely understand,’ Matthew said. ‘Nothing will be said. You can trust me.’

Jack placed his hand on Matt’s shoulder. ‘Good to hear…. Now do you need to call your Mom to tell her where you are?’ Jack asked.

‘Yeah, I probably should.’

‘OK use that phone out there.’ Jack indicated the phone out on Spence’s desk. ‘Let your Mom know we will drive you home when you are finished.’

Jack shifted his focus to Spence. ‘Get him an outside line…’ Spence nodded his understanding.

With the formalities out of the way Jack and Spence took time to update Matthew on the receipt of the 4th letter and how it appeared to be similar to the letters Matt previously decoded.

Jack told Matt that the literary quote was from a different English author this time, a Samuel Butler. Matt was not familiar with this author, or his novels.

Jack arranged for Spence to get a copy of the letter for Matt and set him up in the first interview room with a lap top. Jack asked Matthew to keep him updated after he solved each part of the letter.

It took Matthew less than three minutes to answer all the cryptic clues and five minutes to work out the coordinates and enter them into the Latitude and Longitude Finder website to reveal where the clues directed them to.

Matthew smiled when he poked his head out from the interview room. ‘Excuse me, Detective Spencer…’

Spence’s head lifted to the voice. ‘Yep…’ Spence must’ve noticed the grin. ‘Ya done already…?’

Matt nodded. ‘The first part… I’ve worked out the book store…’

Spence pushed himself from his desk and stood. He beckoned towards Matt. ‘Come. Let’s let the boss know.’

Spence and Matt strolled into Jack’s office. Jack looked up from his reading, to his entering visitors.

‘Matt has solved the first part,’ Spence said.

A smile emerged out the side of Jack’s face. ‘What cha got for me Matt?’

’I’ve solved the crossword clues and put the numbers into the latitude and longitude finder. The clues are directing you to Barnes and Noble book store at 555 5th Avenue.’

Jack checked his watch. It was just after 8pm. ‘If Matt is to break the code tonight, we need that book,’ Jack said, thinking out aloud. He sounded desperate.

‘Most stores will be closed for the day, by now, Jobs,’ Spence said.

‘I know… That’s what worries me.’

Jack tapped Barnes and Noble into Google on his desktop computer. ‘OK, their website says they are open until 9pm on Thursday nights.’ Jack again checked his watch. He lifted his desk phone and dialed the book store.

After the call, Jack slammed the receiver down and slid open his desk drawer. ’They have a copy of, The Way of the Flesh,’ Jack said. He lifted the car keys. ‘And they’re expecting you…’ Jack lobbed the keys to Spence, who caught them with a snatch.

‘If you take the FDR and get off at East 42nd Street you can be there in about fifteen to twenty minutes,’ Jack said. ‘I’ll order us some takeout to be delivered while you are gone.’

---

Emma toweled herself dry after her bath and stood in front of her mirror examining and even admiring her form. She turned to the side and checked out her flat stomach and profile and then to the other side to check out her well-toned butt.

She faced away from the mirror and peeped back over a shoulder, admiring her fit naked body from the rear. All looked good.

Her figure was quite alluring. She had long, shapely legs, a tight firm athletic butt, and a narrow waist with well-toned abdominals. She had natural large breasts and a gentle tan. Her pubic hair was cleanly waxed, but that preference was not her own.

She wound her long strawberry-blonde hair into a tight bun and then moved into her bedroom to dress into her work clothes, in readiness for her shift.

Her choice of uniform for tonight was a small red leather Bolero jacket. The jacket sat open to expose a black leather push-up bra that intentionally revealed and accentuated her ample cleavage.

She also selected a snug, form fitting red leather mini skirt from her wardrobe and a pair red platform thigh-high boots. She was almost ready.

Next, she moved to her dresser and removed a black, long-haired wig from her mannequin-head wig stand. With a well-practiced move, she slipped on the wig and maneuvered it into position.

Instantly she transformed from an attractive strawberry-blonde into a seductive, black-haired beauty. She then fitted her red leather Bolero cap onto her silky black hair, clasped on a black leather choker, with an array of chains cascading down the front of her chest, and she was set.

The baggy sweats and hoodie wearing university student had transformed into her alter ego; a Greenwich Village street hooker known by the pseudonym, ‘Nikki’. She even amazed herself at how different she looked in the black wig.

Coming from a lower socio-economic family background, raised by a single parent, Emma was not able to rely on her mother to pay for her College tuition. The only way she could study law was to fund it herself.

She quickly realized that waiting on tables, or working in retail stores for minimum wage would not pay for her college tuition, let alone rent or food.

A college friend of hers, who had since graduated, also worked the streets to pay for her tuition and persuaded Emma to try it as a way to fund her College expenses. Emma tried it and had never looked back.

She did not do drugs, and by her choice, she only worked on the busy nights: Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays, which worked in well for her because her Fridays were free from lectures. About one third of her clients were regulars from her Facebook and Instagram pages and the others were ‘walk-ups’ found during the night.

The tricks of the trade were learned very early on. The more erotic and seductive she was dressed, the more excited the Johns were. The more excited the Johns were, the quicker it was all over.

She intentionally never carried any bills with her, so she was not able to give change to the Johns. She also carried extra pairs of panties, most of which she bought for purpose because some men, particularly her Japanese regulars, asked to buy her panties as souvenirs.

Twenty percent from all her takings was paid to her pimp, LeVander, which increased to 30% on weekends. LeVander was normally a casual guy, but he was not averse to hitting females. Rip him off and he would inflict a relentless barrage of physical pain to punish the transgression and breach of trust, as well as deter recidivism.

He did so comfortable in the knowledge that street hookers did not report assaults by their pimps, at the risk of being busted themselves.

Unbeknownst to LeVander, Emma charged much more than the prices he set for his hookers; a very risky practice indeed. But she was gorgeous, clean and incredibly sexy. Most men looking for a hooker gravitated towards her and were happy to pay her prices.

Emma earned between $1000 and $2000 a night from which she was able to adequately cover her University fees, her apartment and still lived very comfortably.

Her biggest fear was not LeVander, whom she believed she could manage. Her fear was being busted for street prostitution and the consequences of such a prior conviction when pursuing a law career.

She often recalled the time she was caught up in a police sweep of street hookers. The arresting cop could see she was not like the others and took a liking to her. When she convinced him, she only did it out of necessity to pay for her college tuition, he was sympathetic and let her go with a warning to be careful in the future.

For reasons unknown to her, the same copper now alerted her via text messages when planned raids were occurring in her neighborhood. He asked for nothing in return.

After a short cab ride to her street corner in Greenwich Village, she was ready for the long night ahead.

Chapter 26

The delivery of Italian take-out arrived at the station around the same time as when Spence returned from Fifth Avenue. Jack and Spence enjoyed a feed of gnocchi pasta, while Matthew devoured a large pepperoni pizza.

Once dinner was out of the way, Matthew adjourned to the interview room to decipher the letter with the assistance of the book by Samuel Butler. Mathew studiously worked through the pages of the book, locating the words identified in the code.

In less than five minutes the puzzle was completed. Matthew had deciphered the message in the cryptic killer’s 4th letter. His face struggled to contain the beaming smile as he moved towards Jack’s office, to tell him the news.

‘Are you done already?’ Spence asked Matt as he approached.

Matthew didn’t need to respond. He just beamed a proud smile back at Spence, which was as articulate as any spoken word.

Jack sat at his desk reading when Spence and Matt entered his office. He lifted his eyes to his visitors. He noticed both men had pleased expressions. Jack removed his reading glasses and held them in his hand as he sat back in his chair. His inquiring eyes flicked from Spence to Matt and back. ‘What’s up?’

Spence grinned. ‘He’s all done, Jobs.’

Jack checked his watch. ‘You’re kidding… That’s fantastic.’ Jack gestured to the chair opposite.

Matt slid into the chair. Spence perched himself on the front of the desk.

‘Well, what can you tell us…?’ Jack said.

Matthew appeared to take great enjoyment in explaining the message he had deciphered.

