The Guilty - Jason Pinter [57]
"Just like the Kid," Rex said. Then he cocked his head.
"How old are you, Henry?" I looked at him. And didn't answer.
"Someone is looking to carry on Billy's legacy," I said.
"You say Billy meant to create order. He wanted to kill those
who'd done wrong."
"That's right." Rex thought for a moment. "You reckon this
killer of yours is some screwed-up kid, wants to play cowboys
and Indians?"
"I doubt it. This isn't just some kid who wasn't loved
enough by his mommy and daddy," I said. "This guy has a
motive. He thinks he's doing good."
We stood there in silence, staring at the grave site of one
of the most legendary murderers in history. A man who died
at the age of twenty-one, having ended one life for each of
his years. And yet over the years the Kid had become immortalized as a hero. An icon worthy of legend. How could a
murderer incite such passion? How could a man seemingly
deputized by the devil himself be remembered as an angel?
A beeping sound broke the silence. I plucked my cell phone
from my pocket, opened it. It was a text message from Jack.
It was two sentences. When I read them, my blood ran cold.
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There's been another murder. It's David Loverne.
I couldn't speak. Mya's father.
The last time I saw him was at his daughter's side at the
hospital, where...
I called you, Henry. I remembered Mya's voice on that
terrible day.
"I have to go," I said to Rex, shutting the phone. "I need
to get home right away. I appreciate the help."
"You gonna be, you know, telling the police about this?"
"Yes, I am."
"Figures. Anyway, you'll want to look at Brushy Bill.
Dollars to dineros if it's Billy's legacy you're investigating,
it's something to do with ol' Brushy."
I nodded at Rex, then half-walked, dazed, back to the
hotel. I threw everything in my duffel, jumped in the rental
car and headed toward Albuquerque.
The drive seemed to last for days. Visions in my mind
reminded me of that night, seeing Mya's father there, holding
her hand. Me not being able to apologize because words were
useless. Knowing Mya had been hurt, and that I hadn't been
there for her.
Athena Paradis, Joe Mauser, Jeffrey Lourdes and now
David Loverne. Somehow Mya's father fit in the killer's
demented pattern. But how?
I'd heard rumblings about David Loverne's misdeeds. That
his marriage wasn't as rock-solid as the facade he put on in
public. Many felt that at some point scandal would hit, and
hit hard. It was only a matter of time. I thought of Mya, how
she was so damaged, how she'd been reaching out to me and
I'd been slapping her hand away. If she ever needed a friend,
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Jason Pinter
someone who used to know her better than anyone, now was
the time for me to be there for her.
I tried Mya's cell phone. It went right to voice mail. I
couldn't leave a message. I had to see her. Then I remembered
her text message.
I'm sorry. Forgive me.
I was numb when I arrived at the airport. They charged a
hundred bucks to change my flight. I paid it in cash.
I called Amanda and left her a message. Then I called Jack
and told him I would get to the office that night. He told me
to read the Gazette and the Dispatch before I saw anybody in
New York. His voice had both an urgency and sadness to it.
My stomach turned over.
On my way to the terminal, I stopped by a news kiosk. I
grabbed a bottle of orange juice and went to the newspaper
rack. Thankfully they carried both the Dispatch and the
Gazette. I paid for the drink and papers and took them to the
gate. Sitting down, I took a long gulp of juice and then laid
the papers out on my lap.
The Gazette' s headline read:
Ballistics Sheds New Light On Murders
Killer possibly using "Gun that won the West"
by Jack O'Donnell
with additional reporting by Henry Parker
Then I looked at the Dispatch. There were two stories
competing for dominance. The first headline read:
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Athena Paradis's Greek Boy Toy Speaks Out
Tells why murdered heiress was second to none
in the bedroom
Then I read the second headline. I