On the left wall was a bulletin board, a monument to Knapp’s work. The bulletin board was filled with news clippings, pictures, maps, and diagrams. It wasn’t too different from the bulletin board they had in the detail conference room. In a disjointed way, it told the story of what Knapp had been doing for the last couple of months. It was altogether creepy and fascinating at the same time.
Mac started from the left, was a third of the way down, passively looking at the clippings, when Lich came up to him. “Weird, huh?”
“Yeah. Creepy. It’s as if in his own warped mind, he was creating his masterpiece or something.”
“FBI profile said the guy might keep some sort of journal,” Patrick added. “This qualifies.”
“I’d say so,” Lich replied.
They stood in silence for a few moments, gazing at the wall.
“There’s a piece missing here,” Patrick said.
“Missing?” Mac asked.
“Yeah, nothing about Jamie Jones.”
Mac checked his memory, that was one of the victim’s names wasn’t it? “Jones… yeah… which… one was she?”
Patrick gave Mac a stern look.
“Hey, Dan, the day Dick and I got on the case, we had the seventh one. I didn’t even have a chance to go through all the files. Never really did because we got on Knapp so quick.”
Patrick nodded, remembering the sequence of events.
“Tell me about Jones,” Mac asked.
“She was the fifth victim. Killed on Halloween.”
“Oh, I remember,” Mac replied. “That was the day we picked up the Daniels case. So, what was her story?”
“She was the CFO at some local company.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. We found her by the Capitol. Just like all the others, though. Vacant lot behind O’Neill’s Bar. Balloon tied to her. Sexually assaulted. There was Trojan rubber residue. The whole nine yards.”
“Copycat?” Mac asked.
“We kind of wondered about that, but the killing was identical. You can look at the file on it. It had all the characteristics of Knapp’s work. It’s the same in all the details.”
“Everything?” Lich asked.
“Everything,” Patrick replied.
“Then why nothing on Jones?” Mac asked.
“I guess we’ll have to ask Knapp.” Patrick replied.
Riles pushed Knapp’s head down and eased him into the back of a Crown Victoria and then joined him in back. Rock was in the front passenger seat, sitting next to Frank Franklin, another member of the detail along for a little limelight. It would be a short five-minute drive over to the courthouse.
Rock, never one to allow for a quiet ride, asked Knapp, “Get yourself a lawyer yet?”
“Yeah. Legal aid.”
“Thought you weren’t going to put up with one of those?”
“Don’t expect I’ll have to for long. But you all are trying to get plenty of publicity on this, so I don’t have much of a choice right now.”
Bouchard’s radio crackled with Hansen’s voice. “They just pulled out. Right on time. They’re going south on St. Peter.”
“Copy that,” Bouchard replied, then to Hagen, “Do it.”
Hagen was sitting at the desk with two laptops. The laptops had the security cameras of the second and third levels of the Vincent Ramp. A key stroke caused an almost imperceptive blip on the cameras on the left laptop, while the right remained constant. A minute later, Viper appeared on the right laptop, making his way to the southwest corner of the third level of the ramp. The left laptop, which the ramp security cameras were currently seeing and recording, showed the same location without Viper.
Viper moved into position and kneeled down between two mini-vans. The vans, parked in the last two spots on the southeast corner of the parking ramp, provided him cover from anyone driving through the ramp. His position was kitty corner from the front of the courthouse. He had a good field of fire, with an excellent view of the sidewalk area and the forty-foot walk to the front doors of the courthouse.
He took one last look out over the street and to the sidewalk in front of the courthouse. A crowd was gathering, waiting for the arrival of the University Avenue Strangler and his arraignment. All of the local television stations were there, reporters making a last check of their hair, and cameramen doing the same with their equipment. All were kept away by a police barricade, creating a fifteen-foot wide walkway into the courthouse.
He kneeled down and opened his case, which was designed to look like one for a laptop. Inside was his sniper rifle, which he quickly assembled, the last pieces being the silencer and the scope. Three bullets were slid in, two in the magazine and one in the chamber. He locked it in. He slipped a black mask down over his face, which matched his black coat, pants, and thin black gloves. His earpiece came to life.
“They’re two blocks out.”
“Copy that,” he replied. He peered just over the edge, and a minute later saw the parade approach in the form of two unmarked Crown Victoria’s.
“Cripes, what a crowd,” Rock stated, noticing all of the media and people in front of the courthouse.
“Lots of hair spray and makeup,” Riles replied. “Make sure to smile for the camera as we walk in. Let the media see that big gap in your teeth.” An evil grin spread across Riles’s face.
“Keep it up, and I’ll give you one to match,” Rock retorted.
Laughing, Riles got out of the back left of the car, and Rock exited the front passenger side, opening the rear door. Riles leaned into the car and helped lift Knapp up out of the car and onto his feet. “We’re just going to head right on in,” he said to Knapp, who simply nodded.
“Let’s go.” Rock lightly grabbed the back of Knapp’s left arm and Riles had the right.
Lich called down to them. “Hey, guys, come on up. They got it on TV. Riles and Rock are about to walk Knapp into court.”
Mac, Patrick, and several others gathered around the TV in Knapp’s living room.
“Lot’s of media,” Lich remarked.
“Just in time for the noon news,” Mac replied. “The whole town’ll be able to see this.”
Viper had them in the scope as they lifted Knapp out of the backseat. He wanted them a little more to his left for a slightly better firing angle.
He looked through the scope with his right eye, his finger on the trigger. “Don’t hit the black cop,” he said to himself, training the crosshairs on Knapp. They were moving now, away from the car, the black cop on his left arm, Riley on the right. Forty-feet to the courthouse. As they moved towards the courthouse, the firing angle improved, Knapp’s head was no longer obscured. The assassin exhaled and squeezed the trigger.
Riles felt something hit the back of his head, moist, he reached with his right hand and felt it. Bringing it around to his eyes it was red, and Knapp was suddenly heavy in his left arm. He looked at Knapp, slumped over now, a large red hole where the back of his head used to be. Riley realized his left side was covered in blood.
People saw it now, the blood, Knapp down. Panic set in as bystanders started screaming, running or hitting the ground.
“Where did it come from?” Riley heard Rock yell, looking back and to the east.
People were pointing in all different directions, at the various buildings and parking ramps in the area. Chaos broke out as uniforms ran up to Riley checking on him. Others had weapons drawn, scanning the area for the shooter. Riles heard another uniform yelling into a radio for backup.
“Pat, you hit?”
Riles was unresponsive.
“Are you hit?” Rock asked again, grabbing Riles on the left arm.
Riles, getting his head together, “N… n… no. I think it’s just Knapp’s blood.” He was coated in it.