‘As suspected, the message was similar to the 3rd letter,’ Matt began. ‘Using the coordinates uncovered in the code I was able to establish what the killer’s message was…’ He lifted his notes and read. ’The next body, a hooker, will be found in Madison Square Park with her neck broken. Same deadline of forty-eight hours was provided,’ Matt said.

Jack and Spence exchanged a glance. A simultaneous grin emerged on their faces.

‘Great job Matt,’ Jack said. ‘You have no idea how helpful you have been. You might just have saved someone’s life…’ Jack said.

Matt’s smiling eyes flicked from Jack to Spence.

This was Jack’s first real breakthrough. He now had a small conduit into the killer’s mind. Had the killer’s complacency caused him to slip up? The killer would not have expected them to crack the code?

Cautious enthusiasm slowly replaced Jack’s excitement. He now knew the location where the body would be dumped. He next had to work out a contingency to try and prevent the murder occurring.

He glanced at his white board, at the three sets of eyes staring directly back at him. This time he confidently held their gaze. This time, he was worthy to look them in the eye. He was not going to be responsible for the death of another girl. There was no way he was adding another photo to this collection.

Jack pushed himself from his chair and stood. He rubbed his hands together. ‘We gotta get you home Matt,’ Jack said. He dragged open the top drawer and lifted the car keys.

‘Want company for the ride back, Jobs?’ Spence said.

‘Why not,’ Jack said.

On the return trip both considered the option of a night cap at Rosie’s. But the closer they came to the city, the less interested they became. Instead, they called it a night.

---

Hudson Street, Greenwich Village was surprisingly busy for 11pm on a Saturday Night, despite the overcast conditions and threatening skies.

The one-way street was busy with the constant flow of slow-moving cars. Some were passing through, but many were crawling the gutters seeking female company.

The tall leafy evergreens that lined the street, quite picturesque by day, had transformed into black canopies against the moonless night, hovering over the bustling sidewalks. Fluorescent lighting and neon signs from businesses that were still trading, softly illuminated the sidewalks.

For Emma’s alter ego, ‘Nikki’, this street held a significance different to that of most visitors to the area, particularly between West 10th and Charles Streets. This was where she plied her trade. This was where she sold her services to anyone willing to pay her price.

Her choice of uniform for this popular night of the week was her ever reliable black platform thigh-high boots, buttocks-revealing, cut off denim shorts that appeared painted on, a brief red bikini-style top that barely covered her nipples, and a black leather bolero with matching cap.

From her choice of wardrobe there was no mistaking what she did for a living, but there wasn’t a guy that passed her who didn’t take in a longer than usual glance at her sexy, scantily clad figure.

While standing on the curb she smiled her bright white teeth at the drivers of any slow-moving vehicle and any men walking by that showed her interest.

Her Bolero jacket and skimpy top exposed the full shape of her breast, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. She was the constant center of attention of male passers-by.

The busier the streets were with tourists to the area, the less approaches by potential Johns she was likely to have. The actions of men approaching one of the street girls appeared to intrigue visitors to the area. Whether they were interested in monitoring the transaction, or disgusted by the action was unclear, but their overt gazing intimidated and deterred men seeking discretion.

Nikki watched a red colored ford slowly approach. She recalled this was the fourth circuit he had completed along the one-way street. Things were looking promising for her first trick of the night. It had been quiet so far, which was to be expected prior to midnight.

Business always boomed after midnight on a Saturday night, once the inhibitions were relaxed and the libidos were fueled from the effects of alcohol over indulgence.

Or there were the more apprehensive tricks who waited until the visitor numbers to the area reduced considerably before approaching a street hooker, to minimize the chances of being seen, or worse, recognized.

She also had to make judgement calls and assess whether the gutter crawlers were undercover cops looking to entrap her. But as she hadn’t heard anything from her cop friend, who always alerted her to pending police raids in Greenwich Village, she relaxed slightly. Her razor-sharp street instincts had already inferred that this guy was not a cop.

Nikki watched the red vehicle pull over and stop right in front of her. The male driver made eye contact with her, giving off all the signs she recognized.

She strutted over to the passenger side door and leaned in through the open window. Her large breast intentionally hung down freely, almost unrestrained and in full view of the driver.

They were her best asset and she made sure she used them to her full advantage. The driver was an average looking European male in his early forties.

‘Hi Hun. Looking for some company…?’ She offered her standard opening question.

‘How much?’ the driver nervously blurted back as his eyes flicked between Nikki’s eyes and her ample breasts, followed by a quick check along the street in front of him.

Nikki smiled confidently and welcoming. She stared straight back at him and asked, ‘what are you looking for Hun?’

It was important to ensure the John asked for what he wanted. She was mindful that when cops were trying to entrap the girls, they made the girls say what services she offered and her prices.

The driver nervously looked forward, out the front windscreen of his car and then back at Nikki, as though he was searching for the words that were stuck somewhere between his brain and his vocal cords. Although he sat at the wheel of his car, his arousal was obvious to her.

‘Head…um…Ah…ho… How much for just head…?’ he stuttered nervously in a whispering tone. His head pivoted like a nervous sparrow.

Nikki smiled reassuringly, mindful not to make him feel too self-conscious about his nervousness.

’Two Benjamins…’she began, ‘and it won’t be “just head”…’ she said, ‘It will be the best head you have ever had, Hon,’ she boasted, slightly jiggling her dangling breasts as a teaser.

Head jobs were a service that she performed extremely well, but she had to take great care. She had the misfortune of having two larger than normal eye teeth.

Although relatively indiscernible, she had to be mindful of them when they were so close to a client’s sensitive parts. They were quite sharp, but she had learned how to keep them out of the way when performing fellatio with a male client.

Despite achieving exactly what she set out to; arouse him by the display of her ample breasts, she still had to suppress the urge to chuckle when she heard him moan with pleasure as he stared lustfully at her jiggling breasts. How easy men are. A pair of bouncy tits and they’re hooked.

Although she charges $200, as far as LeVander was aware the price charged by his girls for oral sex was $75. Nikki intentionally inflated all her prices. She wasn’t working the streets because she enjoyed the work. She figured the more profit she could make after LeVander got his 30% cut, the less tricks she had to do. It was purely economics to her.

‘OK, get in,’ the man said.

‘Do you have the two hundred, sweetie…?’ Emma said.

The driver reached into his shirt pocket and removed a number of large bills. He quickly peeled off two $100 bills. He folded them in half and handed them to Nikki. She accepted the bills with a pleasing smile. She discreetly placed them down the front of her denim shorts, then opened the car door and climbed in.

She quickly established he was new to the area, so she directed him to drive to a nearby secluded area down by the Hudson River; an area the girls regularly used for in-car sex.

Experience had taught Nikki to ensure she received payment before disclosing that she insisted all sex acts, including fellatio, were performed with her client wearing a condom. It was a very common requirement in the sex industry, however some of the more skanky girls didn’t take these precautions.

The timing of her announcement was everything. By the time she removed the condom from her purse, the John’s expectations were peaking, so she rarely received any resistance. However she was always mindful that some of her work colleagues have been badly beaten for similar requests.

Ten minutes later Nikki was back on her patch. She was still a little perplexed after the driver unexpectedly returned her to where he picked her up. That was not normal. They usually can’t get the girl out of their car quick enough once the service is completed.

As the night progressed Nikki continued marketing herself by strolling seductively along her patch, with slow deliberate catwalk-model strides. Her tight butt muscles protruded well beneath her cut-off denim shorts. She had removed her jacket and slung it over a shoulder, held onto by a finger.

From a distance the shoestring straps on her red bikini-style top gave the appearance she was naked from the waist up.

While casually ambling along her assigned turf, she received a text message. It was from one of her Facebook regulars. He was on his way and wanted to arrange a meeting at ‘the apartment’.

For Johns that approached her on the street, Nikki’s entrepreneurialism had ingeniously pre-arranged the use of a vacant one-room apartment just around the corner. A double mattress on the floor was the only furnishings. On each occasion that she used the room, she discreetly slipped the building’s Superintendent a twenty on exit. On a good night he could make as much as $200 from her hard work.

Her Facebook regular, a slightly overweight married man in his mid-fifties, was patiently waiting on a bench outside the apartment. In her usual theatrical parading, she sashayed up towards him, overtly flaunting her sexuality to intentionally escalate his libido. She could tell by the look on his face, he liked what he saw.

