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John shook his head as he walked away, saying, “And these four think that the Iron Eagle is sadistic.”

  Sara must have heard him talking as he walked back into the living room because she called out and said, “The Eagle is sadistic, and if he knew that burning a person to death could be a cruel, torturous, and lengthy death, I’m sure he would have used that tactic.” John didn’t respond as he disappeared into the house.

  It was half past nine, and Jim and Sam had finished up some reports for the city and were getting ready to leave the office when his cell phone rang. He looked down, but the caller ID was blocked, so he let the call go to voicemail as he and Sam walked out of the building and both took cigarettes out of their pockets and sat down on the smoker’s bench. Jim lit his cigarette then Sam’s and asked her as he snapped his Zippo shut, “Do you have anyone to go home to?”

  She took a hit off the smoke and took it deep into her lungs and let it out into the night air while answering, “No … there is no one at home, and to be honest, I’m really glad for that right now. I don’t need the drama and distraction of a lover at this point in my life and career.”

  Jim nodded, taking a hit of his smoke and said, “Yeah. You have that one right. The last thing a woman in her early forties needs is a couple of kids and a husband or wife at home.”

  Sam laughed and said, “I’m thirty-eight, asshole, and I don’t want a wife, husband, or kids. I want to do my job as the Sheriff of LA County. I’m married to my work.”

  Jim took the last hit off his cigarette and said, “Yeah, well, the job doesn’t give you a hug when you come home. It doesn’t have a conversation or give comfort when things are tough.”

  Jim was speaking softly, and Sam looked at him and asked, “Are you drunk? Shit, man, those are the last words I thought I would ever hear coming from you.”

  Jim let out a deep belly laugh and said, “I wish I were drunk … and, no, I’m not. The last thing you need are distractions, but as your mentor, I have to test you out and see where you are with all of that shit. When you take the oath of office and take over my job, you will be married to it alright.”

  He reached down and pressed a button on the side of his phone, and Sam asked, “What’s the problem?”

  “Oh, I have a goddamn message.”

  Sam took the last hit off her cigarette and asked, “Don’t you think you should listen to it?”

  Jim stood up, stretched his arms, yawned, and said, “Nope. Because if I answer it, it is going to be another crime scene, and I don’t want to deal with it tonight.” Sam grabbed the phone and dialed the voicemail.

  “What’s your damn password?” Jim rattled off six numbers, which Sam typed into the phone and then pressed the speakerphone button. There was a pause and then the sound of a woman screaming in the background. Sam stood holding the phone in her hands as she and Jim listened.

  A voice came on the line. A high pitched squeaky voice that said, “Sheriff Jim O’Brian, long time no talk. I thought that I would give you the heads up on a new crime scene. There is a new victim in the hands of the Phoenix Killer. She is in bad shape. You can get more information from the note I left on her car at her office at Cohen, Miller & Hyde less than a half hour ago. I doubt that anyone is missing Ms. Caldwell, but you never know. You will find the note stuck inside the driver’s side door of her BMW. It will explain why I have her and what I plan to do to her. Good night.”

  The call ended, and Jim looked at Sam and said, “You see what I mean? Fuck! I could’ve gotten the message later or tomorrow when someone discovered the woman was missing, but no … Sheriff elect Pritchard had to force me to listen to my voicemail.” She handed his phone back and asked what now. Jim shook his head as he dialed.

  “We go to Cohen’s building, and we wake up and fuck up a few other people’s nights.” Sam was walking behind him as he spoke on the phone, which was still in speaker mode.

  “Swenson.”

  “Good evening, Agent Swenson. This is Sheriff O’Brian and my newly elected Sheriff elect Sam Pritchard. So … what’cha doin’?” Sam started to smile as Jim kept walking in the direction of his car.

  John sighed and asked, “What’s up, Jim? I was just getting ready to eat and then take a dip with Sara.”

  “Well, put those plans on hold. You can grab a taco on your way to a new crime scene.”

  John was standing in the kitchen looking in the fridge and asked, “Why am I going to do that?”

