Watch Me (Jefferson Winter 2)

by James Carol

  29

  ‘The CIA?’ Taylor gave an indulgent chuckle, like he was the parent and I was a kid who’d just done something unexpected and kind of cool. We were back in the car, bouncing out of the police department’s parking lot.

  ‘You know how fast gossip spreads through your offices. That’s true for every station house. And I’m talking the whole world here. Wildfire can’t touch it.’

  ‘That still doesn’t explain the story you just told Gomez.’

  ‘Her career has stalled at sergeant, and she probably got that position based on years served rather than ability. So she’s stuck there in Missing Persons and a couple of Eagle Creek cops come in asking about some homeless guy. It took her a millisecond to work out that this has something to do with Sam Galloway. So she’s now got some gossip, you think she’s going to keep her mouth shut?’

  I stopped at a red light and took out my cigarettes. Taylor shot me a disapproving look from the racked-back passenger seat. The squashed pack got shoved back in my pocket, but the Zippo I kept in my hand. The brass was pitted, rough against my skin. The lighter was older than me. It dated back to the sixties, and it worked as well today as when it was first bought. I flicked up a flame, stared at it for a second, then snapped the lid shut and put the lighter away.

  ‘You’re no fun, do you know that, Taylor? You need to loosen up. Let your hair down. And before you say anything. Yes, I know you’re bald.’

  ‘This has nothing to do with spoiling your fun, and everything to do with not wanting to die of lung cancer. I know how to have fun.’

  I raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I know how to have fun, Winter.’

  ‘Carpe diem. Seize the day, Milhouse.’

  ‘My name is not Milhouse. Not now, not ever.’

  The light turned green and I put the car into gear.

  ‘Gomez’s credibility is hovering around zero. Let’s face it, Missing Persons isn’t exactly a prime assignment. She’s stuck there until she retires. She knows that, and so does everyone else. Anything that can raise her status, she’s going to use. A story about a couple of cops from Eagle Creek sniffing around, now that’s believable, right? And it would be good for her credibility. That’s going to raise her stock price by a few cents, right? Okay, so what happens if she starts going on about drug cartels, and conspiracies, and CIA agents, one with bright white hair and the other a bald black giant? What do you think the reaction to that’s going to be?’

  ‘Nobody’s going to take her seriously.’

  ‘Exactly. There’ll be a lot of eye rolling and whispers about how Gomez has really lost it this time, but nothing that’ll get back to Eagle Creek.’

  I put my foot to the floor when we reached the interstate, turned on the roof lights. The road was empty and it felt good to have the highway disappearing so fast into the distance. I drove and thought about white numbers on a black background heading relentlessly towards zero. Most of all, I thought about how much organisation it would take to murder someone so publicly, and to such a precise timescale.

  A couple of miles later I was thinking myself around in circles and getting nowhere. I found my cellphone and Shepherd answered on the first ring this time, which meant his cell was actually in his hand for once. He said a curt hello and there was tension in every syllable. Understandable. The clock was ticking and he was running out of options. Running out of time.

  The downside of having your name in fancy gold letters on your office door was that they marked the place where the buck stopped. Sheriff Fortier and Mayor Morgan would be looking to him for answers, and making his life hell because he didn’t have any.

  ‘Have you found the crime scene?’ I asked him.

  ‘Still looking.’

  ‘You mentioned the old refinery earlier. That was a bust too?’

  ‘We turned the place upside down, Winter. Nothing.’ There was a short pause, the sandpaper scratch of a moustache being stroked. ‘I thought you were coming back here.’

  ‘We are. We just needed to check something out.’

  ‘Anything worthwhile?’ The pitch of his voice had risen by a semitone. A spark of hope? Desperation, maybe.

  ‘No. It was a long shot. You’ve got to keep looking for that crime scene, Shepherd.’

  ‘Why are you so fixated on that?’

  ‘Because that’s what’s going to help us catch this guy.’