Three hundred and fifty dollars for straight sex and five minutes later she was back on her patch.

LeVander had been monitoring his prize girl. He timed his approach until there was a lull in passers-by. He casually sauntered up beside her with a typical swagger and confidence to seek an update on her last two tricks.

‘Wazzup baby girl,’ he asked, which was his way of inquiring what her last two tricks were so he could calculate his kick.

‘BJ and a straight,’ she replied as he mentally worked out his 30% on $225, which, in reality, her inflated pricing had earned her double that at $550.

Chapter 27

Jack had spent the entire day preparing for tonight’s operation aptly named “Operation Code breaker”. The Homicide Bull Pen overflowed for the pre-shift briefing.

With the approval of the Bureau Chief, two police members from each of the neighboring precincts, as far up as Midtown, had been seconded to his team for the Saturday night operation.

In total there were thirty cops gathered, all eagerly awaiting further instructions. One thing was certain, tonight they all shared a mutual interest in stopping the Cryptic Killer.

Firstly, Jack briefed the group on the background of the killer. This was followed by the deciphered letters and the location where the latest letter disclosed the victim’s body would be dumped.

He described the profile of the killer, as provided by the FBI. He also detailed the killer’s known MO, and particularly highlighted the fact the killer used a luxury vehicle to pick up his victims.

Based on the killer’s pattern and the body dump site, he predicted that either Tribeca, or Greenwich Village would be the killer’s next likely target area.

All those in attendance were divided into teams of two and assigned a unit name consistent with their own precinct number.

Confident with his pattern analysis, Jack assigned four teams to the Tribeca and SoHo red-light districts and three teams to the Greenwich Village red-light district.

Using a large map of Lower Manhattan, he highlighted the blocks of streets each unit would be responsible to patrol.

The team from 14th Precinct – Call sign Unit 14 — were assigned a static post monitoring the Waldorf Astoria garage exit onto East 50th Street.

Jack addressed the two-man team from Unit fourteen. ‘I want you two to position yourselves in East 50th Street, near the intersection with Lexington Avenue.’ He indicated the location on the large map. ‘The one-way street will direct all vehicles toward you,’ Jack said. ‘Be aware that we suspect that the Waldorf Astoria Valet Supervisor, Benton Wylie is assisting the killer in acquiring a vehicle. So, any luxury vehicle that exits the garage after midnight is to be stopped and checked, to confirm the driver is also the vehicle owner. Understood?’ Jack said. The Unit fourteen members nodded their understanding.

Jack collectively addressed all the other teams. ’I want you to intercept all luxury vehicles you detect driving in and around your assigned areas, whether the vehicles are passing through, or gutter crawling.

‘If it is a luxury vehicle, stop it. The perp will not own the car he is driving, so full license and registration details are to be obtained to verify the driver owns the vehicle they are driving,’ Jack said. ‘I don’t care if the luxury vehicle has just picked up a hooker, you are to intercept it and verify the driver’s details.’

As a contingency plan, in case the killer was able to slip the net he had cast, he posted his own team at discreet vantage points, in and around Madison Square Park, to monitor the eight entry points into the park.

Jack informed the group that he and Spence would move between all areas coordinating the operation. All units were issued hand held radios set to Channel six. He stressed the normal operational frequency channel was not to be used for this operation.

Jack instructed all units to report in to him when they were in their assigned areas. They were to provide regular situation reports to update him.

With a quick check of his watch, Jack noted it was 10.30pm. There were no further questions, so the teams were dismissed to allow them time to grab a coffee before departing for their assigned locations.

As the crews vacated the room Jack’s eyes met Spence’s. His eyebrows raised up in hopeful anticipation as he exhaled long and loud. All was in readiness.

Jack had spent the last two days preparing and checking his operational plan and was confident he had all areas adequately covered- as long as each of the units did their jobs correctly.

---

The time had ticked past 12.30am and the night air had cooled considerably. There was a distinct feeling of dampness in the atmosphere. Not ideal for Nikki in her scant clothing, suited to much warmer climates.

To stay warm she decided to keep moving up and down her strip. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, hugging her biceps for warmth.

As she arrived at the border to her patch, the intersection with West 10th Street, she walked to the curb to assess what sort of action was around. Passing traffic had reduced to a trickle and pedestrian traffic was meager.

She noticed Lulu, one of her ‘street sisters’, at the same location, but on the other side of the road. They exchanged a friendly wave when their eyes met.

Nikki was about to relocate back towards the other end of her patch, away from Lulu, when she noticed a black car pull in and park parallel to the curb opposite her, near where Lulu stood.

She was unsure if she was interested, or envious, but she paused momentarily to watch. The driver had wound down his window and looked towards Lulu. Nikki nodded as a smile emerged from the side of her face. Lulu was fortunate, given to lack of opportunities from passing vehicles this evening.

About the same time as the black vehicle pulled alongside Lulu’s curb, a male customer approached Lulu from the footpath. She hugged the man and they chatted like old friends.

Lulu’s interaction with this John distracted her from noticing the black car parked by the curb. After a brief, but friendly discussion, Lulu and her John discreetly moved away from the area, around into West 10th Street and out of sight.

Nikki smiled to herself, as she casually commenced her retreat, back along her patch of turf, strutting her stuff while her inbuilt radar scanned her surroundings for potential targets.

Folding her arms across her chest in a feeble attempt to generate warmth to her near naked upper body, she started to tire. Her interest and enthusiasm diminished with every step. She checked her phone as she strolled. There were no. messages.

The distinctive shrill of a short, sharp whistle caught her attention. She knew that sound well. It was LeVander’s call used to attract the attention of one of his girls. Nikki turned towards the direction of the sound.

LeVander stood at the intersection of West 10th Street, about ten yards to the rear of the parked black vehicle. He looked directly at Nikki. She turned and walked back towards him, moving onto the roadside. She stopped and held out her “what do you want?”, hands.

LeVander jabbed a firm finger at the black car, parked where Lulu stood only moments earlier. She understood his succinct sign language. He was ordering her to get her ass across the street and speak to the John in the black car, before he drove off.

Nikki checked for traffic, then trotted across the road towards the black vehicle, a precarious action when wearing six-inch spike heeled, thigh-high boots. Her semi restrained breasts bounced freely into themselves as she trotted.

The driver of the stationary vehicle lowered the passenger side window and glanced in her direction, watching her as she approached. She casually pushed out her chest to ensure he noticed her best assets bouncing, as she ran.

Nikki slowed to a walk as she neared the car. She adjusted her bikini top then, in her usual manner, she leaned in through the vehicle’s open window. Her assets dangled freely.

The unmistakable smell of new leather was first to greet her. It was pleasing to the senses. Her initial recognizance of the vehicle’s interior quickly concluded it was an expensive vehicle, presumably owned by someone with money.

She smiled at the driver, pleasantly surprised at what she saw. The driver was much younger than her usual tricks, and quite handsome. His closely shaved hair and unshaven after-five shadow produced rugged looks that could see him appear in movies, or grace the covers of glossy magazines. He returned a very pleasant smile back at her.

‘Hi handsome. Looking for some company?’ she asked.

‘As a matter of fact, I am.’ He smiled, while confidently maintaining eye contact with her. His voice was gentle and quite soothing. For the first time ever, she was semi-attracted to one of her clients.

He wore a tailored suit and appeared to be a man of considerable affluence. His choice of motor vehicle clearly supported her assumption. Why would someone so cute need to be picking up street girls? But then again, she was not your average street girl.

‘What are you looking for Hun…?’ she asked.

‘Um…’ He shifted his gaze out the front of his vehicle, as if thinking for the right words to use, before his focus returned to Nikki. ‘I am only seeking oral relief, if that option is possible,’ he replied, articulating his preference in a clarity she had not heard before from a trick.

Nikki smiled at him and he returned her smile, as he waited for her to respond with her costs.

‘I’m a little more expensive than most Hun… But it will be an experience you won’t forget – and worth every cent,’ she said.

