From the FBI Files-For Rockwolf

[SPEMack618]

Rockwolf, you asked a while back if I finished my FBI story. Well, here you go. No 10mm, but still decent I think.

Groping for the phone in the darkness, Chief Inspector Sean O’Day managed to knock over his empty lowball glass, the alarm clock, and his S&W Chief’s Special before he found the offending device.
“O’Day.” He answered with a gruff voice, but not quite angry, twenty years of late night calls had taught him not to shoot the messenger.
“Chief, this is Mike. We just got a call from the ASAC in O-K-C, he’s back.” O’Day bolted upright in his bed.
“Get us a flight out as soon as you can. We’re going out there.” O’Day closed his cell phone and rolled out of the bed, stubbing his toe before finding the light switch. Dressing with the haste of a cop, he grabbed his “go kit” as he called his suit bag and carry on luggage, a holder over from his days as an elite Delta Fore operator. His last act before leaving his Georgetown apartment was to clip his leather holster containing his Glock 22 to his belt. Arriving at the Hoover building, he pulled into the long term lot and locked his car. His assistant, Mike Hannover was already pulling up in a Bureau car. Throwing his bags in the back, O’Day got in the passenger seat.
“What do we have, Mike?”
“Alright, Chief, our boy Ace is back or at least somebody trying really hard to look like him…” Hannover said as he headed towards Reagan National Airport.
“It’s him.” O’Day said as he leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. The memories came coming back. Each case started a simple missing child, always a Caucasian female, usually suspected lost on her way from school or some such. Then a body would be found, with an Ace card stuck in the child’s clothing. The media had immediately christened him “The Ace of Killers” Sean had chased him for months; this was back during his assignment as a roving inspector. He had been so close he could taste it. Then the leads had gone cold, and there were no more murders and the case was shifted to the “Open-Unsolved” bin, to assign O’Day to more important matters. O’Day often went back to that day from three years ago in which he had told the family of the first victim that the case was cold. Each year since, he had gotten one call from the first vic’s family asking if there was any new information. Each time he had said no, but the case was still open. His reverie ended at the airport. A Delta 737 had waited because of their Federal Priority Status. Taking there first class seats, Mike promptly closed the blind and fell asleep leaving Sean alone with his thoughts.
The 737 touched down and jarred Sean awake, he couldn’t remember falling asleep. His sleep was fitful, not having any of his recurring dreams due to his exhaustion. The ASAC from the OKC field office met them in the terminal.
“Chief, the SAC wants to brief you in twenty. I have a car.”
“Very well, whose the SAC here now?”
“Ben Farmer.” The ASAC responded, producing his aviator shades as he stepped outside of the jet way. O’Day barely concealed a snort. Farmer wasn’t exactly the most accurate rifle in the small arms locker.
After a brief interview in which only served to reconfirm O’Day’s belief that Farmer was an idiot, O’Day and Hannover went to the crime scene. Walking past the tape, O’Day was taken back to that day so many years ago. Similar lower working class neighborhood, slightly shabby house, and a complete outlook of despair on the faces of all the people. The body was in the same position it always was and just as dead. There was something different this time, though, something about her…..
“Mike, what do you notice here?” O’Day asked, squatting down.
“Her hair, Chief, it isn’t shaved like the other ones…”
“Get that to the lab and get in analyzed, NOW!” O’Day stood and waved over at two crime scene techs, sub-consciously dropping his hand to his Glock. He stood and led the way to the FBI car that had been issued to them.
“What you thinking, Chief?” Mike asked upon reaching his boss as he stood by the car, his cell phone out.
“I’m thinking we have the guy. He always shaved the vic totally clean, but he usually screwed up something all the time, though, like one time he left a latex glove, off of which we got a perfect latent, but it didn’t match anybody in the system…”
“This is a pretty big screw up, Chief. Think it may be just a copy cat?”
“No. Can’t be.”
“Why, Chief? Everything looks to me like one could do from he heard on the news.”
“Yeah, except that we never denied that it was the Ace of Spades when someone made that guess, we kept it our fail-safe to verify any tips. It was the Ace of Clubs…” O’Day said, as he flung as an Ace of Clubs card at his assistant.
Two hours later, O’Day and Hannover were pacing about back in forth in the OKC field office’s conference room. The phone rang and O’Day grabbed at it like a teenager waiting for a girl to call him back.
“O’Day.”
“Sir, we’ve established that the hair samples match one Charlie A. Hatchens, Oklahoma City. Further more, his prints in the file match the latent from the glove from that last case…”
O’Day covered the mouth piece with his hand.
“Mike get the SAC, no forget that idiot Farmer, and get the ASAC and tell him to get me a tactical team ready. I don’t care if it’s OKC PD, Oklahoma Highway Patrol, or Bureau, but get me one ready to go, NOW!” O’Day said as he returned to his conversation.
“How do have the prints on the subject?” O’Day inquired.
“A traffic stop two years ago.” The lab technician responded.
Two hours later, O’Day and Hannover were outside of a trailer in the outskirts of OKC. Farmer was there coordinating the Bureau’s SWAT team, for the Field Office.
“Chief, we got a problem, the team leaders in Federal Court as a witness…”
“I’ll go. I’m former HRT.” Hannover said, as he began to strip off his sport coat and shoulder holster.
The blast of the flash bang was deafening. Hannover moved in first, his M-4 pulled in tight to his shoulder. Thirty seconds later, an eternity it seemed to O’Day, there was a burst of gunfire. O’Day’s Glock cleared leather seemingly of its own accord. His years in Delta Force taught him to instantaneously recognize the high pitched bark of a 5.56mm weapon. The SWAT team came funneling out of the house a little bit later. Hannover emerged last and stripped off his balaclava and ambled over to his boss.
“Had to take him down. All sorts of kiddy porn crap in there, it’s our guy.” Hannover said, as he walked back to the SWAT van to return his weapon.
Chief Inspector Sean Patrick O’Day opened up his cell phone and dialed a number from memory. His sister answered after two rings.
“Sally? Sean. We got the guy who killed Emma…” O’Day’s voice trailed off. The emotion of the moment swept through him. He had finally solved the murder of five year old Emma O’Day Franklin.