  I killed the call and put my cell away. Taylor was squashed into the passenger seat, lost in thoughts of his own. An aura of dejection surrounded him, like the world had ended and it was all his fault.

  ‘Penny for them,’ I asked.

  ‘We’re not going to be able to stop this guy killing again, are we?’

  ‘I could lie, if that’ll make you feel better.’

  He made a noise that could have been a laugh, or a sigh. He might have been a giant on the outside, but inside he was still enough of a kid to consider his teenage years to be the best years of his life.

  ‘You can’t save them all, Taylor. It would be crazy to think otherwise. Some days the good guy scores that home run at the bottom of the ninth to steal the game. Some days it’s the bad guy.’

  ‘So why do we bother? Why do you bother?’

  ‘Because someone’s got to. What would have happened if our grandparents had taken that view and the Nazis had won the war? Do you think Hitler would have shut down all the death camps? Not a chance. New camps would have sprung up all over the place. Six million dead would have ended up looking like nothing.’

  ‘Yeah, I get that, but the problem is that you’re hiding behind abstract concepts rather than dealing with specifics. The fact is that in less than two hours someone else is going to die.’

  ‘You can’t let that darkness wear you down, Taylor. Let it into your soul and it will destroy you. You’ve got to keep fighting it all the way to your final breath.’

  ‘Easy to say, Winter, but how do you do that?’

  ‘For me, it’s music. When I listen to Mozart’s Prague Symphony, I’m not in LA any more, or London, or Tokyo, or Eagle Creek, Louisiana. I’m right there in Prague and it’s January 1787, and it’s snowing outside, and the orchestra is tuning up and the world is about to hear this incredible piece of music for the very first time.’

  ‘And what if you don’t have music?’

  ‘Then you have to find your own happy thoughts. Okay, shut your eyes and think about the most amazing thing that ever happened to you. It could be the time your team won the title, or it could be your first kiss with the first girl you ever loved. I don’t need to know what it is. I don’t want to know.’

  Taylor gave me a sceptical look, then shut his eyes. To start with his face was tight, lips pursed, but gradually his features softened as a memory took hold. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He was no longer in a cop car speeding along I-20, he was holding up the trophy, or he was lost in that moment of eternal anticipation, wondering if he should kiss the girl or not. Or maybe he was lost in another memory altogether. It didn’t really matter where he was, so long as he wasn’t in a place filled with the stench of gasoline and burning flesh and the screams of the dying.

  ‘Lose yourself in the memory,’ I said quietly. ‘Give yourself into it. What can you smell? What can you hear? What can you feel?’

  Taylor’s smile widened to show the tips of his teeth.

  ‘Now imagine everything bathed in a bright white light. Paint everything golden.’

  I let a mile of blacktop roll off into the distance then told him to open his eyes.

  ‘There you go. Your first Happy Thought. If things start getting on top of you, that’s where you go.’

  Taylor stared through the windshield for a moment then turned to look at me. ‘Does this really work?’

  ‘It works for me.’

  Taylor considered this, then said, ‘Thanks, Winter.’

  ‘Anytime.’

  30

  I slowed up when we reached the abandoned
refinery. There was something about the way it loomed out of the darkness that called to me. The west end was dominated by the old storage tanks, fourteen in total, all massive. They had to be at least a hundred feet high and sixty feet in diameter. The middle of the facility was dominated by the snaking pipes and towers of the distillation units. I switched off the flashing lights, hit the turn signal and left the interstate. The access road we turned onto led to the main gate.

  ‘Small detour,’ I said in response to Taylor’s questioning look.

  ‘Shepherd’s expecting us back at the station house.’

  ‘No, what Shepherd’s expecting is a miracle, and he’s looking for us to produce it, and that’s not going to happen because miracles don’t exist.’

  Taylor gave me the look.

  ‘We’ve got under two hours until the countdown runs out. Now, we’re agreed that when that happens there’s a good chance this unsub will kill again?’

  Taylor nodded.

  ‘Which means that he must have already kidnapped his next victim?’

  Another nod.