Her comments and over confidence made him smile. He nodded once back at her. His focus shifted to the front of his vehicle. ‘And how much is this life-changing experience going to cost me…?’ He had a hint of flippancy in his tone. His focus returned to Nikki.

‘For someone as handsome you… $300,’ She said.

His mouth turned downwards, as he slowly nodded. He appeared to be happy with her fees. ‘OK. I can do that.’

The driver reached into his jacket pocket and removed his wallet. In an unusual display of trust, he passed his wallet over to her. ‘Remove your fee from there,’ he said.

Nikki stared momentarily at the wallet held in his extended hand. She slowly reached her hand out to receive the wallet from him, at the same time wondering way he couldn’t remove the cash himself and pass it to her. Was this a test of trust?

She accepted the wallet and stood up from leaning on the car and opened it. It was full of bills. She left her hands in full view of the driver while she counted off three, one-hundred-dollar bills and slipped them out of the wallet. She closed it again and leaned back into the car.

She held up the three spread bills in her hand, then passed the wallet back to the driver. The driver smiled as he took back his wallet and returned it to his inner jacket pocket.

‘Climb in.’ He smiled, extending his hand towards the passenger seat.

Nikki opened the car door and climbed in, still a little puzzled by the wallet thing.

The soft leather seat seemed to envelope her as she eased back into it. It was so comfortable. She sat momentarily with her eyes closed, soaking in the sensation of the welcoming seat. It was a little cool on first touch, but quickly warmed to a comfortable temperature against her body.

The gentle forward acceleration of the vehicle brought her back to reality. She opened her eyes as the driver slowly commenced his journey along Hudson Street. The car just seemed to glide in silence, as if on air.

The interior was sound proofed from any outside engine noises. She smiled to herself, and for the moment, she felt like she was part of societies upper echelon, as she watched the scenery pass by.

‘If it is agreeable with you…’ he began, ‘I have a favorite spot my ex-girlfriend and I used to frequent, down by the East River. It’s about a ten-minute drive, but I promise I will bring you back when we are finished,’ the driver articulated in his now typical eloquent style.

She considered his reassuring smile, then shrugged in an agreeing manner. ‘Sure. It’s your money.’ She smiled back at him. ‘Can I ask you a question?’ She had finally worked up the courage.

‘Of course.’

‘Why did you hand me your wallet, instead of taking the money out yourself?’ she asked.

The driver smiled. ‘Maybe I wanted to impress you by showing you I had a lot of cash in my wallet,’ he said playfully. Nikki forced out a smile. ‘No… I’m just messing with you. But truthfully though…’ He held up his right hand. ‘I injured the knuckles on my fingers playing basketball and I can’t bend them at all. I wouldn’t have been able to remove the bills, so… I gave it to you. I trusted you,’ he said with a reassuring smile.

Nikki nodded. She accepted his response was plausible. She started to relax a little.

‘It’s my turn now…’ the driver said. ‘I have a question for you…’

‘O-K,’ she said tentatively.

‘Do you insist on condoms for oral sex…?’ he asked.

The question caught her off guard. She never discussed the use of condoms this early on in a transaction. She was concerned at whether it would cause a change in his personality, if she replied in the affirmative.

‘As a matter of fact… I do.’ Her reply was intentionally confident and direct.

Without removing his eyes from the roadway ahead, he smiled and nodded. ‘Good to hear,’ he said. ’They protect both you and me.’

Nikki smiled to herself and nodded gently. She started to relax and feel more reassured by his comments. She focused on the illuminated roadway in front and the road markings, as they disappeared under their vehicle into the darkness beyond.

Chapter 28

Jack glanced at his watch: It was 3am. He rubbed his forehead. Nothing had been reported from any of the units, not even the Waldorf crew. If his suspicions were correct, the luxury vehicle should have been picked up from the Waldorf by now.

‘What was the time the Merc was taken from the Waldorf in the other murders…? It was about two, wasn’t it?’ Jack asked.

Spence thought for a moment. ‘Um… Yeah it was. The Valet camera was moved just before two… And the car was driven out right on 2am,’ he recalled.

Jack lifted his watch to Spence. ‘He should’ve taken a car by now… It’s after 3am.’

Spence nodded. ‘Unless he is breaking from his previous MO,’ Spence said. ‘What if that fat prick from the Waldorf… What was his name…Wylie?’ Spence said.

‘Yep, Wylie…Brenton Wylie,’ Jack said.

‘Yeah, Wylie…What if he told the perp we had been looking at the garage footage so the perp changed his MO… You know… Different hotel…or different time?’

‘He won’t change hotels,’ Jack said confidently. ‘Unless he has another Valet in his hip pocket, but he could change his time…’

Jack rubbed a thoughtful hand across his chin stubble. ‘The only trouble about changing his time to later is, he has less time to clean up everything under the veil of darkness … Before the dawn starts to break,’ Jack said.

‘What about earlier then?’

‘Yeah, earlier could work, but we’ve got the Waldorf Crew… Who are they?’ Jack asked rhetorically, as he scanned through his list of resources. He ran his finger down the page, stopping near the bottom. ‘Fourteen… We’ve got Unit Fourteen watching the garage and they’ve been quiet all night.’

Jack drummed his fingers. He was uneasy about how things were, or were not progressing. He instructed Spence to drive over and pay a visit to Unit fourteen.

---

After a drive of around ten minutes, they pulled up behind Unit fourteen’s vehicle parked in East 50th Street. Both Detectives from Unit fourteen were still seated in the vehicle.

Jack and Spence alighted from their vehicle and climbed into the back seat of Unit fourteen’s car.

‘Anyone left the garage since midnight?’ Jack asked.

Phil, the older of the two Detectives responded. ‘Nope, nothing. It’s been a long and boring night so far.’

‘So not one car has left the garage since midnight?’ Jack clarified.

‘No. I just told you… Not one car,’ Phil repeated. He glanced back over a shoulder at Jack.

‘What about the Valet, Phil?’ Phil’s partner said.

Jack and Spence exchanged a glance. ‘What about the Valet?’ Jack asked. His tone firmed.

‘Oh yeah…’ Phil began. ‘I forgot. A car came out about 12.20. or so and we jumped on it… But it was only the Valet guy taking a car around to the main entrance on Park Avenue for a guest, so we didn’t worry about it.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Jack blurted, barely containing his anger. ‘I fucking made it clear to you… Any car leaving the garage was to be stopped and reported to me.’

‘But it was just the Valet… We didn’t think-’

‘That’s fucking right… You didn’t think… I told you at the briefing that we believed the Valet may be assisting the perp get cars… Fuck Me.’ Jack flung the car door open, pushing it out with his foot.

He was about alight, but paused before doing so. ‘Was the Valet driving the car a fat fuck…?’ Jack asked before exiting.

‘Yeah… He was actually.’ Phil was sheepish in his response. He flicked a hand at his colleague. ‘We got his details though… What was his name?’ He asked his colleague, seated beside him.

‘Ah…’ The other Detective checked his notes. ‘Brenton Wylie. Twenty-eight years. Says he’s the Valet Supervisor.’

‘I fucking know who he is… What type of car was it?’

The younger Detective returned to his note book and read out, ‘Um… A black Audi A6… Jersey Plates. We ran the plates and it was registered to the same name the Valet said was staying at the hotel.’ The Detective ripped the page from his notes and handed it back to Jack.

Jack snatched the page from the Detective and alighted from the car. He punctuated his frustration by forcefully slamming the door.

Jack and Spence quickly made their way across the road to the Waldorf Security office, to review the footage from the fixed camera over the Valet key cupboard from midnight.

After the introductions and reason for their attendance, the officer shuffled through the footage at an accelerated speed with Jack and Spence hovering over him.

Jack lunged a finger at the monitor. ‘Stop… There,’ Jack ordered. The camera vision had suddenly moved towards the ceiling. ‘What time is that…?’ he asked. His focus shifted to the date and time stamp at the bottom of the footage. ‘OK… The camera was moved at 12.15am.’ Jack looked across at Spence. ‘You were right… He took it out earlier… and it looks like that prick took it to him.’

Consistent with the other vehicles, this vehicle was also parked in a camera black spot, so there was no footage of anyone approaching the vehicle in the garage.

