The Perfect Prey js-2

by James Andrus

  She casually reached across and placed her small hand on Bell’s, and said, “You know he’s a hell of a cop and has done a lot of good. He just has some issues.”

  “We all have issues.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  Stallings was restless as he contemplated his life at the small, quiet house he’d rented in Lakewood. It was odd being home in the middle of the day. The fact there was no one here gave him a sense of emptiness almost as deep as he felt after Jeanie disappeared. But there was nothing for him to do at this little house. No yard to cut. No dishes to do. He barely lived here except to use the bed every night.

  He jumped in his car, not sure what his status was as a police officer, but since no one had told him not to, he decided to use the county car as he always did. He cruised by his mother’s house to make sure she didn’t have any chores he needed to do. He found her as he usually did, sitting on her back porch reading a novel.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  As usual he had to wait a second until she finished the paragraph she was reading. Finally she looked up and smiled. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

  “I, um, took a day off.”

  His mother chuckled. “Sometimes you remind me of your father. For all his faults he was a poor liar too.” She closed the hardbound book on her lap and smiled at her son. “I heard you ran into him on Sunday.”

  “I figured one of the kids would blab it or Helen would hear about it and tell you.”

  “Actually, I heard it from your father.”

  Yvonne Zuni had to admit to herself she enjoyed Ronald Bell’s company, and for the second time he’d proven he was a stand-up guy. She realized she was looking for reasons to keep talking to the dapper detective. The red tinge to his face, coupled with his casual but expensive sport coat, made it seem as if he was wind-burned from sailing, but she realized that in fact, as it was with most cops, it probably had a lot more to do with alcohol. Finally she said, “What about your people’s surveillance of Lauer? I haven’t shared with my detectives that we had split the case. I did tell them we’d given Lauer an overtime detail at a soup kitchen near the stadium.”

  “Well, it’s partially true he is working the detail at the kitchen, but I’ve had two people keeping tabs on him until we think he’s down for the night. The problem is he knows the roads and the traffic enforcement better than anyone else and drives like a NASCAR champion. The only time he obeys any traffic laws and signals is when he’s in uniform, on that big bike of his. He went by his girlfriend’s apartment, the one where you had the incident last year, but was only inside about ten minutes. It seems like all the guy does is lift weights and eat giant subs. Last night he went straight home from the overtime detail at eleven o’clock and had not left his condo by two when my detectives shut down their surveillance.”

  “Seems like you guys have it covered pretty well. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Bell took a moment to consider it, then said, “I’d be happy if you could just keep the muzzle on Stallings. I have no problem with letting the whole thing drop, but he needs to go at least a day without clocking someone.”

  “Some of it has to do with stress. And he’s been under a tremendous strain for a long time now.”

  Bell said, “I’ve heard that before, but it doesn’t excuse his behavior.”

  The sergeant said, “To me it does. I have a good idea what he’s been going through.”

  Bell didn’t say anything, but she knew he expected an explanation. For the first time in two years she decided to talk about it.

  Yvonne started slowly, finally working up to the source of her own stress and frustration. “You know I’m divorced now?”

  “Every male cop at the SO knows when someone like you is no longer married.” He laid that charming smile on her.

  “It’s hard to keep secrets in a place like this, but the reason we broke up was the stress on our relationship when our one-year-old son died of leukemia.”

  Bell said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that.”

  “The first day I started to feel alive again, the day I felt like I had a purpose and a connection to the world after months and months of breathing was the day I popped that asshole, Gary Lauer, in the head. So I really feel like I have an idea of what Stallings is going through.”

  “You talked to Dad?” He tried to keep it under a shout, but this was about the most astounding thing he had ever heard his mother say.

  “Yes, dear, I speak to your father. I even meet him occasionally. You can’t spend so much of your life with someone and not feel something for them.”

  “But he was such a…” Stallings search for the right word.

  His mother said, “Asshole?”

  He nodded, still trying to absorb this information. “The way he treated Helen and me growing up. Her running away and you throwing him out. I always assumed he’d ruined your life and you were bitter toward him.”

  “No, dear, I got over it a long time ago. Life’s far too short to hold a grudge. Once he stopped drinking, he reverted to something like the man I married forty-five years ago.”

  “Was our encounter an accident?”

  “You would have to ask your father. I might’ve mentioned you were taking the kids out for pizza on Sunday.”

  “Were you ever going to tell me Dad was back in the picture or that he was looking for me?”

  His mother shook her head and said, “It wouldn’t have done any good. You’re as stubborn as he is, and you would’ve avoided him no matter what he said.”

  “So what do you expect me to do now, go look for him?”

  His mother smiled. “I could never tell you what to do or how to do it. Just like your father.”

