The Profiler Page 20

  “But why! Why would he do this? Why would he kill my dad?”

  “From what Jude said, Cain knew your father had info on their financial arrangement. Jesus, who knows what he’s been up to, if this is what he’s made of.” Raising his hands to rub his face, the detective groans into his palms. “I hate to say it, but it adds up, Angie. God, I hung out with him, for crying out loud. He was like a friend. I trusted him.”

  Those words sting and I control my emotions, not letting that phrase eat away at my insides. A friend. Hell, even I took to Cain right away, what with his reputation and all that friggin’ praise he had regarding my father’s position with the Bureau. Cain took me in, under the guise of mentor, and lied to me every single chance he had.

  I just can’t believe—or want to believe—this is it. That I once thought Marcus Cain was kind enough to pick me as a mentoring partner, after seeing that I was the daughter of a fed who’d died in the line of duty, brings tears to my eyes. Judas made the point that Cain chose me for a reason. Yeah, he chose me knowing damn well my father died at his hands.

  I lower my foot, pushing the speedometer to its limit, as the reason for my return to New York becomes more clear. I wanted to be closer to my family after my father’s death, while training under the guidance of a respected mentor. For Cain, it meant keeping an eye on the one person who would find out the truth of his wrongdoings. I will not let this be put to rest easily.

  Accompanying squad cars slide in behind me as I park the Jeep on the grass of my uncle’s church. I can see Cain’s car off to the side of the entrance, where he left it after coming here to tell my family of Jude’s intentions. Only it keeps getting worse, and I cannot believe I convinced Severo to leave Cain here, with my family, as a precaution against Judas. How could we have known the real reason they need protection is because of the man who spoke so damn pleasantly to my grandmother?

  “Cain!” I yell, rushing through the nave of the church, winding my way past empty pews and prayer rooms. “You better get your ass out here, you son of a bitch. I think you have some explaining to do!”

  Safeties being clicked off weapons fill the space with a domino sound, as Captain Delaney, Severo and practically the entire squad scour the vicinity for signs of movement.

  “Marcus Cain, this is Detective Severo of the NYPD. I suggest you come out with your hands where I can see them.”

  My feet carry me quickly to my uncle’s rectory, where we’d left my family watching evening game shows. As I enter the room, though, only the television makes a sound, as highlights for the upcoming evening news broadcast the day’s events. Whatever has happened in this city today, I can bet it pales in comparison to what is about to go down in this church.

  With no one in sight, and Severo now at my side, our eyes meet briefly as we gauge one another’s intent to pursue the deceit of my former mentor. The detective nods, moving to the south side of the residence, and I proceed north, heading toward the church office.

  I step lightly but swiftly to slide my hand over the doorknob and creak it open. A slight woof alerts me of Muddy’s presence, and as I enter the room I see he is on his own.

  “Hey, baby,” I whisper, kneeling to pat his back, still keeping aware of who else may be near. “Shh, Mama will be right back, okay?” I give him a good rub, relieved he is safe on his own with full dishes of water and food beside him, before closing the door behind me as I head back down the hall to seek out Cain.

  “Agent David,” Captain Delaney says, approaching me with another officer. His voice is firm but quiet, so only I can hear his words. “It might be best if you step outside.”

  “No, Captain. If he killed my father, and lied to my face the whole time, I will not sit quietly and wait outside. This is my time now. This is my time to prove I am my father’s daughter,” I say, seeing the captain understands my determination.

  “I respect that,” he whispers. “Just watch your back, Agent. We are here with you.”

  I nod, acknowledging thanks to the squad, then head down the hallway leading back to the nave of the church.

  When we first came in, marching up the middle aisle surrounded by rows of pews, it occurred to me Cain could be watching us, as Judas did at the other scenes. There has to be somewhere, someplace, this man has found sanctuary, and I aim to find him. My family’s safety depends on it.