A review of the garage exit camera however detected a black Audi A6 exiting the garage onto East 50th Street at 12.23am. Although the camera was a distance from the exit, it was unmistakable; the corpulent Wylie was at the wheel. Jack requested, and received copies of the reviewed footage.

From the Security office Jack and Spence made their way around to the Valet station in East 50th Street. Jack was furious. His strides were determined and long, so much so, Spence struggled to keep pace with him.

Wylie stood near the hotel entrance when Jack and Spence arrived at the Valet station, about three minutes later. Wylie noticed the two men approaching and he smiled at them in a manner typical of a hospitality greeting offered to hotel guests.

The smile on Wylie’s face instantly changed to a look of trepidation when he identified that the person striding directly towards him with a frightening look on his face, was Lieutenant Head.

Wylie’s mouth shortened to a thin straight line. His eyebrows raised and he instinctively took a short step backwards as Jack neared.

Without breaking stride Jack walked straight into Wylie and forcefully rammed his two palms into Wylie’s flabby chest, causing Wylie to reel backwards two steps.

‘You fucking piece of shit,’ Jack blurted. He started to move on Wylie again, but Spence interjected.

‘Jack…’ Spence motioned with his head towards the inside foyer of the hotel.

Jack noticed he was in full view of other hotel staff. He grabbed a generous hand full of Wylie’s jacket lapel and physically dragged Wylie over to the more private Valet inlet, where the key cupboard was located. This area had three solid walls and was away from view of the front entrance.

Jack aggressively threw Wylie against the wall. He grabbed him again, this time with two hands.

‘You took the car to the killer you fucking prick,’ Jack blurted through gritted teeth. He punctuated his comment with a short sharp jab, up under Wylie’s chin. Jack’s frightening eyes were enlarged in pure rage.

‘I didn’t… I took the car to a guest… I swear,’ Wylie pleaded. His eyes too were enlarged, but with pure fear.

‘Bullshit…’ Jack pulled Wylie forward, then slammed him back into the wall. ‘Who is the guest?’

‘Um…ah…’ Wylie stammered. It was uncertain if he was too intimidated to remember, or he couldn’t make up a name quick enough under the extreme pressure Jack applied.

‘I said who is the fucking guest?’ Jack repeated the action of dragging Wylie out from the wall and instantly slamming him forcefully back into it again.

Wylie winced in pain. His eyes closed and his face distorted from the forceful impact against the wall.

Jack heard a command coming from behind him, towards the curb.

‘Let him go this instance,’ a voice blurted.

One of Wylie’s colleagues had observed the physicality being metered out on Wylie and went to alert the Hotel night Duty Manager, who had attended to investigate.

Without releasing his grip on Wylie, Jack glanced over a shoulder at the puny, emaciated excuse for a man who stood behind him.

Jack shook his head at what he saw. ‘We’re the police. Fuck off…’ he ordered before returning his attention to Wylie.

‘Charming…’ the Manager said. His arms were folded defiantly across his body.

With Wylie still pinned against the wall Jack repeated his comment. ‘I said FUCK-OFF…’

The Manager opened his mouth to speak but paused before closing it again, without saying anything, probably erring on the side of caution.

Spence made his way towards the Manager. He removed his badge and held it out for the Manager’s inspection. ‘We’re from New York Homicide. We are investigating a series of murders and this man…’ he motioned towards Wylie. ‘Is under arrest. He is being questioned before we take him down town.’

‘Under arrest…?’ the Manager questioned, his voice rising with an upward inflection. ‘For what…?’

Spence gently grabbed the Manager’s stick-like arm. ‘You don’t need to concern yourself with that right now.’

Spence gently guided the man towards the hotel entrance. The Manager tried to resist, but Spence reinforced, ‘You only have to be aware that he will not be coming back to work tonight,’ he said as he continued to steer the Manager away from the scene.

While Spence dealt with the Manager, Jack returned his attention back to Wylie. ‘I said who is the fucking guest…?’ Jack said. ‘I’m not fucking around here.’

‘Mr. Dawkins…’ Wylie blurted. ‘He’s staying in room 2212.’

With one last aggressive push against Wylie’s chest, Jack released his grip and jabbed a firm finger at the key cupboard. ‘Open it,’ he ordered.

Wylie straightened himself up from against the wall and slowly moved over to the key cupboard. His jacket lapels were still frozen in their uplifted, twisted distortion from Jack’s firm grip.

Once he had the cupboard open, Wylie stood to the side. His wide eyes stared at Jack.

‘Show me where Dawkin’s car keys are?’ Jack was not a man to be messed with.

Wylie frowned. ‘They’re… Not there,’ he said. ‘I told you… He took his car out this morning.’

‘What room was he in – 2212 was it?’

‘Correct…2212.’

Jack raised his huge fist to Wylie. ‘If I go up to room 2212, knock on the door and Mr. Dawkins is in his room… I’m coming back down here and I’m going to fuckin’ knock you out,’ Jack said. ‘Do you understand?’

‘Yes.’ Wylie gulped.

When Spence returned, Jack instructed Spence to wait with Wylie, while he began to make his way to room 2212. He had only walked about ten yards before Wylie called out.

‘Wait,’ Wylie said. Jack stopped and glared at Wylie.

‘Don’t wake him…’ he said. He slowly shook a defeated head. ‘He didn’t leave.’ Wylie’s head dropped. Jack had called his bluff. ‘I took the car around to someone else… Dawkins doesn’t know it’s gone.’ Wylie kept his head lowered.

Jack marched back to Wylie. Without speaking he delivered a leg-weakening, forceful open hand slap to Wylie’s face. A loud crack ricocheted off the walls of the small Valet inlet.

Wylie slumped to his left. His hand moved to his cheek.

Jack grabbed a handful of Wylie’s hair and forcefully jerked his head upwards. Jack gritted his teeth and cocked his fist at Wylie. Wylie held defensive hands out in front of himself. His terror-filled eyes widened.

Spence reached over and gently grabbed Jack’s left elbow. ‘Not here, Jobs,’ he said in a controlled, but low voice, aimed towards Jack’s left ear. Jack relaxed his arm and stepped off. His glare remained fixed on Wylie.

In a display of good cop-bad-cop, Spence stepped in towards Wylie, while Jack moved back. ‘Right now… You are an accessory to three murders, possibly four, if we don’t catch this killer tonight… I suggest you start talking, or you better get used to the thought of spending the rest of your life in Rikers.’

‘Murders…?’ Wylie’s wide-eyed stare flicked from Spence to Jack. ‘I don’t know anything about any murders. The guy I gave the car to says he has these dates with hot women he picks up and he wants to impress them by driving a luxury car.’ Wylie’s tone pleaded with them to believe him.

Spence turned to Jack with a look that expressed he believed Wylie.

Jack moved towards Wylie. ’What’s in it for you? He asked.

‘He pays me $200 bucks per car. All he has to do is return the cars before morning,’ Wylie said. ‘I figure it isn’t hurting anyone. The car is just sitting in the garage.’

‘It’s car theft, you idiot.’ Jack blurted in response. ‘But what’s worse, you’re giving these cars to a murderer,’ Jack added. ‘What’s his name…? Who is the guy you gave the cars to?’ Jack asked.

‘I don’t know his name… I swear.’ Wylie’s eyes pleaded.

‘You swear…’ Jack raised the back of his hand to Wylie. Wylie cowered in fear. ‘Just like you swore you gave the car to Dawkins,’ Jack said/ He lowered his hand. He glared at Wylie.

‘How do you know this person?’ Spence said. Wylie’s arms remained raised up in defense, while his focus shifted to Spence.

‘He sends me a text when he needs a car. I find one that is parked out of camera view and he picks it up,’ Wylie said.

‘But you drove it to him tonight. Why was that?’ Spence asked.

Wylie’s head dropped. ‘Um… I told him you were here looking at video footage, so he suggested that I take it to him, in case there were cops around.’

Spence’s gaze shifted to Jack, but Jack didn’t return his gaze. Instead, Jack held his disgusted glare on Wylie.

’If you don’t know who he is, how did you first meet him?’ Jack asked.

