Critical Pursuit

by Janice Cantore

  “I wouldn’t miss it, Will. Thanks for the call.” She bit back the why questions she wanted to ask Will, deciding to wait until they were face-to-face.

  When she reached Second and Bayshore, the sight of Tony and his granddaughters had the same calming effect on her that hugging Hero did. She stepped out into the warm sunshine, enjoying the smell of the ocean and the sounds of people out splashing in the water. Jack wasn’t there yet, and she wondered what possible news he could have about a man who’d been dead for ten years.

  47

  NIGEL FIRST SAW THEM on Friday afternoon. He was picking up trash along Bayshore, just past the Second Street bridge. They were playing in the water near the bridge. They were the right age and they were perfect. He felt his face flush with pleasure and anticipation.

  He caught himself staring and took a quick inventory of people on the beach to see if anyone noticed. Strolling to a Dumpster to empty his bag, Nigel felt as though he’d been hit by a jolt of electricity that energized his entire body.

  This was the something special he’d been searching for. Never had he anointed more than one Special Girl at a time. Now, in front of him, were two identical girls, perfect for his anniversary present to the dog cop. This would definitely rock her world.

  Again, the elation and excitement he felt now that the dog cop was in the game surprised him. He hadn’t felt this good, this alive, since his rebirth ten years ago. His thoughts drifted back to that hot, dry afternoon in the mountains. He’d believed he was going to die. He certainly wanted to die rather than go to prison. Prison was no place for child molesters.

  Nigel thought about how carefully he’d prepared his funeral pyre back then. At first he wasn’t going to take anyone with him. Then he decided he didn’t want to make anything easy for his pursuers. Besides, who would give a dime about a few worthless drug addicts? Even his cousin was a pathetic loser. Nigel scrunched his nose in distaste. He had his share of twisted predilections, but he never touched drugs, and that knowledge swelled his chest with pride.

  At the last minute, before the cops shot the hotel full of tear gas, Nigel had seen an opening. The perimeter cops were pulling back in preparation for the SWAT team assault. He decided in an instant that he could burn in the fire or flee and maybe be cut down by bullets.

  Timing was everything. Nigel’s grin broadened with the memory. He’d sprinted out the back of the hotel at the same time the cops fired at the front. It was the explosion that probably saved him, he realized later. The hotel had gone up with more force than even Nigel expected. He was in the forest, dodging burning embers, before anyone knew he was gone.

  After the escape, he waited for the manhunt and feverishly prepared to survive for years in the forest. He burglarized several unoccupied vacation homes and had everything he needed to disappear for a long time.

  But the manhunt never came. No helicopters, no dogs. Nigel was stumped. After a month he surfaced carefully and found out what had happened.

  They had decided that he was dead. At that moment, Nigel was given a whole new life. He was a phoenix who’d risen from the flames.

  The elation he’d felt then was now matched by the elation he felt at finding the right present for the dog cop. He’d take those two perfect girls and leave a riddle. This time the dog cop wouldn’t be so quick to unravel the mystery, he was certain. Happy anniversary.

  48

  JACK PARKED ACROSS from the water and checked around for Brinna. The sight of the surf and the feel of sand beneath his feet brought on a wash of memories that hit him like a tidal wave. Vicki had loved the beach.

  He sucked in a breath as he heard her laughter and in his mind’s eye saw her dive into the water. Hands curled into fists as Jack fought the wave of pain threatening to engulf him. Now is not the time. There is too much to do, too much at stake. Images of Vicki faded. Breathing deeply, Jack pushed the pain away, turned his thoughts to Brinna, and kept walking, one foot in front of the other.

  He wondered how she’d take the news he had for her. Checking his watch, he noted that he was late. Chuck had phoned just as he’d headed for the door, and he’d explained to Jack what a mess the investigation in San Bernardino was. The coroner’s records were in a shambles, and Chuck feared they’d never get to the bottom of the shoot-out ten years ago. Jack could only hope they’d dig up something that would help them catch a child killer.

