Unhinged

  “He was never a serious suspect in that. He was questioned and cleared.”

  “Boy, you’re some detective,” Dorrick said, smiling for the first time. “You couldn’t put two and two together if you had a calculator. You were once bald, just like the woman, and you don’t think back to your girlfriend’s sister who was abducted and probably killed while she was with you? While you were bald? Why not?”

  “It just didn’t click.” I paused, perhaps showing weakness, but I couldn’t help it. I took a sip of lukewarm coffee.

  Dorrick appeared pleased. “Tell me again how you first met Gene Lotz.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to tell this story. It seemed like he was stalling to keep me here, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave until I went through the whole ball of yarn.

  I spouted irrelevant facts that I hadn’t thought of in years, just to try to make Dorrick yawn. He didn’t.

  My story went on. “He told me everyone called him Spider ‘cause when he was twelve he put a spider down a girl’s shirt in the school yard, hoping she’d take it off. Apparently she was developing faster than the rest of the girls. I thought that was a funny story.”

  “Did you wonder why he had taken such a shine to you when he snubbed the others at the grocery?” Dorrick asked, then turned to the glass mirror and pointed at his coffee cup. “More coffee?” he asked me.

  “No,” I answered, feeling my bladder filling up. “I figured I was the only one cool enough to talk to. The guys who worked there were okay, but most of them were nerdy.”

  “How did your relationship develop?”

  “We got pretty chummy at work. We started this thing where we’d tell each other stories of what happened to us when we went out to bars. It became a ritual at the end of the night. He had some pretty bizarre tales, which now, of course, we know were lies.”

  “Did he ever come on to you?” Dorrick asked, finally getting his coffee brought in to him by a man in a white shirt and a blue tie. He looked like a Mormon.

  “We acted gay sometimes, but it was just for fun. He was never serious about it, and neither was I. We tried to hang out outside of work with my friends, with his friends. It never worked. No one in either clique liked the other.”

  “This didn’t agitate him?”

  “I didn’t get a sense of it. We went on as usual, telling our stories. Sometimes we’d all go out to Abby’s Bar after work with our manager, Donny Packard. Spider and I could hang out there together because we had other Dixie-Mart people around us, including the female cashiers. We eventually had a pretty tight-knit group that used to go after work at least twice a week. I’m sure it was one of these nights that I told Spider about June. And then about a week after Paulina disappeared, Spider quit and I never saw him again.”

  “Another interesting coincidence you couldn’t pick up on. Tell me about Paulina, your girlfriend’s sister. Go into greater detail about the night she disappeared, please.”

  Paulina Wilder. I could recall every moment that I spent with her, and I really didn’t want to share anything with this asshole. It was personal, and he expected me to talk about it for his precious files.

  I closed my eyes and thought back, pulling up my memories of Paulina like a bucket of water from a well. I couldn’t help but smile. “What do you want to know?”

  “Why don’t you start with when you went to work the day of her abduction?”

  I kept my eyes closed and began to tell the same old story. The first time I told it had been to the police the day of the disappearance, then the detectives who took on the case. I told it to Paulina’s parents (leaving out the sordid details), then to Jennifer after I got involved with her (again, omitting certain parts), and then the same detectives one month later when they couldn’t find anything. I had told it so many times I had it memorized.

  “Saturday I pulled into the Dixie-Mart parking lot, taking the farthest available space from the front entrance next to Spider’s car. He had told me—with a smile, mind you—that his mom saved up the money to buy it from whoring. I never did know what to make of comments like that.

  “It was June—the month—and it felt like it had taken forever for Saturday to arrive. It was only the second time I was seeing Paulina, but here it was, beautiful, warm, and sunny. I wasn’t much on relationships, but I wanted this one to happen. She had model looks. A girl that young wouldn’t stay in a relationship for too long, but I wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. She was only sixteen, but I didn’t care.