‘He came by a few nights in a row, all friendly and chatting. He seemed like a real nice guy. Then he asked me about a business proposition with the cars and I accepted. I only earn minimum wage.’

‘Your phone…’ Jack clicked his fingers at Wylie. He held out his hand. ‘Give me your phone…’

When Wylie removed his cell, Jack snatched it from Wylie’s grasp and reviewed the call register. ’It says here you received a call from someone called “Bear” at 12.05am. Is that him?

‘Yes. I only know him as Bear. That’s who he introduced himself as. I assumed it was a nickname… Coz he’s as big as a bear,’ Wylie said.

Jack held the phone out to Spence. ‘We’ve got his phone number,’ Jack said.

Spence cuffed Wylie and marched him over to Unit Fourteen’s vehicle, then placed him into the rear seat. He instructed the lead Detective, Phil, to arrange for a Black and White to attend and take the suspect back to the station and put him in the interrogation room, until Jack was able to return.

Following the latest discovery Jack broadcast a general message to all units. They were now looking for a black Audi A6 with Jersey plates, “BLKAUDI”.

He also redirected all units away from the red-light districts and instructed them to check the river foreshores and all parks in their assigned areas. He expected the perp would have his intended victim by this late stage. Time was running out.

Chapter 29

The handsome driver slowed along First Avenue, before turning right into 20th Avenue, heading toward the East River. He glanced across at Nikki and smiled. ‘We’re nearly there,’ His smile was reassuring.

Unbeknownst to him, she knew exactly where they were. His choice of location was the riverside directly across from her apartment building. This was her neighborhood, but it was Emma’s not Nikki’s.

Her apartment building was in a large estate of twenty-one multi-story apartment buildings beside the river.

Her estate was bordered by First Avenue to the west, East 23rd Street to the north, 20th Avenue to the south, with Avenue C running along the river side of the estate.

The driver crossed Avenue C and continued under the elevated FDR freeway, to a vacant car parking area adjacent to the East River. He parked the vehicle horizontally across two parking bays adjoining a riverside park. Even on an overcast and moonless night the outlook across the river was tranquil.

The man-made sanctuary adjacent to the river was a popular park for visitors to escape in nature’s scenic respite, from the otherwise concrete jungle.

Picnic areas and lush lawns with ample trees spreading natural awnings over the many outdoor barbecues and picnic tables, all contributed to create the perfect riverside setting.

The area was a popular location during the day, especially at lunchtimes and on weekends, but tonight it was deserted. All that could be heard was the wind whistling up the river and the dull hum of the traffic overhead on the freeway.

Under the darkness of night the vibrant green foliage and lawns had assumed dreary shades of gray, while the reflection off the river resembled a mass of molten pewter under the moonlit night sky.

‘Here we are,’ he announced. He looked towards Nikki. She smiled. A moment of awkward silence passed.

‘So how do you want to do this?’ she asked.

The driver alighted from the vehicle and moved around to the passenger side of the car. She noticed as he passed across the front of the vehicle, he was tall and solidly built.

After arriving at her door, he opened it and extended a chivalrous hand, a gesture from eras gone by, to help her alight from the car.

‘Why don’t I sit in your seat,’ he said. He gently assisting her out of the car to her feet. He then sat in the passenger seat, keeping his feet on the ground, outside the car. He pointed to the ground between his legs. ‘You can kneel down there… It should place you at just the right height,’ he added. ’Do you want anything for your knees? He asked.

Nikki lowered herself onto her knees. ‘No I’ll be OK… Thigh-high boots come in handy sometimes,’ she joked.

She reached into the vehicle and lifted her purse from the passenger side, foot well and placed it on the ground beside her. Following a brief search of the contents she removed a condom.

When she lifted her focus back to the driver, he had already removed his penis through his unzipped fly. He was ready to go. She placed the condom over his erect penis while maintaining seductive eye contact with him as she did so.

Nikki took hold of his penis and began to stroke it, as she lifted her eyes back up at him. ‘Ready…?’

‘Let’s do this,’ he said with a smile.

Nikki adjusted her position, moving in closer to the vehicle, so she could comfortably reach him. When she was in the right position, she lowered her head taking him fully in her mouth. Her skillful combination of hand and mouth stimulation caused his penis to swell further in her mouth.

She felt the weight of his hands on the back of her head, guiding her head up and down with her movements. She concentrated on trying to finish him off quickly and didn’t notice he had moved one of his hands from the top of her head, down to her chin.

The hand on her chin exerted considerable pressure, causing her head to tilt sideways slightly. It was uncomfortable and difficult to slide her mouth over his penis.

Nikki winced when he clamped his hands tighter on her head. His large hands caused her discomfort. He dragged her head upwards like he was trying to lift her mouth clear of his penis, but she offered resistance, thinking he was close to finishing.

When he jerked her head even harder, she stopped sucking to verbally protest at what he was doing. But before she could speak, a sudden sharp and intense pain stabbed up into the base of her skull.

For reasons unknown to her, her head was now at right angles and her vision was impaired. Everything was black.

The pressure from his hands on her head suddenly released to the sound of a piercing shriek. Her male client forcefully pushed her head away from his groin.

‘You fucking bitch,’ he screamed. The once calm and reassuring voice, now gurgled with anger. Why was he abusing her? What was so offensive?

It took a few seconds in the confusion of temporary darkness before she realized that her wig had somehow twisted around on her head and covered her face and eyes.

After she replaced the wig, Nikki sat back on her heels. Her John was examining his groin. There was some blood pooling inside the condom. She watched his face grimace in pain as he carefully peeled the condom off to reveal a large angled cut on the shaft of his penis, about one inch below his glans. Blood trickled freely from the cut down into his groin.

Nikki cringed at what she saw. She watched in stunned silence, horrified that she could have done that to a client.

His face distorted and contorted with the pain. He applied pressure to his penis with one hand while he reached into his pocket and removed a neatly folded handkerchief, shook it open and wrapped it around his penis to try and stem the blood flow.

Nikki watched in horror at what she had done. Then it suddenly occurred to her. It wasn’t her fault. The sudden jolting of her head to the side while her mouth was still enveloping his penis caused one of her oversized eye teeth to slice though the soft skin on the shaft of his penis, opening up a gaping wound.

But why did he turn her head so sharply? Was this some kind of kinky ritual he followed before ejaculation? Her initial thoughts were a mixture of confusion and sympathy towards her John.

She continued watching with genuine concern as he performed first aid to his groin. Nikki’s face tightened. Her mouth shortened and eyes widened. Suddenly everything fell into perspective. She had an awakening. She realized exactly what had happened. The concern on her face was replaced with alarm.

Nikki knelt upright. Her wide-eyed stare locked onto her client like a deer caught in car headlights. A chill ran down her spine. The hairs on her neck stood upright. He had just tried to kill her, but her mouth hadn’t fully cleared his penis when he jolted her neck. Having his penis in her mouth saved her life.

‘Fuck,’ she shouted. She sprung backwards up to her feet. The John lunged at her with his free hand and tried to grab her, but Nikki arched her hips back and shuffled out of his reach.

Adrenaline now coursed through her veins. He started to adjust himself in the seat to pursue her. Before he could move, she forcefully kicked at him, firmly jabbing the six-inch heel of her boot into his chest. The driver grunted as he collapsed back into the vehicle, his freehand now pressing on his chest.

Her fear now escalated along with her heart rate. Her fight or flight instincts told her to run. But could she out run him in these boots? Where would she be safe? She fled towards the rear of the car, stopping suddenly. My purse. It’s got my ID; My address; my apartment keys – Shit.

She turned and ran back to the open door and scooped up her hand bag in one motion, before turning and fleeing. The driver sat with his head bowed examining his wound.

He screamed to the fleeing Nikki, ‘Yeah, you better run bitch… You’re fucking dead when I catch you.’

Her instincts led her across Avenue C towards the grounds of her apartment building. She didn’t want to look back to see if he was pursuing her. She just put her head down and ran. Her spike heels and thigh-high boots restricted her normal fluent loping running style, into short careful steps.

Her heart raced. Her mouth was dry. She could hear the heavy plodding of his large feet behind her. His large strides were closing in on her with every step. Her heart pounded in her chest. The pit of her stomach was heavy.

