CHAPTER 35

 

Scanlon ignored the stares of the people in the hospital lobby and headed straight for the elevator. He punched the “up” button with an angry gesture and willed the machine to hurry its descent and pick him up. Several onlookers were openly gawking.

His eyes were swollen almost shut and tinted a bruised purple. His nose was running freely, and he carried a wad of tissues in his overcoat pocket. The Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses he wore did little to conceal his battered appearance. To the people staring at him in the hospital lobby, Scanlon looked like a man who needed to be admitted to the emergency room, not visiting the Critical Care Unit

The doctor told Scanlon his septum would require surgery soon. His broken nose had been badly re-injured by the second blow to the face. A blow he’d received at the hands of an unidentified woman posing as an attorney.

The blow to his ego caused far more damage than the injury to his nose. He and his task force were the laughing-stock of the Omaha PD.

Special Agent Lefferty’s face was in much the same condition as Scanlon’s, and Deputy Kearns was again responsible. After Scanlon suffered the humiliation of Kearns’ escape from his custody for the second time, the deputy apparently went to the hospital and met with Elizabeth Slocum. The special agent guarding her was now on the disabled list as a result of his encounter with the rookie deputy. It seemed Scanlon was destined to suffer setback after setback on this case.

And while Scanlon was receiving the bitter news about Kearns’ escapades at the Douglas County Hospital, another alarming report came in. A man meeting the description of Kearns’ elder accomplice forced entry into Elizabeth Slocum’s house. Like Kearns, he’d overpowered and disarmed an FBI agent and made good his escape, despite the fact that Scanlon had left two agents to stake the house out.

The elevator finally arrived and Scanlon stormed in. Fortunately it was unoccupied. He wiped his dripping nose and punched in the button to the Critical Care Unit.

Who was Elizabeth Slocum? It was obvious she was a significant piece of the puzzle. Kearns risked capture again by going to see her at the hospital only hours after he’d escaped FBI custody for the second time.

Scanlon had to find out what role in the bizarre events surrounding this investigation Elizabeth Slocum played. What was her connection to Deputy Kearns? Was she connected to the Meade kidnapping back in Iowa, and the killing spree at the drug lab? The dead state troopers? The murdered hooker, and bouncers, at the hotel in downtown Omaha? How did Kearns end up in a shootout at her house? And who were Kearns’ two accomplices? Were they somehow connected to Elizabeth Slocum?

The elevator stopped with a clank, and the doors opened. Scanlon walked out and headed for the Critical Care Unit, lost in thought. So far, loose ends were all his task force had come up with. He had nothing to tie them together. Hopefully Elizabeth Slocum could provide the knot he needed.

Tiffany Meade’s death was random, for all the task force could tell. She and her family were squeaky-clean, and had no apparent links to the murdered methamphetamine dealer in Coon Rapids. The modus operandi of both murders wasn’t congruent, and didn’t match any known past offenses in the files. The dead hooker in downtown Omaha and the shooting of the bouncers also didn’t figure. Yet these events were nonetheless connected by virtue of the fact they were committed by the same perpetrator.

The killing in downtown Omaha could have been a random sex slaying, but if so, how did Kearns and the suspect both end up in Omaha? Kearns must know something; some clue or key which had thus far eluded Scanlon. But what?

How could Kearns have discovered the identity of the spree killer? Was he in cahoots with the murderer somehow? Who was the older man acting as Kearns’ accomplice? And who was the girl? What was their relationship to Kearns?

A background check on Kearns shed little light on the subject. He was born to an unwed mother in Burlington, Iowa, and spent his youth there an only child. He grew up doing farm work and going to regional schools until he graduated high school. From there he enlisted in the army as an infantryman, and when honorably discharged returned to Iowa. He settled in Ames, where he used his GI benefits to attend college at Iowa State University. He was attending college when he was hired by the Story County Sheriff’s Department. There was nothing in his past to indicate any connection to a killer.

Members of Scanlon’s task force also ran a check on the background of Elizabeth Slocum, but hit a brick wall. A trace of her past stopped dead at an orphanage in Omaha, where she’d been raised since age thirteen. The staff there apparently regarded Elizabeth Slocum very highly, because they refused to divulge any information about her. The nuns refused to cooperate in any investigation unless they were informed of how that information was to be used.

Scanlon had of course refused to disclose any details of the investigation, and the nuns stonewalled. He told them he would get a warrant and take their records anyway. The elder nun only smiled at him and said with so many records, for so many children, often documents became lost permanently, never to be recovered. She pointed at the shredding machine as she said this.

The meaning of the nun’s statement was loud and clear. She was not going to turn over any records to the FBI. If he did get a warrant, the nuns would simply destroy the records before he could serve it and claim poor recordkeeping as the culprit. And there wasn’t a damned thing Special Agent Steven Scanlon could do about it.

