Safe at Home

by Alison Gordon

  The young cop took it.

  “Make sure you don’t get it confused with your lunch,” Sandy said. The forced humour was just what was needed. It made me laugh, anyway, and T.C. looked appropriately grossed out.

  “Can we go now, Kate?” he asked.

  “Sure, if that’s all right with you, officer.”

  “I’ll escort you back,” he said.

  “There’s no need,” I said.

  “Kate, come on! I want the sirens again,” said T.C.

  “Don’t be a goof. The man has evidence to deliver.”

  “Sure, you wouldn’t want to hold up the puke patrol,” said Sandy.

  “The retch run,” I said.

  “The barf battalion,” chimed in T.C., giggling.

  “You guys are making me sick,” Joe said.

  As we headed out of the hospital, T.C. asked where his mother was.

  “She’s at a meeting. I couldn’t reach her. We’ll see her at home. I don’t know how I’m going to explain this one. Some babysitter I am!”

  “Well, you did save his life,” Joe said.

  “Thanks to you guys,” I said.

  “Kate?”

  “Yes T.C.”

  “What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”

  Joe and I exchanged looks over the kid’s head. I shrugged.

  Chapter 31

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked T.C. We were in the back of Joe’s Honda, on the way home.

  “Why not? He didn’t hurt me,” he said. “Wait until I tell the kids at school! I survived the Daylight Stalker!”

  “That wasn’t a movie, T.C. It really happened. You were really in danger,” I said.

  “I know,” he shrugged. “But I’m okay, so what’s the big deal?”

  “You’re weird,” I said.

  “I know,” he laughed.

  I hugged him, to reassure myself as much as anything. T.C. was doing just fine. I knew the crash would come, but if he wanted to play it cool for the moment, who was I to argue?

  Who indeed? Just someone who had sat next to a serial killer at work for the past two years. Just somebody who hadn’t noticed a thing strange about a man who could rape and murder little children. I shuddered.

  Joe and Sandy were quiet in the front seat, taking their lead from me.

  “I’d better call the paper,” I said as we pulled into the driveway.

  “I’ll take care of the barbecue,” Joe said.

  “And, if you don’t mind, I’ll open some wine,” Sandy said. “I think we all could use some.”

  I called the sports department first. I thought I had better tell Jake that one of his staff had just been arrested. He wasn’t there. Rather than explain it all to the night editor, I tried Jake’s home number. No answer. I looked up the number of The Final Edition. Lenore found him for me.

  “Oh, Jesus,” was all he said, when I told him.

  “I don’t know what you want to do about it. Pull his story from tomorrow’s paper, for one thing. I haven’t told anyone upstairs yet. I thought you’d like to do that. If they haven’t got it off the police radio.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” he said again.

  “You’ll have to figure out what you want from me, if anything. Or maybe the city desk will. I’ll leave it to you. When it has sunk in, give me a call. I’m at home. Kelsey and his friend are here, too.”

  “You’re sure T.C. is all right?”

  “He’s fine,” I said. “Pretty excited, as a matter of fact. The nightmares will come later.”

  “Mine have just begun. I’ll get upstairs now and figure out how the hell to handle this. I’ll call you back when I’ve figured it out. Dickie Greaves. Jesus.”

  “I know. Talk to you later,” I said.

  I tried Andy, but he couldn’t come to the phone. Just as well, probably. I didn’t much feel like dealing with his attitude. On the other hand, I could use some support, if he could stand offering it. Particularly when Sally got home.

  I went down the back stairs to the garden. T.C. was helping Joe with the barbecue. Sandy was sitting at the picnic table. He had found the wine cooler and glasses, and was sipping thoughtfully while he watched his lover and the boy whose life they had saved. I sat down on the bench next to him. He poured me a glass of wine and handed it to me. Then he covered my hand with his and squeezed it.

  “It’s all over,” he said.

  It was strange, but we all behaved quite calmly, as if the terrifying scene in the park had been nothing more than a minor interruption of our dinner party, as if it had happened to someone else.

  So it was quite a normal scene that greeted Sally when she came through the back door of her ground floor flat. Joe and T.C. were hosing out the barbecue, laughing and getting wet. Sandy and I were giving helpful advice from our dry spot.

  “What a day,” Sally said, dropping into a deck chair. “I am pooped. And you, you little creep, you didn’t call me.”

  “Let me pour you a glass of wine,” I said, quickly.

  “Hey, you guys probably haven’t heard the good news,” Sally said. “I just heard a bulletin on the car radio. They think they’ve got the Stalker.”

  Glances were exchanged, but no one said a word. My job, I guess. I handed her the glass and took a deep breath. Why did I feel guilty?

  “We do know about it, as a matter of fact,” I began. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but we were there when they caught him.”

  “You were what?”

  “Now, don’t panic. Just listen.”

  “They saved my life, Mum,” T.C. said. “Joe and Sandy. And Kate.”

  “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to scream?” she asked. T.C. went and leaned against her chair.