  Armed officers search hallways and prayer rooms, determined to seek out the man who may have the only first-person account of what happened to my father the day he died. As I watch their precise movements, it occurs to me there may be one unique place Cain has found solace.

  My hand alerts a few officers, and Severo also sees my wave in the direction of the altar. Stepping into the room behind the focal point of my uncle’s church, we move cautiously toward the entryway to the catacomb.

  Uncle Simon taught me of the ancient burial room, hidden underground, where bodies of the church’s original founders lie at rest, forever paying respect for their development of this place of worship. As I lead the way to this sacred and private area, the squad following, I see a shadow dart past the far wall and out to a hallway.

  “Cain, you bastard!” I yell, but my nose picks up a familiar and disturbing smell. The Captain, Severo and fellow officers rush to track the burning scent as I chase after the man who owes me one hell of an explanation.

  “They’re down here!” Severo yells to me, letting me know he has found my uncle, grandmother and Denise.

  “Are they hurt?” I ask, desperate to hear a favorable response. My gut wrenches at the possibility….

  The detective’s coughing alarms me, but I am placated when I hear his follow-up. “They’re fine, they’re all okay.”

  Officers beat at the growing flames, and though I am pained to see some of my uncle’s church begin to melt at the hands of Cain, it is that man I choose to focus my attention on.

  Knowing my family is safe, out of harm’s way and being attended to by the detective, I run through the hallway behind the catacomb entranceway, desperate to find Cain and settle this score once and for all.

  Chapter 19

  My blood heats as I run through the back door, exiting to the churchyard and into the downpour of the night’s rainstorm. I spy Cain hopping in that old clunker of his, but to hell if he’s getting away so easy.

  Officers run behind me as I make my way to Severo’s Jeep. Sirens begin to wail, but I press my weight on the gas pedal as I screech off the wet grass and follow this murderer. His fleeing admits his guilt, and he will soon pay for his deceit.

  Trailing behind Cain’s aged sedan, I stay close to him, and when he turns left, I turn left. He pulls a right, I follow. From the silhouette in his car as he checks the rearview mirror, I know he sees me behind him. I wonder now if he realizes the extent of what he’s done.

  Regardless of what he has gotten away with in the past, there is no way he could possibly have believed he would get away with this today. With half the Fifth Precinct as witnesses to his actions, there is no way Cain will flee from anything, anymore.

  Racing through the streets toward the outskirts of Manhattan, I pull the seat belt over my chest with one arm, chasing after him as he makes a speedy transition onto the Brooklyn Bridge.

  My cell phone sounds and I answer quickly, wondering if he’s going to make a statement now to set his name free.

  “David,” I say, gripping the wheel with one hand.

  “Angie, it’s Carson. Where are you?”

  My voice is solid and determined, and my vision remains planted on the car in front of me. I can’t lose him.

  “Heading over the Brooklyn Bridge, but I can’t talk now, Severo.” I close my phone as I bypass some slow movers to catch up to Cain, who is weaving in and out of cars ahead of him, trying to lose me in the late night traffic.

  I press my foot on the gas, climbing the ramp to the bridge, with Cain a few cars ahead of me.

  Despite the reality of this situation, I cannot help feelin
g daft and confused. Cain was supposed to be my mentor. He was supposed to be the one person who would teach me the tricks of the trade, prepping me for getting into NCAVC. Well, he’s shown me a few tricks, all right. But right now, my only determination is nailing his ass for what he’s done to my family, both in the past and in the present.

  I lay on the horn as I follow him onto the Brooklyn Queens Expressway, looping the outskirts of Cadman Plaza. There are too many cars to get a leg up on him.

  Now that we’re trailing the border of Brooklyn Heights, I realize Cain knows this area like his own soul. It’s home-advantage territory for him, with his bachelor pad somewhere in this vicinity. Hell if I’ll let that small detail slow me.

  To my right, the Statue of Liberty is lit up in full glory, as the vision of Liberty Island set amid the Upper New York Bay is clear from this expressway. It’s a sign of freedom and honor, and I plan on upholding my commitment to these things by making Cain pay for his crimes.