  Forty-four

  It had taken John Stallings longer than he’d anticipated to track down his father later in the afternoon. He’d been hoping he could walk into the rooming house and his father would be in the lobby with some of the other old drunks, playing cards or backgammon or watching the ancient TV in the ornate walnut cabinet. Instead, the nice lady who ran the place had explained James Stallings had gone to get something to eat. She gave him three possibilities: a bar near the stadium that had cheap hamburgers on Wednesday nights, a hot dog stand that had one-dollar hot dogs, or a soup kitchen off Market Street where his father often worked and ate what was left over.

  Now it was seven o’clock, and as soon as Stallings walked through the doors of the “community restaurant” he could see the main body of diners had already cleared out and in the corner, where young men were stacking chairs, there was one table filled with an older crowd and a few plates of food. At the head of the table he saw his father. It was as if he was holding court, and it reminded Stallings of his childhood, when his father would entertain many of the other fathers in the neighborhood with stories of the Korean War, the changing Navy, and how the goddamned Democrats would turn the country to socialism. It took Stallings a moment to realize this was the first time he had ever seen his father entertaining a group like this without a beer in his hand.

  He hesitated near the door and even thought about turning around and going back another time, but he caught his father’s eye and the old man did something he’d never done before in Stallings’s life. He excused himself from the table to come talk to his son.

  It’d been an awkward twenty minutes while they sat across from each other over the long table. He didn’t know what to say after all the years of hating this guy. But he quickly discovered the hate had faded but not disappeared altogether. He held him responsible for his sister, Helen, running away from home, and in some odd way for Jeanie disappearing as well. He could never explain it. He’d never talk to anyone about it, and he certainly wasn’t about to discuss it with his father. Not after all these years.

  His father’s voice was hoarse but lacked the harsh edge it had when he’d been younger. The old man said, “Your mom has kept me up to date on you and the kids over the y
ears. Charlie looks like a real athlete. And Lauren is as pretty as her mother.”

  “You missed out completely on Jeanie. She was special.”

  The old man hesitated. “I followed the story and even tried to do my part, helping with some of the community searches and asking everyone I knew on the streets if they’d seen or heard anything. It was the same time I was coming out of my haze.”

  Stallings shook his head, looked at his father, and said, “Dad, why’re you like this now, after all these years?”

  His father smiled, rubbing his hand over his gray buzz cut, the wrinkles around his eyes filling out. “If I were to put it in one word it would have to be ‘sober.’ ”

  Stallings assessed the older man, trying to understand what he’d gone through. He’d never realized his father had been fighting with alcohol, not just guzzling it. This was a lot to process after a stressful day. He had five messages on his phone. Three from Yvonne the Terrible, one from Patty Levine, and one from Maria. He couldn’t imagine any of them was good news. Maybe his father could give him some good tips for living out on the street.

  As he was about to start asking his father important questions like how his health was or what he did for money, he heard someone step up directly behind him and say, “Well, well, well. I knew you’d end up in a shit-hole like this. I just didn’t expect it to happen so fast.”

  Stallings twisted in his seat and was shocked to see the strapping figure of Gary Lauer in full uniform.

  Patty knew the administrative officer at the medical examiner’s office was anxious to leave. He’d mentioned dinner, his wife, his kids, exhaustion, and anything else he could without saying, “you have to close your files and leave.” She’d been distracted by her concern for John Stallings. The new sergeant had worked a miracle and gotten Stallings off the hot seat, but she’d been unable to reach him. Sergeant Zuni told Patty all Stallings needed to do was lay low for a day or two and try not to smack anyone. Only Patty realized how hard it might be for her partner. The sergeant was also concerned she’d been unable to tell Stallings so she’d had Patty leave him a message too. That was one of the reasons it’d taken so long at the medical examiner’s office.

  She’d been studying photographs and all the reports from Allie Marsh and Kathleen Harding, the suicide from the University of South Carolina. It was no surprise they shared X in their system and the chemical residue of Durex condoms. Tony Mazzetti had already explained to her these were not uncommon traits for spring breakers to share. But she wanted more. She had studied both files and made copies of the entire written report. The medical examiner had been very thorough, and she knew he was as sharp as they came. There had to be something else.

  She noticed Kathleen Harding had been missing her left earring. A straight post diamond stud. No one made much of a fuss about it and there was no explanation for it in the report. Allie Marsh had both earrings and one in the cartilage of her left ear. But both in the photos and in the report Patty noticed she had been missing a belly-button ring. The report noted the discoloration in the shape of a small flower where the ring had sat a millimeter below her belly button. And on the autopsy photos, when she checked closely, she saw the same discoloration. It happened with a lot of jewelry when someone got a tan-whatever was underneath stayed pale. It was a curious and tenuous connection between the bodies.

  But it was a lead worth following.

  Stallings stood and faced the cocky young motorman. “What are you doing here, Lauer?”

  “I’m working off-duty. I’m supposed to be here. What are you doing?”

  “I’m not going waste my time talking to you.”

  “I heard you went crazy and hit some poor dude in the head. I figured you’d be out of a job.”

  That’s what Stallings figured too, and he didn’t want to give this dick any reason to hassle him.

