Great Deception: Detective Cole Sullivan Returns

Bernier

Chapter 1

Sullivan's eyes were closed, feet on the desk and he was grateful for a few quiet moments. Digging his phone out of his shirt pocket he listened to a message that just came through.

It's time to put your detecting skills to a real test. You have been involved in solving three serial killing sprees as of late. You will soon see, they are child's play compared to the challenge I am about to pose. Be on guard and watch the family. We shall meet again... soon.

Sullivan slowly planted his feet on the floor and leaned back as far as his swivel chair would allow. He listened to the message again. Turning his head, he watched the snow begin to build on the sill of the window. The forecast was calling for a foot of new snow or more by morning. Normally, he would be concerned about getting home to his small family, but this message crowded out those thoughts. He could feel his body slump as he considered facing another madman on the loose and worst of all a concern for his family's safety...AGAIN. That family also consisted of the men and women he worked with.

Helen, Sullivan shouted, Contact the whole team and get them in here asap. And ask the local police to watch my family for the time being.

The weather may make that difficult.

I know, but like the mail, nothing shall keep us from our appointed tasks, or something like that. You know what I mean.

I'm on it boss.

Helen is Sullivan's second girl Friday. He married the first one, Ann. Helen is the epitome of efficiency. She anticipates his almost every need. Every morning his messages and memos are always laid out in order of importance and what has become a joke between them and a wonder to every one else, one sharpened pencil is positioned neatly beside them. After settling down in his chair, the first thing he does is flip the pencil into the air so that it will stick into the hung ceiling tile just over his head. Not all of them manage to stick, but there are at least two dozen that have. She once warned him that one day one would fall out and plant itself squarely in the middle of his slightly balding head. He only smiled, but cast a wary eye heavenward.

Before the team arrived, he called Ann to let her know he wouldn't be home until late and that there would be a police car out front. Ann accepted this news in stride. He then left the office to buy some bagels and donuts for the team. Wrapping his scarf around his neck and pulling his ball cap tightly on his head, he forced the door open and was greeted by a blast of cold air and wet snow. He had to lean into the wind and partially cover his face as he sloshed his way to the cruiser, thinking this was a mistake. It would only be more difficult later as the snow piled up, but he trudged on anyway. Once seated in the cruiser and the door closed, he had to search his pockets for the key and for a moment feared that he might have left it behind. Patting his chest, to check his top shirt pockets he breathed a sigh of relief. Reaching in after removing his gloves, he fumbled them into the ignition switch and turned the key.

There was a loud blast and pillar of fire that lifted the back of the car about five feet. Sullivan's face hit the steering wheel nearly breaking his nose. A few moments later, although stunned, Sullivan forced the door open and fell into the snow. A minute after that, Helen was bent over him. She was not wearing a jacket or hat, but did have on some warm boots that never left her feet at work. It was the cold draft along the floor she couldn't get used to.

I have called for help, she told Sullivan as he looked up at her trying to focus. She was holding a tissue on his nose trying to stop the bleeding.

Just then, his phone rang. Helen dug it out of his jacket pocket. Should I read it to you Cole?

He simply nodded.

She read: How did u like that? It could have been deadly, but I'd rather play for a while.

Helen looked at him with alarm and gently tucked the phone back into his pocket. Without another word, she lifted his head and put it on her lap. She began to shiver as the snow began to cover her head. The sirens were in the distance, but Ted was closer. Running up to the two of them, he tore his jacket off and wrapped it around Helen.

Let me take over Helen, he said. He then tucked a jacket, that had been handed him by one of the onlookers who had gathered and placed it under his head. Noticing that her hair was covered with wet snow and her face and clothes were getting wet, Helen, I need you to go back inside and get warm. The EMT's are almost here.

Helen looked at Ted with sorrowful eyes, Okay, but make sure you hold this tissue over his nose. She then looked down at Sullivan and heard him whisper, Thank You. She patted his face lightly and with a forced smile she rose slowly and shivered her way back across the parking lot slipping and nearly falling twice. Helen only admitted to being in her late forties, but was actually in her early fifties. She was fastidious in her appearance and work. Since taking over for Ann, Sullivan knew he would be at a loss without her.

A minute later the EMT's took over. Sullivan was taken to the hospital and it was left to Ted to call Ann with the bad news. This was not the first time Ann had received such a call, but this one was no easier than the others had been.

