CHAPTER 31
Special-Agent-in-Charge Steven Scanlon lay propped on a bed in the emergency room of the Douglas County Hospital with a bag of ice on his face. His hand-crafted Italian suit was splattered with his own dried blood and his Japanese silk tie, a gift from an ex-girlfriend, was stained beyond repair.
He awakened to the noisy bustle of the ER approximately one hour after being decked by a petite young woman in the front lobby of the Omaha police station. It was the second time that Deputy Kevin Kearns had been snatched from his custody by a bogus lawyer. Scanlon himself had a law degree, but was beginning to hate attorneys with a passion.
Presently Agent Phil Tatters came into the room.
“Hi, Steve. How you feeling?”
“Cut the bullshit and give me a report.”
Tatters frowned and took a seat on a stool near the bed. He folded his coat over his lap and withdrew a notepad from his breast pocket.
“You want the good news or the bad news?”
“Who gives a shit? Quit stalling.”
“OK, here goes. The body at the Slocum lady’s house has been tentatively identified as Brent A Cuszack, a drug addict with an extensive criminal history hailing from Audubon, Iowa. I’ve got a couple of state DCI boys running down his history right now, but so far he’s very promising. I’ll get to that in a minute.”
“Spare me the editorials.”
Tatters continued. “The gun found next to Cuszack’s body, a Smith & Wesson Model 686, has a serial number registered to the Iowa Highway Patrol. It’s the gun belonging to one of the state troopers killed in western Iowa last week near the drug lab explosion.”
Scanlon sat up abruptly. “I’ll be damned. Our young deputy bagged a cop-killer. I wonder if he knows?”
“I don’t see how he could,” Tatters said.
“Keep going.”
“Cuszack apparently has some connection to the lab. One of the bodies inside has been identified as a Zachary Fornier, a known drug-trafficker and methamphetamine cooker. Cuszack is a suspected drug courier. He was arrested in a raid on Fornier’s farm a few years back, but got off with probation.”
Scanlon removed the ice from his face and mused, “So the guy who shot the Slocum woman in Omaha probably had something to do with the deaths of his former drug trafficking associates. And he was involved in the deaths of two state troopers. I’m still listening.”
Tatters flipped through the pages of his notebook. “The AR-15 semi-automatic rifle found at the scene is confirmed stolen. The serial number comes back to a batch of weapons burglarized from a sporting goods store in Ottumwa, Iowa in 1985. It’s too early for a complete ballistics report, but it’s a safe bet it’s the same gun that killed one of the highway patrolmen.”
“What about suspect number two?”
“Number two is a dead ringer for our child-snatcher. And a match to the suspect in a triple homicide in downtown Omaha three nights ago. Also, the .45 casings found in the Leawood West shootings might match those downtown, at the burned out drug lab in west Iowa, at the murder scene of the troopers, and at the schoolyard where Tiffany Meade was grabbed. Similar extractor and ejector marks on all casings. Firing pin dents on the primers look like a match, too.”
“I thought you said it was too early for a ballistic analysis?”
“Who needs the lab? You can look at the brass with a magnifying lens and compare the shell casings.”
“What about our child-killer?”
“We’re still at a loss for a correlation between him, this Cuszack guy, Elizabeth Slocum, Deputy Kearns, and his mysterious sidekick. But there’s got to be a connection.”
“Of course there’s a connection, you idiot. All the players converged at the Slocum woman’s house. The common denominator has therefore got to be her. Check her background. I want to know everything there is to know about her.”
“I’ll give it top priority,” Tatters said, scribbling in his notebook.
“Anything on the young woman who sprung Kearns?”
“The one who knocked you on your ass?” Tatters asked innocently, glad to finally get in a shot of his own.
“Yeah, the one who knocked me on my ass. You got a problem with that, Phil?”
“Hell, no. She was obviously some kind of trained martial arts expert, knocking out a senior federal agent with one punch like she did. Chuck Norris in a skirt.”
“I don’t need any bruises to my reputation to match my face.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Boss,” Tatters said, unable to resist another jab. “Your reputation couldn’t get any more damaged than it already is.”
Scanlon said nothing, glaring at his subordinate. Tatters returned a faux-bemused expression.
He turned back to his notebook. “We still have nothing on the identity of Kearns’ male accomplice. We do, however, have a pretty good composite drawing of him, thanks to you. Apparently you’re the only person who got a good look at him.”
The thought of the fake attorney magnified Scanlon’s headache. Twice, the mystery man rescued the deputy from his grasp. If only Kearns was still in custody answers to their questions could be had for the taking. Who was this man? Why did he keep rescuing Kearns? What was their relationship?
Scanlon knew his professional reputation, and possibly his rank as Special Agent in Charge of the Des Moines Office, were in serious jeopardy. He had to find Kearns again, and soon.
“When will Elizabeth Slocum be out of surgery?” he asked.
“She’s already out,” Tatters said. “She’s in post-op, but she hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”
“I want somebody watching her around the clock. As soon as she’s able to talk, I want to be notified. Have a cassette recorder loaded and ready to start the minute she wakes. And keep me informed.”
Tatters nodded, putting his notepad in his coat pocket. He knew his boss well enough to know when he was being dismissed. As he walked out of the room a nurse came walking in.
“Hello, Mister Scanlon. How are we feeling? I see you took the ice pack off. You shouldn’t have done that.”
“We’re feeling like shit. And I don’t need any fucking ice pack.”
The nurse, an attractive blonde with the demeanor of someone who’s been in the emergency room most of her career, ignored Scanlon’s biting manner. She looked at his chart and clicked her teeth.
“Well, Agent Scanlon, I’m afraid we have some bad news. The x-rays are back, and it looks like your nose is going to require surgery. The last injury really did some damage. I gather your nose was already broken when it was broken again today?”
“You know damned well my nose was already broken. Is everyone in this hospital incompetent?”
The nurse only smiled, and headed for the door. “The doctor will be here in a few minutes. I hope you’ll be as pleasant and cordial with her as you’ve been with me.”
“I’ll put on my happy face.”
“One more thing,” the nurse said, her smile widening. “There’s another FBI agent in one of the other examining rooms right now. He’s got a concussion and a broken nose too. He also has your temperament. Mysterious, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?” Scanlon asked.
“Why anyone would want to clobber two such charming men? It’s beyond comprehension.” Without waiting for a reply the nurse walked out.
“Kiss my ass,” Scanlon said, after she’d gone.