She knew he would tackle to the ground at any stage. Her legs were weak from fear. She could hear him breathing heavily, as he pursued her. He must be close, but she willed herself to keep pushing forward.

Nikki sprinted through the gate of her estate and ran straight up the sealed path and into the gardens where the depths of the darkness wrapped around her and swallowed her up from view.

In the temporary sanctuary of the shadows from the estate’s many trees, she stopped to look back behind her. She frowned. There was no-one there. Where the hell did he go? Her darting eyes scanned the darkness. Her heart battered against her ribs and the blood in her ears pounded as she stood, hands on knees, mouth wide open sucking whatever air she could into her aching lungs.

Did he double around to the front to ambush me? Her head scanned the grounds. Her eyes squinted into the darkness, listening to any sound foreign to the gardens.

The grounds of her estate consisted of several apartment buildings towering over a forest of majestic trees throughout, with manicured lawns bordered by meticulously maintained garden beds that flanked sealed pathways.

Six-foot high square-shaped tree hedges, softened the base of each building and provided privacy screening for the building entrances.

Nikki was now back in Emma’s world. She couldn’t see him so she quickly moved off the sealed pathway and onto the lawn. The damp ground squelched as it swallowed the heels of her boots with each step.

She sought refuge behind a lush hedge adjacent to her building. The ground on her bare skin was cold, as she sat down under the blanket of darkness to gather her thoughts.

The blood in her ears continued to pound. Her pulse raced. She felt sick in her stomach. Her eyes darted through the darkness. Where is he?

From her vantage point she listened for footsteps, or any discerning sounds that suggested the presence of her attacker. There was nothing. As she calmed, she realized he wasn’t closely pursuing her. She must’ve imagined it in her fleeing terror.

After a brief pause, she peered through a small aperture in the foliage, towards the estate gateway. She held her breath to control the sound of her labored breathing. There was no sign of him. She squinted into the darkness as she carefully scanned the gardens looking for her hunter.

The picturesque gardens with their abundant green tones had transformed to dreary shades of gray under the darkened skies. The prevailing shadows now provided multitudes of darkened hiding places scattered throughout the estate.

Had he moved to one of those black voids waiting to pounce? Where the fuck is he?

The Adrenalin that coursed through her veins caused her to tremor. Her darting eyes scanned her surrounds. Would he suddenly strike unexpectedly?

Despite the cool temperatures, beads of perspiration formed on her forehead. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks, as she panted uncontrollably.

If she ran to her building, she could risk leading him straight to her apartment. But she had to do something. If she remained where she was it would only be a matter of time before his systematic search of the grounds located her cowering behind the hedge.

She remembered her mobile phone. She could call the police. But what would she tell them? She was an illegal street hooker. She rationalized her predicament. ‘Shit’ she blurted under her breath.

She listened a little longer in the silence for any discernible sounds. There was nothing. She slowly peered around the hedge. She squinted back towards the gateway and across the road. His car was still parked in the parking lot. She strained her eyes further. The car’s interior light was on, but the car appeared to be empty. Where is he? She quickly scanned the grounds. Her focus returned to the car. Her heart rate started to climb causing her temples to throb.

Chapter 30

There, in the darkness she saw him round the rear of the vehicle. He walked towards her grounds. She froze. Her muscles locked with terror. He was coming for her, but at least she could now see him.

Her survival instincts kicked in. She still had time. While continuing to monitor him as he approached, she unzipped both her boots and removed them, followed by her hat. She had to guide him away from her apartment building. Fortunately for her, he had no idea she would know this area so well.

Keeping low and close to the building, moving under the veil of darkness, she moved to a nearby fork in the pathway. To the right the path snaked further into the estate and towards her building. To the left, the path eventually made its way out of the estate onto 20th Avenue.

After a quick check of her pursuer’s progress, she kept low as she ran up the left fork and dropped her first thigh-high boot onto the path, just past the fork. She then quickly moved forward five or six yards and dropped the second boot so it lay conspicuously across the path.

Moving a further three yards on she placed her upturned leather bolero hat on the grass, immediately beside the path. She kept her black wig on to help conceal her fair hair against the dark voids in which she cowered.

She moved from hedge to hedge with ninja-like stealth, as she skulked her way to a position where she could monitor both the estate gate and the fork in the path. She checked his progress once again.

She inhaled when she noticed his large silhouetted frame standing motionless at the Estate gate. She squeezed her nose and lips to suppress a scream when she saw him so close. He now hunted her.

She watched as he slowly and methodically walked up the path. His head moved left to right. He was listening for any sounds that would disclose her location.

As he approached her position, she held her breath and froze, watching him through the hedge foliage. Her eyes flared when she noticed he now wore latex gloves. She watched as he reached the fork in the path and stopped. He slowly pirouetted around, as he scanned the grounds for movement, or evidence of her. He was now only yards away from her flimsy leafy shelter.

She inhaled quickly as he started to walk along the right fork directly towards where she cowered. Her ploy had failed. She bit down on her lip and held her breath.

The blood thumping in her ears was deafening. Her chest felt like it would explode. Should she make a run for it? She was fit and could probably out run him? But her legs felt like jelly. She felt weak and sick with fear. The salty bitterness of bile filled her mouth, as she fought back the urge to vomit.

He suddenly stopped walking and turned. He looked back in the direction from which he had just walked. He turned and quickly walked directly towards the thigh-high boot she strategically placed on the path.

He lifted the first of her planted boots and examined it briefly. He scanned the immediate area. He then noticed the second of her boots and moved towards it and picked it up. His gaze was now ahead of him along the path.

He continued to move away from her in the direction her ruse had intended. He veered across the path and scooped up her hat without breaking stride. She watched as he walked along the path and into the darkness and out of her view.

Emma exhaled slowly. She tried to keep her breathing under control. She waited and watched, frozen to her position behind the hedge. He would come back soon. He had to; his car was in the car park across the road.

She had no idea how long she had been crouching behind he hedges. One minute felt like an eternity. Her sparse clothing provided little resistance to the icy morning temperatures. The unforgiving ground sucked what little heat she had left from her body.

She was freezing. She could feel the muscles in her arms and legs start to stiffen. She could try running to her apartment building, but she would have to cross the path and risk detection.

In what seemed like an extended period of time, but in reality, was only minutes, her attacker emerged from the darkness, walking back towards her along the left path. He carried her boots and cap.

At the fork in the pathway he stopped and stared in her direction, as if a sound alerted him. She froze, holding her breath, wondering if her light skin tone contrasted against the darkness around her. After a brief pause, he checked his watch, then continued down the path and out the exit gate onto Avenue C.

Nikki sat in silence as she watched him walk out the gate and across the road towards his vehicle. Her hand covered her mouth.

A short time later the car’s revving engine started up. She saw the car’s headlights illuminate before the vehicle executed a U-turn and drove to her right and momentarily out of sight.

She quickly jumped from her hiding place and ran towards the Estate’s gate, keeping under the shadows of darkness. Her bare feet squelched in the damp lawns, as her unimpeded strides were now long and flowing.

When she arrived at the outer gate she hugged herself close to the tall boundary hedge and slowly peered around to her right, into Avenue C. His vehicle exited the river-side parking lot 100 yards along, before proceeding west into 20th Avenue.

In the still of the night she could hear the acceleration of the engine. Eventually, it faded in the distance. He was gone.

Emma cupped her face in her hands as she burst into tears. Her hands trembled and her legs shook. She suddenly jerked to her side and vomited onto the garden bed beside her. She stood crouched over with her hands on her knees, spitting and coughing as she experienced two more violent surges before it would pass.

Emma inhaled deeply to control her emotions as she made her way up to her apartment. Once inside she quickly secured the door behind her. Despite being comforted in the knowledge that she watched him driving away down 20th Avenue, she still paused to look through the door’s peephole, just to make sure she wasn’t followed.

She poured herself a shaky glass of wine and sat on her sofa, hugging her knees tightly up to her chest, while she reflected on what had just occurred.

The reality of what happened started to resonate. He had just tried to kill her. Her stomach churned at the thought. Her hand shook as she took a sip.

