Gone After the Wind

Chapter 31: Mathias Lincoln

"He got some big names in here," Agent Rose commented while suveying the crumpled paper, and whistled as she went on further on the list. "Damn, he even included some of his trusted parties and allies that I've seen with him on his campaign. He's really going that far to prove some point, huh? I wonder why he's so persistent to lead the investigation on his liking? Has he ever done this before? On the first case, I mean."

Reading the rap sheet of their prospect, Cara shook her head, her eyebrows knitted in frustration. Her muscles were still trembling because of the anger that couldn't leave her alone. It did not help that Agent Rose couldn't shut up about the encounter. "No, it's actually the first. He made obstructions before in my previous cases but not as bad as like this. And downgrading. He had never become so desperate to indoctrinate me into his group or to do something that would favor him. And he rarely see me in person."

"So much for being your nemesis, huh?" Agent Rose chuckled beside her. "Your theory does fits. He's hiding something, and to protect that he wants to change the course of the investigation. Really clever."

"Can we stop talking about him now?" Cara suggested impatiently. "My ears are getting sore with every mention of his name. Discussing about his impurities are not worth the time. Mathias Lincoln deserved more of the attention."

"Sorry, I'm really just fascinated at the way he thinks," Agent Rose replied. "But alright, I'm gonna shut up now."

Thank God. Nodding, Cara refocused on reading, and infused the silence by stating what she had by far observed in Mathias Lincoln's tons of remarkable records. "Anyway, our guy seemed have a fascination in prison every two years. He had immense records of felonies. Got arrested for seven times, five of them had convictions. And now he's on probation for sexually assaulting a minor three years ago."

Agent Rose paused from loading her gun, and asked, "For how long?"

"He was out last year, and now he have two months left to serve."

"Let's hope he did not waste those months collecting women and turning them up into marionettes." Agent Rose leaned towards the driver of the squad car. "How much farther?"

"There. Two blocks away," the police officer answered, pointing the smallest apartment building squeezed in by two larger commercial ones.

Cara folded the papers, and stacked them back to the envelope. She checked her glock that she hasn't been fired for months, and ensured it wouldn't be faulty just in case she might need to use it on Lincoln. Based on his actions the past few years, it's impossible that he would come forward without performing any kind of resist. The last thing he'd want to see on his front door would be the police. He had seen much for almost of his lifetime. Especially if he's indeed guilty of more heinous crimes other than violating a minor alone.

As their car picked up speed and the apartment building closed in, Cara's heart began to pummel against her ribcage, pumped with rush anticipation. At long last, they have a potential suspect that by far meet some of the important criterias in the killer's profile. The green truck—the strongest lead they have—was registered under him, and he had criminal records that couldn't be possibly overlooked and be thrown out of the window. His rushed moving to Albreska was in question, too. What did he do in Maine that forced him to travel few states away?

This might end up in an arrest, if things go downhill and if he exhibit the signs of the prolific killer they were hunting. They may have no warrant, but that could be settled later.

To maintain the feeling of Lincoln's comfort around his place, Agent Rose ordered the officer to hide the car by parking it in front of the nearby restaurant, in line with the vehicles of the customers inside.

"Wait here," Agent Rose advised. "A fight might break out so stay vigilant. Don't you ever look away from the entrance. Understood?"

The lanky officer nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

Agent Rose looked at Cara and with the silent agreement, they made a beeline for the apartment as casually and as discreetly as they could. The apartment was low-rise, almost half of the building looming over its squared roof. Its dull and faded appearance made it highly noticeable among the establishment completing the block. Time had obviously worn its once beautiful state. The exterior wall were tainted with mushy green algae that extended through the back, tainting its cream colored paint. The windows were rusty, as well as the fire exit on the side. The number of floors and rooms they found inside contradicted its size. The main reception was occupied only by a female in mid thirties that didn't have any alarming reaction when Cara asked for Lincoln's current whereabouts, and stated they'd be visiting him in surprise so not a word must not come about.

The woman just shrugged while munching a gum, obviously disinterested at whoever they were or whatever they came there for. They went to the second floor without encountering any interruption and delay. Lincoln's home was the third apartment on the floor. They marveled on the silent and unchaotic hallway, stopping in front of the apartment with a number 134 embedded on the top. Cara took the lead, knocking softly on the door.