  With one hand reaching down my side, I let the safety off my handgun, preparing in advance for the worst. My head is throbbing, just thinking about this. But there is no other possible explanation.

  Jude Barnaby killed those four men, and was all too eager to keep up his pace, there is no doubt about that. But his explanation as to why he chose to murder those men in the manner he did—to lead me to the truth about my father’s death—is too fantastical to make up.

  Why would he? Why would Judas bother fabricating that story? It would only put him in further distress with the law, and something tells me Judas is tired of being dealt a poor hand from the powers that be.

  I take no pity on that killer. But Judas claimed both he and I were betrayed by the same man, and if this is how he had to make it clear to me, I can at least be thankful for knowing the truth. A truth I had no idea to seek.

  We pass over Cowanus Canal, then head eastbound to the Belt Parkway, skimming the island shore, and Cain drives steadily, keeping one at a distance. There has to be a way to close the gap and lose the cars between us. With darkness upon us and the rain not at all letting up, it’ll be too easy to lose sight of my prey. The piercing lights towering over the expressway send periodic flashes, interrupting my vision.

  I extend my fingers to the middle console, fumbling for the appropriate control to set off Severo’s rooftop siren. It takes a second to figure out how to awaken both the sound and the flashing lights, and I want to kick myself for not noticing before.

  With this vehicular ammunition on my side now, cars slow to the shoulder, leaving me an open trail behind Cain. I gain momentum on him as he darts along, passing Fort Hamilton. As we sail over the edge of Dreier Offerman Park, Cain swerves off on Exit 6 heading to Coney Island, and I have to cross several lanes to make the merge myself.

  He soon takes a left onto the Shore Parkway and I swerve in his tracks, the Jeep absorbing the shocks as I hit hard against the road beneath me. I follow along as he slams through to Bay 52nd Street. We’re in the land of historical lighthouses, tourist beaches and a world-famous amusement zone. From this entry point, we could be heading anywhere. He’s not slowing down for anything and there’s only one way to put a stop to this.

  As he takes a right on Cropsey Avenue, crossing over to Coney Island, I angle my left arm out the window, aiming my gun at his tires.

  Checking briefly into my rearview mirror, I see the numerous squad cars following behind. But with no one in front, I lean out the window in an uncomfortable pose, take aim and fire.

  My shots don’t appear to hit Cain’s car. I try again as our vehicles approach an intersection, this time striking his rear fender as he slows to take the corner.

  He speeds into the left turn, and I hit the gas, not slowing for the curve. The Jeep screeches along, tires clinging to the road, mud spewing up behind. I lean out and aim again at Cain’s car, hoping this shot is a success.

  He slides into the north side of the Coney Island Complex of the NYC Transit, his car slowing in gaseous fumes, but I’m not stopping. When he exits the car and starts out on foot, I continue my chase from within the vehicle, barreling over muddy bumps in the landscape, battling my way into the transit yard, breaking through a flimsy fence.

  When my vision picks up the rugged collection of silent train tracks and their protruding mile gauges, I slam on my brakes and take a sharp left, aiming to miss their metal bite.

  As the Jeep slides into a dip, though, I feel a heavy drop in the car, and as the driver’s-side air bag forcefully punches into my chest, I know it’s not a clear landing. The tires have been punctured.

  Recovering from the blow, I keep my sights on Cain as I rush out after him, into the stormy night, carrying only my weapon with me.

  “Cain, you bastard! You can’t run from me!”

  As I leap over several metal rails, sprinting after him, he has little reaction.

  He’s heading south now, and his voice is trailing in the wintery wind, almost lost beneath the noisy commotion of aboveground trains in the distance. “It didn’t have to be this way, kiddo.”

  “You son of a bitch!” My voice is raspy from the pounding chase. Though I can hear sirens wailing in the background, closing in, I keep my bloodlust for Cain focused and straight.

