CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The man sat in his car outside the jail, wishing he could go in.
The Twin Towers Correctional Facility in downtown Los Angeles was where Dallas Henry was being held while awaiting trial for the attempted murders of both Hannah Dorsey and Finn Anderton.
The man in the car felt bad for Dallas. He’d read up on the kid and was impressed with his ingenuity.
Over several years, the young man had attended a community college, where he earned straight As, and then transferred to UC Irvine, a highly competitive university.
It was all part of an elaborate plan to go to the same school as Hannah Dorsey, ingratiate himself with her, and win her trust, all before taking her to a secluded wilderness location where he would torture and kill her. The kid had moxie.
Unfortunately, unlike the man in the car, Dallas was a novice.
He’d tried to be careful, but he’d used a phrase in his admiring letter to incarcerated killer Mark Haddonfield that inadvertently made him stand out.
He’d referenced himself as being the “tip of the spear” in avenging Haddonfield and making righteous war on the man-hating shrews responsible for ruining the country.
The man in the car had learned that the LAPD's HSS unit had tracked down Dallas’s identity using the phrase as a starting point.
They’d almost been too late to stop him.
From what the man in the car had uncovered, given another ten minutes or so, Dallas would have reached Hannah Dorsey and taught her the lesson she so richly deserved.
But it hadn’t worked out. And now Dallas was behind bars. The man in the car desperately wanted to visit him, to let him know that his efforts were appreciated and were not in vain. That someone else was picking up the baton and would carry it over the finish line.
But he couldn’t. If he entered the jail, he’d be seen on the security cameras.
And if he asked to speak to Dallas, the staff would raise alarm bells.
Jail officials would make HSS aware of his visit, and they’d quickly identify him.
It wouldn’t be hard. He was well-known enough that they wouldn’t even need to use facial recognition to ID him.
Of course, that couldn’t happen. As a result, he couldn’t risk visiting the kid, no matter how much he wanted to buck him up, no matter how much he wanted to tell him that their great shared work would soon be completed.
Dallas Henry would have to learn of the glorious comeuppance like everyone else when he saw it on the news.
The man in the car turned away from the jail and focused his attention on the other direction, where Central Station was located. That’s where the prize was. That’s where he had to keep his eyes. Jessie Hunt worked in that building.
He knew that despite the security of the station, he’d be able to access it and her. His prominence allowed him entry. He’d laid the groundwork to make his presence acceptable. No one would look askance at him.
The issue wasn’t getting in. It was getting the job done.
Jessie Hunt was no dummy, and she was no slouch, despite the weakness of her gender.
And she would have wrong-headed supporters all around her, ready to defend her with their lives.
He would need to act brutally and decisively when the time came.
But that time had not yet arrived. More preparations were needed. He was anxious to mete out justice but had to remember that patience was his friend right now. It had served him well so far.
So for the time being, he contented himself with eating his lunchtime sandwich and imagining which of Jessie Hunt’s bones he would break first, which section of flesh would succumb to his initial slice.
As he pondered, he took a bite of the sandwich. Like the pain he would inflict on Jessie Hunt, it was delicious.