  “You’d have every right to,” I said, laughing nervously. “But you don’t have to. It’s over. Everything is all right. It’s just that . . .”

  Christ, how to put it? Straight, I guess.

  “It’s just that T.C. was next on his list.”

  “And they made me puke at the hospital,” T.C. said. “I was practically killed.”

  “Thanks, T.C., you’re a big help,” I said.

  “Will somebody please tell me what happened,” Sally said, her voice very controlled.

  So I did, giving her the basic facts as quickly as I could. She reached out and put her arms around T.C., her head against his chest, her face suddenly pale. When she looked up, tears stood in her eyes.

  “Oh, God, thank you. Thank you all very, very much. Without my son, I don’t know . . .”

  “Aw, Mum, don’t get all mushy,” T.C. said, breaking the tension. All the grownups were laughing and crying at the same time. Sally stood up and hugged me, then Joe.

  “We haven’t met, yet,” she said to Sandy. “I’m Sally Parkes and I would like very much to hug you, too.”

  He put his arms out, she stepped into them, and he held her close.

  “All right,” she said finally, wiping tears from her eyes. “Now I want to hear all about it from you, T.C.”

  “He came to the school at lunch hour. I was in the playground. He told me that the picture they took on Saturday didn’t turn out and I should meet him at the park at four. He told me not to tell any of the other kids, because they would be jealous.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong. You let me go with him before, and he was a friend of Kate’s.”

  Sally and I exchanged a look, part guilt, part horror.

  “I called Kate and left a message on her machine after school,” T.C. continued, somewhat defensively.

  “Which I forgot to check when I came in,” I explained. “I didn’t realize that there were any messages until you called.”

  “So I went there, to the park,” T.C. continued. “He got there a little bit later and told me we had
to wait for the photographer. He bought me a Coke.”

  “Which will probably turn out to have been drugged,” I said.

  “Which is why they made me puke at the hospital. Yuck.”

  “What did he say?” Sally asked. “What did you talk about?”

  “Just stuff. About baseball and about the other kids he’d written stories about. And about when he was a kid and nobody ever picked him for the team. Like me, until they found out I could pitch. He was really nice.”

  “Weren’t you scared?”

  “No, why should I be scared? We were just talking. I didn’t know what was happening until it was over.”

  “Did he suggest you go anywhere else?”

  “Well, he said that if the guy didn’t get there soon, he would give me a ride home in his van.”

  The van, one of the things that should have tipped me off sooner. I interrupted and filled her in on my half of the story.

  “After I talked to you, I checked my machine. T.C.’s wasn’t the only message. Dickie had left one, too, only I didn’t know it was Dickie. It was late last night and I didn’t bother to answer the phone. This morning I was late and hung over and forgot all about the call.

  “It was like the one he left before. He was asking me to help him. Something just twigged. The way he spoke, I realized that he knew me. That he knew who he was talking to. And I thought I recognized the voice.”

  “How could you be sure?” Sally asked.

  “I couldn’t. But I couldn’t take a chance. There was something else, too. Andy told me this morning that this expert had told him about some similar murders in Timmins. I remembered that Dickie had worked in Timmins for a while. And I thought about the way he has been fascinated by the murders, and how he talked about the killer. He said he was smart. He said something about how he had almost been gentle. It all fit.”

  I told the story of the chase around the neighbourhood, Sandy and Joe’s heroics, Dickie’s arrest, and the trip to the hospital.

  “What happens now?” Sally asked.

  “Andy said he would come and talk to us as soon as they got Dickie put away. I guess we will have to tell the story again.”

  “Joe and I can get out of here, if you like, Kate,” Sandy said. “Would you three rather be alone?”

  I looked at Sally, who shook her head.

  “No. I’ll start dinner,” I said. “If you don’t mind a bit of confusion, you’re welcome to stay.”

  “I’ll be glad to help,” Sandy said.

  “We’re having shish kebabs. I can put them on as soon as the coals are ready. They won’t take long.”

  “Maybe I’ll just put on a hot dog for T.C.,” Sally said. “It will be quicker.”

  “I’ll go up and start getting the rest of it together,” I said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Sandy said, “I am a master salad chef.”

  “And T.C. and I will start the fire,” said Joe.

  “After that, do you want to play catch?” T.C. asked.

  Chapter 32

  Sandy turned out to be true to his word. While I prepared some potatoes to roast with garlic, he tore and washed the greens, sliced onions, peppers, and mushrooms, then made a delicious dressing, with my tasting assistance.

  My preparations were interrupted by a phone call from the paper. The front page wanted me to dictate an eyewitness story to the rewrite desk.

  “I’ll call you back in five minutes,” I said.

  I explained to Sandy what was left to do to the potatoes, then went to my study to collect my thoughts. I decided it was easier to write the story than to dictate it. I think better with my fingers than my mouth. My portable computer was already set up. I wrote a short story, mentioning Joe’s role in the capture. I had to be careful that I only wrote what I had seen, not anything I knew because of my conversations with Andy. I transmitted it over the phone to the office computer, then called Jake.

