The Ninth District

  The Ninth District

  Douglas Dorow

  Douglas Dorow

  The Ninth District

  Chapter 1

  The woman stood in the middle of the bank atrium. She stood there with a look of anguish on her face, staring at the gun pointed at her, and moved her hands to her mouth and to her stomach and ended up with one hand over each. She was in her early thirties, dressed in black pants and a striped top with sleeves to the elbows. She had long, dark, shoulder-length hair held back by a white headband and she was pregnant. She looked close to term the way her stomach stretched the shirt. She shook her head back and forth, her eyes never leaving the gun.

  A man in a long, black trench coat stood in front of her and motioned with the gun for her to move towards the rear of the bank. She didn’t move. He finally pointed the gun at her stomach and motioned with his head for her to move. The woman wrapped her arms around her belly to protect her unborn child before moving in the direction he’d indicated. The man followed and reached out and pushed her shoulder with his gloved left hand to move her along. His right hand held the gun, pointed at her back. The woman stumbled, and shook her head back and forth; her shoulders hitched up and down as she struggled against the tears. She trudged ahead. They disappeared as they turned left around the corner into a hallway, first the woman, and then the man.

  Later, they came back around the corner, the woman again in the lead. The man had a black computer bag slung over his shoulder. The woman walked to the desks in the middle of the bank lobby atrium and turned towards the man. She was crying and repeating “I don’t know” as she stared at the gun pointed at her unborn child. The man’s right arm raised and pointed at her head. She repeated the words.

  The man took a step forward and pressed the muzzle of the gun against her forehead to emphasize his point.

  The woman stepped back and raised her hands up. “I don’t know,” she shouted in three deliberate words. There was a puff of smoke and the woman’s head rocked back before she fell, her long hair billowing up and following her down to the floor.

  The man stood with the gun pointed out for a couple of seconds before lowering it. He looked down at the woman, then walked over and nudged her with his foot. The smoke from the shot hung in the air of the lobby and swirled over the spot where the woman had fallen. He knelt and put his hand on her belly, held it there for a count of three. Then he stood. He turned towards the exit without looking back at the pregnant woman lying dead on the floor with blood pooling around her head. As he approached the door, he looked up at the camera posted over it and gave a little salute.

  “Freeze it!” Staring out from the television was the face of a bank robber, a killer, in a mock salute. “What the hell? Is that who I think it is? Rewind it and play it again.”

  “Jack, I’ve watched this ten times and there’s nothing there, nothing but that salute.”

  “Rewind it. I want to see it again.” Jack pointed at the flat screen television on the wall and worked his thumb up and down against the imaginary remote in his hand. “Come on, let’s go, Junior. I want to see it again.”

  “It’s Ross.”

  Jack glanced back at Ross and then stared at the screen, waiting for him to play it again. “Listen. The SAC asked me to help you. I’m here to help. Let’s watch it again.”

  Jack Miller was in no mood for a pissing match with a new agent who had four months in the Minneapolis FBI office after graduating from Quantico. The Special Agent in Charge assigned Jack to help with this case so he could tell the media he had his most experienced agent looking into solving the string of bank robberies, especially the last one that had resulted in a murder.

  Ross pointed the remote at the television and the video started again. “These bank videos suck. We’re bringing in video from the other cameras at the bank, the ATM, the highway traffic cameras, and gas stations within a two-mile radius. I know it’s the same guy.”

  “OK, so what do we know about him?”

  “He’s on a schedule. March, he hit a Wells Fargo branch in Duluth. April, he was at the Stillwater branch. I was looking for a May job and found one in Wisconsin after talking to the Milwaukee field office. This morning, as you see him here, he was at the TCF Bank in Wayzata. That’s the June robbery.” Ross paused, inhaled, and audibly exhaled. “And no, that’s not who you think it is. It’s a guy, or a person, wearing a mask that kind of resembles a former Governor of the State of Minnesota.”

  “OK, so we know what he’s done, but what do we know about him?”

  “We don’t know anything about him other than he’s been robbing banks and wears a mask,” Ross said.

  “Let’s call him the Governor. He hasn’t killed anybody before, has he?” Jack asked.

  “Nobody has even been hurt, until now.”

  “Play the video.” Jack Miller stared at the screen and watched the scene unfold a second time; he rested his chin in his hands, elbows on the table. He looked for details as he watched it again.

  When it was over, Jack was talking softly to himself as much as to his new partner. “Why did he kill her? He hasn’t done that before. There was no reason to kill her. And what’s he asking her that she doesn’t know?” He shifted in his chair, raised his arms, and locked his fingers together behind his head. “Rewind it. Let’s see it again.”

  Jack got up from his chair and paced the room while he continued mumbling to himself. “For the money?” He looked at Ross. “How much has he been getting?”

  Ross reflexively patted his pockets for his notebook.

  “Junior, just give me a rough idea.”

  Ross stared at Jack without answering.

  “Agent Fruen?” Jack asked.

  Ross nodded and answered. “He’s grabbed between five hundred and five thousand and a couple of laptops.”

