Click

G. T. Engelke

Description

Once again Detective William Ryan is placed in the position to solve and stop a string of killings plaguing the City of New York, its residents, and its visitors. It is believed that the bodies are from across all of the five boroughs of the city, New Jersey, Connecticut, and Westchester. This causing and affecting fear and dread in the normal lives of the citizens, their lives truly being affected and disrupted. With a string of bodies, prostitutes-police officers-everyday citizens, across such a large, populated area the case turns for the worst when it is deduced that the killings are all being done by the same person.
From the findings of Ryan, his team and the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office it is discovered that the killings span a time period of ten to fifteen years or more.
At the same time, he, and his cousin Dutch, try to solve the disappearance of an entire family, Father, Mother, Children, Grand Children, Nieces, Nephews, Aunts and Uncles. All of them dead, seemingly with no rhyme or reason accept maybe their family blood line.

Sujets

• Thrillers
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 21 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665570046
• Langue: English

Extrait

Books by G.T. Engelke
Detective William Ryan Se ries
Classified
Random,
Ballot
Flavors
Payback
Click
 
Ot hers
America (The Death Of!)
Drifting (Augusta)
 
COMING SOON
America (The Change)
Drifting (San Diego)
TRACKS
CLICK
#6 of The Detective William Ryan Series
 
 
 
 
 
G. T. ENGELKE
 
 
 
 

 
 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
© 2022 . All rights reserved.
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
Published by AuthorHouse 09/13/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7005-3 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-7004-6 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022916521
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
This book is dedicate d to:
My Wife, Janet
My Sister, Pat and her family
My Children’s Children
My Cousins, Jeannie & Sly – The Myrtle Beach Flash
My Friends & one of my biggest fans Lisa,
Thank you to Stephen King, John Sanford, and Jack Saul for your gifts of inspiration
Chapter 1



R yan was sitting at his desk looking at the pile of ‘Fives’ that he had to review from the weekend shifts that had had a busy four shifts over the two days. There had been 16 robberies, 11 break-ins, 14 assaults, 9 assaults with deadly intent and 25 domestic violence complaints. He locked his hands behind his head, and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. He kept putting each of the detectives that worked the weekend shifts in order of what he felt their capabilities were. He was not comfortable with the performance he gleaned from the ‘Fives’, performance, detail, commitment, and believability, things he should not be doubting.
The phone on his desk began to ring, he leaned forward and picked up the receiver saying, “Ryan.”
“Ryan, Chief Caztalanno, we have an officer down in Times Square, first report is that he is dead, I need you there to handle this, now!” A loud click followed.
Ryan moved towards the door yelling, “Graves, with me, now!” He heard the chair being pushed back with a loud scratching against the floor. They both reached the top of the stairs at the same time and took them two at a time and hitting the doors Ryan said, “Chief of D’s just called, one of ours is dead in Times Square. Drive, get us there now!” They bolted for the closest police car, a black and white at the curb. A patrol officer was getting a perp out of the rear of the car.
Graves waved at the patrolman and yelling loudly, “Move it, move it, emergency” as he pulled the driver’s door open. He heard more than saw Ryan’s door close and he stomped on the gas while turning on the lights and siren. The uniformed officer and the perp stepped back from the curb quickly more out of instinct than need.



