Recycle - 11. Chapter 11

Again, it wasn’t. All that happened was the student got robbed. “At least, it was a fake wallet,” Elena admitted, half-laughing. “There was no sign the shooter was tracking people, but we didn’t want to take a chance. It was a lost wallet that had been unclaimed for over a year... with a fake ID, some other filler, and only a few bucks.”

“And the kid just got rolled?” Owen asked, also finding it funny. “I didn’t think there was that much crime at UMass.”

“There isn’t... and it’s usually stolen phones and laptops.” Elena paused. “And we didn’t even catch who did it,” she confessed. “We were three blocks away – monitoring the camera from the campus police station. But this was a dark street, and the guy simply grabbed the wallet and ducked into a yard. Then he must’ve jumped back fences and disappeared.”

“It was a guy?” Jae asked.

“Oh, yeah... we could see that on the camera. He’s walking along... he sees our guy... looks both ways... goes straight for the guy’s back jean’s pocket... grabs the wallet and scrams.”

“Could he have driven by?” Don asked. “And seen the guy, parked his car, doubled back, and then run through the backyards to his car?”

“Don’t make it too complicated,” Elena resisted. “Either way, it doesn’t matter, since we didn’t get the shooter.”

“It was only the first night,” Owen counseled. “Is the guy up for another try?”

“Probably... he was pretty disappointed that he didn’t get tattooed.”

“Then try a different street,” Ike offered. “Don’t use a camera – you can’t get there soon enough anyway. Just tell the kid to phone when he knows the shooter’s gone.”

“Someone may steal his phone,” Jae warned.

“Then tell him to shove it in his jockey shorts,” Rob quipped. “Where almost no one would look.”

That got the intended laugh – though everyone immediately looked at Don. He just grinned – while shrugging.

“And tell him to wear different clothes tonight,” Owen suggested, “and every night we need to go on. Jacket... Sweater... Hoodie... His jeans can be the same – no one’ll notice. But have him change out his baseball cap, if he wears one, and wear a different T.”

Elena did, for another three nights, each time picking a new place, but having the student go to the same bar with a similar mix of friends. “It appears the shooter has other plans,” she reported every day at lunch. “Students are getting hit almost everywhere but Amherst – getting grabbed is more like it. The shooter still isn’t using darts, and the other difference is it’s gone back to the small stencil, just below the collar bone.”

“I wonder why?” Don asked.

“Maybe the bigger one ripped,” Jae offered. “Or was too slow.”

“Could be,” Don agreed.

“Just the word?” Ike questioned Elena.

“Yes... it seems to want to focus on that.”

“Be patient,” Owen again counseled. “Eventually, the shooter will come back to Amherst. It always has before.”

Meanwhile, the TV and Internet carefully reported the news – the stations both in the early evening and late night – “The area shooter continues,’ it cautioned, “though with no darts. It’s looking for easy targets. So don’t let yourself be caught.”

“The shooter’s got to come back to Zal,” Elena insisted on the fourth morning. “He’ll be the only one on the streets.”

“Is that the kid’s name?” Jae asked.

“Yep... Zal Yeasin.”

“Remind him not to be a hero,” Owen repeated. “Tell him to stay put till he knows he’s alone – and only then call. No sounds. Tell him to stay limp. Don’t even let him open his eyes. We don’t want anyone hurt.”

“Are we trying to catch the shooter?” Rob asked.

“Of course,” Elena answered, “though maybe not immediately. If we even get useful information – like what it will fall for – that would be great. But the sooner we pick the shooter up, the faster I can go back to going to sleep early.”

On Tuesday of the second week, Zal finally connected, and Elena gleefully came to work early. She’d already sent a late-night report to Owen.

“What did you get?” everyone asked.

“It’s a girl!” she crowed. “Well, a woman,” she rightly corrected. “Zal said he could tell a woman’s hands on his chest.”

“Not an inexperienced guy,” Rob joked.

“He’s a junior but looks eighteen,” Elena described. “Middleweight. Cute, but kind of in a stupid way. He probably couldn’t grow a beard if he tried.” She laughed. “And it wasn’t just her fingers, he felt. Something brushed across his chest. He said it tickled, and he almost giggled.”

“Good thing he didn’t,” Ike admonished.

““It might not have mattered,” Don countered. “People pass out in different ways.”

“He said it felt like hair,” Elena went on. “Like his girlfriend’s long hair... combined with a cat’s tail.”

“A braid?” Jae suggested. “A long braid?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Elena agreed.

“You know... it might not be a girl,” Don cautioned. “Some guys wear their hair long... and in a pony tail.”

“And the touch?” Elena questioned.

Don was tactful. “Has Zal ever been with a guy?”

Elena almost laughed. “I’m not about to ask him that.”

“I will,” Don said grinning.

“Again, I think you’re making this too complicated,” she replied. “And it’s our one decent lead.”

“I’ll give you that,” Don admitted. “And you’re probably right – there are far more women around than gay men.”

“Did you pick up anyone with long hair on the street?” Owen pushed on.

“This was on campus,” Elena explained. “We had Zal cut through a dorm lot then steady himself on a light pole. Then we had him sit on the high concrete base until he slipped off.”

“That could hurt,” Rob said.

“It was on an island surrounded by grass.”

“And the shooter fell for it?” Owen asked. “Even though there was light?”

“There wasn’t a lot. The bulb wasn’t working right. Every so often, it would crackle and buzz – and start to warm up. But it never got past dim, then would fizz out. We figured that might be bait.”

“Who’d you pick up on the street?” Owen went on.

“All guys – it’s a men’s dorm... Freshman... first year, they don’t have a choice. We did quick pat downs... looking for markers or stencils. But found nothing.”

“Which stencil was this?” Ike asked.

“The small one again – I guess it’s quicker.”

“And the color?”

“Red... though that might be random. It’s seems they’re all in her pocket – Zal heard them rattle. She may use whichever pops out first.”

“Zal must be happy,” Rob joked. “Finally getting his tattoo.”

Elena grinned. “Oh, yeah – he’s a made man. If he didn’t already have a great girlfriend, he’d get plenty of offers now.”