The Midtown Murderer Read Free Page B

Then he handed the book back to Priest and took a cold, hard look at Trent. “Are you positive?”
    “For chrissake,” Trent said, cutting him off. “I’ve told you everything.”
    McClure didn’t even blink. “ OK. That’s good to know,” he said, handing Trent his business card. “Call me day or night if you recall any additional details.”
    Trent p ocketed the card and said, “Who would try to kidnap Chief Clay’s daughter? And why?”
    “I’ll answer that,” said a voice with a thick southern accent. “I’m Chief Clay.”

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 6
    Trent glanced up, and Priest an d McClure snapped to attention. Chief Clay strode into the room with unmistakable authority. A man followed him in and jerked the door shut.
    Clay was in his mid-sixties. He had a silver crew cut and his sun-browned face was lined; he wore a blue, double-breasted Brooks Brothers suit and had an expensive-looking gold wristwatch on his wrist.
    C lay smiled quickly and said, “Trent, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He held out his hand and Trent shook it.
    “Likewise,” said Trent.
    “This is my Deputy Chief of Police, Mike Butler,” Clay said.
    Trent extended his hand, but Butler smirked and hooked his thumbs in his belt.
    Butler was an albino. He had pale skin and pink irises and was mostly bald except for some wispy white hair pushed behind his ears. With his designer jeans and white turtleneck, Trent thought he looked like an American college professor on sabbatical.
    “At ease, gentleman,” Clay said encouragingly. “This is an informal meeting.”
    Everyone but Clay sat.
    “Trent,” he said, buffing the face of his watch with a monogrammed handkerchief, “ you observed, you acted, and God bless you for it. Rikki and my precious granddaughter are safe from those despicable thugs.”
    “ I just reacted.”
    “ And put yourself in harm’s way,” Clay said, putting his palms down on the table and locking eyes with Trent. “The key element here is confidentially. You are forbidden to discuss the contents of this discussion with anyone outside this room; can you go along with this condition?”
    “Yes , sir.”
    “T o answer the question of who would kidnap my daughter,” Clay said, “it’s personal. Two years ago I put the baldheaded cretin away for murder; he escaped from a maximum-security prison three months ago and disappeared to parts unknown. He didn’t surface until last night.”
    Trent massaged his eyes with his fingertips and said, “He won’t bother you anymore.”
    “No,” Butler said, tapping the palm of his hand with a rolled up report, “but credible intelligence says his jailbird twin brother was traveling with him last night.”
    Trent leaned back in the metal folding chair and said, “Tell me about the evil twin.”
    “Triple is a stone cold killer who always carries several automatics. Or so they say,” Priest said. “The brothers are the original members of the Atlanta Outlaws. They are a hard-core motorcycle gang; the members are all ex-cons and speed freaks to boot.”
    “They are the human equivalent of pit bulls with hyperaggressive tendencies,” Clay said.
    “ In the last year,” McClure said, “the Outlaws have made a massive move into meth production.”
    Trent mulled the information over. “Is Triple his real name?”
    “No ,” McClure said. “It’s a tag he picked up-not like a triple in baseball, but Triple because he murdered an entire family inside a firearms store. The owner had a nice-looking teenage daughter who got raped in the process.”
    “Real nasty shit,” McClure said.
    “A security camera tagged him for the killings,” Butler said curtly. “He’s been on the FBI’s short list ever since.”
    “ Who were the other creeps I popped?”
    “The one with the chest hits was also a member of the Outlaws,” McClure said.
    “And the third?” Trent sensed a quiet alarm spread through the room.
    Clay had taken a position at the end