"Did you see any green truck outside?" Agent Rose asked in low voice.

"I couldn't—" Cara was unable to answer her completely as an old chinese woman passed behind them, carrying shopping bags as her eyes lingered on them curiously. Cara greeted her with a smile that wasn't returned with anything. Not even an acknowledging stare.

Just as the woman went far, and Agent Rose chortled behind, the sound of scurrying footsteps echoed behind the door associated with a short grumble of complain. Locks and chains were disengaged before it slowly withdrew agaped by a short man with unkempt and disarrayed beard all over his rounded pale face. He was wearing a simple blue shirt, and a black short. A blue cap was sheltering his head. Despite the cover up, it was still apparent that he was bald.

His small brown eyes shot between Cara and Agent Rose, his eyebrows leveling in confusion. "Who are you?"

Determining he wouldn't take them easy and gentle, Cara disregarded the direct way and came up with a different approach that she would probably be using from now on. "Are you Mathias Lincoln?"

"Yes, I am. How did you get here if you didn't even know what I look like?" he said impatiently.

"Just a confirmation, Sir." Cara dipped her head slightly. "My name is Cara Black, I'm a detective from state police. And this is Agent Rose from the FBI. We're just wondering if you, by any chance, still own the green truck registered under your name years ago?"

The irritation on his face faded and was truck by a doubtful recognition. Confusion was still there which was a shock that left Cara unhinged for a second. First, he didn't recognize her right away. And now, he was showing that he didn't have any idea why the police would show up because of that truck. It would be otherwise for the culprit. Completely the whole opposite.

"Green truck? I don't remember owning one."

Cara glanced at Agent Rose, and chanelled something through her eyes. He's bluffing. "Well, it came out from our records that you did, sometime in the past when you were still living in Maryland, Maine. Maybe that place would sound familiar. Does it?"

"It... kind of does. You did a background check on me?" His voice rang alarm, and the door moved closer.

"For only informative purposes. You don't have to panic, okay? We're not going to arrest you. Perhaps, we could go inside and have a conversation that would help you jog up your memory."

Panic erupted on his face, the coolness and agressive tone had deflated by the time he spoke. But he had managed to veil all of these within a blink. "Do what you want."

He dragged the knob as he wheeled around, leaving the two hesitantly pushed the door wider. Cara was the first, and as she acquaint herself on the small apartment, the pungent smell of alcohol, grease and some sort of chemicals attacked her nose. The place wasn't entirely messy but some of the furniture were misaligned, and countable beer cans were all over the living room. It looked and smelled that the sun has never shone upon it for some time.

Lincoln invited them over to sit on the couch but neither of them took a seat. They watched him as he plopped himself on the single couch, grabbing a can of beer and hastily opening it in front of them. The television was on. Some football game was playing and it was annoying that he preferred to watch it than properly entertain them.

Either he's purposely ignoring them so they wouldn't suspect anything or he just didn't give a damn, at all. Both were degrading.

"You can start. I'll be listening," he said, and took a large gulp.

Glancing to the tv, Cara tucked her hand on her hip. She sighed harshly. "Mr. Lincoln, your car has been associated with some vile crimes that we're currently investigating. It was used by the—" Her words hung in the air as the audience's overwhelming cheer from the tv blasted from the speakers. Lips thinning grimly, Cara looked at Lincoln, thinking he would be so kind to turn it off. But the man didn't budge. Cara snatched the remote on the table, and did it herself.

"What? Hey!"

"We're not going to settle anything if you continue to ignore us, Mr. Lincoln. If we irate you so much, then cooperate. It will not only work for the both of us, you'd do the police a great deal of favor for being a good citizen once and for all."

Agent Rose chuckled beside her. While Lincoln looked to be fantasizing throwing a punch on Cara's face. "Your little smart-ass mouth would get you in trouble, young lady."

"And your resistance would land you on another convinction, Sir."

"Fine!" he bellowed. The fury in his eyes suggested that it wasn't. And he would have dared to oppose if not for the unsavoring consequences imposed by Cara's side. "Well? Get it over, then! What is it that you really want from me?"

"As I was saying—before I got interrupted—your car had been used to carry out several major crimes that we've been investigating. We'd like to know if you still own it or if you give it to someone else. We believe whoever was using that was the individual responsible for those atrocities that I've mentioned."

