The Thief of All Light

by Bernard Schaffer

  “No,” Rein said. “And to be honest, Carrie, that was way more high profile than this.”

  “This is complete bullshit!” Carrie snapped. “Even if the same guy didn’t do the killing at the nightclub, he might still have grabbed Denise Lawson and then Molly and Nubs. We might have two suspects on the loose!”

  “Would you listen to yourself?” Waylon said. “We can’t substantiate a single thing you just said, except for the fact that a man from a gay nightclub club got killed, and they are gonna call that a lover’s quarrel as sure as I am standing here. We have zero evidence of any abductions. Zero.”

  “There is no way in the fucking world Molly would take Nubs and run off without telling me, Bill. No fucking way! So fuck anybody who says different, got it? They were taken. Period!”

  “Do you see it, Jacob?” Waylon said, turning toward him. “Put your cards on the table, right here, right now. Do you?”

  Rein saw the need in Carrie’s eyes. “I don’t know,” was all he could bring himself to say.

  It was like someone unplugged the lights inside of her as cold betrayal spread across her face. “The problem is that most serial offenders tend to stick with their preferred type. If they like little girls, they take little girls. If they like Asian men, they take Asian men. They don’t typically wander outside of their comfort zone in terms of hunting grounds, disposal methods, or victim type.”

  “See?” Waylon said, holding his hands out toward Carrie. He was about to continue when he saw Rein raise his finger.

  “Unless . . .” Rein said.

  “Unless what?” Carrie said. When he paused, seemingly unsure of himself, she pounded the table with her fist. “Unless what? I want to hear it.”

  “For years, profilers have had a theory about a different type of offender. A chameleon, with no form. No pattern. No one’s ever been able to confirm their existence, because how could you? You’d have such a wide mix of victims from such a large area, all taken or murdered in such various methods, that it would never track. As far as anyone can prove, it’s just a theory.”

  “And this theory of chameleons or whatever,” Carrie said. “You think that’s what we’re dealing with?”

  “I only came along this far is to make sure it isn’t. No offense, but neither of you would have any idea what you were dealing with. I’m not sure I would. We would be talking about the most dangerous serial murderer in existence.”

  “Which no one has ever been able to say is anything more than a theory,” Waylon interjected.

  “There’s a very good reason no one’s ever proven the existence of an omnikiller.”

  “Why?” Carrie said.

  “Because secretly, we all pray one doesn’t exist.”

  21

  CARRIE SAID NOTHING AS THEY MADE THEIR WAY BACK TO THE CAR, OR when they sat inside, or when she turned the key and began to drive. “It’s only four o’clock,” Rein said, looking at the dashboard. “Do you want to go set up on the club early, see if any of the staff rolls in?”

  She looked at the road, refusing to acknowledge him. “Fine.”

  “Okay,” he said, tapping his fingers on the door frame. “Hey, do you mind if we stop at the store real quick? I need to get a few things if we’re going to be there awhile.”

  They made a sudden left, wheels peeling out on the asphalt, throwing Rein’s body sideways. Carrie corrected the steering wheel as they hopped over a curb into a small parking lot. They came to an abrupt stop in front of the Sunoco. “Fine.”

  “Do you want anything?” Rein asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  “We’re going to be there awhile. Some coffee, maybe?”

  “I said I’m fine.”

  “All right,” he said, and got out. He went into the store and came back with two coffees, a large Gatorade bottle, two waters, and two soft pretzels. She ignored the coffees he placed in the cup holders between them. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, so I got one of the flavored ones and put the French Vanilla cream in it. If you don’t like it sweet, you can have mine. I drink it black. I thought you liked it sweet, for some reason, so I guessed.”

  “I told you I didn’t want anything.”

  “True,” he said. “But drinking coffee on a surveillance is a time-honored tradition. I might be a lot of things, but a man who breaks tradition is not one of them. Do you like it sweet?”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I guess fine is our word of the day, then.” He picked up his coffee and took a sip, wincing at how hot it was, then took another. “Fine by me, then. I can handle that just fine.”

  “Great. Coffee, water, and Gatorade,” Carrie mumbled to herself as she watched him. “Half an hour into this and your old ass going to be crying for the bathroom.”

  “That’s what the Gatorade’s for.”

  “How is that going to help?”

  He rolled down the window and poured the brightly colored Gatorade into the street. “I wouldn’t drink this crap if you paid me. I just needed the bottle.”

  “Gross,” Carrie said, laughing despite herself. “I hope you don’t think you’re whipping out your donger in my car and pissing into that bottle.”

  “Actually, it would be pretty hard with you here,” he said.

  “Ex-cuse me?”

