The Night Stalker_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [54]
“That’s right.”
I stared through the sun-soaked windshield while thinking about my meeting with Abb. I’d come away believing that he cared about his grandson’s welfare. So far, nothing that Whitley had said had convinced me otherwise.
“You think I got played for a fool, don’t you?” I asked.
“I’m afraid so,” Whitley said.
“Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
Whitley turned in his seat. We were close enough for me to see the road map of lines in his face. His brown eyes were hard and un-yielding. “As of this afternoon, I’m officially handling the homicide portion of this investigation, while Detective Burrell is handling the search for the missing little boy. I know you’ve gotten yourself wrapped up in this, but I need you off the case.”
I felt like I’d been kicked in the teeth, and spent a moment composing myself.
“You don’t want to hear what I have to say, or the conclusions I’ve come to?”
Whitley picked up a paper napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth. He was looking at me the way an adult looks at a child.
“You still believe Jed is innocent, don’t you?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
“Then no, I don’t want to hear what you have to say.”
If Whitley hadn’t been with the FBI, I would have knocked the smug look off his face. Instead, I thanked him for lunch, got out of the car with Buster, and walked back to the Smart Buy to get my borrowed pickup truck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The sunlight was beginning to fade as I pulled into the Sunset’s parking lot, and I knew I didn’t have much time left. Walking down to the shoreline, I pulled off my clothes, and dove headfirst into a wave.
The water was tepid, and tiny schools of minnows tickled my legs as I headed out to my regular spot. I’d gone swimming here the day my marriage had fallen apart, and it had given me the strength to get on with my life. The backstroke was my specialty, and I flopped onto my back, and began doing laps.
I searched for a cloud in the sky but couldn’t find one. My body was tired and I could not find the rhythm to my stroke. I’d been looking for missing kids nearly all my adult life, and I’d never been forced to leave a case before it was finished. It made me angry enough to scream, so I did.
Soon it was dark, and I decided to head in. Reaching the shore, I found a cold sixteen-ounce Budweiser half-buried in the sand next to my dog. I popped the top and let the beer pour down my throat. Then I threw my clothes back on, and went inside the Sunset. The bar was quiet, and I found Sonny watching the evening news.
“Where are the Dwarfs?” I asked.
“Over at the jai alai fronton, losing their money,” Sonny replied.
I took a stool, and watched the TV. The news was showing the manhunt taking place in LeAnn Grimes’s neighborhood, the police using bloodhounds and policemen on horseback to scour the alleyways and backyards in search of Jed Grimes. Toward the end of the segment, an aerial shot taken from a helicopter appeared, and showed bags of garbage lying on the ground next to the Dumpsters behind the Smart Buy.
The shot made me think back to my discovery of Piper Stone’s body. Before her killer had tossed Stone into the Dumpster, he’d removed a bag of garbage, and put it on the ground. Then he’d tossed Stone in, and covered her with the first bag. It hadn’t seemed significant to me at the time, but now it did.
The segment ended, and I slapped my hand on the bar. Sonny thought I wanted another beer, and placed a fresh can in front of me.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” I swore.
“What’d I do?” Sonny asked.
I pointed at the TV. “I meant the killer.”
“Oh. What about him?”
“I was there at the grocery, and I missed something. The killer had the presence of mind to cover his tracks. That’s not normal.”
“It’s not?”
The beer had rushed to my head, and I took a deep breath and spoke slowly. “Not with a murder like this. The guy just strangled a woman. His heart is racing a hundred miles an hour. What is his mind telling him to do?”
Sonny scratched his chin and gave it some thought. “Run?”
“That’s right, run. Only he had the presence of mind not to. Instead