Book Two: Part Four - Binding Evil - Chapter Ten
Friday – September 7th
The Squad Room – 8:24 a.m.
“This is all we have on the hit and run for now. Carl’s team is looking into any paint fragments that may have attached itself to the stand during the collision, as well as the plaster cast made from the tire tracks.
“Preliminary reports suggest the vehicle to be either an Escalade, Cadillac or Oldsmobile. Even that is speculation.”
Captain Todd stuck his head inside the room and motioned for Baker. She excused herself a moment, walked over, and he spoke to her in a low tone before he left. She then walked back to the front of the room and stared at her team.
“It isn’t just a hit and run any longer. It’s voluntary manslaughter. Sollie died in his sleep last night.
“Sometime between this afternoon and Monday, I’ll have the autopsy report which will give me a complete list of his injuries. I will also see if I can contact any relatives he may have.
“Just be on the lookout for a blond that talks funny.”
Most of the guys laughed.
“All right, you guys, get out there and be safe, and keep our streets safe.”
As Baker was grabbing up files and sorting them from oldest too newest, Ed walked over to her.
“One way to look at this; Sollie’s the first person to die in several months, and not from any sick, perverted deviant’s either.”
“I know, Ed, but someone meant to kill him straight off. And I intend to find out who, and why.
“I have to scoot. I need to get these files sorted out, and I have a meeting with the Mayor and City Council at eleven. And that’s going to take up most of my day.”
“Want me to pick Stevie up after school for you?”
“Would you, please? That would solve my having split personalities today.”
They smiled at one another, then started in on their day.
The Weekend in Montie
Baker, Stevie, and Ed spent almost the entire weekend in Montie. On Sunday, Ed had a surprise for Stevie.
Two tickets to the Jets and Steelers game. Baker explained to Ed that she’d rather stay home and begin her outline for the plan to cover the city to protect the president when he arrived. As far as she was concerned; the Sunday drive and the game was just the thing for the boys. Male bonding. Such a wonderful thing.
That weekend also found Satchell at a cemetery paying respects to both his parents, and a little further down, the woman married seventeen years ago, who died of ovarian cancer, five years ago, and the one woman who captured his heart for good.
Only those close to him know what Satchell feels inside himself. The rest see him two ways: good natured, and one tough son-of-a-bitch.
Elaine and Captain Raymond Todd held an outdoor barbecue party for friends, and public officials. Privately, Elaine couldn’t wait for Ray’s retirement to begin.
Ronald and Alexandria continued their daily and sometimes, nightly target practice sessions. Windy days proved really bad for her. Her ratio of hits was terrible, even at 1,500 yards.
But when the day would arrive, it wouldn’t matter.
When Stevie and Ed arrived home Sunday night; Stevie went into great detail about the game. He took pictures with Ed’s Nikon 360 Digital with zoom lens, and even managed to get a couple autographs. Jets won: 28-10.
Later, after Stevie went to bed, to wake up to a new week and another school day, Baker held Ed in her arms before he headed home and said, “You didn’t tell him you were a Steeler fan, did you?”
“Nope. But, it’s okay. He enjoyed himself and that was all that mattered.”
They kissed each other goodnight, and she watched from her open doorway as he got in his car and drove away.
She felt tonight, she would sleep peacefully.
And as sleep catches up with us all; if you gazed down from afar, you would see random lights throughout, shut off, and the quiet settled in as if a blanket covered Montie.
Another weekend went into the history books.
Monday Morning – September 10th
Twenty-Second Precinct – 9:30 a.m.
Baker sat at her desk going over all her notes and suggestions handed her from her team; ideas for the president’s arrival. Each one held promise, and she knew she might be able to implement practically every idea within her layout.
Thus, the next two hours would be spent at her desk, typing up her plan into the computer then printing it off. In doing so, she took sections of the area around the Arena, and broke them down into a five-point star. A radius of two to six blocks out. It was obvious to everyone, the inner circle, or the primary block would be crawling with Fibbies, as well as the SS (that sounded ever so wrong in her head).
Intertwining the separate images with each part of the plan, and by 10:45 she had the outlined finished and ready to take to the meeting. Twenty-seven pages.
As she was on her way out the door, her cell phone rang, and saw where the call came from.
“Stevie?”
“Nope. Try again.”
“Hi, Ed. I take it you took today off.”
“Not really. I did stop by for a quick lunch, but I wanted to let you know Stevie has practice tonight. I’ll pick him up afterward. All I know is that he has schedules and plays to learn.”
She laughed.
“Let him know I’ll be there tonight. I’m on my way to the meeting now.”
“Can do. Will do.”
With paperwork under her arm in a folder, she was in the parking and behind the steering wheel of her car, when another officer called out her name, and as she turned her head in the direction of the voice, the driver’s side window shattered.
Both her and the officer took cover, with Baker managing to roll under her car and her service revolver in hand. Each one scanned the area with their eyes and saw nothing or no one moving.
The officer, Al Martin, radioed it in, and within seconds, another dozen blue uniforms were entrenched in the lot. Faster still, another unit of twelve men, that raced to different buildings in two-man teams with exits fully covered. This had been part of a new plan put in place in the event of snipers, since what happened several months ago. The “Ready Plan” could be set up and in place within two minutes depending on location, eight minutes’ maximum, making it virtually impossible for any shooter to escape.
There should have been no way a shooter could have gotten away that quickly.
Getting out from under her car, Baker scanned the area once again and then looked at the damage done to it. She did a low whistle.
At least they did have one piece of evidence that left a gaping hole through the front seat and imbedded in the back seat. One slug, measuring 1.25 inches and weighing roughly three ounces.
It would later be identified as a .451 Magnum-Plus.
Al Martin came up to Baker and handed her a message.
The first thing she did was thank him for distracting her. He saved her life. Then she read the note. It was from Carl.
Prelim on Sollie. He didn’t die because of his injuries. Neck was snapped. He was murdered. No fingerprints either.
And I almost was, she thought.
As it stood, she called and asked to have the meeting rescheduled for Wednesday. No problem.
She had her car towed to a repair shop for new seats and windshield and had one of the officer’s take her home for the day. She decided it would allow her extra time to go over the plan and tweak it if necessary. On the way, she called Ed, explained what happened, and asked if he could pick her up at the house so that she could see the game with Stevie being one of the coaches.
10:49 a.m.
Dammit, she muttered. I had her. I know I had her! What caused her to turn at the last second?
She looked angrily at Ronald.
“That wasn’t my fault. She moved at the last possible second. Otherwise, she was dead!”
“The thing is, Alexandria,” he said in a toneless way, “when you are sighting in to hit a target, you only get one chance from this distance to connect.
“Had you been in one of those buildings nearby, you would be in jail by now. That is the beauty of the Spencer. When the shot is fired, they will look where you aren’t.
“And it is just as well you missed. I don’t know who that was, nor do I care, but I have decided one thing. Your shooting range is best at 1,500 to 2,000 yards. It’s from that range, I will find a location for you to fire from when the time comes.”