Blue Justice - Thomas Anthony - Страница 26

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I had to respond fast.  We didn’t want to leave and let this guy know the cops were on to him.

“Oh, ya’ll are from that crazy hospital huh,” he asked.

“Yes, that’s where we are from.”

The boy was quiet for a few seconds

“Well he ain’t here because his car ain’t here.  He might be down at Six Flags.  He hangs out down there sometimes.”

“Okay, thank you,” said Margaret, rushing me off the porch.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said.  I then turned around to Margaret who was walking fast to her car.

“What is the rush?”  I asked trying to catch up.

“Get in,” Margaret almost seemed to be in panic.  “We have to go-- Now!”

“Six Flags is near the exit where our victim Ms. Bishop was killed.”

“Son of a bitch!”  I said aloud before I knew it.

Margaret hit the gas and the sedan rose up in the front.  I put on my seatbelt as the speedometer got up to 80.

She turned on her lights and siren.  In the traffic, it would have normally taken 30 minutes or more to get to Six Flags.  We got there in 10 minutes.

She turned off the lights and siren when we got to the exit.  We slowly pulled into the park and pulled up to the locked gate.  She turned the car off and we exited the car and gently pushed the doors closed.

I pulled out my .45 and Margaret pulled out her weapon.  We walked up to the gate.  We heard noise behind us.  A woman screaming.  We ran in the direction of the screams.  The woods were dark.  Margaret stayed close behind me.  I turned on the light on my muzzle.  The screams were getting louder.

I saw the woman fighting for her life.  Kicking and wailing her fists.  The tall man was on top of her with his hands around her throat.

“POLICE!!!  FREEZE!!”

He looked up in my direction, got off the woman, and ran.  I ran after him.

“Stay with the woman,” I yelled back at Margaret.

“Okay,” she responded.

I kept my light on his back.  Thought about shooting him but I had no clear shot and I didn’t want this bastard getting away if I missed.

We must have run about 200 hundred yards through the thick trees before he got tired enough for me to rush him.  I dived at his legs and tackled him to the ground like I did guys when I played football in high school.  My gun slipped out of my hand.  I saw the light but I didn’t have time to grab it.

This guy was strong.  I expected that, but I didn’t like it.  He started kicking at me but I had a death grip on him.  I finally got to where I was on top and I straddled myself over him.  He grabbed me around my neck with one of his huge hands and reached in his pocket.  He brought out a knife.

I grabbed his hand with the knife and used the pressure point to make him drop it.  Lord help me.  I was thinking about those women.  I was thinking about Charlotte.  I grabbed the knife, wrapped my fist around the handle, and came down into his shoulder.

His scream was deafening.  I pulled the knife out and came down again in the same shoulder.  He screamed again.  I pulled the knife out again and pushed myself off him.  I looked back at the light on my gun and went and picked it up.

“Don’t you move, you sick bastard, or I will blow your head completely off your body.”

I ordered him to roll over on his stomach.  I reached in my back pocket for my cuffs.

“Put your hands behind your back,” I ordered.

Once I got him to comply, I straddled him and with my knees, I kept his arms locked behind him until I could get the cuffs on.  He screamed in pain again.  I didn’t care.  I had caught this bastard.  I got him up and ordered him to walk.

Sirens were getting close and I could see the emergency lights through the trees.  I pushed him with my gun-free hand into the direction of the lights.

“Are you okay, Jared?” asked Margaret, “I heard screaming.”

“I’m fine, it was him.”  I gave her the bloody knife.  Two patrol officers placed the bleeding Money Jennings also known as ‘The Ripper’ in the back of their patrol car.

“How about the woman, is she ok?”

“Yes she is fine, just a little--well a whole lot-- shook up, but we got here in time.”

Chapter 7

After I called Charlotte and told her we caught the guy, I crashed in the bed.  I felt my spirit leave my tired body for a few hours, sleeping so hard I couldn’t remember my dreams.  The next morning, I packed our things and walked out to my car.  Margaret was standing by it wearing sunglasses and a smile on her face.

“I hope you didn’t mind the FBI using your name in the press to help solve this case.”

“I saw it on the news as I was packing.  No, I don’t mind.  I am ready to get back home to my wife.”

“He confessed last night to the murder of ten women.  Of course we intend to match DNA with each one, but we got him.”

I nodded.  “Did he say why he murdered all those women?”

“As it turned out, each one of those women had one thing in common.  They all worked at the mental hospital with him.”

“So my guess is he killed them because they didn’t find him attractive right?”

“Well that was the biggest of it.”  I waited for her to finish the rest.

“He said he read about how black women were murdered in 1911 in what was known as the Atlanta Ripper Murders and he wanted to bring fear to all the black women again.  He says he felt the power it gave him after he killed them.”

“So did he say how he knew about us at this hotel?”

“Yes, that was a big concern for me too,” she said.  “He said he actually saw you two walking one day from the hotel and remembered you from that night.  He asked one of the maids in the hotel if they knew what room you stayed in because he had an important message for you.  He wouldn’t give us her name or description, but I have agents looking into it now.”

We heard some noise behind us near the front doors.  One of the maids was cussing as she was being escorted out of the hotel, apparently rougher than she would have liked.

“I assume that is her.”

Margaret smiled and nodded.  “We believe she may be a relative—perhaps a sister.”

“Well I guess this is goodbye,” I said, extending my hand.

“Yes, I guess it is; goodbye, Jared and thanks again.”

“You are welcome.  Goodbye.”

I got in my car and drove out of the parking deck.  When I got near mile-marker 51, I couldn’t help but glance over at the spot where I met Beatrice Bishop and Lenora Wells.  Two women who fell victim to a psycho.

I figured the next time Charlotte and I decide to go somewhere, it was going to be a cabin in Gatlinburg.  Maybe, just maybe, we won’t the job won’t follow me there.  I turned on the radio.  I could already pick up Birmingham.  The R&B radio station came in strong.  I got into the groove of the music as I drove back to Tuscaloosa.

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