Sullivan grew up in southern Maine, about 75 miles south of where he now lay. Since he was just a kid, he always saw that part of the country as a small slice of paradise. It is where he knew he would someday settle in and enjoy his old age. He wanted to follow in his father's footsteps. It is a part of the state that lay thirty minutes from the Atlantic Ocean and about an hour from the Appalachian mountains. In between there were many lakes, both large and small that offered good fishing, which was a passion of his. He was in his early forties, physically fit with dark hair that was thinning slightly at the top. A light scar graced the left side of his face that Ann would often run her finger along when they were intimate. It seemed to add to his sex appeal. After they were married she had admitted that it was one of the things that she first noticed. It was part of the bad boy thing, she also admitted.

As Sullivan rode in the back of the Rescue van, he feared that he might not be there for his family and never make it to retirement. Over the past four years, since taking over the Homicide Investigation Unit headquartered in the state capital, Augusta, Maine, he had faced deadly situations many times and he and Ann had discussed several times the idea of resigning and starting some kind of small business. The dilemma, for both of them was the fact that he was good at what he did and knew that someone had to do the job of guarding the gates while people went about their daily lives. So here he was, once more, in the midst of another dangerous situation and knowing Ann would once more have to consider the possibility of going on alone to raise their son.

While laying there, he decided that this time he was going to move Ann and Adam out of the danger zone, maybe out of state. He knew the difficulty would be talking Ann into leaving for a while.

Chapter 2

The bomber had watched from a block away. He was hopeful that Sullivan had not been hurt seriously, for the bomb had been placed away from the gas tank and was designed just to lift the car off the ground. He was a little surprised that it blew with such force. It could have ignited the gas tank, but luckily for Sullivan, it hadn't. He realized he would have to adjust the explosive mix if there was a next time. With a smile, he pulled away from the curb and rubbernecked the scene along with everyone else who drove by. The next attack would happen soon. He knew his motive was weak, but it was enough.

Sullivan was just about to walk out of the hospital when Ann rushed up the sidewalk leading to the emergency entrance. He had a small bandage across the bridge of his nose and the area under both eyes was swollen and turning black and blue.

Grabbing him by the shoulders to hold him away, Ann looked up into his eyes, What the hell happened this time? She said slowly with controlled fear and anger.

He tried to pull her in for a hug, but she held him back. It was only a bomb, he said trying to put some levity into the situation.

I'm truly tired of these scares. This has to stop, Ann said and then wrapped her arms around him, but no tear escaped. To her own surprise, Ann was beginning to harden, but knew the harder she got the more brittle she would become.

Ann stood five foot three, had light brown hair that had a couple of gray strands showing and haunting hazel eyes that always trapped Sullivan. At this moment, for Sullivan, she seemed more like a scolding, caring mother. Only later when they were home alone would Ann become the sexy, intriguing woman that Cole prized above all things.

They had first met when she was hired to be Sullivan's administrative assistant as the Homicide Investigation Unit (HIU) was being established. There was an attraction for both almost immediately. It was during their first big case that they began to date not so secretly and it was after that that marriage bells rang. About nine months later their son Adam was born. She had faced some critical moments during those first couple years caused by his job and had not handled them well . To survive, she knew she must learn to deal with crisis that would inevitably come her way. That process truly took shape today when she heard and saw what happened to her husband. She swore to herself that she would never again be that whimpering woman. She had changed dramatically out of necessity. If she didn't she knew she would break and that she could not afford to do.

Breaking her embrace, Cole led her to the car. His two lead detectives, Andy and Ted were waiting for their marching orders. Did you find anything? Sullivan asked before following Ann into the back seat of the cruiser.

Nothing obvious. The crime scene crew is on it, we might know something tomorrow, but I'm not betting on it, Ted said once he climbed in behind the wheel.

Andy, sitting in the passenger seat, turned his head, Here we go again boss. This one looks awfully personal. Who did you piss off now? His smile quickly faded when Ann glared at him. Sorry Ann, just trying to lighten the mood.

Reaching forward and patting him on the shoulder, I know, and on second thought, I think I appreciate it, Ann said.

Detectives Andy Logan and Ted Culper had been with Sullivan from the beginning of the HIU. They both had become indispensable. Both are married, Ted for thirty plus years and Andy for about six months.

Ted is in his late fifties, has gray hair, but it is all still there. He has the vim and vigor of a thirty year old even though he doesn't believe in regular exercise. He likes to say and believes it is in the genes. They have three grown boys and two grandchildren. Two of the boys are married and one will soon graduate from college. His wife Sharon, watches him like a hawk, especially since a couple close calls on the job. In each case, she could have lost him. These incidents have brought them even closer than they already were, it is a deep, mature love. She attributes his survival to extensive prayer. They are both active in their local church, he as an Elder, recently moving up from being a Deacon for almost ten years, and she does light cleaning and some secretarial work there. She talks frequently about Ted's retirement, he recognizes the time is coming, but isn't ready just yet.