  The crowd at the beach was thick, but when Jack located the rental kiosk, he saw Brinna right away. She stood talking to a thin, bald man under the shade of a large umbrella. Hero frolicked near the surf with a couple of little girls.

  As Jack approached across the sand, Brinna saw him, offering a nod.

  “How’s your father doing?” Jack asked when he reached her.

  She shrugged. “As well as can be expected.” She introduced Jack to Tony DiSanto.

  “Pleased to meet you, Jack. While I love Hero, Brinna’s other partner, it’s nice to see that she has one now who walks on two legs and talks.”

  “Thanks. I hope I live up to the standard Hero has set.” Jack shook the offered hand. “Nice place you have here. It must be great to have your office at the beach.”

  “It’s heaven.” DiSanto turned to Brinna. “I’d better go supervise. The girls are going to tire your dog out.”

  “He’s tireless.” Brinna smiled and waved a hand in Hero’s direction.

  Jack noted a subtle difference in his partner. Though she looked tired, there was something softer in her face. She was more relaxed here on the beach. He wondered about the change.

  Brinna faced Jack as DiSanto began some serious play with the little girls.

  “So what is this new information you have on Nigel Pearce?” She motioned to two beach chairs and they sat down.

  Jack told her about his visit with Gabe Lopez. “Apparently the coroner’s office was understaffed and underfunded back then. They got swamped under a big case where as many as thirty old people may have been killed by a nurse. Chaos reigned during the investigation. It seems an unqualified tech might have done as many as a hundred autopsies, unsupervised.”

  He paused to let Brinna digest the information. Her face betrayed no emotion.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “this tech found helpful evidence left and right, in order to cinch up weak cases.”

  “Finding or making up?” Brinna asked.

  “Mostly making up, from what the Feds have uncovered so far. Chuck called just as I left the house. He reviewed some copies of the file the bureau has on the investigation out in San Bernardino.”

  “And this connects to Pearce how?”

  “This tech did the autopsies on the bodies recovered when the Rimwood Hotel went up in flames. All five bodies had their hands and feet bound with wire from hangers. And they were shot dead before the fire. None of the wounds could have been self-inflicted.” He paused.

  Brinna said nothing and Jack continued. “It seems that Nigel Pearce couldn’t have been among the bodies recovered. Somehow he escaped that day. He is still out there.”

  49

  NIGEL PEARCE still alive.

  Brinna had had nearly two full days to digest the information, and it still wasn’t going down easy. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes with the tech who’d made such a thing possible. Angry didn’t cover what she felt. Not so much for herself but for all the innocent children Pearce had most likely preyed on over the last ten years.

  She shoved a stick of gum in her mouth, hoping to remove the nasty taste there, and shifted her attention to the task at hand—Milo’s memorial.

  I hate funerals, Brinna thought, sitting in her truck at a small park in Santa Clarita. She watched cars arrive and mourners trudge into the park.

  Wearing the best cop mask she could muster under the circumstances, Brinna climbed out of her truck and surveyed the gathering of mostly cops. Some guys came in uniform, and several officers from other jurisdictions were present. A few K-9 officers walked around with their dogs
.

  Thinking of Milo, she imagined how Jack’s information would have seized her mentor’s attention. He’d have wanted in on the hunt and capture. But reality intruded, and she experienced the shock of his death all over again. Pearce would be captured. Brinna refused to consider any other outcome. Still, the victory would not be as sweet without Milo there to share the celebration.

  But Pearce’s capture and any victory celebrations were in the future. In the here and now there was the memorial service. No Kevlar can shut out the finality now, Brinna thought.

  “I’m glad I brought you, Hero,” she said as she let the dog out of the truck. Taking a deep breath, she walked with Hero across the lot to the gathering.

  Brinna clenched her teeth. “This is respect we’re paying. I will not lose my composure.”

