The Perfect Prey

by James Andrus

  The girl the paramedics had taken said Kinard had given her Ecstasy and he was acting weird. Everyone seemed weird when they tried to stab you. She admitted to having sex with him at Neptune Beach and that they got involved in rough horseplay in the water. The horseplay had upset her, so she had left him at a park near Neptune Beach without clothes or keys. She’d really thought that’s why he had gotten upset and attacked her with a knife. Patty had done an outstanding job of keeping her calm and getting the pertinent information out of her. But now Stallings thought about the photo collage of blond girls and felt sick to his stomach at the idea that these girls could be murder victims.

  He’d been very impressed with Yvonne Zuni’s grasp of command and how she’d organized the search for Kinard as well as getting a search warrant and pulling in Crime Scene. Now she was on her phone. She quickly looked at the porch where Stallings, Patty, and a uniformed sergeant sat on a wide bench and said, “Warrant signed. Stall, you direct Crime Scene and get this show on the road.”

  After the preliminaries, which included a videotape of the premises, sketches of how the searches took place, and an evidence tech on a computer near the front door, Stallings and Patty went immediately to the collage. He pulled it off the wall and set it on the desk. He found Allie Marsh’s and Kathleen Harding’s photos. Stallings identified the two girls from Daytona. That left twenty more photos.

  The crime scene techs found a box of Durex condoms, which they took into evidence. Patty discovered the small box of odd pieces of jewelry. While Stallings looked over her shoulder, she turned and said, “Trophies.”

  “What’s that?”

  “These are trophies. Something from each of his victims.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It seems clear to me. Right here under the photographs, I can picture him digging through this box, recalling each of his victims.

  “How many pieces are there?”

  Patty counted slowly and said, “Thirteen pieces.”

  They were single earrings, belly-button rings, and a nose stud, as well as rings and bracelets. Stallings leaned in closer, feeling as if he might vomit, praying to God he didn’t find any of Jeanie’s jewelry in the box. He thought hard about his daughter’s choices in jewelry, and nothing in the box seemed familiar, but it didn’t make him rest easy. This guy was a monster and would have no defense other than insanity. And he might pull it off. He could convince a jury he’d been abused as a kid or neglected or had some seen traumatic event that pushed him to this unthinkable violence. There’d be legal motions, which would drag on for years. Maybe he’d even end up at Raiford with the last serial killer Stallings had caught, William Dremmel. He’d acted so crazy that the case barely even made it to court. Stallings had shown great restraint and captured the man who’d drugged girls until they slipped into death. He had wanted to kill the bastard, but in deference to Patty’s efforts to reform him he’d risked his own life to capture the killer alive. But that effort had been mooted by the lenient treatment Dremmel had received in the media and court. Much of it was based on Dremmel’s childhood abuse by his mother. But the result had still been Dremmel skating on the most serious punishment after taking the lives of several girls and shattering the lives of their families. Stallings had known one of the girls and her family.

  Stallings thought of something even more disturbing. What if Kinard cooperated and traded information about the victims to avoid the death penalty? It was a common enough tactic, and sometimes parents of missing children welcomed the closure. The media fed on it, and often that media attention only bolstered the killers. The whole concept made Stallings ill.

  Of course all of that nonsense was contingent on catching him.

  Patty Levine stretched in her bed, turned, and checked her alarm clock. It was ten o’clock in the morning. She’d slept five hours after being awake almost forty. But she had slept without the aid of any pharmaceutical drug even if it was on the edge of extreme exhaustion. She checked in at the office, and nothing was new on the search for Larry Kinard. She took a few minutes to clean her condo, grab a decent breakfast, and reconnect with her cat, Cornelia.

  An eleven o’clock news teaser for the noon broadcast said, “Jacksonville police search for possible killer.” Patty knew things were not going well if the sheriff’s office had gone to the media for help. Then a photo of Larry Kinard provided by the Wildside popped on the screen.

  Patty noted they didn’t use a name. She and Stallings had learned during their investigation, which had lasted much of the night, that Larry Kinard was a fictitious name, and everything he’d given the bar except his address and cell phone number were from various other people both living and dead. Somehow Stallings had even gotten a security rep at the cell phone company to go through some records, but there were more than two hundred different numbers called from Kinard’s phone, and it would take some time to figure out where he was hiding and whom he’d contacted. Kinard had left the cell phone in his haste to escape, so they couldn’t try and triangulate where he was from the cell phone or see whom he called after he fled. All the easiest ways to find fugitives were out.

  As Patty got into her county car, Stallings called her and said to meet him at the Wildside. They had a lead.

  It didn’t take long for her to shoot across the river and rumble into the empty lot of the Wildside dance club. Stallings was out front with the manager who’d helped them before and a young man with long greasy hair, whom she didn’t know.

  As she approached she heard the young man say to Stallings, “No lie, man. I helped him push a Mazda into the water at a park east of the river. Then I gave him a ride.”

  Stallings gave the young man a hard look and said, “Where’d you give him a ride to?”

  “Over west of the river. On Cleveland Street past Edgewood. You know, where there’s a mix of houses and crappy strip malls.”