Some parts of the puzzle were beginning to piece themselves together, but not fast enough for Scanlon. He was riding a lot of heat from the assistant director in Washington, and the press was more relentless than ever. So far, he’d been able to explain away some of the setbacks his task force suffered by implying Kearns was somehow implicated in the slayings himself, a speculation that the deputy’s behavior and the physical evidence increasingly seemed to support.

Yet Scanlon didn’t really believe Kearns was associated with the killings. Even his shooting of Brent Cuszack, an apparent cop-killer, on Elizabeth Slocum’s porch was clearly justified. But he wouldn’t publicly admit that until Kearns, his accomplices, and the suspect were in custody and the investigation concluded.

There was another lead in an incident at the VA hospital in Des Moines, but Scanlon and his team couldn’t correlate its significance. It was reported Kearns and his elder sidekick gained unlawful entry into the records division of the facility. But what they learned there, and what, if anything, they’d taken, remained a mystery. The records archive of the government hospital was in such disarray that agents couldn’t even determine which portion of the vast storage area Kearns and his partner breached.

And so it seemed Scanlon’s only tangible and available lead was the Slocum woman. Her doctor told Scanlon’s men she was not to be disturbed. The doctor ignored Scanlon’s insistence that he was on the trail of a killer and a renegade cop who was possibly aiding that killer, and needed immediate access to the injured woman. The physician was adamant, and refused to let Scanlon talk to Elizabeth Slocum. Especially after the donnybrook between Kearns and the Omaha FBI agent staking out her room.

Scanlon was furious over the incident. Kearns and a female accomplice entered the Critical Care Unit under false pretenses. They not only incapacitated and disarmed the special agent guarding Elizabeth Slocum, but pulled the hospital’s fire alarm to cover their escape, another felony charge to add to Kearns’ burgeoning list.

Whatever it was Kearns learned from Elizabeth, he risked a great deal to obtain it. And the older man with Kearns risked no less, burglarizing Elizabeth’s house while it was under FBI surveillance.

No matter how much the doctors protested, Scanlon was determined to interrogate Elizabeth Slocum. She was critical to the investigation, and he desperately needed to find out what Kearns and his accomplice risked so much to know.

Scanlon walked to the nurses’ station. A special agent from the Omaha FBI office was sitting in a folding chair in front of Elizabeth Slocum’s room perusing a copy of People magazine with Sean Penn and Madonna featured on the cover and a headline announcing their impending divorce. When Scanlon entered he dropped the magazine and stood up.

“I’m here to see Elizabeth Slocum,” Scanlon said in his nasal twang. “And I want to see her now.” When he said this, he flashed his gold badge and ID at the nurse sitting at the station.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” the nurse said. “I’m to let no one see her. Her doctor was very insistent.”

“I’m countermanding those orders.”

Scanlon walked past the nurse, ignoring her commands to stop. She picked up a phone and began dialing. Scanlon strode over to the agent who’d been guarding Slocum’s room.

“I don’t care if you have to shoot somebody, I want at least five minutes alone with the broad. You read me?”

“Loud and clear,” the agent said.

Scanlon walked into the room and found Elizabeth Slocum sitting in bed, looking pale and drained. A translucent tube protruded from her nostrils, but her eyes were alert and focused. They widened at Scanlon’s entrance.

“I’m Special Agent Steve Scanlon of the Des Moines Office of the FBI. I’m heading a task force which is investigating the sex slaying of a child in Iowa, and a number of other homicides, including the murder of two Iowa state troopers. The investigation has led me to you.”

Elizabeth said nothing, her breathing shallow. She furrowed her eyebrows. Scanlon paused a moment to wipe his nose.

“A man came here last night to see you. He is a rogue deputy sheriff and a fugitive. He had a reason for coming here, and I want to know what that reason was. You’re going to tell me, and you’re going to tell me now.”

“He saved my life,” she whispered with effort.

Scanlon moved closer to Elizabeth. She noticed his black eyes under the dark glasses, and the plaster cast on his nose.

“I understand you feel indebted to him, but we need information on his whereabouts, and on the whereabouts of a murderer who at this moment could be killing again.”

Elizabeth struggled to speak. “I don’t think I like you,” she said.

Scanlon leaned his face to within inches of Elizabeth’s. “I don’t care what you like. I want some answers. What did Kearns want from you?”

Elizabeth fought back tears. Memories of her brutal childhood crept to the forefront of her consciousness and overwhelmed her. She thought she’d escaped that nightmare, and over the years learned to live, and love, and find purpose. But then Vernon returned; an emissary from hell. It was too much.