  ‘In that case we’re better off out here doing something, rather than being stuck in the station house doing nothing. You were there earlier. You saw what the atmosphere was like. Take that and multiply it by ten and that’s what the atmosphere will be like now. Multiply it by a hundred and that’s what it’ll be like an hour from now. Multiply it by a thousand and you’ve got what it’s going to be like as we close in on midnight. The tension is growing exponentially. Everybody’s just waiting for the unsub to make his next move. They’re sat there drinking coffee and getting strung out on caffeine and talking themselves around in circles. I know because I’ve seen it all before. Give me proactive over reactive any day.’

  Before Taylor had a chance to respond, his cell rang. He took it out and looked at the screen. ‘It’s Shepherd. He’s going to want to know where the hell we are, and what we’re doing. What do you want me to tell him?’

  ‘Tell him we’re chasing down a lead and we’ll be there soon.’

  ‘He’s going to want details.’

  ‘So tell him I’ll fill him in when we get there.’

  Taylor didn’t look convinced. He glanced over one last time then connected the call. It didn’t last long. He hung up and put the phone away.

  ‘Don’t look so worried, Herman. If Shepherd needs an ass to kick I’ll make sure it’s mine, not yours.’

  ‘It’s not Herman, and why don’t I feel even remotely reassured by that?’

  I stopped in front of the main gates and got out. The cool breeze blowing up from the south was welcome after the fierce heat of the day, but I was glad I’d brought my leather jacket. I lit a cigarette, then walked over to the big double gates. Ten-foot-tall chain-link with razor wire on the top and wheels along the bottom.

  The gates were clearly newer than the main fence and my guess was that they’d been installed when the facility was decommissioned. A lot of years had passed since then but it was easy to see where they’d been grafted onto the original fence.

  Large signs made it clear what would happen to trespassers. None of what was promised sounded good. One of the signs had a large Alsatian on it. The dog looked feral. Sharp teeth and wildness in its eyes. That sign was worrying. Some places used dogs that had had their vocal cords removed. Stealth dogs. A patter of feet, then you’re flat on your ass, razor-sharp teeth ripping into your throat.

  I listened carefully. No barking or snuffling. The only sound was the soft whisper of the wind blowing around large buildings and structures, and pushing through narrow spaces, and whistling around the miles of pipework, a discordant chord that blended a dozen or so out-of-tune notes, some high, some low. The overall effect was eerie enough to send a shiver running up my spine.

  The gates were secured with a thick chain and a large padlock. The lock looked heavy and daunting, but it was all for show. Inside there were a couple of small metal pins that needed to be persuaded to move aside. You’re talking pins that were smaller than a quarter-inch. Learning to pick locks had been one of the more fun things I’d done during my time at Quantico. Locks are just puzzles that exist in the physical world rather than the cerebral. I love puzzles, love the challenge.

  This lock had been oiled recently so all the parts moved smoothly. It took less than thirty seconds to pick.

  I put the worn leather wrap containing my lock picks back into the inside pocket of my jacket‚ then tugged at the chain and rattled it off. Taylor grabbed the gate and dragged it open until it was wide enough for us to drive through. The gate moved easily and my guess was that this had nothing to do with Taylor’s strength and size, and everything to do with the wheels having been oiled at the same time as the padlock.

  We got back into the car and rolled slowly through the gap. Ten yards in we came to a barrier and a guardhouse. The barrier was up and we moved slowly past it. We hung a left and followed the perimeter road. Chain-link fencing stretched far into the distance on my side, shadowy grey structures rose up on Taylor’s.

  ‘Keep your eyes open for any signs of life,’ I told him. ‘Especially any vehicles. We’re way off the beaten track here. Eagle Creek is a dozen or so miles to the north-east, and Shreveport’s a dozen or so miles to the west, and in between those two points you’ve got a whole lot of nothing. I can’t see our unsub walking or hitchhiking, can you?’

  ‘You think he’s here now?’

  Taylor was almost whispering, as if the unsub might be hiding in the back of the car just waiting for an opportunity to stab us in the back.

