The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [25]
“No, you don’t,” I said.
I came around Lowman’s chair, and tried to pin his arms to his sides. He wrestled with me while cursing under his breath. I looked to Cheeks for help.
“You want to participate?” I asked.
Cheeks was moving in slow motion, looking like he was going to be sick. I thought I knew what was wrong. His theory about the Grimes abduction had just gone up in flames, and he didn’t know what to do.
“Come on,” I urged him.
Cheeks drew his gun from his shoulder harness, and pointed it at Lowman.
“You’re under arrest,” he said.
Lowman’s fingers continued to pound the keyboard. I dragged him out of his chair, and shoved him into the wall.
“Calm down,” I said.
Finally, Lowman settled down. I made him put his hands against the wall, and frisked him. He was clean, and I looked at Cheeks.
“I want to see what’s on his computer,” I said. “You need to watch him.”
“Okay,” Cheeks said.
I sat in Lowman’s chair. His laptop computer was plugged into the console, and I clicked the mouse and accessed his e-mail. He’d sent over a hundred e-mails out today. I clicked on one, expecting the worst.
A film of a young girl losing her bathing suit in the swimming pool appeared on the laptop’s screen. It was set to raunchy music, the film slowing down as her suit came off. Lowman was editing surveillance tapes, then e-mailing them to other perverts. The children he was supposed to be protecting, he was instead exploiting.
I stood. “There’s enough evidence on this computer to put you in jail for the rest of your life. Do you want that?”
Slumped against the console, Lowman shook his head.
“Then help us find Sampson Grimes,” I said.
“What will I get in return?”
“We’ll tell the judge you cooperated.”
“Like you did with Vonell Cook this morning?” he asked.
The question caught me off guard.
“Who told you about Vonell?” I asked.
“His lawyer.”
I looked at Cheeks and saw him shake his head. Lowman seized the moment, and stuck his hand beneath the console. There was a loud ripping sound. His hand reappeared clutching a dark object.
“Gun!” I shouted.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I lunged across the trailer as Lowman fired his weapon.
The bullet whistled by my head, and ricocheted inside the trailer. More cops die from ricochets than by criminals shooting at them. I dove to the floor, as did Cheeks. Lowman kicked open the trailer door.
“Screw your deal!” he said, and ran out.
Cheeks was lying on top of me, and I had to shove him to get up. The trailer door had shut itself, and I stared at the monitors covering the wall. Instead of running toward the park’s entrance, Lowman was running toward the rear. He’d had his escape route all planned out.
Cheeks was having a hard time getting up. I offered my hand and he refused it.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Get the bastard,” he wheezed.
I ran outside. Lowman was tall, and easy to spot in the crowd. He had circled the swimming pool, and was now headed toward a gate with an “Employees Only” sign hanging on it. I wasn’t going to catch him unless I did something drastic.
Cheeks staggered out of the trailer. I took out my Colt, and tossed it to him.
“Hold this,” I said.
My sandals came off next, and I leaped into the pool. The water was highly chlorinated and stung my eyes. I swam competitively as a kid, and might have broken a couple of records had I not discovered girls. Flying across the water, I lifted my head. Lowman waited for me on the other side.
I dove straight down as he fired. A bullet whizzed silently past, and went right between a little boy’s legs in the shallow end. Some people will tell you there is no God, but I’ve seen enough things like this to tell you there is.
My head broke the water’s surface, and I swam to the pool’s edge. Lowman had given up trying to kill me, and was running toward the gate. He was going to escape.
I stared into the faces of the crowd. Several guys my age were giving me curious looks. They knew something wasn’t right; they just didn’t know what. Cupping my hands over