Andy is a bird of another color. He played the field and considered himself to be a confirmed bachelor until he met Madison, a fellow detective working out of Minneapolis. While working a case that involved both the HIU in Maine and the Minneapolis police department they met and as they say, the rest is history. Madison only recently has taken a leave of absence and moved to Maine. Both love their work and are reluctant to give up their respective position. They are working on finding a solution. Andy is about six feet tall, has dark hair that is, like Sullivan's, thinning on top that causes him great concern. Many say that he and Sullivan look enough alike to be brothers. He stays in good shape by working out frequently. He shaves about every third or fourth day, thus he sports a handsome, rugged look that Madison seems to like, or is it that she tolerates. Only she knows for sure. Sullivan has tried to make her commit without luck. Sullivan would like him to be clean shaven, but doesn't press the point.

It was about half an hours drive home. Sullivan had laid his head against Ann's shoulder and was, after about twenty minutes, nodding off, when his phone vibrated. He lazily pulled it out of his suit jacket and read the text message. Is it smart to leave your son alone with a young lady?

Stiffening, he growled, Get us home now!

Ann grabbed the phone and read the message. Hurry!

Ted hit the lights, siren and gas pedal. Luckily the highway was plowed and nearly clear of snow. What's going on?

Ann read the message aloud and repeated, Hurry.

Andy pulled his gun, checked the clip, rammed it home. Two minutes.

In less than two minutes, Ted slid the cruiser to a stop and left the headlights on to light up the area, Andy leaped out and headed for the back of the house, gun at the ready. Ted hustled around the other side of the house with his gun held out in both hands pointing at the ground ahead. There was over a foot of snow on the ground that slowed him down.

Stay in the car, Sullivan commanded as he ran toward the front door.

Like hell, Ann retorted as she followed him to the door.

After unlocking the door and entering, they found the babysitter standing there absolutely terrified. When they burst in, a guttural scream came out, What's wrong?

Ann wrapped her in a hug and said, It's okay honey. Is Adam asleep?

He was, but I'm not so sure now. Tears streamed down her pimple dotted face. Ann forced her to sit down on the couch.

Sullivan had raced down the hall and found Adam still sleeping. Coming back to the living room holstering his gun, Everything is okay. Touching Ann on the shoulder, Why don't you explain everything to Crystal. He then went to the back door and let Ted and Andy in. Anything?

Andy held up a plastic bag with cigarette butt in it. Judging by the foot prints and this cigarette butt, someone was standing at the bedroom window peering in. There will be some DNA on the cigarette butt.

Any distinguishable tracks? Sullivan asked.

I don't think so, the wind has blown fresh snow over the tracks. Ted said.

Let's get a couple of the boys out here anyway, just to be sure nothing is missed, Sullivan said. Just then one of the local police with siren and lights slid into the drive.

Sullivan darted out. Where the hell have you been?

Looking intimidated and worried, I was cruising the neighborhood as I was directed to do.

You were to stay right here.

Those aren't the orders I was given. There must have been some mix up, the young officer said. Sorry. Is everything okay?

Yes, luckily. Turning and then looking back, "You are relieved of duty here for now. Go report back to the station. I'll leave better instructions tomorrow morning. The next day there were two officers stationed right out side his house.

Their house was the newest and largest in the neighborhood. Most of the houses were twenty to thirty years old, making the house stand out from the rest. It had a two and half car garage and large two acre lot. Most of the other homes sat on half acre lots with single or no garages.

Chapter 3

There was always that hated paper work. All looked intent with Andy the sole exception. His legs were dangling over the edge of his desk drawer while his laptop balanced on his lap. A small grin crossed his lips and then a laugh escaped.

This isn't supposed to be fun, Jones said as he glanced over his eyeglasses that sat low on his nose. Jones was the newest member of the team. Sullivan was the one that put him on the team after Jones' partner had been killed during an earlier case that Sullivan was working on. He had been impressed with the way Jones handled himself, so invited him to join the team. Jones turned out to be a good detective and team player. He was once asked by a fellow policeman on the Augusta force what it was like being the only African-American on the team. He responded, What's it like being the only Italian on the team? Smiling at his fellow officer, I'm just an American, never been to Africa. I like to believe what Martin Luther King said about judging a man by the content of his character, not the color of his skin. That ended the questions.

Andy looked over at Jones while still laughing, Come here, you gotta see this.

Rolling his chair over, This better be good, Jones said. Studying the picture on Andy's computer for a moment, I don't get it and it sure as heck isn't funny.