  Though she hadn’t seen him in about eight years, Brinna recognized Milo’s son, Will, immediately. He definitely resembled Milo. She knew father and son hadn’t had much contact for years. Will’s mother raised him in Northern California. But Milo was proud of Will, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t made an effort to be a more involved father. Milo had few pictures in his house. One favorite was a photo of Will’s graduation from law school. Milo bragged about his son the lawyer every chance he got.

  Will smiled when he saw her approach. “Brinna, thanks for coming.” He extended his hand and she shook it. “Wish it were under different circumstances.”

  “You and me both. I loved your father like he was my own.” The words tumbled out. Brinna couldn’t stop them. “Why didn’t he tell me he was sick? I would’ve helped.”

  Will sighed and put his hands on his hips. “He didn’t tell anyone. I got a letter in the mail the day after they told me he was dead, probably mailed the day he killed himself. It said he didn’t want his son changing his diapers, so he was checking out. Bye.” Will cleared his throat.

  Brinna shook her head. She couldn’t stop the thought running through her mind: At least Will got a note.

  “Suicide—quite a cop-out from the guy who said, ‘Never give up.’” Will’s voice shook and his eyes grew moist as he regarded Brinna. “He may not have called you, but he did leave something for you.”

  “What?” A glimmer of hope brightened Brinna’s soul. Maybe Milo had left her some answers.

  “A journal. Your name was written across it. It’s in my car. I’ll give it to you after we’re all done.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  He waved a hand toward the gathering. “Do you want to say anything today?”

  Brinna swallowed and hesitated. “No. Thanks for asking, but right now I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  Will nodded. A couple of K-9 officers called to him, and he walked off to start the memorial.

  Brinna watched Will approach the portable podium and wondered why she’d told him no. She considered Milo the best influence on her life. The reason she couldn’t stand up there and share that with everyone escaped her. As she thought harder, she realized she was still angry. Angry that Milo took what he’d always called the coward’s way out, angry that she didn’t know how to forgive him.

  She sat near the back, nodding to those officers she knew. When the eulogies started, she just listened. The guys who spoke all talked Milo up as a cop’s cop. He was tenacious, he worked hard, and he trusted his instincts. His instincts never let him down.

  At the end they did, Brinna thought. His instincts let us all down because they told Milo to take his own life.

  50

  EVERY SO OFTEN Brinna glanced across the seat at the journal Will had given her. Milo never was one for writing things down. She remembered how he hated writing reports. What was it that you could write that you couldn’t tell me? And what on earth could you say to my mom that you couldn’t say to me?

  She pulled into her driveway, exhausted and antsy at the same time. Hero jumped out and jogged for the front door. Brinna followed, suddenly overwhelmed by sadness. The temptation to break down and sob into the dog’s neck reached up and grabbed her by the throat. She refused to give in to it.

  She tossed Milo’s journal on the kitchen table and stalked down the hall to her room to change into shorts. An hour in the water in her kayak was what she needed. Some sweat and hard paddling would provide a good diversion.

  The bay and beach were crowded, but Tony was nowhere to be seen. Brinna dragged the yak to the surf and provided her own push-off. She paddled hard, out to the middle of the channel. It wasn’t long before her shoulders began to ache from exertion. She kept going, making a circle through Spinnaker Bay, occasionally splashing herself with water to cool off.

  By the time she finished, her heart was pumping and she was covered in a sheen of sweat. Humming to herself as she loaded the kayak into her truck and drove home, Brinna contentedly gave in to an exertion-related relaxed feeling.

  After a shower, Brinna poured herself a tall glass of ice water. The journal on the kitchen table seemed to taunt her. She grabbed it and took it into the bedroom with her. Opening the book from the back, she picked the dates that corresponded with Milo’s last days alive and began to read.

  The pages raised more questions than answers in Brinna’s mind. Milo seemed to question his whole life.

  I’ve always said you made your luck by hard work. But is Mrs. C. right? There is no luck, only God guiding and providing. Brinna, I fear I made a mistake telling you to ignore your mom. As I contemplate my fate and realize that the end is so close, I think I should tell you to listen to her; she makes sense.

