The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [34]
“How old was he?”
“Fifteen.”
I gazed across the clearing at the tree where the dead vagrant had been tied. His killing had been committed by someone practiced in deception and cold-blooded murder. It was an unusual mix of skills that were usually honed over time. Jed, who was the same age as my daughter, didn’t seem old enough.
“I want to talk to Jed before you arrest him,” I said. “I’ve known his ex-wife since she was a kid, and I also met with his father yesterday.”
“You think he’ll open up to you?” Burrell asked.
“He might.”
“All right. But I want you to wear a wire.”
I had worn wires before, and had discovered that they often telegraphed themselves through body language and other subliminal signs. I also didn’t like the idea of having cops lurking nearby in a van.
“No wire,” I said.
Burrell shot me a disapproving look. “What if Jed confesses to you, and we don’t record it? What then, Jack?”
“We get him to confess again,” I said.
“I need to hear what he says to you.”
“I’ll tell you what he says, word for word.”
“Why are you being so stubborn?”
“I need Jed to trust me. I can’t do that if I’m sweating through my underwear because there’s a mike taped to my stomach and a bunch of cops sitting outside.”
Burrell considered what I was saying. Then she called Jed’s mother on her cell phone, and arranged for me to meet with Jed at his mother’s house in thirty minutes. She ended the call and gave me his mother’s address.
“I hope you’re right about this,” she said.
There are times when it’s good to own a mean dog. Walking back to my car, I was accosted by Chip Wells and his camera crew, who wanted to interview me for the evening news. Buster was on a leash, and my dog lunged at them so viciously that Wells and his crew ran for cover.
The interior of my car felt like an oven. I rolled my windows down, then took my cell phone off the dash, and punched in my daughter’s cell number. I knew Jessie’s class schedule by heart, and she was on break right now.
“Hey, Daddy,” she answered.
“Is this the best women’s college basketball player in the country?” I asked.
“Did you see the game?”
“I sure did. You were a star.”
“I was voted most valuable player, and got interviewed on cable TV after the game. Believe it or not, he asked me out on a date.”
“Who did?”
“The announcer who interviewed me.”
My daughter’s games were shown on a local cable station, the announcer a blow-dried ex-jock who never stopped talking.
“I’ll kill him,” I said.
“Daddy, please!”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.”
“I saw an old friend of yours last night.”
“Really? Who was that?”
“Heather Rinker.”
“God, I haven’t spoken to Heather in months. How’s she doing?”
“Not so good. Her son was abducted, and I’ve been hired by the family to find him. What can you tell me about Heather’s ex-husband, Jed Grimes?”
“Oh, God.”
“Is he a bad guy?”
“No, he’s just messed up. Jed and Heather were sweethearts in junior high. When they were sixteen Jed got Heather pregnant, then refused to help raise her little boy, so Heather quit school to work at Blockbuster. She finally got her life together, then Jed reappeared and filed for joint custody and won. I spoke with Heather over the holidays, and she told me Jed was actually trying to be a good father.”
“Have you ever met him?”
“I met him at a party once. He couldn’t stop talking about his father’s crimes. He was sort of obsessed. I think it had something to do with the old neighborhood.”
“The old neighborhood?”
“Jed’s mother never moved.”
“Maybe she couldn’t afford to.”
“I know, but she didn’t change the house, either. Inside, it’s exactly the same as it was when her husband was arrested. Same furniture, same paint, same everything.”
“Do you think it warped Jed?”
“Yes. I’ve got to go. I’ve got a math test in an hour that I haven’t studied for.”
I started my car. I was getting