  This wasn’t the ending I had imagined. Through my panting breath, I think back on when I arrived in the city just last week, back to my native ground, with the high hopes of someday working my way to the top of the NCAVC intake pile.

  I had determination to find out what it takes to work in the field. This? This was not what I had in mind. But there’s only one way to turn the tables in my direction.

  I lift the Bauer .25 into my sight line, and when I see Cain running to the east side of the yard’s command center, just a hundred feet in front of me, I stop, focus on my target and shoot with tenacity.

  He stumbles along, and I know I hit something, but I can’t tell what, or if it was even one of his limbs. I pick up the pace again and run after him, though he has taken to hiding behind an abandoned grounds building.

  Beating after him, I try to estimate which direction he’ll come from, but when I do see him pop out a bit to the side, he takes a shot at me and misses.

  “You can’t mess with an old pro, kiddo!”

  “Then get your ass out here, Cain. I’m not done with you!” I sneak to the opposite side of the building, keeping my breath low and steady as I anticipate his movements.

  “I gotta hand it to ya, kiddo. I picked you ’cause you were the best. Second best, that is.”

  I don’t want to play this game. I just want to get Cain and put his words to rest. I’m tired of his useless commentary.

  Maybe I’m not ready for profiling. If I couldn’t pick up on Cain’s reality while working side by side with him, how the hell will I ever understand the mind of a killer?

  “The best, of course, being your father.”

  I slide along the exterior of the building, and Cain is waiting for me, so I take aim and shoot, but my bullet spins into the night air.

  “When I saw your name in the files, I knew I had to work with you. If you were anything like your dear old dad was, I knew you’d be a fighter.”

  “Why didn’t you just kill me, Cain? If you wanted to make sure I didn’t find out the truth about all this, why did you have to drag it out and let innocent people die!”

  “Innocent?” Cain’s throaty chuckle interrupts his speech for only a moment. “Oh, kiddo, have I taught you nothing? And damned if I knew Judas was going to get all fancy like that,” he shouts. I listen to his words as he tries to explain his inexcusable actions.

  “Sure, I knew Judas was fresh out on the streets again. Me, I just wanted to keep an eye on you. As a reminder of what your father was like, that nosy son of a bitch. But when we came onto that first body—that Killarney fellow—I knew I was in for a fight. It became obvious to me right then and there I’d have to play it cool, watch my ass and go through the motions. I had no idea it would go
this far, but it’s been a good lesson for you, hasn’t it? Didn’t you learn a thing or two along the way?”

  My beating heart is the only sound I can hear other than Cain’s diatribe. I slide along the wall, taking a different approach to nabbing my former mentor.

  My curiosity is intensifying, though. I can’t understand how Cain could ever think he would get away with this. “So why not just kill Judas? Get it over with?”

  He carries on in a piercing chuckle, amused by my interest. “I would have, but I couldn’t be raising any red flags, you know. I was just hoping we would find him, and put a bullet through his heart before he had a chance to open his mouth. Just hoped for the best, kiddo.”

  More sirens wail into the area, and I hear muffled sounds of officers trekking through the train yard, though I know I can’t wait for their help. This is my deal. This is when everything my father taught me has to come into play.

  “Too bad it has to end like this. Like with your father. Good guy, mind you, but he was too righteous for his own welfare. You know I offered him a take on the dough, but he wouldn’t budge?”

  The words sink into my heart and I can’t help but hurt for my father. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die. Especially not at the hands of slime like Cain.

  “Not that I could afford to share any of it, mind you. I got me an ex-wife who lives like friggin’ royalty with that new guy of hers, and two kids in private school. I don’t get paid enough to cover all that, even with Jude’s contributions. But I was willing to share it with your father if he’d keep his mouth shut. That’s how much I cared.”

  I think of Cain’s family, and wonder how much of his lifestyle his wife knew about. Maybe that’s the real reason she left him. Maybe she knew he was benefiting from someone else’s crimes. Regardless, I have no soft spot left for him.