Silent Screams - C. E. Lawrence [106]
“Test the communion wine for blood,” Lee instructed him.
The tech looked at him, puzzled. “Why would there be—”
“Just do it, okay?” Lee said.
“Christ,” Chuck said as they stood on the steps of the church watching the dark blue medical examiner’s van drive away. “We’ve got to catch this bastard.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting in half an hour—let’s meet this afternoon in my office.”
Lee went home and showered, then called Nelson, but he still wasn’t answering his phone.
That afternoon at Chuck’s office, none of them looked well rested, having been awakened by the early morning summons. Butts had driven in straight from his in-laws’ place, and looked as ragged as the rest of them. Nelson was still unreachable, so they started without him.
“Is there any news from New Jersey?” Chuck asked Lee, taking usual his seat behind his desk.
“I spoke with the state troopers in Somerville this morning. They processed the car thoroughly, but the only prints they found were from the doctor and his family. The only thing they have is the footprints in the snow.”
Chuck frowned. “Without a suspect in custody, they’re worthless. And I chewed out the cop who was supposed to be tailing you that night—turns out he had a family emergency, but that’s still no excuse.”
“What’s this all about?” Butts asked.
Chuck filled him and Florette in on Lee’s wild car chase.
“We think there might be a connection,” he added.
Frowning, Florette cocked his head to one side. “According to your profile, that doesn’t sound at all like this guy.”
“I know,” Lee agreed. “That what’s so disturbing about it.”
Butts’s homely face crinkled in concern. “Do you think you oughta be—I mean, maybe you should—”
“Look, we can talk about that later, okay?” Lee interrupted. “Right now, let’s deal with what we do know, okay?”
“Okay,” Chuck said. “What do you make of this new twist?”
Lee frowned. He wished Nelson were here to help him.
“I suspect there’s a significance to the placement of the body parts, but I don’t know enough to explain that. I do think he’s—”
“—becoming more confident,” Florette finished for him.
“Yes, that’s true—but he could also be unraveling. Some serial killers fall apart after a while. The strain of being chased gets to them, and they become sloppy and reckless. Bundy fell apart completely at the end, butchering several residents of a sorority house and leaving behind all kinds of evidence, including an eyewitness who survived. And Gacy began to break down after being conspicuously trailed by the police for a week.”
“So that’s good, right?” Butts said.
“Not necessarily. It also makes him more dangerous, more unpredictable.”
“So what now?” said Chuck.
“Well,” Lee answered, “we have to hope that he’s getting overconfident.”
“Pride cometh before a fall,” Florette murmured.
“Something like that,” Lee agreed. He looked out the window at the sunless sky.
As he walked from the subway to his apartment, Lee’s cell phone rang. The Caller ID said Fiona. That was odd—she hated cell phones, and never called him on his.
“Hello?”
“Lee?” His mother sounded upset—her voice was shaky.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Groucho. He’s…” Her voice shook, and he could hear a muffled sob.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t find him last night, and today I found him underneath the willow tree.” Another muffled sob, and then she came back on the line. “I don’t know if I’m imagining things, but I think he was poisoned.”
“Have Stan take him to the vet for an autopsy.”
“Am I being silly? I know he’s just a cat, but—”
“No, you’re not being silly! How’s Kylie taking it?”
“She’s very upset. She’s with her father today.”
“Okay. Now listen carefully. You call Stan and have him take Groucho to the vet for an autopsy—and let me know the results, okay? Then you go immediately to George’s and stay there.”
“But—”
“Please! Do as I say—for God’s sake!”
“All right,” she answered meekly.
“I’ll call you in an hour to see if everything went all right. And for God’s sake let the