Elizabeth blinked her eyes. She didn’t have the strength to lift her arms and brush away the flowing tears.

“Leave me alone,” she said. “Go away.” It took virtually all her energy to speak these words.

A tide of anger, frustration, and impatience flooded over Scanlon. He leaned over and took her by the shoulders, sending shooting pains throughout her damaged body. Elizabeth gasped for air.

Scanlon’s face scrunched into a scowl. His black-rimmed eyes and dripping nose gave him the appearance of a troll from a children’s story. His grip on her shoulders tightened.

“Listen to me, you fucking bitch. You’re going to spill your guts, or I’ll see you in prison alongside that punk deputy you think is such a hero. You talked to him. You told him something. And as far as I’m concerned, you’re aiding and abetting him. You’re part of the whole goddamned conspiracy. So you’d better rethink your position on the matter. What did Kearns want to know?”

There was a loud pounding on the door to Elizabeth’s room. Through the window in the door, Scanlon could see the FBI guard trying to keep back a doctor and several nurses. The doctor wore an infuriated expression and the guard looked frantic. Scanlon was running out of time.

He squeezed even harder. Elizabeth’s breath came in rasps, and shivers of agony coursed through her chest and back. She tried to speak.

“Talk, goddamnit! What did Kearns want to know?”

Elizabeth thought she was going to retch. The only thing keeping her from drifting into blackness was the excruciating pain Scanlon’s hands were sending through her. She shook her head, gagging on the words as they came out.

“Brother… bro... th… er…”

Scanlon shook her again. “I can’t hear you! Tell me!”

“Vern… on. My bro… ther.”

“Who’s your brother? What are you saying? Who’s your brother?”

It was no use. Elizabeth slumped, and no amount of shaking would bring her back to consciousness. What had she said? Brother? Vernon? What did it mean?

The door to the hospital room crashed open and a deluge of people burst in. The FBI agent assigned to guard Elizabeth’s room had his revolver out and was waving it. Several nurses pushed him into the room, daring him to shoot, knowing he wouldn’t. The physician dashed past the agent and pulled Scanlon brusquely away from Elizabeth’s bedside. He looked at her briefly and began barking orders. The nurses then ignored the federal agents and began attending to Elizabeth.

As one nurse administered an injection into Elizabeth’s IV, the doctor, a broad-shouldered redhead with the name Hilger on his nametag, got in Scanlon’s face.

“Listen to me, whoever the fuck you are. I gave orders this woman was not to be disturbed. You may have seriously impeded her recovery with your stormtrooper tactics. You enjoy shaking the shit out of injured women?”

Scanlon didn’t answer. The doctor, though no taller than Scanlon, was twice as broad, and by the look of his arms under the surgical garb a regular weightlifter. The doctor also exhibited the rabid gleam in his eyes Scanlon had seen before in homicidally dangerous criminals. The special agent was suddenly very aware how fragile his nose was. This physician looked as if he could punch hard enough to push his nose to the other side of his face.

“You have to understand, Doctor,” Scanlon stammered, the fear evident in his eyes, even behind the sunglasses. “We’re in the midst of a major criminal investigation, and…”

“I don’t give a shit if you’re chasing Bonnie and Clyde. You ever come into this hospital again you’d better plan on a lengthy stay. Get the fuck out of here, and take junior G-man there with you.”

Scanlon was more than happy to oblige. Motioning for the other agent to follow, he fled Elizabeth’s room, ignoring the hateful stares from the nurses as he left. He headed for the elevator, the other agent on his heels.

“Call Tatters at Omaha PD,” Scanlon told him. “Have him contact the Veterans’ Administration in Washington. He’s to scan for a Slocum, Vernon. I want any and all files on him to be forwarded to me, top priority.”

“Why can’t you check with the VA in Des Moines?”

Scanlon punched the elevator button. “Because that’s what Kearns and his buddy were doing at the VA in Des Moines. I’ll bet you a paycheck the file on Vernon Slocum won’t be in Des Moines; it’s been pilfered. It’s with Kearns, and has been all along.”

“OK, I’ll call Tatters. Then what? You want me to stay here? I’m sure as hell not going to be allowed back in the Critical Care Unit.”

The elevator doors opened and Scanlon stepped in. “Stay in the lobby and watch over Elizabeth Slocum. It is unlikely Kearns will return, but I don’t want to take chances. And who gives a shit if you’re unpopular with these assholes? You’re a Bureau man; you aren’t getting paid to make friends.”

The elevator doors closed. The Omaha fed let out a sigh and wished he was home with his family. He watched the elevator’s indicator lights trace Scanlon’s progress down to the lobby.

“Yeah, I’m a Bureau man alright,” he said aloud. “I get paid to watch senior Bureau men beat the shit out of crippled women.”