The Night Monster_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [88]
A knock on my door broke my concentration. “We’re all friends here,” I said.
Kumar popped his head in. “The lady detective just called the bar, and asked the bartender to page you. He told her he thought he saw you come in.”
I cursed under my breath. I knew what was going to happen next. Burrell was on her way here, and would confront me. I shut down my computer, and rose from my desk.
“Thanks for the warning,” I said.
I got in my car, and fled south on I-95.
I knew what Burrell would do when she didn’t find me at Louie’s. She’d drive to the Sunset and look there. When that failed, she’d drive to my other haunts and look. We’d worked together eight years, and Burrell knew the places I frequented. The only way to avoid her was to not be at any of them.
It was time to bring Linderman into the fold. I called his office, and when he didn’t answer, tried his cell phone. He didn’t pick up, so I called his house.
“Hello, Jack,” Linderman answered.
“I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time,” I said, figuring I had.
“I was just heading out the door with Muriel. We were going to have dinner at our favorite restaurant on the Key. It’s our anniversary.”
“How many years?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Congratulations. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your help.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve determined the identity of Sara Long’s abductors. The giant is a mentally disturbed killer named Lonnie. His partner is a murderer named Andrew Lee Carr. They’re hiding in a small town in central Florida called Chatham. I need you to help me catch them.”
There was a short pause. I could envision his wife, Muriel, standing in the foyer of their condo on Key Biscayne, all dressed up and ready to go out.
“Did you contact the police?” Linderman finally asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It’s complicated. I’ll explain everything when I see you.”
Linderman breathed heavily into the phone. I had given up many weekends to help him look for his daughter. I’d never complained, and didn’t expect for him to, either.
“How long will it take for you to get here?” the FBI agent asked.
“Forty minutes, tops.”
“I’ll tell the guard at the front gate that you’re coming.”
“Thanks. Tell Muriel I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Linderman said.
Muriel Linderman had her brave face on when I entered the condo. She was a tiny woman, barely five feet tall, with expressive eyes and a tender smile. Before her daughter’s abduction, she had taught elementary school in Virginia, where she’d lived most of her life. When she spoke, I still heard the accent in her voice.
Muriel gave me a hug, and invited me to join them in eating Domino’s pizza on the balcony. I wanted to apologize for the intrusion, and for ruining their anniversary dinner, but the knowing look in her eyes told me it wasn’t necessary.
Their condo was on the south side of Key Biscayne, the view of the glittering bay filled with yachts nothing short of spectacular. I ate a couple slices of pizza without saying very much. Linderman sat beside me, sipping an iced tea. His eyes never left my face.
“Tell me why you haven’t called the police,” he said.
“Because it might lead to Sara Long getting killed.”
“I think I hear the phone,” Muriel said.
Muriel went inside, and shut the slider behind her. I chugged back the last of my Heineken, and put the bottle down next to my plate. “If I call the police, they’ll contact Sheriff Morcroft in Chatham. I’m guessing Sheriff Morcroft knows what’s going on, and will alert Mouse and Lonnie.”
Linderman shot me a contemptuous stare. He did things by the book, and did not tolerate wild theories. “Let me get this straight. You think Chatham’s sheriff knows he has two ex-mental patients in his town who are abducting young women?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you have any proof that the sheriff’s involved?”
My chair made a harsh scraping sound as I pushed myself away from the table. “No, I don’t. But here’s my problem. If I contact the police, and tell