  Jim laughed and said, “I’m so fuckin’ glad you asked. I just got an obviously disguised voicemail message from someone who claims that there is another victim from Cohen’s firm.”

  “What did the person say?”

  Jim had opened the door and was pointing at Sam and saying, “Get in the car, princess. You made me collect the voicemail, now you’re going to see it through.” Jim closed the car door and said to John, “The voice only told me the make of the victim’s car at Cohen’s building and where I could find it. The rest it said was waiting for me in a fuckin’ note. A goddamn note, John. How fuckin’ original is that? Outside of that, I could hear a female screaming in the background.” John told him he was on his way, and he would call Chris.

  Jim said, “That’s great news. I will see you at the firm.”

  “Where in the parking structure?” John asked.

  “Third level. It’s a BMW with a note in the driver’s side door. That’s all I know.” Jim hung up and looked at Sam and said, “See … now you not only fucked up my night and your night, but now John and Chris’s, and I have a feeling at some point Jade and Jessica’s as well.” Sam said nothing as the two drove out of the station heading for Howard Cohen’s building.

  Cynthia Caldwell was weeping in the darkness of the back of her captor’s van. She was trying to move her legs, and her captor said, “I would advise you to remain as still as possible, Ms. Caldwell. Your femurs are fractured; however, with the wrong move, you could end up with a couple of nasty compound fractures, and I wouldn’t want you to bleed out or do worse to yourself until I’m ready for something to happen to you.”

  Cynthia screamed into the darkness of the moving van, “Who are you? My God! What have you done to me?”

  “You flatter me, but I’m not God. I am only carrying out orders, Ms. Caldwell. You know about doing that, don’t you? You, however, don’t have a conscience, do you? I will remedy that.” Cynthia called out again, but there was no response as she felt the van hurtling down an unknown road to an even more unknown destination.

  Chapter Four

  “This is really, really bad. That van was

  military grade. That thing was a tank.”

  Jim and Sam were standing in front of Cynthia Caldwell’s car when John and Chris pulled into the parking structure of Cohen, Miller & Hyde. Jim held a piece of paper in his gloved hand. John walked up and asked, “So, what do we have?” Jim opened the note gently then read it and handed it to him.

  He read the note then handed it to Chris, who read it and said, “Well, it seems that Ms. Caldwell has a not so happy admirer.” John and Jim stood silent as Sam took out an evidence bag and held it open as Chris dropped the note inside.

  Jim looked at his watch and said, “It’s ten thirty p.m., John. We have an hour and a half before Ms. Caldwell is set ablaze.”

  John nodded with a serious look on his face and said, “Follow me. We need to talk to Mr. Cohen.”

  Howard was sitting in the living room of his condo in total darkness with the lights of the city flooding through the windows. He had received a call from the front desk that both the FBI and the Sheriff were asking for him, and he had cleared them to be shown to his unit. He sat with his back to the main entrance to the room, looking out the window with a glass in his hands when he heard the doorbell and then his butler answer.

  John, Jim, Chris, and Sam were lead to Howard. The butler left them alone, and Jo
hn said, “Why such darkness, Howard? What is it that you don’t want to see?” Jim walked into the living room and over to Howard’s wet bar and poured himself a drink from one of the crystal decanters then sat down on a large couch in the middle of the room. John and Chris stood along with Sam in the middle of the room as Howard sat silent.

  Jim took a drink of the beverage and said, “You have a fucked up mess here, Howard. I have known you since you started your practice. I know you have a lot of demons to exercise and skeletons in your closet. Now would be a good time for confession.”

  Howard sipped his drink and said, “I have nothing to confess.”

  Jim let out a laugh and said, “Well, I would argue that with you. It appears that the same person who abducted Benton Harris has now taken Ms. Cynthia Caldwell. The abductor left a note.”

  Howard stood up and walked over to the wet bar, poured himself another drink, and said, “And let me guess … the note says that he will kill Cynthia for crimes against humanity.”

  Jim reached into his left top pocket and pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his Zippo then answered, “Well, you have that right. Who is the killer, Howard? You know who it is.”