  He looked at her, holding the empty bottle. “What?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re a complete ass, you know that?”

  Rein turned away from her and set the empty bottle down on the floor, his ears and face flushing with embarrassment. “I meant because if someone is around, I can’t go. Even if someone talks to me through the door, I lock up. Not . . . not whatever it is you’re thinking.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes,” he said. “When I was a kid, we only had one bathroom, and my dad used to come barging in on me all the time. He wasn’t the type to knock. Guess that’s where it comes from.”

  “The Great Detective is pee shy?”

  “I’m hardly that. Except for the second part. I’m very much that.”

  “So what good is the bottle if you can’t use it in front of me?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Maybe you could jump in the back and get down on the floor or something. Try not to breathe too loud.”

  “Like hell! You aren’t pissing in my car, Rein!”

  He looked around the front compartment, seeing discarded coffee cups, receipts, and straw wrappers. “Why? You’re worried I might mess it up?”

  “You can go directly to hell. At least I have a car.”

  “Very true.” He raised his coffee cup in salute. “There are a lot of things I do not have.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”

  “No big deal. I figure, a man has to know himself, and I try to know the good and the bad. Doesn’t do any good to lie about it. I happen to be a former felon, turned dirt-poor landscaper who does not own a car, and who suffers from extreme shyness about peeing. You want to throw in the parts about being friendless, homeless, an embarrassment to my family, and the fact that the only thing I’m good at is dealing with psychotics and molesters, that’s okay too. In fact, it’s fine.”

  Carrie picked up the warm cup and held it in her hand, inhaling its scent, trying to let it calm her. She leaned down and took a small sip. “Thank you for the coffee. Yes, you guessed right. I like it sweet.”

  He waited for her to finish her sip and said, “You know, I’m no expert with women. I got divorced back before I even joined the County. Then, all that other stuff happened, and well, I just wasn’t very interested in dragging anyone else into this mess of a life. So I don’t have much in the way of what you’d call experience with women. My point is, even an idiot like me can tell you’re mad at me. What did I do?”

  It had been building the entire time they were at the station, and if she started in all at once, she knew it would get ugly, fast. “Well, for starters,” she said, “you were suppo
sed to have my back, back there, with Bill. I figured we were sticking together on this, Rein. Everybody else is trying to play this thing down, but if we aren’t on the same page. I thought . . . I thought we were partners.”

  “Go on,” he said.

  “That’s it,” she said. “I just feel like you should have had my back and you didn’t.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Bill already thinks I’m in over my head on this! But he trusts you, and as far as I’m concerned you just told him you’re tagging along with the silly little girl just to see how it plays out! That was not cool, Rein. If you’re not one hundred percent on this investigation, what the hell use is it continuing? I’m so sorry we don’t have conclusive proof of your super – serial killer yet, but let me just remind you that proof would mean the dead bodies of my best fucking friend and her daughter.”

  He waited for her to catch her breath, waiting to make sure she was finished, waiting for the color to come back into her face. When it was calm again, he said, “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you feel like I didn’t have your back.”

  She looked at him sideways. “I feel like there’s a but in there just waiting to come out.”

  “A wise man once said, ‘Never ruin a good apology with an excuse. ’”

  “Sounds like good advice.”

  “That being said,” he went on, “I need you to understand something. In this job, the worst thing anyone can do is speculate. Especially when it’s something serious. In front of the press, on the stand, or to your boss, never, ever shoot from the hip. You have to remember, our job is just to assemble the facts. We must remain impartial.”

  “I can’t remain impartial, Rein. Molly and Nubs are missing.”

  “That’s why Bill should never let you anywhere near this investigation,” he said. “But you’re here, and you’re doing an okay job, so don’t blow it now. Bill needs to know you’re keeping a level head. That way, when you tell him we’ve got a real situation, he’s going to believe you. Trust me.”

  “Just an okay job?” she said,

  “Passing. For now. I’ve been grading you on a curve so far, so don’t get a big head,” he said.

  “I trust you,” she said, before she had time to think about it. Saying it because it was true. She took another sip of coffee and added, “Dumb-ass.”

  * * *

  They pulled into Club Transmission’s parking lot. Rein told her to find a spot in the back, as far away from the door as possible, to give them a clear view of the entrance and any cars pulling in. He bent down to look on the passenger-side floor, then searched the center console, seeing nothing but sticky coffee residue and loose change glued down inside the rubber cup holders by more sticky coffee residue. He spun around to look behind his seat. “Where’s your binoculars?”

  “I don’t have any,” she said. “You never said we needed any.”

  “It’s basic surveillance equipment 101. You can’t do this without binoculars.”