I know, just wanted to see if you'd be sucker enough to roll on over.

You are such a jerk sometimes...grow up, Jones said as he stood and rolled his chair back.

We got something, Sullivan nearly shouted from his office. The DNA is in on that cigarette butt, and he is a known felon. Saddle up, we're rolling, he said as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. Jones and Ted with me, Andy you hold down the fort. Let's move em out!

As they rushed out, Andy yelled, That's it Sullivan, no more western novels for you. I will not be a party to that kind of talk. Andy returned to his computer where there was a picture of Madison staring at him. I wonder if I could get her to bring me lunch, he said aloud and then settled back regretting he was left behind. He enjoyed the action and always wanted to be in on it.

Sullivan explained the little he knew to Jones and Ted. Detective Striker of the Portland PD was waiting for them. Striker was not a big man. He stood about five foot seven and weighed maybe one forty soaking wet. His blonde hair was always neatly combed to match his well pressed suit, shirt and tie. He took great pride in how he looked. He sometimes overdid the macho stuff to compensate for his stature. Sullivan had recently learned that when the governors advisers were deciding who to recommend for the position at HIU that he now held, Striker was high on the list of candidates. The little experience that Sullivan had with Striker helped him understand why. Striker had taken the news in stride with some disappointment that he would never show publicly.

Sullivan looked at the screen of his buzzing phone. Yeah Striker, what ya got?

You know the bar called The Junk Store on Forest Avenue?

Yes.

Meet me a block east of the bar. We know the perp lives on the second floor in a rented room above the bar. We'll plan our insert when you get here.

Do you have eyes on the exits? Sullivan asked.

There is a plain clothes detective watching each.

Thanks, we'll be there in less than ten minutes.

Good, I'll be watching for you, Striker said, and then punched off.

Eight minutes later, Sullivan's cruiser crept up behind Striker. The snow piled up along the curb made it impossible to be clear of the lane of traffic. As he began to open his door, a car drove by depositing slush and mud across the whole side of his vehicle. Some splashed over the top of the door nailing him right in the face.

Striker got out and hustled back to talk to Sullivan. He moved to the sidewalk and up to Sullivan who was now out of his cruiser and wiping his face. Holding out a folder, There's a picture of the perp in here, Striker said trying not to laugh as he watched Sullivan wipe his face, and then he noticed the black and blue circles around his eyes. That explosion did a number on your face.

Opening the folder and ignoring the comment and look on Striker's face, Looks like a pretty rough character, but I don't recognize him. At the time of the picture after an arrest, Clyde Erskin's black hair was sticking up in all directions and had obviously not showered for quite sometime. His shirt shown in the picture was gray and wide open exposing a dirty tee shirt. He was also obviously high on something. He doesn't look smart enough to pull off the explosion, but looks are deceiving. Let's go get him and find out.

Hold up, Striker said as he put his hand on Sullivan's chest. "This is my collar and operation, so I'd like you to follow me in. We'll go in through the bar. It's possible he might be there. If not we'll move to the stairs in the back that leads to his door at the top of the stairs on the right.

Jones and Ted were standing behind Sullivan having studied the picture that Sullivan had passed to them. Jones turned to Ted after studying the picture and nodded. Ted nodded back and began to follow Sullivan as they walked toward the bar entrance.

Striker had his suit jacket pushed back on his right side making it easier to get to his pistol if necessary. Sullivan and his team did likewise. Within ten seconds of their entry, the place went deathly quiet. There was no doubt in any patron's mind that the police had arrived. They fanned out as they cautiously checked each patron.

The bar room was long and narrow. The bar, where most of the patrons were sitting was on the right and stretched about thirty feet toward the rear. On the left were several smaller tables that were mostly empty. The path down the middle was narrow and hard to navigate. Striker shoved several chairs out of his way as he proceeded toward the back checking each patron against the picture he held in his hand.

When Striker had reached the back of the bar he motioned to Sullivan that he was going up the stairs. Sullivan whispered to Ted to stay at the bottom of the stairs. Ted nodded.

Turning to Sullivan who now stood right behind Striker, I'm going up, stay a couple paces back and watch the door at the top of the stairs, Striker ordered.

Sullivan was as serious as he could be. He had faced similar situations before and they rarely had a good outcome. He hated these set ups because they were sitting ducks if the perp came around the corner with a gun. Jones stayed two steps behind Sullivan.

Ted looked back toward the bartender and saw him on the phone. Shouting, Striker, watch it he's been warned.

At that moment, the door flew open and gunfire erupted. Striker was the first to answer. Pop, pop,