Night Mask by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2016-02-08T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Tony Moreno was two years away from retiring from the Sheriffs Department. He had decided to pull the pin after twenty-five years behind a badge. He and his wife, who worked as a bookkeeper in a local factory, had just put their last chick through college. Tony was going to work part-time as security for a local firm for a few years, and then he and his wife would really retire and do some traveling.

His radio crackled. “HC 135.”

“HC 135,” Tony responded.

“See the woman, 11074 River Oak Drive. Signal 34.”

“Ten-four.” Prowler, Tony thought. Not good, but a damn sight better than a domestic disturbance. Cops hate domestic disturbances. You separate the man from hammering on his wife, and the wife many times will turn on you. Tony still carried the scar on the back of his head where, after he’d pulled the man off his wife, who was doing his best to rearrange her face with his fist, and doing a pretty good job of it, the woman had picked up a Big Ben alarm clock and smashed it against the back of Tony’s head. Then after all that was straightened out, the woman dropped the charges against her husband.

River Oak Drive was way to hell and gone out in the country. The house was dark when Tony pulled into the drive.

“HC 135 dispatch.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’m 10-97.” Arrived at the scene.

“That’s 10-4, HC 135. Zero three three five hours.”

“Where was the woman supposed to be?”

“Inside. Said she was afraid to come out.”

“Ten-four.”

That was the last voice communication anyone ever received from Hancock County unit HC 135.

When repeated attempts from the dispatcher failed to get a response from Tony Moreno, every deputy in the county was alerted, as well as the La Barca PD.

Deputies found the unit at ten o’clock the next morning, parked in a ravine about ten miles from La Barca. At four o’clock that afternoon, Sheriff Brownwood got a phone call.

“Listen, Sheriff,” the electronically altered voice said. “Listen to your deputy scream his life away.”

Brownie became physically ill listening to the tortured screaming of Tony, as the call was being traced. He finally had to leave the room.

“Pay phone out on 168,” he was told.

“Roll!”

But there was nobody there. Only the phone taped to a tape recorder with the tape on a continuous loop, and an envelope containing a very profane and mocking note printed in large block letters using a ruler, which eliminates a handwriting expert’s testimony. The deputies, including Leo and Lani, Brenda and Ted, followed the directions and found the remains of Tony Moreno about an hour later. He had been completely skinned, from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

“I’ll go tell his wife,” Brownie said, his voice choked with emotion, both sadness and anger.

For the first time since the Ripper began the barbarity in California, a civilian was allowed to see just how savage the attacks were. Stacy Ryan was brought to the scene and allowed to view the remains of Tony Moreno.

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