  Jack returned to his monologue and paced around the table. “So, he’s not getting rich doing this.” He stopped and sat down in his chair. “What’s with the mask? And why’s he robbing these banks? A drug user would still be sleeping.” Jack looked up at the ceiling and raised his voice so Ross could hear him. “Did you check out the casinos or the card room at the Canterbury race track?”

  “That’s one theory for the mask. He doesn’t want us comparing videos. I’m working on it, checking on casinos in the area.”

  “Don’t forget Wisconsin. OK, Junior, so why did he kill her?”

  Ross didn’t answer until Jack stared at him. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, what’s your guess?”

  “I’d guess he killed her either because she knew something, who he was or what he was doing there, or she was at the wrong place at the wrong time, or just to do it.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  Ross pulled his notes out and paged back to the information. “Her name is, was Lisa Humphrey. She’s worked at the bank for eight years and had experience in different areas. She was there this morning to open up, get things ready for the day.”

  “Did she have a family?”

  Ross flipped forward a page. “She was married. The husband’s devastated. There’s a two-year-old girl at home and,” Ross paused.

  “And what?”

  “You saw she was pregnant. It was a boy. Due in about two weeks.”

  Jack shoved himself back from the table and stood up. As he made his way to Ross at the back of the room, he pushed a chair out of the way, sending it rolling across the floor until it struck the wall and fell over on its side. Ross didn’t move. Jack stuck out his hand.

  “Give me your notes.” Ross handed the notes over and Jack walked to the window and leaned against the wall as he reviewed what Ross had written.

  As he looked over the pages, Jack thought of his own
kids, a girl and a boy, a couple of years apart. He looked at his reflection in the window and then out at the world a few floors below. “Damn it.”

  Jack walked back over and sat at the table. He closed up the notebook. “We don’t know much, do we? Get the files from the other three robberies up here.” He slid Ross’ notes back across the table to him and rocked back in his chair. “And we need some analysis done. You’re on the right track getting all of those other videos from cameras around the area. I want to know all I can about this guy. I want to know for sure it’s the same guy. Get the geeks on it. We need to know how he got to and from the bank, his height, weight, color of his eyes, type of clothes, shoe size, how big his hands are, and the length of his stride, anything to help ID this guy. Tell them I want to know everything. What he had for lunch, if he prefers boxers or briefs. And make sure those lab guys check her forehead. He had his gun pushed up against her forehead.”

  Jack rocked forward and worked the imaginary remote in his hand again. “OK, let’s see it again.”

  Ross hit play on the remote control and the video started for the third viewing. His thumb hovered over the pause button, ready for when Jack wanted to stop it again. He fumbled for the phone with his other hand, not taking his eyes off the picture in front of him.

  Cradling the receiver between his ear and shoulder, he dialed an extension with his free hand. “Hello, Barb? Yeah, it’s Ross. Jack and I are in the back conference room. We need the files from the Duluth and Stillwater robberies we were talking about earlier. Bring them in as soon as…”

  “Freeze it!”

  “…you’re ready.”

  “You missed it.”

  Ross exhaled heavily in frustration, hung up the phone and hit pause, and then rewound the video frame by frame.

  “There,” Jack said.

  Ross paused the video. “What?”

  Jack got up from his chair and approached the screen. He looked at it straight on, squinting, and traced the face on the screen with his finger. The killer was saluting him, the eyes staring right at him. Jack stepped back trying to take in more of the picture.

  “Get some stills made of the mask that show it from different sides and figure out who made it, where it’s sold, how long it’s been around, etcetera, etcetera. He didn’t just go pick this mask up at the mall off the rack. This one’s too good. Send a photo to the costume department at the Guthrie Theater and the U of M theater department. Maybe they’ll have some ideas. And print one off for me, the one where he’s saluting. Make yourself one too if you want one.” He rubbed his hands over his face and stretched. “I’m going to go take a leak and get some other work done. Call me when you’ve got everything ready. It’s almost July. We better get busy and solve your case before the next robbery.”

  Chapter 2

  Jack sat in his cubicle and looked at the pile of case folders in front of him. It was time to catch up on his active cases while he waited for Ross to pull the other videos together for the next viewing. He grabbed the top folder, laid it on an open spot amid the clutter on his desk, and started to flip through it. He made it two pages into the details, refreshing himself on the follow-up issues, before his mind drifted to the images on the video. It was hard to watch somebody being killed and not be able to stop it. That was the tough part of the job. As FBI agents, they were brought in as a reaction to something bad having happened. This was no different. Learning that this victim had a family, Jack thought of the father with a daughter at home, his world turned upside down. The killer had pulled the trigger and gone about his business. Jack wanted to get ahead of this guy and stop him before something else like this happened again.

  He looked at the framed pictures on his desk. They had been there long enough that he almost forgot they were there. Jack picked up the one that had both kids in it, brushed off the dust from the edges of the frame and the glass, and smiled. He could remember Julie taking the picture last summer. The kids went from running through the sprinkler to starting a water fight, with him as the target as he sat in the Adirondack chair in the shade working on the crossword puzzle. Julie snapped the picture just after he had grabbed the kids and pulled them onto his lap. They’d squealed and laughed. The newspaper was soaked and water dripped from his chin. The trio then went after Julie, but she’d claimed immunity as she held the camera in front of her like a shield, knowing they wouldn’t dare get it wet.