"Like I said, I don't remember. If I had, maybe I had given it to someone else or I had sold it. I don't know. It's been years since I lived in Maine. I'm not getting sharper day by day, Detective."

Cara looked over to Agent Rose who understood the message. She stepped forward, and gave the clearest copy of the truck. "Maybe that might help you."

He took it grumpily, still unwilling to give his best to cooperate. Cara watched him as he analyzed it, and there it was again. The doubtful recognition as though indicating that he indeed remember it, but it's too risky to confess. "Yeah... that rings a bell. I drove that one out back in Maine. I didn't bring it when I moved here, so I really have no idea what happened to it."

"You didn't ask someone to look for it?"

He shrugged, and drank again. "Can't recall. I left it under the care of my... ex-wife. God knows what she did to that garbage."

"Do you still have communication with her?" Agent Rose asked.

He winced at the mention of his ex-wife. "No. Not anymore. I've dropped that b***h over years ago. I don't even know if she's alive or not."

"What's her name?" Cara asked, finding it unlikely how the records could have not shown that this man had a wife. He was single on the papers. Was all of it outdated or was he lying?

"Shouldn't you have known that already?"

"I'm being polite here, Mr. Lincoln."

He scoffed. "Melinda Northwood," he answered venomously. "You won't find her contact details with me. I don't use any electronics in my house. Certainly not a fan of those weird technologies."

As Agent Rose scribbled the name, Cara's gaze around once again. Her eyes ended up gawking what it looked to be a computer stand on the far wall, concealed by a red sheet.

"Is that a computer?" Cara asked curiously, pointing at the object. "I thought it's weird to use them?"

The temperature in the room seemed to have dropped as Cara watched him swallowing hard. He paused, and the color on his face ran out. His eyes flitted around, unable to settle at one direction. The fingers grasping the beer trembled, and for the first time, he didn't mask the fear and panic. He shook his head. "That's broken."

"Mind if I take a look?"

"No way," he shouted, and stood up aggresively.

Agent Rose reeled back, reaching for her belt. Cara felt her nerves exploding as her heart went on rage by the anticipation embracing her. "Why not, Mr. Lincoln? It's broken, isn't it? Maybe I could—"

"No!" he hollered, crashing the can on his hand. "That's a breach of privacy! You don't even have a warrant!"

"I suppose we don't need to when looking at a broken computer. What could we possibly gain from that? Just a look, Mr. Lincoln—"

"No f*****g way!"

What happened next came out real fast. As he screamed, he pitched the crushed can towards Cara, hitting her right on her right eye. Agent Rose pulled out her gun and ordered him to stay put but it was too late. He was already lurching forward, aiming at the door. Because Agent Rose was in the way, he didn't hesitate to deliver an elbow on her stomach, and pushed her violently. Her gun misfired as she stumbled back down on the floor with Lincoln jumping over her.

"s**t," Cara muttered, and rushed towards the agent, ignoring the pain electrifying at the back of her eyes.

"Are you okay?" She knelt down to the wincing agent, holding her both shoulders.

Agent Rose flinched, grasping her stomach. "Yeah, I just need a second."

"I'm gonna leave you here for a minute and chased down that motherfucker. Stay here, okay? I'm gonna call some help."

The agent nodded painfully.

Cara stood up and sprinted towards the door. She reached for the stairbannisters, and peeked down. And there the asshole was, running for his life. "Stop! Stop at once!"

He only looked up and continued running.

Cara cursed beneath her breath, wiping her watery eye. She raced down the stairs, almost leaping two steps at once just to keep up with his speed. When she reached the lobby, Lincoln was already exiting the front entrance. He wasn't looking carefully at his direction, the reason why he bumped to a group of teenagers hanging out at the sidewalk. Shouts of protests echoed as he clashed onto them, resulting of two teenagers rolling on the ground.

"Stop that man!" Cara shouted, blasting through the door. "Stop him!"

The shock took the teenagers off guard, none of them ever dared to lay a finger on the mystery man. They let him took off, watching the scene unfolded with bewilderment.

Cara chased him off. Good thing the officer that drove them there was keen to the advice given, and was just standing outside the patrol car. "Catch him, officer!"

The officer did not hesitate to follow, his sleepy eyes going round as he sidestepped, deciding how he would stop the suspect. He stepped forward, and instead of firing a warning shot, he blocked Lincoln's path. They collided. The officer was on the top. Before Lincoln could get up, the officer was already on his knees, pining him to the ground and reaching for handcuffs.