What should she do? Her wondering eyes darted. She decided to call the police. She jumped up and grabbed her telephone handset and returned to her sofa. Her shaky finger pressed 9-1, then she paused with her finger hovering over the number one button. But what would she tell the police? Would they be sympathetic? She hit the “End Call” button to disconnect the line.

For the next few seconds Emma gently tapped the phone on her chin, as she stared blankly while she considered her options. After moments of considered contemplation, she dialed 9-1. Her finger again hovered over the number one button, while she reasoned with her conscious mind.

Again she paused while she considered the consequences to reporting the assault. She realized she would have to explain to the police she was a street hooker. How would that affect her law career? What if the TV and newspapers become involved?

The parallel lives she worked so hard to keep apart would suddenly collide. She would be exposed. What would her mom think about her nocturnal activities?

She started to justify to herself why it wasn’t necessary to call the police. All the justifications raced through her mind. He didn’t physically hurt me. He scared the shit out of me, but he didn’t hurt me. I am safe now. He is gone. He doesn’t know where I live. He’s the one that was hurt, not me.

Emma brushed her fringe from her eyes with the back of her hand, as she stared at the phone in her hand. She wanted to call the police, but the unknown consequences were too much for her to risk. She pressed the “End Call” button phone to disconnect the line.

She gently lobbed the phone onto the sofa beside her and reached for her glass and emptied it in one quick motion, before re-filling it and repeating the action.

The oversized railroad station clock, which hung as a prominent feature on her lounge wall, showed it was 2.20am. She started to feel dirty. The thought of her John made her skin crawl and she shuddered. She needed a hot shower to warm up and to cleanse herself of him.

---

With the exception of the occasional static crackling over the airwaves, the operation’s radio channel remained silent. Jack started to concede that with every minute that passed, the chances of another victim before the night was out, increased exponentially.

Jack couldn’t help but rue the missed opportunity. If the team from the 14th did their job, the perp would have been caught by now. Instead, he was still out there.

As the darkness started to give way to the new day, Jack still had an ace up his sleeve. The killer didn’t know they had cracked the code and would be waiting for him if he tried to dump his latest victim.

While it won’t save the girl, the perp won’t get away with it. Jack checked the time: 5am

‘The stolen car should’ve been back by now,’ Jack said, thinking out loud. ‘And Fourteen haven’t called to advise… Unless they missed it. If the car hadn’t returned, maybe he was still out there and hadn’t killed his victim yet.’

‘Maybe he needs the fat fuck to help him return the car…’ Spence added. ‘Maybe the perp couldn’t find Wylie, so he panicked and dumped it,’ Spence said.

Jack nodded. ‘But he would have to drive by the garage to look for Wylie and Unit Fourteen would’ve… Should’ve jumped on him,’ Jack said.

‘You’ve got Wylie’s cell. There haven’t been any calls…?’ Jack said, as a question.

Spence checked Wylie’s cell phone. ‘Nope.’ He shook his head. ‘No calls or text messages.’ He returned the phone to his jacket pocket.

Jack flicked the back of his hand towards the front of the vehicle, ‘Let’s go to the Waldorf.’

Following a high-speed five-minute drive, Spence pulled in behind Unit fourteen’s vehicle. The team were maintaining their vigil over the garage. Jack sent Spence in to review the CCTV footage of the garage entrance, while he went to talk to the Detectives.

Phil looked as though he had just woken up, as he wound down his window to Jack. ‘Long night…?’ Jack said. He squatted down on his haunches, by the open window.

‘You’ve got no idea,’ Phil said.

‘The black Audi hasn’t returned…?’

‘There hasn’t been one car return to this garage since midnight,’ Phil moaned.

Jack remained in his squatting position as he cast a curious eye east and west along East 50th Street, while he considered his options.

‘OK. Thanks.’ He tapped the window sill twice as he stood up. He crossed the street on his way to the hotel security room to meet Spence.

The guard buzzed Jack into the restricted CCTV viewing room. Spence watched on as the guard fast forwarded the footage on the main monitor.

‘Nothing so far,’ Spence updated.

‘That’s it,’ the security guard said. ‘We’re now up to current time.’

Spence caught Jack’s eye and jabbed his head towards the door. Jack nodded.

Spence tapped the guard on the shoulder, as a sign of gratitude, ‘Much appreciated,’ Spence said and they left the room.

Once clear of the Security room, Spence said, ‘The vehicle never returned. I think we should drive around the area… The chances are he’s dumped the car nearby.’

‘Doesn’t make sense… What about the body?’ Jack said. ‘He doesn’t return the car until he has dumped the body.’

‘We don’t know that he hasn’t, Jobs.’

Jack lifted his portable radio and contacted his units positioned at Madison Square Park for an update.

The response he received quickly reassured him that no vehicle had entered the park from any direction, and in no way was a body dumped on their watch.

Jack shrugged. Nothing seemed to make sense. ‘OK, let’s go for a drive,’ He motioned in a circling action indicating the immediate vicinity of the Waldorf.

Spence drove east along East 50th Street, turned right in Lexington Avenue and right again into East 49th Street.

As expected, the streets were deserted, as most of the general population would be experiencing REM sleep at this time, before rising to face the challenges of the new day.

While slowly cruising up East 49th, Spence gestured up ahead towards the sole vehicle parked about two-thirds along the street. It was a black Audi A6, parked parallel to the left curb.

Jack checked the details he was earlier handed by Unit Fourteen. ‘That’s it,’ he announced. Jack scanned the street. ‘Something’s not right… None of this fits the profile, or MO.’

Spence pulled up behind the vehicle. His car’s high-beam illuminated the abandoned vehicle. Both men alighted from their police vehicle and drew their weapons. They cautiously approached the Audi.

Jack’s eyes were fixed solely on the Audi’s interior, in case someone was armed and lying down in the car. Spence scanned around the immediate area, in case of a planned ambush.

As a team, they knew one another better than any married couple, and each knew their respective role to ensure the other’s safety.

Jack inched along the side of the car, peering cautiously inside. As he reached the driver’s door, he lifted his eyes to Spence and shook his head. ‘Empty,’ he said.

Both men quickly scanned the immediate area looking for movement, or anything that was out of place. There was nothing.

Jack returned his torch light to the vehicle’s interior. There was no property visible and nothing appeared out of place. He was mindful of the effectiveness of imported vehicle’s alarm systems, so he gently tried the door handles. The vehicle was secured. He briefly rested the back of his hand on the vehicle’s bonnet. He then moved to the vehicle’s front grill and held his hand in front of it.

‘It’s been here a while,’ Jack said. ‘This doesn’t fit, Spence. Why was the car dumped out here and not returned to the garage…? And if he dumped the car… Where did he dump the body?’

’Is there a body?′ Spence said.

‘Well… His letter mentioned there would be a body tonight… And based on the three previous letters…’ Jack said. ‘We have to treat the threat as genuine.’

Spence walked around the Audi. His torch light searched under the car for any incriminating evidence that may have been inadvertently dropped.

He stopped at the rear passenger side wheel. ‘Jack,’ he called as he reached into his pocket and removed a single latex glove.

‘What ya got?’ Jack made his way over to Spence.

Spence indicated the rear wheel, while he positioned the glove loosely in his palm. He reached under the rear wheel arch and removed a set of car keys that were perched on top of the tire.

Spence stood back upright and held out the keys enveloped in the latex glove. ‘They’ve obviously been left for someone to pick up the car later,’ Spence said.

‘And Wylie couldn’t pick it up because he’s in custody,’ Jack said.

Jack retrieved a plastic bag from their vehicle to seal the keys in, for examination at a later stage. He then arranged for a Forensic Crime Scene unit to attend and examine the vehicle and scene for any evidence.

‘At the moment this is only the recovery of a stolen vehicle,’ Jack began. ‘We have no information or evidence to suggest it was used in a murder tonight.’

Had Jack been outsmarted once again by this perp? Was this 4th letter a cunning diversion? Could the perp possibly have known they had finally cracked his code? Had the perp read him like the proverbial book and while Jack had strategically deployed resources elsewhere, the perp was able to quietly pounce on his 4th unsuspecting victim?

A black and white with two officers was assigned to crime scene protection until the Forensic team arrived.