  “That night flew by in an instant. I went up to the registers to say hi to Paulina. She was still struggling as a cashier. The store closed, and Donny Packard offered everyone a beer when they finished cleaning up. Paulina drank one, too. By the time everything was done and everyone was punching out, it was 12:30 a.m. Donny told us he was going to go home instead of meeting us at the bar, and the rest of us decided to get some beer and sit in the parking lot.

  “There was Richie, Jason, Paul, Spider, Paulina, and me. I went and bought some beer, while the guys drove up to the store entrance so we could listen to some music.

  “As we sat there, Spider tried to rile Paulina up. He kept asking her about the night before when I drove her home and what we did together. I remember there was something in his tone I didn’t like, but Paulina played along. She didn’t say much, leaving everything to his imagination.”

  To my surprise, Agent Zachary finally spoke up. “What specifically did he ask?” His voice had a tinge of California surfer dude.

  “He started off with innocent questions. Did we like each other? Did we kiss? Then he asked if I felt her up, which was a little out of line, but if you knew Spider, you knew to expect it. He asked if she felt my bone and if I lit her up. Some people can get away with that if you like them, but nobody there liked him but me. By that point, Paulina was red in the face, and I think he knew to stop.”

  Agent Zachary nodded and looked at Dorrick, who turned back to me, indicating I should continue.

  “We were running out of beer, so I told everyone I was going around to the back of the store to get a case I had stashed near the Dumpster. I did that once in a while when I knew we were going to be drinking in the parking lot.

  When I got up to go, Paulina volunteered to join me as I hoped she would. We started walking, and Spider got a phone call and said he had to leave. He said he had a deal brewing. The police found out later that he had no call at that time. He admitted to making his phone ring so he could have an excuse to leave early. They did find out that there was one call on his phone later that night. He had called the manager to see if he could work another shift the next day. Spider loved working as many hours as he could, so it wasn’t unusual.

  “Anyway, I held Paulina’s hand as we walked between the fence and the back of the store. It was dark in spots and well lit in others. We got to the Dumpster and found the case of beer with a half-melted bag of ice on top.”

  “For a future cop, you took some chances, didn’t you?” Dorrick asked.

  I shook my head and smiled. “I was young. They were perks. No one cared anyway as long as we made inventory.”

  “What are your perks for being a detective?” Dorrick asked smugly.

  I ignored him and spoke to Agent Zachary as if we were at lunch. “We kissed by the Dumpster. The next thing I knew, it was morning. I was lying near the Dumpster, the back of my head was bleeding, and there was no sign of Paulina. Everyone else had gone home, thinking we went somewhere to do it.”

  Dorrick stood and cracked his knuckles. “Okay. I think it’s time to take fifteen. I need to make some calls. There’s a shitter at the end of the hall if you need it. The coffeemaker is one door over to your right. Help yourself, Detective.”

  I got up and stretched, waking the muscles in my legs and back. It was almost 11:00 a.m. already, and I had been here two hours going over accounts that were already told, rehashed, typed up, and recorded. Still, having to piss, I walked out of the room to go
find the “shitter,” as Dorrick had eloquently called it.

  The bureau’s restroom was as clean as the interrogation room. Everything was new and shiny. The whole organization was so dull I could shit, and I was in the right room for it.

  I washed my hands and looked at my cleanly shaven face in the mirror. I moved in for a closer look to see just how bloodshot my eyes were. Upon seeing the red veins around my green eyes, I actually thought of Christmas.

  I made full use of my time by stretching, bending at the waist, and twisting my back, so my vertebrae cracked like dry branches. I needed to start working out again.

  Ron came to mind and how peculiar it was that he would accept an early retirement package when he loved this job—and then to quit right in the middle of a case? Something was wrong. And now Agent Wayne was gone, and Zachary, a young, inexperienced agent, was taking his place. I felt like Jim Garrison in JFK.

  Putting my suspicions into a little box in my head to be opened again later, I arrived back at the interrogation room, and my ass welcomed the cold seat, ready for the second round.