Cara was breathing heavily as she approached them, her arm lowering as she return the gun on her belt.

"Get off! I'm gonna f*****g sue!" Lincoln ensnared, wriggling against the hold of the officer.

"Nice job," Cara complimented in which the officer returned with a sly smile. She turned to Lincoln, pressing a foot on his back. He groaned. "You've got some speed for someone so short."

"f**k you!"

"No thanks," Cara replied. She grabbed the cuffs on the officers hand and slapped on his wrist. The sound of the metal hitting his skin was deeply satisfying. She couldn't hide a smile. "Mathias Lincoln, you're under arrest for suspicions of murder, and arrogantly assaulting a federal agent. Anything you say can and will against you a court of law. You have the right to remain silent."

Fifteen minutes later, the apartment building was flooded by police squad cars and officers processing the scene. The state crime lab handled the retrieval of the computer and the dissecting of his apartment. Every corner was searched, every possible storage was emptied, and every item he owned that could store data or information was investigated. What they found was beyond Cara's expectations, and made her stomach twisted, so strong that she almost throw up while watching the officers sealed off the boxes that contained the darkest and most disgusting crimes Lincoln has probably done for most of his life.

He was not just a constant breaker of moral codes and laws, he was also a s****l predator that mainly preys on children and young women. His vast collection of lewd magazines, photos and clips would be substantially enough to give him another convinction. Not to include the things he might have stored in that computer.

While it was elating to apprehend an offender like him, it's a different feeling when looking it in Cara's perspective. It wasn't absolutely the arrest she was digging for. Her hopes were firm and high that Lincoln had somewhat involvement in the marionette serial killings. But as she stood further back in the apartment, listening to the head of the crime lab as she recited every single damn thing that they bagged, and none from it could be use to associate him with the deaths of three women, that hope had become a wishful thinking.

"Not even the replica of the doll he was getting inspiration from?" Cara asked.

Jessica twisted her lips, and slowly shook her head, tapping the clipboard where the list was pinned. "Didn't find one. We searched every space we found, and these are all we could give you."

Cara scratched behind her ear. "What about his computer? How long is it going to take before we get the results?"

"Two hours. Give or take. I assigned Eddie and Rory to administer the inspection so I'm quite confident it would be done sooner. We'd just deliver it to you once they're done."

Cara nodded, feeling defeated.

"So is there anything else you want to know?"

Detecting she wanted nothing, she shook her head. "I've got what I need. Thanks, Jessica."

"No problem."

She fell into deep thoughts as she exited the apartment, and went outside, the wind crashing to her face as she ambled towards the ambulance where Agent Rose was getting tended for the bruises and cuts she received when Lincoln shoved her away like a weightless wood. A shrad of glass had apparently sliced her palm when she fell earlier.

"Your partner just called," she informed as Cara stood before her. "He contacted the probation officer in charge of keeping a tether on Lincoln. Turns out, he wasn't obedient as we thought. He had broken the rules several times for the past months. The major one he did so far was when he traveled, unbeknownst to the officer, to Redvine for business he was adamant to share. He went missing for one week. And guess when was that?"

"Three weeks ago?"

"Bingo," she said, wincing in pain. "Coincident to the time when Sandy Hupman was getting stalked. And not just that. He was also the prime suspect of his ex-wife's mysterious death seven years ago. He lied to us. He was still in Maine when she died. And the truck? It was never found in Melinda Northwood's house."

"So there's still a possibility that he might have brought it here?" Cara asked.

"It's strong, one that we can't disproved easily. The fact that he lied, and assaulted us means he has something more than meets the eye."

"Excuse me, Detective?"

Cara spun around to see the same officer that took down Lincoln, standing beside them.

"Your service is here. And Lincoln was escorted successfully to the station. He's currently confined to one of our rooms. Shall I drive you back?" he asked politely.

"Please do," Agent Rose said, and jumped out from the van, still pressing a palm on her stomach. She patted Cara on the arm. "It's time to grill that bastard, and get our answers."

Enthused at the new surge of information, Cara felt a bit shameful for losing hope a while ago. This is it. Maybe it didn't seem on the surface, Lincoln may just be the person they're looking for. After all, they've only uncovered half of his secrets. Who knows what else lies at the bottom of it?