Blood Park

By Charlotte Miller Winstead

BLOOD PARK
Andy Geary was a fourth generation Chicago cop. Following in footsteps that went back to the early 1800s, Andy had been a detective for three years when the biggest case of his career landed in his lap. This was his first chance to be the lead investigator of a major crime and, because of his background, it was of the utmost importance to him that he make good.
Five women had been murdered in a local park, their babies kidnapped. The only clues were the shattered skulls of the mothers and their childrens overturned strollers. Andy and his partner Chase Coletti worked frantically to solve the case but came up with nothing. Suddenly the murders stopped.
Then, two years later, they began again. Same park, same walking track, same crushed skull and a missing baby. Andy had quit the force when he failed to bring the killer to justice the first time. Now his former partner was the lead investigator and drew Andy back in. This case had already cost him his career, his marriage and almost his life. Could he risk it all again to finally put an end to the killers rampage?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 4, 2007
• ISBN: 9781465314697

Charlotte Miller Winstead

AUTHORS COVER BIOGRAPHY Charlotte Miller Winstead was born in Cooter, MO. She and her husband Jim have four sons and five grandchildren. She runs her own family history website and wrote a weekly column for the area newspaper for seven years. Charlotte is past-president of the local Missouri Community Betterment Committee and is the author of three mystery/thrillers and one Christian children's poetry book.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Donald Wayburg was in his office when Dr. Powell, the hospital administrator, made another unwelcome visit. The man at least had the courtesy to knock this time. Donald deliberately ignored him, taking his time to finish what he was working on before looking up. By then, the doctor’s face had turned nearly purple and he was having difficulty breathing. Donald’s mouth turned up in a smirk. He was enjoying the other man’s discomfort.

Wayburg, he finally managed, how many times do I have to go through this with you? You are still overstepping your authority. I thought we had this all settled. Donald said nothing. Dr. Powell’s face colored again with anger and Donald thought that maybe he would die from a heart attack right here in his office. What fun.

You can NOT keep doing these outside jobs! Dr. Powell yelled, you are only allowed to do what is assigned to you by me. If you insist on using this office and this equipment as your personal playthings then I may have to let you go. Donald showed no emotion at the threat. Sensing that his bullying wasn’t going to get him anywhere and knowing full well he could not afford to lose a man as valuable as Donald, he tried a different tactic.

Donald, he said becoming chummier, we have had a very good working relationship here. I know how brilliant you are, how many degrees you have, that you could work anywhere you want and how glad anyone would be to have you but here’s the problem. Dr. Powell rubbed his hands together in an effort to appear very sincere. Donald stifled a laugh.

Now, you have been accepting some jobs from the outside, he continued, and we both know that the Chicago Police Department relies on you and your knowledge of computers. They know you can find out almost anything and that none of their computer people are as skilled as you are. Donald waited for the rest; highly amused at the man’s ridiculous attempts to win him over. Dr. Powell lifted both hands and sighed.

We just can’t have you taking out valuable time from your regular duties to look into people’s backgrounds for the police. Let them use their own resources. They’ll find out what they want to know soon enough on their own. Their people are very qualified, you know. Donald said nothing but gave the doctor his best icy stare.

Well, I’m glad we had this little talk, Dr. Powell said becoming flustered under Donald’s unyielding eyes. After fumbling with the door, he made a hasty retreat. Donald sat very quietly after the administrator left. He didn’t move at all for a full five minutes, the stare he had turned on Dr. Powell still in place. Then he stood up, turned off his computer and left his office without closing the door. He crossed the parking lot and began walking east. Soon he was in the park. The mild May weather had brought several young mothers out, pushing their babies’ strollers around the walking track before it became populated with afternoon joggers. Donald watched them intently for a moment, selected one, then moved into the darkest, most secluded part of the track to wait.

The next afternoon he entered his office unobserved. Everything was just the way he had left it, meaning no one had noticed his absence. Even if someone had looked in they wouldn’t have cared where he was. Anyone passing by would have thought he had probably stepped out a moment before, if they thought anything at all. Now he closed the door and locked it. It wouldn’t do to have a visitor now. He put the newspaper he had been carrying on his desk, opened it to page three and read the headline again.

Baby reported missing, Mother found slain. Page three, he thought with contempt, and the headline so small. This place has so little regard for human life. That thought brought a twist of his lips which, for him, was a smile. He threw the newspaper into the wastebasket and took a small plastic bag out of his pocket. He went into his private bathroom and dumped the contents into the sink. There was a little splash of blood. He looked down at the newest addition to his collection… a baby’s thumb.

CHAPTER TWO

Andrew Geary pushed back his chair and scowled at the ringing telephone. He let it ring four times; hoping whoever it was would hang up. It rang again. He reached across his desk and picked up the receiver, his arm knocking the file he had been working on to the floor. He left it where it was.

Hello, he said somewhat annoyed at the interruption.

Andy, said his wife Cathy. He could hear the anxiety in her voice.

What’s the matter? he said suddenly worried. "Are the kids alright? His eyes immediately went to the pictures on his desk. Cathy, his wife of fifteen years, and their eight-year-old twins, Brendan and Bridget.

They’re fine, Cathy reassured him. His sigh of relief was soft but she heard it. Andy, have you seen today’s paper? He said he hadn’t. Cathy took a deep breath before she continued. There’s been another baby taken. In the park. Mother killed, she told him in the shorthand dialogue they had used since high school. They knew each other so well they had no trouble filling in the blanks. She waited through the silence on the other end of the phone. Then she heard a small click as her husband hung up.

CHAPTER THREE

Andy sat staring at the floor, his hand still on the receiver. He knew Cathy would understand his reaction. Who better than she? Another one. The words burned into his mind. And he had hoped it was over. It had been two