John Steel Collection - Books 1-3

Chapter 14

Sam McCall hated to drive in the mornings as the traffic was its usual nightmare, but what else could she do?

Suddenly her police radio crackled to life. ‘Hey, McCall, if you are on the way to the precinct, don’t bother. We are needed at Central Park. We are at the Bethesda Terrace.’ It was Tony, and he did not sound happy.

‘Why, what’s up?’ McCall was almost afraid to ask.

‘We got another one; the son-of-a-b***h has struck again.’ This time another voice spoke. It was rougher, deeper, and more authoritative: it belonged to Brant.

Bethesda Terrace was a late 1800s wonder. The two-level courtyard was red and white brick, featuring a smaller forecourt on the upper level. Two sandstone staircases descended on either side to give entry to a weathered underpass. A magnificent fountain loomed at the other end of the quaint courtyard. This made the place look as if it had once belonged to a castle or a cathedral.

This was a place of dreams, a place for people to come and lose themselves in another time.

The crime scene was filled with uniforms as they put up crime scene tape and barricades. Behind the barriers stood the press in their droves, busy setting up tripods and getting video cameras ready to go on air. It was the usual media circus and the inevitable gathering of ghouls and rubberneckers.

McCall pulled up her car as close as possible and surveyed the chaos. ‘Well, so much for keeping this one under wraps,’ McCall said to herself, getting out of her car and giving Glock 17 a reassuring tap before heading towards the tape.

Cameras flashed, microphones were thrust into her face, and people begged her for a statement. Still, she just shrugged them off, treating them as an unwanted infection. ‘No comment,’ was her terse reply.

She moved freely, passing the cordoned-off area, checking to ensure nothing out of the ordinary stuck out. Then, a voice called out to her as she walked down the weathered sandstone steps, and, looking around, McCall spotted the rest of the team.

McCall headed towards the crowd of plain-clothes officers, two of whom were Tony Marinelli and Joshua Tooms.

They spoke to a man who was nearly as tall as Tooms but towered over Tony.

The man was wearing a blue suit fitted tightly enough to advertise his massive muscular arms but not tight enough to constrict his movements. This was Captain Alan Brant. Head of the Homicide department on the 11th.

As Sam McCall approached, she nodded to Tony and Tooms and then acknowledged her superior grimly, ‘Morning, Captain.’

‘McCall,’ he returned the greeting. ‘This is getting out of hand.’

McCall noticed a blue sheet covering something on the ground by the sizeable, sculptured underpass.

The group moved over to where they found Tina crouched in front of a covered corpse.

‘Hi, doc,’ they greeted her in chorus.

Concentrating hard, Tina Franks raised a hand and waved in response to their greetings.

‘So, Doc, have you got a cause of death?’ Brant asked. To this, the ME turned around and sadly shook her head.

‘Nope, I’m not sure how she died,’ the attractive ME replied, ‘but I know ID will be a-bitch.’

As she spoke, she unveiled the corpse to reveal a woman. Her naked body looked trim and athletic, and, unlike the last victim, she was intact except for a tiny detail.

‘Well, it’s definitely your guy,’ Tina continued. ‘Blood was drained from the body, just like last time. But as you can see, the head has been removed this time. And not just the head but also the neck down to the collarbone. She’s also lost her fingertips and thumbs.’

Even the usually unflinching captain had to look away from this one.

‘We need to catch this bastard and fast,’ Brant said, ‘before we have a full-blown panic on our hands. So come on, let’s move, people.’

‘OK, Tony, you check for CCTV footage. They must have picked something up,’ Sam McCall instructed. ‘Tooms, can you grab some uniforms and talk to as many people as possible? Someone may have seen or heard something. Thanks, guys.’ She looked around at the layout. The detective had to admit it was brilliantly staged: no doorways on either side and a road next to the steps.

Getting witnesses would be impossible unless they were part of the crime.

The two men gave each other a quick knuckle-bump and left. McCall walked over to Tina, who was just finishing the location paperwork.

‘Hey, you, OK, Tina?’ she asked.

‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Tina paused as McCall gave her friend a meaningful look. ‘Well, not really; this case is really bothering me. This perp’s a real sicko.’

McCall was puzzled. During all the years they had known each other, this was the first time McCall had seen Tina Franks spooked by what she had seen.

‘What’s up, Tina? It can’t be getting to you. I’ve always thought you’re tough as nails,’ McCall said.

Tina Franks smiled at her and placed a reassuring hand on McCall’s left arm.

‘No, it’s not getting to me. I’m just thinking, how he is doing this? Now, I’ve seen sick perps in our time. But when sick comes together with brilliant, we have a problem.’

McCall gave her a quick smile.

‘But we will catch this guy, don’t worry.’ And with that, the ME left for the morgue.

McCall waited an hour for the CSU to complete their routine crime scene evidence collection. Once they were finished, Jim Burke, the team"s lead investigator, strolled up to her, clipboard in hand.

‘Hi, kiddo,’ Jim Burke said with a smile in a grandfatherly manner.

‘Hi, old man,’ McCall said.

They hugged like old family friends who had not seen each other for years.

‘How you holding up?’ Jim asked, a concerned look on his face.

‘I’m doing great. It’s just this case is tying everyone in knots,’ McCall said.

Jim Burke nodded in agreement. ‘Yeah, this is one smart SOB,’ he said, trying to be polite but failing. ‘We’ve found nothing at either crime scene. Don’t get me wrong, we found stuff, but nothing out of the ordinary. Lots of tread marks, millions of fibres, I’m just hoping the smart bastard gets too cocky and slips up – they normally do.’

‘I hope so too, old man,’ she said in response, unable to prevent the doubting tone in her voice.

They embraced once more, and then she was alone to walk through the crime scene and mentally run the circumstances immediately before the body drop.

Sam McCall looked around. The best entrance point was definitely on the road by the grand steps she had used.

McCall ran through the events at the top, beside the road, acting them out as best she could.

‘OK,’ she spoke to herself. ‘Stop the car, get out. I look around, make sure everything is clear.’

She accompanied the thoughts with appropriate movements, using her imagination to lead her.

‘OK, the coast is clear; I’m nearly at my goal when I move down the steps.’

McCall reached the bottom of the steps and turned the corner. To her surprise, she found a man crouched on the ground where the body had been.

‘Hey, can I help you?’ she shouted to the figure.

Steel stood up and turned towards her.

McCall noted that the man was handsome, clean-shaven, with a chiselled jaw and lips curved into a smile. His eyes were masked by a pair of dark military-style sunglasses that hugged his face, and he was dressed in an all-black suit.

John Steel did nothing at first, then formally placed his hand over his chest and gave a slight bow, then he turned and left.

‘Hey! No! You stop right there, mister!’ McCall yelled after Steel.

But Steel just carried on up the steps to her right on the other side of the courtyard. McCall began to rush after him, but he remained well ahead of her even though his pace had not quickened.

‘Hey, you! Get your ass back here! Hey, Police, stop,’ McCall hollered after him and considered actually drawing her pistol to make her threat real.

But John Steel carried on as though nothing was amiss.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a horse and carriage darted between them, blocking her way.

‘Police, move… Now!’ she yelled, holding up her badge.

The carriage driver quickly whipped at the steed, and they took off.

McCall looked around, but the mystery man was nowhere to be seen. OK, now this guy is really starting to piss me off, she thought to herself, and clenching her fists, she screamed to the sky as if to blame someone up in the heavens for sending this man to torment her.

OK, now this guy is really starting to piss me off