  Howard walked back to his chair and sat down. He was silent for a few seconds, and John said, “Look, Mr. Cohen, you’re a lawyer. It’s your job to protect your clients; however, you have a legal obligation to inform law enforcement if you know about this killer.”

  “Agent Swenson, if I knew who this mad man was, I would gladly tell you, but I don’t. It is someone who has a real hard-on for me and my firm, but I don’t know the identity of the killer.”

  Jim let out a deep breath of smoke from his lungs and said, “It’s ten after eleven, Howard. The note from Ms. Caldwell’s abductor says he will kill her very publicly at midnight. Who have you spoken to in the past several days about Benson’s murder outside of your office staff?”

  Howard sat sipping his drink, and Chris cleared his throat and asked, “Mr. Cohen, what can you tell us about your relationship with the billionaire Aston Phillips?”

  Howard picked up a remote control off the window ledge in front of him and pressed a button, and the room lit up. He looked at Chris and asked, “Why are you asking about Mr. Phillips?”

  Chris took a few steps into the room and said, “He has quite an axe to grind with you. His two children were murdered nearly a decade after you got Francis Statler, later known as the Basin River Killer, acquitted on murder charges against his still missing family members.”

  Howard stood up and said, “I didn’t get Statler acquitted. A jury did that. There wasn’t enough evidence.”

  Jim said, “Yeah, yeah. Who fuckin’ cares. It was ten years ago. Statler is dead.”

  Howard interrupted and said, “At the hands of the Eagle.”

  Jim shrugged, taking a final hit off his cigarette and said, “Sure. Whatever. Statler is, nonetheless, dead … too late to save Phillips’s children. Too late to save many, many more. Have you seen or spoken to Mr. Phillips?”

  Howard walked with a bit of a stagger over near the bar and put his glass on the counter. He then made his way to a loveseat across from Jim and sat down. He stared at the faces in the room and said, “There are old faces like John and you that I recognize, and then there are others that are new. I recognize Agent Mantel from recent crime scenes, and I, of course, recognize Sheriff elect Pritchard, but what are they doing here?”

  Jim laughed and said, “There’s a new generation of cops taking over for us old timers, Howard. I’m retiring after Sam’s inauguration, and Chris is the next generation of FBI profilers and investigators.”

  Howard looked up at John, towering over all in the room, but Chris asked, “Are you leaving the FBI, Agent Swenson?”

  John shook his head and said, “There are always new faces in police work, Howard. You know that. We are all here because Jim received a phone call on his personal cell from the person who claims to have abducted your associate.” Jim played the voicemail for Howard, who listened intently with a perfect poker face.

  When the recording was finished, Jim asked, “Does the voice sound familiar?” Howard nodded his head and said, “That’s the same voice that called me when Benton was murdered. Now that I hear it again, there is no way that anyone could talk that way and not be noticed.”

  John sat down and looked at Howard and his watch and said, “We are down to a half hour before Ms. Caldwell is to be murdered, and I’m going to step out on a limb and say the killer is going to do to Ms. Caldwell what he did to Mr. Harris. Now, I know a little bit about Mr. Harris, Howard. He was not liked in a lot of circles in the medical and business world here. He’s dead, and there are a lot of dry eyes in LA tonight. Have there been any threats to Ms. Caldwell’s life that you are aware of?”

  Howard shook his head. “Cindy is a great attorney. She does great work and protects the rights of her clients. This also makes her a target, Agent Swenson. Just like you putting the bad guys away. How many of them threaten to come after you when they get out?”

  Jim laughed and said, “Not as many as you might think.”

  John shot him a look and asked Howard for access to Cindy’s office. The group got in the elevator and headed down to the junior associate’s floor, and Howard led the group toward Cindy’s office. He stopped short of her door and said, “There is a lot of attorney client privileged information in this office. I can allow you to look at her public docket sheet and settled cases that are not under a gag order, but I cannot allow you access to her business and personal files.”