  ‘He’s got to be somewhere. Unless he’s mastered multidimensional travel.’

  ‘Why here?’

  It was a good question. There was no evidence to suggest he was here. Except for the film clip of Sam Galloway going up in flames, and that computerised countdown, there was no evidence, period. This unsub had been careful to leave nothing behind. Except that wasn’t entirely correct. Somewhere out there was a grey concrete place that would stink of charred flesh and gasoline. The reason we didn’t have any real evidence was not because there wasn’t any, it was because we hadn’t found it yet.

  ‘Why here?’ Taylor asked again.

  ‘Because it feels right.’

  ‘Feels right? What happened to facts and proof? You know, the sort of thing you can take to court.’

  ‘Sometimes you need to put two and two together to make five, remember. You need to take that leap of faith.’

  Taylor shook his head. ‘That’s not the whole story, though, is it?’

  ‘Okay, you’ve got me there.’ I smiled. ‘So what do we know about this unsub? We know he has a strong sense of drama. That film he produced for us was scripted right down to the last detail. He would have scouted out the location like he was making a Hollywood blockbuster. He’d want a place that conveyed his vision.’

  ‘Somewhere like this?’

  ‘Somewhere like this,’ I agreed. ‘Think about it. You’re not going to find Dracula slumming it in a trailer park, are you? No way. He’s going to have a big castle somewhere high on a cliff. And you can bet your ass that it’s going to be in an area that gets more than its fair share of thunderstorms.’

  Taylor had his thinking face on.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was just wondering if there was anywhere else around here that fit that description, but nothing springs to mind.’

  ‘No abandoned industrial parks? No old disused churches? No castles on cliffs?’

  Taylor shook his head. ‘There are a few abandoned places, but nowhere dramatic enough for our unsub.’

  ‘If anything springs to mind, let me know and we can go check it out.’

  ‘Sure. So what now?’

  ‘Now we search every square inch of this place looking for a car. When we find the car, we find the unsub, and so long as we find him in time, we save someone from being burnt alive.’

  We drove around the perimeter first, and ten minutes later we arri
ved back at the guardhouse. I gently pressed the brake pedal and the car drifted to a stop. No car. No guard dogs. No signs of life.

  ‘Now what?’ asked Taylor.

  ‘Now we run a grid. We’ll use the guardhouse as our start point. We’ll go west to east to start with. If we find nothing there, we’ll try going east to west.’

  We spent the best part of an hour and a half driving back and forth, burning gas while we searched every square inch. Anywhere big enough to hide a car, we checked out. The structures were all different sizes. Some were big enough to house a jumbo jet while others were so small you’d struggle to fit a desk inside. Some were positioned so close to their neighbours that there was barely enough space for a person to squeeze between, others were a football field apart.

  Some of the roads we drove down were wide, some were narrow, some were dead ends. The one thing they had in common was that they were all as deserted as Morrow Street. No cars, no signs of life.

  I pulled to a stop next to the guardhouse.

  ‘We must have missed a turning in the dark,’ I said.

  ‘Or, how about this? Maybe the unsub isn’t here.’

  ‘Or maybe he’s somewhere big enough to drive his car in.’

  ‘Or maybe you’re clutching at straws because you can’t bear to admit that you might be wrong. Face it, Winter. There’s no one here.’

  I sighed, then drove through the gate and rolled to a stop. While Taylor pulled the gate closed, I dealt with the padlock. The wind had blown a thin layer of dirt and dust across the road surface and the faint outline of the gate’s wheels was visible. I followed the tracks to the end of the gate then hunkered down and brushed a yard-long section of the dust flat. If anyone came through here after us, we’d know. What we wouldn’t know was who that someone was. Still, right now I’d take all the information I could get.

  ‘What?’ I said in response to Taylor’s questioning look. ‘Didn’t you ever play spies when you were a kid?’

  He gave me a whatever shrug, then got back into the car. I climbed into the driver seat and started the engine.