  Agent Zachary looked as if he had never moved, except to get a new cup of coffee. I figured his training at Quantico kept him from playing drums on the table with his fingers or tapping his foot on the floor.

  Dorrick came back in, closed the door, and sat down with a fresh cup of coffee that was still steaming. He appeared to be ready for a card game. I imagined, like Ron, that caffeine no longer had an effect on him. He clasped his hands and rested them on the table again. “Tell us about the second double homicide.”

  I fought against the tightening muscles in my neck and recounted the known facts. My gaze remained fixed on my fingernails as I picked underneath them, hoping it would become irritating to my interrogators.

  Agent Zachary was the poster child of patience and attentiveness. He probably thought he had hit the big time, being personally selected for this investigation. I could see his fellow rookie agents congratulating him while secretly tearing him down behind closed doors. But I saw a pawn before me, a dispensable item to be discarded anytime during the game.

  My story continued. “We came to the conclusion the killer had watched Angel for a while. That night he broke into her house and waited. When she arrived, she was knocked out, tied up, gagged, and taken somewhere out of sight. The killer had somehow managed to lure Toliver to Angel’s house, probably to show me he was in control. The male vic had no evidence of anal entry, so we assumed our killer played the catcher. After they did their thing, the gay man was stabbed, and the killer dragged the girl out of her hiding place and beat and raped her, then murdered her.”

  “What did Agent Wayne say about the perp’s psychological profile at this point?” Agent Zachary asked.

  “Wayne held to the belief he was a sadomasochist. He likes to get the pain as much as he likes to give it. He has an inferiority complex and is basically a coward. He puts makeup on his female victims to give them some dignity in death or positions their bodies in a certain way, as if to say he was sorry for what he had to do. Wayne believes he’s religious, probably prays over the bodies after he’s done with them. He said that in a lot of cases, the killer actually goes to church for redemption.”

  “That’s true.” Zachary looked at Dorrick for acknowledgment and to possibly get his head patted.

  I went on and on and on until Dorrick stopped me.

  “Why did you continue to investigate without us after interviewing Eleanor Lotz?”

  “You didn’t show. We went on our own.”

  “And Gene Lotz escaped. You could be reprimanded for that.”

  “Do what you have to do.” My tongue felt like the Sahara, and I was sick of the blame game. “I thought you still wanted me to advise on this case.”

  He laughed as if I were a security guard trying to give James Bond advice. “I’ve decided no. I admit you have a big stake in this. But because of past circumstances, I can’t have you going off and playing your Die Hard fantasies so you can end up a guest on some late-night talk show like The David Kingsman Hour”

  “Yeah, that’s me. I’m doing this for the fame. You want me as bait for Lotz. You want me off the case so Lotz will feel safe enough to approach me. I know I’m being watched. Besides, you know you don’t have jurisdiction in this case.”

  “Two days ago there was a similar murder in Bay St. Louis just over the Mississippi border. It’s federal now. I have total authority.”

  “Who’d he kill in Mississippi? Tell me, you bastard.”

  “A man by the name of Tim Sails. A homosexual who had his penis severed. Know him?”

  I shook my head. Just because the man’s penis was cut off didn’t mean it was Spider who did it. This particular murder was just an excuse to have a proper reason for stealing the case, as if Greenwood wouldn’t have handed it to him.

  “It’s Agent Zachary’s turn now. Just give me one second, Agent Zachary.” Dorrick looked into the mirrored window and ran a finger across his throat in a slashing motion. I assumed he had just told them to stop taping. He leaned in and whispered, “We know what you were doing at Sarah Simpson’s place. You wouldn’t want Jennifer to find out, would you? Be careful what you do when you leave here. Maybe you should just leave it be.”

  I watched, wide eyed, as he leaned back and waved at the mirror, doing everything short of yelling action. The video was rolling again. “Ask any questions you want, Agent Zachary.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have much to inquire about at this point,” Zachary said. “I just want to verify some of the observations made by Agent Wayne in his case file. It’s quite extensive and a bit tedious. Would you like some more coffee before we begin, Detective?”