  John looked at his watch and said, “There isn’t enough time, Howard. It’s ten to twelve.”

  “So … what?” Howard asked. “We just sit here until Cindy’s body is found?”

  Jim said with a serious tone in his voice, “No … we wait for the phone call. The killer knows we’re all here. It’s just a matter of which phone line he calls. Grab your ass, Howard, because you’re going to hear another one of your lawyers die.” He had no sooner said the words when his cell phone began to ring, and John pulled out his tablet and typed in some commands before Jim answered.

  Howard watched John and asked, “What are you doing?”

  John was intense as he punched information into his tablet and answered without missing a beat, “Setting up a GPS track. I’m going to try to triangulate the caller’s position and see if we can find him.” Jim pulled the phone and pointed it at John’s tablet and pressed the answer button.

  “O’Brian.” Jim pressed the speaker phone on his cell, and John nodded that he had a link that was tracking the caller.

  “Good morning, Sheriff O’Brian. I should also send my greetings to Special Agents Swenson and Mantel, Sheriff elect Pritchard, as well as Howard Cohen, who I am certain is with you all.”

  Jim looked around and then said, “Yeah, yeah, asshole, so you know we’re all here. What’s your fuckin’ beef with Ms. Caldwell?”

  The caller’s voice was high yet steady, “Oh Sheriff, where to begin? I’m certain that you have been talking to Mr. Cohen, so you know the type of law this predator practices.”

  Jim laughed and said, “Hey, I don’t like lawyers, but I don’t go around killing them.”

  The caller laughed softly and said, “Perhaps you should. They are parasites on our society. Ms. Caldwell, here, likes to bring frivolous actions for both billable hours and settlement. Were you all aware that Ms. Caldwell in her two years of practicing law at Cohen, Miller & Hyde has never brought a single case to a judge and jury? Nope. She settles. She extorts money out of insurance companies and businesses large and small, and it has been quite profitable for you and Mr. Cohen, hasn’t it Ms. Caldwell?”

  There was some rustling and then Cynthia could be heard loud and clear on the other end of the line. “Help me … oh God, please. Howard, if you’re there, help me. This son of a bitch broke my legs
. I can’t walk. He has me blindfolded, and I smell gas. Jesus Christ! Who are you?”

  The man came back on the phone as Cynthia could be heard begging and pleading in the background. John was staring at his tablet as Jim held the phone in the palm of his hand, so all could hear the conversation, then he spoke up and said, “Look, asshole, so you have a hard-on for lawyers. So does the rest of the world. What has Ms. Caldwell done to you that you feel is deserving of what you are doing to her?”

  “Oh Sheriff, it isn’t what she has done to me. It’s what she has done to so, so many. She loves the smell of blood. She’s drawn to it whenever she senses she can make a quick buck at the cost of someone else’s livelihood.”

  Jim muted the phone and said, “You all know that this is not going to end well, right? He’s going to kill her for fuck’s sake. John, do you have anything?”

  He shook his head and said, “He’s scrambling the signal. It’s bouncing all over the globe. This guy’s a pro.”

  Jim unmuted the phone, and before he could say anything, the voice on the other end of the line spoke, “Let me guess. Agent Swenson is trying to track my location. Do you really think I’m that stupid? I promise you all, however, that when I am finished with Ms. Caldwell, I will reveal my location, so you can retrieve her remains.”

  Sam spoke up, “Killing Ms. Caldwell will right no wrong. You know that. If she has done anything illegal, turn her over to us, and we will see that justice is served.”

  There was laughter on the other end of the line. “Sheriff elect Pritchard, you can’t be that naïve. Ms. Caldwell has broken only the laws of fair play and business acumen. She has drunk from the fountain of others pain and suffering with her litigation practices. She has broken no law that you could bring charges against her for. She is being tried by me, and given her extensive case history, she has been found guilty of enriching herself and others through the blood, sweat, and tears of her victims.”

  Jim shouted back, “Who the fuck are you? The lawyer terminator? Do you think if you off a few lawyers that they are going to stop being the predators that they are?”