  Milo felt his life had no meaning. And he feared what awaited him after death.

  Brinna stopped, frowning. She’d always thought the only meaning Milo needed was putting bad guys in jail.

  She resumed reading, picking out references to her mother. Milo always called her mother Mrs. C. He merely said that Mrs. C. gave him peace when she talked about God, forgiveness, and life after death.

  Unease settled into Brinna as she realized that the man she thought was the toughest man to ever walk the earth, not afraid of anything or anyone, was deathly afraid of dying. He feared going to hell.

  Mrs. C. and her Christian drivel gave him hope for life after death. She told him that it was possible to make peace with his Maker.

  Brinna put the book down and lay back in her bed. She closed her eyes and tried to remember Milo healthy, big, strong, and fearless. He used to glare at suspects and make them wet their pants. It did not compute that the writing in this book was from the same man.

  After a few restless minutes, she fell into a deep, exhausted, and dreamless sleep.

  51

  “BRINNA, I’ve got news for you.” Jack tapped her on the shoulder a couple of minutes before the squad meeting started. “Chuck’s here. We’ll meet with him and Ben right after squad.”

  Brinna’s eyebrows scrunched, and she glanced at Maggie on her right. “About Pearce?”

  “That’d be my guess.” He smiled and sat down on her left. This time his smile didn’t bother Brinna, but she did wonder about his state of mind. She and Maggie had just discussed Jack’s moodiness while they dressed.

  “He has too many moods,” she’d told her friend. “I figure I’ve worked with a dead man, a creepy man, and a seminormal man. Who knows what’s waiting for me tonight?”

  “Whatever mood he’s in, it seems like he’s improving,” Maggie observed, and Brinna couldn’t argue. In spite of the many changes, Jack was getting better and easier to be around and work with.

  Now, in the squad room next to her partner as Smiling Man, Brinna worked hard to concentrate on the sergeant at the front of the room. Jack might be a better partner, but he couldn’t wave a wand and clear up the turmoil in her life.

  By now, the knowledge that Nigel Pearce, the man who’d snatched her off a Palmdale street twenty years ago, was still alive had sunk in. As with her dad’s sickness, she didn’t know how to feel about this new development.

  Ten years ago she’d just gotte
n her license when Milo phoned to tell her about the arrest of Pearce. He’d never stopped hunting for the creep, though by then the statute of limitations had run out for Brinna.

  Pearce had snatched another six-year-old off the street, in the same manner he’d abducted Brinna, but this time he was seen and detained by a couple of gardeners.

  “I want you to check out these photos,” Milo had said. He was animated, more excited than she’d ever seen him, as he laid a six-pack of mug shots in front of her. She thought Pearce was the guy, but she couldn’t make a definitive positive ID. Thinking maybe someone was the guy wasn’t good enough; she had to be absolutely certain. Now, as she reviewed the facts ten years later, her palms got clammy and she wiped them on her thighs.

  Back then, Milo had said not to worry, that Pearce would go to jail for his current crime. Then there was the escape, the manhunt, the siege.

  Milo would have been at the siege even though it was out of his jurisdiction, but he’d been needed for a trial in Palmdale. After the fire was the first and—until recently—only time Brinna had heard her mentor mention God without cursing. When he’d heard that Pearce had been identified among the dead, Milo had toasted with a beer, saying, “Maybe there is a God after all.”

  As the memories rumbled through her mind, it pained her more than she could say to know that Milo’s presence now was impossible.

  Brinna had another distraction weighing on her mind. The shooting review board. While she believed their findings would only help her with the truth, fear lingered that it still wouldn’t be enough to shut Hester Shockley up.

  The squad meeting ended and Brinna doubted she’d heard a thing the sergeant said. Maggie and Rick headed out for patrol while Jack waited for Brinna at the elevator.

  “You ready?” he asked when she reached the elevator doors.