Chapter 38
"Tango One, this is Valor Flight Ops. Fugitive is in custody. She is stable but is suffering a compound fracture of the tibia. She is hypotensive and dehydrated. Fetal vital signs are good. We recommend MEDEVAC via Jayhawk. Will transfer custody at the trauma center in Coconut Key.”
"Appreciate the update," our pilot said. “We’ll RTB and take custody of the fugitive ashore. Thanks for the assistance.”
"Anytime."
The pilot spun us around and headed us back to base.
We touched down on the helipad at the sheriff’s office 45 minutes later. We disembarked under the swirling rotors and hurried inside. Daniels sent a deputy to the hospital to stand watch over the fugitive when she was out of surgery. In her current condition, she was not a flight risk anymore.
Denise found us. "I’ve got something you’ll want to take a look at." She showed me a print out of a screen capture. "I found that in a group on social media."
I took the print-out and examined it. Evan Driscoll had commented in a thread about the zoo break-in. Several in the thread had referred to it as Operation Liberation.
"I don't know about you, but that sounds like he's taking responsibility,” she said.
I read the comment aloud. “We liberated them once. We’ll do it again. No peace until all are free!”
It wasn't enough for a warrant, but it certainly merited a knock and talk.
“That’s the best lead we’ve got so far,” Jack said.
“I want to take a look at the security footage again,” I said.
We followed Denise to her desk and huddled around with the sheriff as she pulled up the footage. We watched the chaos unfold as perps stormed the grounds wearing all black, no logos, with latex animal masks covering their faces.
A bolt cutter sliced through a padlock on a security gate to kick things off. I’d seen the clip before.
The team of agitators flooded in. Some were tall, some were skinny, some were not so skinny—a mix of male and female troublemakers. The bolt cutter was a typical long lever with red steel handles.
I scrubbed back through the timeline to the snip.
There was a sticker on the handle near the head—yellow with black lettering.
The footage was high def, but it was dark and a little grainy.
It held up reasonably well under magnification.
The sticker had been damaged, torn halfway off.
I don’t know how I missed it on my first viewing.
Then again, I had only watched clips on my phone.
The woman who used the bolt cutters wore a wolf mask, of all things. Her brunette hair fell to her collar, poking out beyond the edge of the mask. It wasn’t much, but it was something to go on.
We were cutting it close timewise, but I figured we could squeeze in a visit to Evan before we had to get to sound check.
"Is this Evan’s address," I said, pointing to the handwriting on the page.
Denise nodded.
"You've outdone yourself."
She beamed with pride. "I'll have you know, I've been sifting through comments and forums and message boards for the last few days, looking for something. Anything.” She sighed. “Please nail this guy.”
"We’re going to get more than just this guy. We’re going to get everybody responsible," I replied with a grin.
"They put lives at risk," the sheriff said.
Brenda hadn’t found any evidence to suggest any of the escaped animals attacked anyone on the island. But that didn’t get them off the hook for the breaking and entering, trespassing, reckless endangerment, and a host of other crimes.
Denise pulled up Evan’s full background. He had a pretty clean history—a few moving violations, a few parking tickets, but nothing criminal. He lived in the same apartment complex that Oren did and was a political science major at Vanden.
I figured we'd kill two birds with one stone while we were there.
We left the station and drove to the apartment complex. Jack parked at the curb, and we caught the pedestrian gate as someone exited. I grabbed it before it snapped shut. We hurried through the grounds to building A303. I put a heavy fist against the door.
Music inside filtered out. It sounded like somebody was home.
Nobody answered, so I knocked again, even louder.
Somebody turned down the music, and footsteps shuffled toward the door. "What do you want?"
"Are you Evan?"
"Who's asking?”
I flashed my badge to the peephole. "Coconut County.”
"What do you want?”
“Open the door. We need to talk to you.”
"I ain't saying shit to you. What's this about?"
"Open the door, and I'll tell you.”
"Quit playing games, and tell me now. What do you want?”
This is where I stretched the truth a bit.
"We've already talked to some of your co-conspirators. We know everything. They've named names. Yours is on that list, along with other evidence we’ve acquired. This is your opportunity to save your ass. If I were you, I'd take it. You’re looking at a host of charges that will put you in jail for a long time and disrupt your academic career. You’re only going to get this opportunity once.”
Evan was silent for a long moment.
"Open the door, and tell me everyone who was involved in the break-in at the zoo. Like I said, we know all about Operation Liberation.”
He hesitated for another moment. "If you knew everything about Operation Liberation you’d be breaking down the door right now with a warrant. But since you aren’t, I'm going to say you don't have one, and you don't know shit.”
"So, you’re confirming Operation Liberation exists?”
Evan said nothing.
“You put people’s lives at risk.”
"I don't know what you're talking about, man. I didn’t put nobody at risk. I didn't do nothing.”
"Care to explain why you wrote, ‘We liberated them once, we’ll do it again. No peace until all are free.’"
"That doesn't prove shit. I was just saying that to impress some dumb chick."
"I'm sure when you're sitting in a jail cell, it will be very impressive."
"Why are you still here? I told you I'm not talking to you. I want you to leave. You’re trespassing.”
I laughed. "That's rich. We'll see who's trespassing." I dug a card from my pocket and stuffed it in the weatherstripping of the door. "Call me if you want to talk. But you better do it quick. You don't want to be the odd man out.”
We left, plunged down the switchback staircase, then made our way to Oren’s apartment. I knocked several times, but he didn't answer.
We gave it a few minutes, then headed to the parking garage. We looked at Oren’s assigned space, but his car wasn't there.