  Lauer’s eyes cut over to Stallings’s father. “Who’s your friend here, Stall?”

  He saw the rage in Lauer’s face and didn’t want to drag his father into any personal feud he had with the big, uniformed cop. He knew how hard life was for older men on the street. Stallings’s father, no matter what had happened in the past, didn’t deserve this bully following him around.

  Stallings forced his voice to be even and calm and said, “Let’s discuss this outside, Gary.”

  “Love to.” Lauer turned quickly on his polished boot and banged out the rear door with Stallings close on his heels.

  As Stallings glanced over Lauer’s broad shoulders and a uniform with the big Glock forty on his right hip and an ASP in a holster on his left hip, the idea of this guy mingling with college kids or bullying old street people started to eat at him. Suddenly Lauer stopped in the gravel lot outside the ratty white building. He turned without warning and immediately poked Stallings in the chest with his index finger.

  “I’d like to know why you have a hard-on for me.”

  Stallings poked him back in the chest and said, “I’d like to know why you have such issues with women.”

  “You need to mind your own business, old man. If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m gonna have to shut it for you.

  Stallings couldn’t help himself and said, “I’d like to see you try.” He knew it was too late. He was too far gone to control himself, so he waited for the right opportunity.

  Lauer balled his right fist, and Stallings, with years of street experience, simply twisted his body hard to the left and brought his right elbow across Lauer’s thick chin, knocking the young man virtually unconscious on his feet. He didn’t bother trying to catch Lauer when he fell backward.

  Stallings’s phone rang as he stared down at the groggy, uniformed police officer. He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open. “Stallings.”

  Patty Levine said, “John, I’ve been trying to reach you. I found a couple of interesting connections between Kathleen Harding and Allie Marsh.”

  “Shit, Patty, I don’t even know if I have a job anymore.”

  Patty said, “The sergeant straightened it all out. You’re in the clear.”

  “Yvonne the Terrible got me out of the trick bag?”

  “She said all you have to do is go a day without smacking anyone.”

  Stallings hesitated, looked down at the dazed Gary Lauer, and said, “That may be an issue.”

  It’d been a long night, and he was tired and sore for several different reasons. The music in the Wildside failed to lift his spirits, and even the sight of all these pretty girls did nothing for him in his current state. Usually a night in the excitement and noise of a club would cheer him. His season as a predator was coming to an end. At least for this year. He still had one prize he was hoping for, and that’s why he was here so late. This wasn’t where the pretty, young Ann tended to hang out, but he’d told her he’d be here tonight. If she showed, he had her in his trap. The only question was whether he would take her tonight or try to prolong the excitement and take her later in the week.

  Normally he wouldn’t worry about details like this, and he’d go on the hunt again immediately, but he was starting to feel the heat. He’d used up this hunting ground and wouldn’t try it again for a long time. He hoped no one figured out his traveling pattern. Maybe in a few more years he could come back here.

  He scanned the crowd filled with blond heads bobbing all over the dance floor. He nodded greetings to every few people as they walked past. Mostly faces he knew from the clubs, very few names came to mind. None of them were potential prey. The males were a lot of guys he’d met who were doing their own kind of hunting. But he was the King Predator, and he knew it. The thrill of the kill kept him going. Then someone caught his eye near the front door and he had to stand on his tiptoes to see her face. It was Ann, and she was hot in tight jeans and a simple T-shirt. He felt the rumble of excitement grow from his toes to his head. It wasn’t only the sexual excitement of seeing her dressed like that; it was the excitement of the season’s last kill.

  Instead of
going over to see her, he held his place, wanting her to have to search him out. It would reinforce whatever he told her later. If he said to meet him the next day or night, she’d be more inclined to do it if she had to look for him now. He waited patiently like a big cat on the African plain.

  He heard someone’s voice to his right, but he was so focused on Ann it didn’t register, and he kept staring in the young girl’s direction. Then someone tapped him on the right shoulder, making him flinch as he turned to see who’d interrupted his hunt.

  The young man with greasy brown hair said, “Yo, dude, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  He looked at the young man and recognized him but couldn’t immediately place him.

  The young man said, “Got any more cars we need to push into the water? I sure could use more X.”

  A chill ran down his back as he realized his past had come back to haunt him

  Forty-five

  Yvonne Zuni knew to listen and maybe throw in a smile as Ronald Bell shook his head in exasperation.

  The IA investigator said, “Didn’t we have this conversation yesterday? I said all he had to do was go twenty-four hours without smacking somebody.”

  “I think even you’ll agree under the circumstances he was probably provoked. We can’t have a suspect dictating who’s involved in an investigation and who’s not.”

  “I’m afraid we can when the suspect is a cop and the lead detective on the case punches him in the face. I know it’s all bullshit. I know a muscle-bound motorman like Gary Lauer could handle himself and the only reason he’s making the complaint is to screw up the case. What can I say, he knows how to manipulate the system.”

  “This doesn’t mean I have to take Stallings off the case completely, does it?”