Quincy moved into the crowd and positioned himself to the right and just behind the two NY City police officers walking foot patrol. The foot patrols were now a common site in Times Square, one that gave visitors and locals a feeling of security. He watched the sway of the young Patrol hips which brought a smile to his lips.
Hearing the distant church bells, Quincy knew that in a few moments the sidewalks would become a mass of humanity as the theater’s show ended. The theater patrons would spill out in a mass of humanity on to the sidewalk. This he knew would give him the safety of hustle and bustle confusion to complete his task.
He placed his right hand on the flashlight that hung from his belt and waited for the rush of theater goers. He moved with the flow and it was a sudden press of bodies as the eight doors opened from the theater to their left. He slid the flashlight out of its belt holder and in one smooth motion pressed its butt against the police officer he was walking behind, just right of her spine and between the 3 rd and 4 th true rib. He pressed the released button and a soft click cut through the air. The blade sliced through the Patrol uniform, skin, muscle, and one and a half inch of the blade’s tip pierced her heart.
Quincy pushed the handle quickly forward a few inches and then pulled it back a few inches, the blade sliced the heart in two causing instant death. He pulled the retractor lever pulling the blade back into the flashlight’s barrel. He dragged the butt end across the Patrol shirt to wipe it free of blood and then with a flick of his wrist the blade was retracted and the flashlight was back in the holder. He moved away quickly but not hurriedly through the crowd and was six or seven feet away before the body fell to the sidewalk and the fellow officer realized that something was wrong. He heard a woman scream, and someone yelling for help, a smile crept across Quincy’s face and the warm feeling of satisfaction spread across his chest. The barrel of the flashlight bumped against his leg as he moved and the feeling always made him feel very satisfied. It had taken him many tries to get it right.
The string of bodies that were his failures, which he had had to dispose of over the past years were somber proof of that. The failures were prostitutes, homeless, or just someone found at an opportune moment. It did not matter who they were, they served their purpose.
Almost all of the early ones were done in some private place and allowed him to take the bodies’ home and then dispose of them. To get them ready for the disposal, he had cut these failures into manageable sections. He then rapped them in plastic bags, to prevent leaking, and then placed the sections into burlap bags. They were then stacked neatly in his walk-in freezer.
This was so that he could move them at any time without drawing attention to himself. He had been able to dispose of them in desolate spots on the island’s beaches mostly, while traveling to and from completing normal inspection/maintenance/repair visits that were scheduled for him to complete for work.
The making of the light/knife had taken weeks, months really, with the work spread over a few years. He had to make sure that with a glance it looked exactly like the real thing. Just like the real one he carried every day.
He had to solve the problem of making it the deadly weapon that it was, but still perform as an everyday flashlight.
The blade was made of Zirconia Ceramic, making it strong and very, very sharp. It has a cutting edge on both sides along its seven-inch length coming to a point, with the tip coming to a double razor-sharp edge. The blade is very much the same as that of a Secret Service Boot Knife made by General Edge but ceramic instead of steel.
The blade, being propelled by a one-hundred-and-fifty-foot pound spring, rides on two brass slide rails and the blade is held in the cocked position by a double latching catch. The catch is released with a push of a button on the barrel located just below the lights on/off switch. Pushing the button allows the blade to shoot out of the bottom of the barrel, slicing through muscle, bone, and flesh with ease. Using brass allows the latching to sound to be much softer then the hard click of steel on steel, making it less memorable.
Then he pulls back the retractor lever, the blade slides silently on the brass slides until it re-catches on the latching catch. This puts the knife in its operating position again, should it be needed.
After just a few hours of practice, the releasing and retracting of the blade could be accomplished in less than four seconds.
The face of the light had a 1.977" diameter Gorilla Glass lens over twenty-four LED’s powered by a miniature 12-volt battery, giving the light a thirty-five-minute life at full power. The beam of light is as strong as any the commercial lights available on line or in any specialty law enforcement/sports store.



Corporal Jack Stoneman knelt down next to his fallen partner, Patrol Officer Jill Williamson, and checked the downed Patrol pulse, there was none. He and Officer Williamson had taken a lot of good-natured flack about being the ‘Jack and Jill’ team of Law and Order. He stood and looked down at the body almost in shock as the pool of blood spread further across the sidewalk. The crowd inched back away from the blood, as it expanded in erratic patterns caused by the cracks in the concrete. Officer Stoneman stood there dazed and shaken, not believing what he was seeing before him on the sidewalk. Death being something that was discussed by all teams across the Department, but never with the belief it would actually occur.



In what seemed like moments later Graves pulled the patrol car partly onto the sidewalk with a screech of its brakes, siren screaming and all lights flashing, the closest car outside of the precinct house had been one at the door delivering a prisoner. He and Ry