  With the picture in one hand, he grabbed the phone and called Julie. His thumb caressed the kids’ faces in the picture as he waited for her to answer. On the fourth ring, Jack was ready for it to go to voicemail. He cleared his throat, preparing to speak, but then he heard a voice.

  “Hello?”

  Jack cleared his throat again and then spoke in the hushed, hoarse voice used in cubes when the conversation was of a personal nature. “Hey, Jules. It’s me, Jack. Just thought I’d call, see what’s going on. I wanted to talk birthday plans for tomorrow and about the Fourth, where we all might go to see the fireworks.”

  “Jack.” She paused and continued in a soft tone matching his. “The Fourth, I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Jules. I thought we were still going to try.”

  “I’m not ready for a big family thing yet, Jack. I know the kids would love to see you. But all of us together. I think it’s just too confusing right now.”

  “Confusing for who? You? Or the kids?”

  “Them, me, us. Why don’t you plan a birthday outing with them? Let’s start with that.”

  “Sure, Jules. One step at a time. I want to keep things normal. I’ll pick them up tomorrow afternoon about one? I took the afternoon off.”

  “They’d love it, Jack.”

  “What about the Fourth? Should we make our annual trip to Nicollet Island? I’m sure they’ll have the same family activities and the fireworks display.”

  “Jack, quit pushing. Let me think about it.”

  “OK. Think about it.” Jack looked at the framed photo in his hand. She said she’d think about it. “Tell the kids I’ll see them soon and I want some ideas for where we’re going.” He looked up and saw Ross standing in the doorway of his cube. “I have to run. Give them a hug for me.”

  Jack hung up the phone and put the picture back in its spot.

  “Birthday, huh?” Ross asked. “How old are you going to be?”

  “Older than you.”

  Ross picked up the picture frame. “These your kids?”

  Jack reached up and took the frame from Ross. He blew off the dust clinging to the photo and put it gently back in its spot. “Yeah.”

  “They have names?”

  “Yeah.” He looked at Ross and stood up. He’d learned long ago that the secret to getting somebody out of your cube was to get up and walk out. The intruder wasn’t going to hang out in your cube without you. Jack walked by Ross and turned down the aisle towards the conference room. “So, everything ready for review?”

  Ross took a couple of quick steps to catch up with Jack. “I’ve got the videos from the other bank robberies ready for us to look at. The surveillance video from this morning is still being picked apart by the boys in the lab. They’ve started on the stats we talked about to learn more about the guy.”

  Jack said “Hmm,” and kept walking towards the conference room.

  Ross kept at his heels. “I’ll show you them in order. They aren’t much different from the others. A guy in the mask, with a salute to the camera on the way out the door.”

  They got to the conference room and Jack took a seat. “OK, let’s see what we’ve got.”

  They watched each of the videos through from beginning to end. Ross pointed out items he thought were of interest from his previous viewings. Jack stayed silent, intently watching each of the scenes unfold in front of him.

  “Get these videos to the lab, too,” Jack said. “I want to make sure it’s the same guy. Same mask. See if they can find anything we didn’t see. I know it’s not like CSI on TV, but they might
be able to find something for us.”

  Ross pulled the USB drive from the computer and grabbed the file folders. “All right. I’ll get them down there. We’ll see what results we get from these.”

  “What’s next?” Jack looked at his watch.

  “I should look through my notes, finish some interviews, check on the crime scene, touch-base with the Wayzata police.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “I could eat. I skipped breakfast after I got the call this morning.”

  “Let’s go touch base with the SAC and then we’ll take a little drive and I’ll buy lunch.”

  Jack led the way down the hall with Ross at his heels. Jack heard a folder hit the floor, but just kept going. He heard Ross swearing behind him after the other folders fell.

  “Hey, is he free?” Jack asked the Special Agent in Charge’s administrative assistant who was sitting at her desk. Her name was Barb and she was the gatekeeper for the SAC. Nobody got in to see the SAC without her approval.

  Ross joined Jack in front of Barb’s desk. “Junior, put everything here on the desk; we’ll grab them on the way out.”

  Barb cleared her throat and stared at Jack.

  “I mean, put them on the credenza here behind Barb. Have you two met?”

  Ross piled the folders onto the credenza and stuck out his hand. “Special Agent Ross Fruen, nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  Jack chuckled. “Can we go in, ma’am?”

  Barb quickly flipped him off and then waved them through. “Let’s go, Junior. Don’t be nervous.” Jack rapped his knuckles on the open door of the Special Agent in Charge and walked in.

  The SAC, Timothy Spilman, just over fifty, had a full head of close-cropped gray hair, reading glasses perched on the end of his nose, and wore a starched white shirt. He looked up as Jack and Ross entered his office.

  “Gentlemen, what have you put together so far?” He looked at Jack.

  They stood in front of the SAC’s desk. Jack was loose, with his hands in his pockets. Ross stood stiffly, almost at full attention, arms hanging straight down at his sides.