Dr. Parker buzzed my phone. We were such frequent flyers over there I had Parker’s personal cell phone number.
He was good about giving me a heads up when possible.
“Your suspect is prepped and ready for surgery. She’s stable, coherent, and lightly medicated.
If you need to talk to her, you’ve got a little window for some brief questions. Maybe 15 or 20 minutes.”
We had a little time to spare. “We’re on our way.”
JD and I left the parking garage and jogged across the complex to the Porsche. We zipped to the hospital.
The waiting room was full of the battered and bruised.
It was a crazy time, and the ER was packed with the influx of revelers for Halloween.
The full moon hadn’t hurt business. There were plenty of sniffles and coughs, elderly types sucking on oxygen, and guys with too much testosterone who’d gotten broken noses from bar fights.
The receptionist told me where I could find Carolyn.
With a flash of the badge, we passed the security guard and pushed through the double doors. We navigated the antiseptic hallways as nurses scurried about. Moans and groans from patient rooms seeped into the hallway. The overhead fluorescents cast their sickly glow.
We found Carolyn’s room and stepped inside.
She looked like she’d been through the wringer.
With tousled hair and a sunken face, she looked as bad as her battered sailboat.
The pale green gown wasn’t doing her any favors.
A monitor by the bed displayed the peaks and valleys of her heartbeat.
A bag of IV fluids dripped into her arm.
“I’m glad you’re still alive,” I said, flashing my badge.
Carolyn scoffed. “I think I’d rather be dead.”
“Careful. You might get your wish. Florida is a capital punishment state.”
She groaned.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, you’re under arrest for the murder of your sister, Hannah Quinn. You have the right to remain silent…”
Her eyes welled with tears. “I didn’t mean to do it. The knife was there on the counter. Then it was in my hands. Then she was dead.” Carolyn sobbed.
“You stabbed her 27 times and smashed a pumpkin over her head.”
She continued sobbing. “It’s all a blur.”
I didn’t buy the sob story. “You brought a change of clothes. You planned this.”
“She was going to tell my husband about the affair.”
“Don’t you think he would have figured it out eventually? It’s Grant’s child, isn’t it?”
“She cut me out of the will. That bitch forged the signatures. Everything!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Hannah always got away with everything. She always got whatever she wanted.”
“Did you get what you wanted?” I taunted.
“This was Grant’s idea,” she said, still sobbing. “He said it would solve both our problems.”
“Can you prove that? Do you have a text? An email?”
“No. It was just something he said. On more than one occasion. He was always encouraging me.”
Without hard evidence, Grant would likely walk.
“This little stunt you pulled put the life of your unborn child at risk.”
She sobbed more. “What’s going to happen to my child?”
A few nurses arrived.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. It’s time.”
We stepped aside and watched as they wheeled her out of the room to the OR.
“What’s going to happen to my child?” she asked again, her voice echoing down the hallway.
Jack frowned and shook his head. “Breaks my heart. That kid’s gonna grow up not really knowing his mother.”
“Sad. She ruined a lot of lives, including her own.”
“You buy the bit about Grant?”
“She’ll say anything right now. But it wouldn’t surprise me.”
We left the hospital and sped up to Oyster Avenue to meet the guys for soundcheck.
“You guys are late,” Crash said when we arrived. “We were beginning to think something happened to you.”
“We’re right on time,” JD said, feigning confusion.
Crash shook his head as the band rushed on stage and took their places. Floyd and Pinky had loaded all the gear on stage and set everything up. All the guys had to do was play.
Styxx clicked off the beat, and the guys broke into Bulletproof Love.
It wasn't long before a crowd had gathered to get a sneak peek of the upcoming show.
They played bits of a few songs. Satisfied that everything sounded good, the band came off stage.
Everybody was feeling pretty amped about the event.
It looked like the weather was going to hold, even though another storm in the Atlantic was headed our way.
We were getting hit with a late-season barrage.
At the moment, this one was just a tropical depression.
Jack treated the guys to dinner at the Bluewater Bistro. We filled our bellies, then pregamed at Red November. We had a few drinks and mixed and mingled.
By 8:00 PM the avenue was packed with revelers in all manner of costumes. Ghosts and goblins, headless people, aliens, and your favorite character from movies and TV.
Music spilled into the street, making a collage of sound. The smell of grilled food wafted.
We bounced around for a little bit on the avenue, taking in the sights and sounds, then made our way to the stage a little after 9:00 PM.
Security guards escorted us backstage, and we had a brief huddle in the makeshift green room.
Dizzy noodled on his guitar, warming up.
Styxx banged on anything in sight with his drumsticks.
At 9:30 PM, I took the stage and introduced the band. "Please welcome the mighty Wild Fury!”
The crowd went wild, howling and cheering. The deafening screams pierced the air.
Dizzy struck a power cord that rumbled the earth.
The band rushed on stage and took their positions.
Jack belted into the microphone, and the crowd screamed even louder.
"Are you ready to rock 'n' roll?"
More screams.
The band broke into Vampires and Vixens.
I stood stage-left and watched as they cranked out their brand of party rock, saturating the audience with 120 decibels of ear-splitting mania.
Wild Fury pummeled the revelers with sonic bliss for almost two hours. They came off the stage, drenched in sweat and on a euphoric high. There were high-fives all around and plenty of groupies waiting for the band.
In the deafening rumble of the show, I had missed a call from Taryn.
I listened to her voicemail and turned the volume up so I could hear over the noise of the crowd. They still cheered for more of the Fury.
Her message was disturbing.