  “I don’t see why not.” I held myself in my chair to avoid screaming accusations about my beating. The one thought that kept my calm was joining Paulina in a mysterious disappearance.

  Dorrick smiled. “Get the detective some coffee, please,” he said to no one in the room.

  I finally left the field office at 1:30 p.m., walking onto a little blacktop parking lot on a bright, ninety-degree day with 100 percent humidity. Dorrick practically admitted he was the one who jumped me. He made sure to tell me that I was going to be watched day and night. I envisioned blackmail photos of Sarah and myself showing up for Jennifer at Children’s Hospital.

  I checked my cell phone in the car to see three voice mails, all of them probably from Captain Greenwood. I flicked the air-conditioning to high and turned the radio off. The first message was from Greenwood telling me to get my ass into the station when I was done with the FBI.

  The second message was from Jennifer. She was at our place and wanted to do lunch, and also she loved me.

  The third message was from Bienvenue, asking me to call him when I got the chance. Bienvenue and Greenwood would have to wait. I was starving, and hopefully Jennifer hadn’t eaten yet. I pressed 1 on my speed dial, getting Jennifer on the second ring.

  “Hey, darlin’, it’s me.” I drove out of the parking lot, absently scanning the area, waiting for a car to dart out and get on my bumper, but it didn’t happen.

  “Hi, my fiancé.” She giggled. “What’s going on?”

  “Bullshit. The Feds just interviewed me for nothing. They tried to scare me. Did you eat yet?”

  “I was about to give up on you, fix a sandwich, then go shopping. You want to meet somewhere?”

  “Yeah. I’ll meet you at Copeland’s in a half hour, okay?”

  “Ooh, nice. All right. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” I disconnected. Some Ricochet Catfish was sounding pretty good at this point. My hunger and that insane experience with Dorrick had given me a major headache.

  The Copeland’s lunch crowd had thinned, so we didn’t have to wait long for a table. We ordered as soon as the waitress noticed us, showing off our extensive knowledge of the menu.

  “Tell me what happened,” Jennifer said.

  “They basically had me go
over everything that’s happened so far. We didn’t cover any new ground. They told me that I’m off the case—I figured as much. A new profiler was assigned, though. A young kid, fresh out of Quantico, it looks like.”

  “What happened to Agent Wayne?”

  “He was reassigned.” I changed the subject. “What’s new at the hospital?”

  “I had an old lady almost die on me in the hall. Her grandson was in surgery at the time.”

  “She all right?”

  “We were able to resuscitate her. She’s doing well. It’s the most excitement I’ve seen in a while. Oh, and Donna, the nurse I was under when I started, got engaged, too.”

  “Really? You two have a lot to talk about, huh?”

  “It’s news. I was just telling you. You did ask. You act like it’s wrong for me to be excited.” Jennifer played with her ring as I held her hand on the table.

  “You’re right.” I chuckled. “I think it’s adorable when you’re all smiles. Do you have tomorrow off, too? I forget.”

  “No. I have another double.” She took a big drink from the tea just delivered. “So, no one knows any more about where Lotz might be hiding?”

  “Nope. He just disappeared. He’s either got the perfect hiding place or someone’s helping him.”

  “A conspiracy theory?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know. We could have had him at his grandma’s when I first spotted him. Friggin’ FBI. They’re all control freaks.”

  “They kicked you off the investigation because they think you messed up his capture?”

  “Yes. Greenwood’s too much of a coward to stand up for me, and the Feds walk all over him. He left me a message. He’s itching to tell me something. But they’re keeping a tail on me and on you, I think.” I scanned the restaurant. “They probably think I’ll keep going on my own.”

  “You won’t get in trouble for that?”

  “I could. But look who’s been killed. I need you to promise me you won’t put yourself in a position where you’re alone. Always, always have someone with you, especially when you’re in the parking lot at the hospital.”