  “You didn’t know this guy at all?”

  The kid shook his head and said, “I saw him working here the other night. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known anything about him. I wasn’t sure what to do–that’s why I came by here. I swear I would’ve called the cops.”

  The manager laughed. “He tried to shake me down for cash to keep the club’s name out of the news.”

  Stallings had a half grin when he said to the kid, “And you helped this guy push a car into the river and gave him a ride for no reason?”

  The kid said, “Just a good Samaritan.”

  Stallings looked at Patty, and she knew, as any good partner would, that he was asking her what she thought without saying a word. She said, “He’s full of shit. He knows we’re looking for this guy as a suspect in a murder and he’s trying to shake money out of the bar. I say we charge him as an accessory.” She contained her smile, but it had the effect she wanted. The young man started to talk fast with details they could use.

  At least now they had a decent lead.

  Larry Kinard didn’t have time to feel sluggish. He only got a few hours’ sleep, but now he was up and around in his neat bedroom at his sister’s house, figuring out what he could take with him and what he’d have to leave. His sister had no connection to him on paper. He’d told her he was avoiding a mortgage fraud charge and that’s why he had a new name and Social Security number. She’d gone along with the story for more than three years now. For his part, he’d stuck by her through a number of dicey relationships and once had to knock a man unconscious in the living room after he’d spanked Kinard’s nephew.

  As he hurried through the living room his sister said, “What’s going on? Are you going to have to leave again?”

  “Yeah, there’s not enough work to keep me going here. But I’ll still come by and see you guys, and I should be able to send you money every month too.”

  She followed him into the kitchen. “But I need a good male role model for Justin.”

  He looked at her and thought about his near-silent nephew. Briefly he considered taking them with him, but
he could never share a house with them, at least not during spring break.

  His sister turned and silently stalked back into the living room, plopping down on the couch to watch TV. She got like this sometimes. These feelings of abandonment had never left her after their parents had divorced. They had seen their father once in almost twenty years. The parade of men in and out of her bed had not helped the situation. Kinard was the one constant in her life besides Justin.

  Then he heard his sister say, “Oh my God.”

  He hurried out the living room and saw she was staring at the TV. It only took a second for him to notice his employee photograph from the Wildside was on the screen, and he knew things were going bad fast.

  Fifty-seven

  John Stallings and Patty Levine drove slowly down Cleveland Street in the area where the young stoner said he’d dropped off Larry Kinard. The sheriff’s office’s marine unit had divers in the water at the park where the kid claimed to have shoved a car in the water.

  Patty said, “You think this kid is full of shit?”

  “He seems sincere, but how many of these crazy-assed tips do we get when we go public on a case? I can’t believe the sarge got the marine unit to dive for the car already. But before we call out the cavalry, we need to do our homework.”

  “Hoagie says they’ve identified at least five dead girls from the collage. Kathleen Harding and Allie Marsh, plus two from Daytona and one from Panama City. Looks like you found another serial killer.”

  “I believe you were with me the whole time, and we haven’t found anyone yet.”

  “I know you’re beating yourself up about Gary Lauer. But think about all the good we’re doing by stopping a creep like Larry Kinard.”

  Stallings nodded, looking down the streets as they drove slowly. “I’ve got the analyst running utilities and searching tax records in the area, but I doubt we’ll find anything that matches Kinard. He had to have a friend or maybe even a family member over here.”

  Patty said, “We know he doesn’t have a car and he left his wallet at the apartment. He may do something desperate and stupid.”

  Stallings pulled up to a corner with a small strip mall and a row of houses behind it. This was where the young man had dropped him off. There were too many variables. Was it really Larry Kinard? Was the kid too stoned to know exactly where he dropped him off? Was the story even true?

  Patty rolled down the window and said, “I’m waiting on a call from the sarge to see if there’s anything new. Otherwise, I’d say let’s go to the park and see if there really is a car in the water.”

  Stallings opened his window too, figuring it was a nice day and there were worse things than watching divers jump in the water while they waited for some clue as to Larry Kinard’s whereabouts.

  Larry Kinard froze in the kitchen doorway as his sister slowly turned her head and said, “That was you. They’re looking for you in connection to a murder. Is that true?”

  “I didn’t murder anyone.”

  “Then we can explain it to the police. And you won’t have to leave.”

  “I don’t think that would work very well.”

  His sister stared at him silently, slowly stood, and called out for her son. A couple of seconds later, Justin came hustling in from his bedroom. “C’mon, sweetheart, we need to get out for a few minutes.”

  Kinard said, “Where are you going?”

  “We need food. And Justin needs to get out. Is that okay with you?” Her tone had turned confrontational.

  He’d seen his sister’s attitude with other men, but never had it directed at him. He took a breath and said, “No, it’s not a good idea to leave right now.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do in my own house.” As she started to walk past, he grabbed her by the arm. Instinctively she jerked away. This time she screamed, “Keep your fucking hands off me!”

  He wondered if the neighbors were used to her screeching, but he couldn’t have her draw attention to them right now. He snatched her arm again and jerked her into the kitchen away from Justin.

