Something Missing_ A Novel - Matthew Dicks [107]
“But what if there’s no evidence against this man?” Martin asked. “Just my anonymous word against his. What if he hasn’t left any evidence inside the house? Won’t the police just tip him off and point him at another victim?”
“Two things, son. First, if that man was in your friend’s house, they will find evidence. There is always evidence. No one is that careful. If he jimmied the door or picked the lock, there are guys on the job who can tell. If there are traffic cameras in the area, they might be able to spot him casing the house. There’s skin and hair and footprints. All kinds of DNA evidence. Trust me. There’s always physical evidence to be found. Second, even if the cops tip this guy off, the worst you’ve done is protected your friend. Maybe saved her life. If this guy can’t stop himself, he’s a whack job. He’ll do it again unless he’s locked up, but now the police will have his name. His address. If he isn’t caught, he will probably move to another part of the country and try again. But your friend will be safe regardless.”
Martin didn’t like any of these statements. First, he didn’t believe his father when he said that physical evidence would undoubtedly be left behind. Though his father had been a police officer for twenty years, the last dozen or so as a detective, Martin didn’t believe that all criminals were stupid. He was confident that he had never left a trace of physical evidence behind in the Pearls’ home, and if Darrow was as clever as Martin suspected, he would have left nothing behind either. From what Martin had already seen, the man was smart.
And if his father was right and there was physical evidence left behind, some type that Martin had yet to consider, then the police would most certainly find evidence of his own presence in the house as well, and this would not be good.
Finally, if Darrow was tipped off by the police, his father was right: Sophie Pearl might be spared, but the next woman whom Darrow targeted might not be so lucky. The prospect of saving one woman while damning another did not appeal to Martin. He had come to believe that he was supposed to help Sophie Pearl, even more than Cindy Clayton or Justine Ashley. But he wasn’t supposed to simply redirect the bullet that was aimed at her. He had been placed outside the Pearls’ house so that he could stop that bullet cold.
“What about some kind of sting operation?” Martin asked. “Catch him in the act?”
“A possibility,” his father answered. “But unlikely. Too dangerous for your friend, and it requires too much manpower. Too much time. If you send in a tip, the cops will probably pick this guy up immediately. Try to get him to confess. That’s what I would’ve done.”
“And if he doesn’t confess?”
“They can usually get a guy to confess to something, and being a two-strike guy, it won’t take much to put him away for life.”
Martin doubted that Clive Darrow would confess unless shown evidence that directly implicated him in the break-in of the Pearls’ home. He feared that his father had put away too many stupid criminals over the years and never realized how many clever ones had slipped through his grasp.
Clever people like himself.
“Anything else?” Martin asked, still in search of a better solution.
“Not really, son. Send in the tip and let the cops do their job.”
“All right. Thanks, Dad.”
“My pleasure, son. You know, we should do this more often. Except next time, maybe we can talk about the Sox. Or have some lunch together.”
“Yeah, we should,” Martin answered, fearing that his father didn’t mean what he had said. His father now knew that his son was engaged in illegal activity, and he probably had a good idea of what that activity was. Why would he want a criminal visiting his apartment, even if it was his son?
“Martin, I mean it. I’d like to see you again. I know that things have been rotten between us, and there ain’t much we can do about the rot but try to brush it away and start over. No use in shining up a piece of shit, right? You just toss it away and try to find some gold.”
“That sounds good, Dad,” Martin