Midnight Rambler_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [38]
“Jesus, Jack, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry.”
I lifted my gaze. “Help me. Please.”
“Do you have the transmitter these guys were using to bug your car?”
The transmitter was lying on the bottom of the ocean outside the Sunset. I decided to lie to him.
“Yes.”
“Bring the transmitter to my office, and I'll put in a request for a partial license run to be done on all vans in Broward with those three numbers. If my boss squawks, I'll show him the transmitter, and tell him it's regarding another case.”
Russo was in my corner again, fighting the good fight. He started the cruiser, and I asked him for a lift back to Dania.
“Why don't you take your own car?” he suggested.
“Last time I checked, not having a windshield was against the law.”
“I'll escort you home,” Russo said.
I dropped my car at a body shop in Dania, and Russo drove us to the Sunset. He parked in the lot and left the engine idling. It was another beautiful day in paradise, and we sat in his car and watched waves crash against the shoreline.
“I've got a gang examining the Skell file,” Russo said. “Half of homicide, two investigators from Florida Department of Law Enforcement, and one of those crackerjacks from the FBI. I'd bring in the Boy Scouts if I thought it would do any good.”
“Nothing, huh?”
“Actually, there is something I think we can use.”
I felt a spark of hope. “What did you find?”
“Melinda Peters.”
“But she testified at the trial. The judge has already heard her.”
“I read her testimony and compared it with the deposition she gave before trial,” Russo said. “Her testimony at the trial was shorter. She left out some really sick things that Skell did to her when she was locked up in the dog crate in his house.”
“She was traumatized by the experience, so the prosecutor toned it down,” I explained. “It was the only way Melinda would agree to testify.”
“Would she tell the whole story now?”
I shook my head. Victims of sexual crimes were slow to heal and sometimes never healed at all. I couldn't see Melinda reliving the experience.
“I want a judge to hear what happened to her,” Russo said. “It's hard evidence that Skell is a sexual predator. Predators can be held in jail indefinitely in Florida if they're considered a threat.”
“But Skell wasn't put in prison for being a sexual predator.”
“It doesn't matter. If the judge determines that he is one, the state will hold him. It's called the William's Law, and we'll ask him to invoke it.”
I shook my head again. I didn't see Melinda doing it.
“Melinda likes you, doesn't she?” Russo asked.
“What does that have to do with this?” I asked.
“You can talk to her,” Russo said. “Take her out to dinner, beg her; hell, sleep with her if you have to, but get her to help us. She's our last chance.”
Melinda's coming on to me was still fresh in my mind. She probably would agree to testify if I tricked her by lying about my feelings, but I wasn't going down that road.
“I'll try,” I said.
I got out and retrieved Buster from the backseat. Russo backed out of the spot and pulled up alongside me. He leaned out his open window.
“I'll be by later this afternoon with the transmitter, and we can run those list of partial license plates,” I said.
“You do that,” Russo said. “Oh, by the way. I don't take IOUs. You still owe me three hundred bucks for the repairs on my Suburban.” Before I could tell him I didn't have the money, Russo drove away.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The ocean had turned rough.
With my flippers propelling me through the choppy waves, I swam to the spot where I believed the transmitter had sunk, stopped to adjust my mask, and dove down.
Nearing the ocean floor, I stopped as a sand shark with a mouthful of frightening-looking teeth and small darting eyes swam past. Having spent my life swimming in Florida's waters, I'd encountered sharks many times and did not fear them. They were docile creatures, generally content to prey on smaller fish and roam with other sharks.
The sand shark left, and I resumed my search. The ocean floor was covered in a brownish silt. Hovering about it,