  “You should have something in now. Do you want to check?”

  “Yeah, it’s here,” he said, a few minutes later. “I’ll get it over to the news desk.”

  “What’s going on down there?”

  “What do you think? A staffer is charged with the most horrible crimes the city has ever seen. The city editor has come in to stage-manage the coverage. We can’t ignore it, but it’s not something we can really run with, under the circumstances.”

  “For the first time in the history of the Planet, you’re hoping there’s a publication ban soon.”

  “You got it.”

  “You have to say something.”

  “Well, he’s innocent until proven guilty. Right now, the news side is more worried about covering our asses than anything else. That’s from the publisher on down.”

  “I don’t envy you,” I said.

  “I don’t have to worry about the coverage, but I hired the guy, for Christ’s sake.”

  “No one could have known, Jake.”

  “Yeah, I guess. What are you going to do tomorrow? Are you all right to go to Detroit, or do you have to stick around to give evidence or something?”

  “I’ll be doing that later tonight. I’ll be ready to go tomorrow. The charter doesn’t leave until noon. If I have to, I’ll take a later flight.”

  “I can send someone else if you like.”

  “No, I’d rather get out of here.”

  “All right. Let me know what’s happening.”

  “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  I went back to the garden and told Joe what I had written.

  “I mentioned your name, too, Sandy,” I said, hesitantly. “I described you as a friend of Joe’s. I hope that’s not a problem.”

  “It’s the truth,” he said.

  “This might take some of the heat off you, Joe,” Sally said. “You’re a real hero now.”

  “It was no big deal,” he shrugged. “He was just a little guy.”

  “Big enough,” I said.

  “What will happen to him?” T.C. asked.

  “If he’s found guilty, I don’t guess he’ll ever ever get out of jail,” I said.

  “Not if I can help it,” said Andy, who had overheard us as he came into the yard, along with a uniformed constable. A very attractive female constable, in fact, with blonde hair and dimples. He went immediately to Sally and hugged her. I hung back, waiting for his move.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, a little stiffly.

  “Fine. I’m just appalled that I didn’t figure it out sooner.”

  “How do you think I feel? It’s my job, not yours.”

  “Do we know for sure?”

  “He’s the one, all right.”

  “Did he confess?”

  “Not yet. But he will. His kind always does, eventually.”

  “I sat at the desk next to him for a year,” I said. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice something about him.”

  “It’s always that way,” Sandy said. “Whenever something like this happens, don’t all the neighbours say what a quiet person the murderer was? It’s weird.”

  “I know it’s the great cliché, but I always figured those neighbours were either really stupid or didn’t know the killer well,” I said. “But I knew Dickie. I had lunch with him. We had beers after work. He was just a normal guy. A bit of an asshole, sometimes, but I had no clue.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Kate,” Andy said. “There’s no way you could have known. That’s one of the most frightening things about serial killers. Because they really don’t believe what they are doing is wrong, it doesn’t affect them. They can kill, then go about their business.”

  “But Dickie couldn’t, could he?” I asked. “He wanted to get caught. He laid it all out for me. He was pleading for my help.”

  “And gave you good reason to catch him by
threatening T.C., too,” Andy agreed. “It happens that way sometimes. It’s as if there is a more rational half of the personality trying to gain control.”

  “What would have happened if I hadn’t figured it out?”

  “He would have killed T.C.,” Andy said. “To punish you for not being as smart as you thought. I don’t think your friend Dickie was too fond of you.”

  “Jesus,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Andy said. “T.C., are you ready to talk to me? I don’t want to take you away from your dinner.”

  “I’m finished,” he said, getting up from the table.

  “Can we talk inside?” Andy asked Sally.

  “Sure. Shall I come?”

  “If you like. And I would really appreciate a coffee, if you could manage it.”

  “Do you want something to eat?” I asked Andy. “I’m just about to cook.”

  “No. I had a sandwich. I have to get statements from you and Joe and Sandy, too. Then I have to get back to the office. I’ve left your friend with Jim.”

  “Don’t call him my friend, please,” I said.

  “Sorry, let’s go T.C.”

  It didn’t take long, but by the time he came back, we were all a little drunk. Screaming tension and three bottles of wine will do that every time. Sandy was telling stories about Joe’s first days at the health club, and we were laughing until the tears ran down our faces.

  Andy looked at the dirty dishes and empty wine bottles with dismay.

  “Great interviews I’m going to have here,” Andy said, more grumpily than I thought completely justified.

  “No, it’s fine,” I said. “Don’t get your drawers in a knot. Do you want to talk to us separately or together?”

  “One at a time,” he said. “Joe first. Do you mind if I use your place, Kate? Sally is getting T.C. to bed.”

  “No problem. You know your way.”

  It took an hour for us to all tell our stories. The constable left at 9:00, and Joe and Sandy shortly afterwards.

  They didn’t take the car. Nothing like having a cop in residence to change one’s mind about driving drunk.

  “I’ll come get it in the morning,” Sandy said.