  Before he could say a word she started to wail. A combination of curse words and screams.

  He raised his voice enough for her to hear him, shouting, “Stop it! Keep your voice down and we’ll discuss it.” But she kept screaming, wiggled her arm free, and swung at him with a closed fist.

  Without thinking he ducked the fist and snatched a long butcher’s knife from a stand on the counter. When she swung again he ducked the punch, spun her away from him, and plunged the knife deep into her back just to the left of her spine. As he felt the knife skip off a rib, he realized what he had done.

  Without another sound, she stumbled forward, grabbing at the refrigerator handle, then tumbled flat on the kitchen’s hard floor. She tried to say something as blood quickly pooled under her body. She lay perfectly still.

  Kinard stared at her, knowing he’d lost all control. He heard a sound behind him and turned to face his nephew. He had to think clearly now and figure out what steps to take.

  Across the street from Stallings’s Impala, the garbage truck lifted a wide, battered green Dumpster and tilted it upside down into the back of the truck, causing a series of thunderous crashes. Stallings had started to roll up his window when between the crashes he heard something else. He paused and listened carefully and realized it was a very loud, agitated woman’s voice. Then all he could hear was the Dumpster again. Before he could figure out if he had actually heard it, Patty turned to him and said, “Stall, that was a scream.”

  This was close enough to their experience the night before that they couldn’t hesitate now. Stallings still dwelled on the fact that if he had been a little quicker, Kinard would be in custody or dead right now. They both popped out of the car quickly, trying to get a fix on the direction of the scream. Behind him Cleveland Street had light traffic. The few businesses in the strip mall didn’t attract any crowds, so he was pretty sure the scream had come from the residential neighborhood in front of them. He walked to the hedge that separated the parking lot from the first house. Patty ran faster and turned toward the first house, cut through the yard, and started checking each house from the backyards. They started to move at the same pace with Patty behind the houses and Stallings along the cracked and warped sidewalk.

  The first house had all of its windows closed and he doubted they would’ve heard a sound so clearly coming from inside. He wondered if it’d been a loud TV. The second house had a beat-up Pontiac in the driveway and all the windows open in the front. A short, covered porch ran the length of the house. He turned onto the walkway and slowly climbed the three steps to the porch, still listening. He paused, motionless for almost a full minute. He took another few steps, feeling the wooden deck bend and creak. Still nothing. He stood silently, listening.

  Then his phone rang.

  Kinard eased through the small living room. He turned around once and put his fingers to his lips to make sure his nephew didn’t make any noise. He’d already motioned for the boy to stay put in the family room and not to go into the kitchen. Kinard still didn’t know how he was going to explain this mess to the boy.

  He held the bloody knife in his right hand next to his face. He could see a shadow on the porch, but he wasn’t sure if it was a person or a tree in the front yard. Kinard paused by the open jalousies that let in the cool breeze but didn’t allow anyone to see in or out. Some diffused light broke through the glass.

  Just as he was about to convince himself no one was on the porch he heard a cell phone and it was close.

  Now he had to take action

  Fifty-eight

  Stallings whipped open the phone quickly, whispering to Patty, “What’ve you got?”

  Patty obviously wasn’t hiding from anyone. She spoke in a clear voice but realized instantly what Stallings was doing. “Do you need me to come to you?”

  Stallings let out a short, quiet, “Not yet.”

  “I trotted through all eight yards and didn�
�t see or hear anything suspicious. A couple of the houses have people home, but there was no one screaming. I’m on the next street ready to meet you.”

  Stallings didn’t say anything, because something told him to listen. A board creaked in the living room, but there was no sign of anyone at the door. The jalousie glass didn’t allow him a decent view into the room. All he could see was a crack between two of the open slats. There was a china cabinet with clear glass panes. He crouched to get a better view through the open jalousies and saw a reflection of something metal in the glass of the china cabinet. Just as his brain processed that it was a knife, the reflection moved with blinding speed.

  The phone had given away the position of the intruder. Kinard tried to close the distance silently and figured whoever was on the porch was next to the front door; then he saw a shadow cross the window. This time there was no doubt it was a man.

  Kinard committed to action, stepped forward, and plunged the knife between the jalousie slats, hoping to catch someone by surprise. He felt the knife nick someone and heard him yelp.

  The crashing of the glass and thump of a gunshot shocked him, forcing him to stumble back a few feet.

  Stallings didn’t even hear the screen rip as a knife darted out between the jalousie slats, striking his left hand. He stumbled back, making a quick assessment of the gash on his left hand and drawing his gun with the right. From the ground he kicked the last few slats, sending them crashing down in a cascade of glass. He also fired two rounds through the next set of slats, knowing they’d end up in the china cabinet. He needed to force back his attacker. He also knew the shots would bring Patty Levine running.

  He scampered back to a low crouch, did a quick peek into the house from the broken glass, and saw a man halfway across a room with a knife in his hand. Stallings lowered his head and ducked into the house, standing as soon as he was inside, holding his gun on the man.