  “Well, I don’t have any.”

  “What the hell is Bill thinking?” Rein said. “First he buys this heap for an undercover car, then he doesn’t even put the most basic equipment in it.”

  “Rein,” Carrie said.

  “It sticks out like a sore thumb, and it’s filthy.” He ran his hand along the dashboard through a layer of dust and said, “Does anybody use this heap for actual police work, or do they just use it to store their trash?”

  “Rein.”

  “What?”

  “This heap isn’t an undercover car. It’s my car. My personal one.”

  He stopped and said, “Oh.”

  “I didn’t have time to clean it. I was a little busy looking for my missing friend. Sorry.”

  “It’s . . . not that bad,” Rein offered. “Honest. It’s nice and roomy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s better than what I have.”

  “You don’t have a car.”

  “I didn’t say it was better by much.” He turned to look at her. “Carrie?”

  “Yes, Rein?”

  “Get some binoculars.”

  * * *

  Darkness set in, and the cars along the highway were turning on their headlights, flooding the parking lot as they passed. Carrie pulled apart the last gooey chunk of her pretzel and offered some to Rein, who declined, so she popped it in her mouth. “Maybe they’re not going to open tonight,” she said, still chewing. “Maybe they’re too freaked out about the murder.”

  “It’s possible,” Rein said.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to wait.”

  “I hate waiting,” she muttered. “I hate sitting, I hate staring at stupid buildings, I hate doing nothing while they’re missing.”

  “Sometimes I wonder how many hours of my life I’ve spent staring at buildings. Hundreds, probably. That’s what investigations are sometimes, though. A whole lot of waiting and sitting and preparing for something to happen. Then when it does?” Rein snapped his fingers. “It’s over, like that. All that work for a few seconds of action.”

  “Reminds me of my last boyfriend,” she said.

  “The guy whose clothes I’m wearing?”

  “No. That guy wasn’t really a boyfriend,” she said. “Just a way to pass the time.”

  “Ah.”

  She unscrewed the cap and took a sip of water, washing down the salt and the dough between her teeth. She needed to keep her mind occupied with something else besides the fear of what was happening to Nubs. She pictured the little girl screaming for help, over and over, and no one coming to rescue her. “So, let me get this straight,” she said, trying to concentrate on Rein. “You got divorced before you came to the County? You must have had your son when you were young.”

  “The girl I was dating after high school got pregnant, and we thought it was for the best. Tried to make a go of it, but when I got on the job, it caused problems. She couldn’t understand the shift work, or what I was dealing with. I couldn’t understand . . . anything about her, I guess. The dad part was easy. Me and Jacob Junior had a great time. I took him to museums and nature centers and bookstores and zoos, and we loved it, but his mom was never into any of that. Eventually, she told me she wanted to do something different with her life, and I understood. Anyway, we stayed separated for a while. I let her stay on my benefits a few years, trying to make it easy on her, but then she met someone and wanted to be officially divorced.”

  “And there’s been nobody since?”

  “Nope. Not really.”

  “Weren’t there a bunch of little mamacitas running around the place you used to live? Seemed like they partied all the time. I’m sure there were women.”

  “Sure,” he said.

  “And you never hooked up with one? What’s wrong? You’re only into blondes or redheads or something?”

  “It’s not that. In those places, there’s no furniture. No beds. They lay out blankets and towels on the floor, and you sleep wherever you can find a spot. I would always pick the farthest one away from the door, because otherwise you’d get stepped on by everyone trying to make it to the bathroom. And a lot of times, they didn’t make it.”

  “Jesus,” Carrie said.

  “Sometimes the guys would bring a woman back. They’d all be drunk. She’d be drunk. They’d be passing her around and giving her a couple dollars every time, right? By the end, she’d have two fistfuls of crumpled dollar bills and go staggering out the door, and everyone would go to sleep. You cannot imagine the sounds, and the smell.”

  “I can’t imagine any of it,” she said.

  “I guess, after a while, that part of me just shut off. I figured I’d never use it again, so I let it just wither away.”

  She looked at him. “You mean it withered away, like, literally?”

  “No, not literally.”

  “You could have brought a smaller bottle to pee in, if that’s the case. Maybe one of those tiny airplane liquor
bottles and just stuff it down your pants, and no one would know the difference.”

  Another car passed, lights reflecting off the windshield, revealing the hard gleam of Rein’s eyes as he stared at the building. Carrie looked at him until the light passed. “What if you met someone, though?”

  “I think they’re here,” he said.

  Her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Seriously? You’re bringing this up now? I mean, first off, you’re a lot older than me—”

  “They’re here,” he said, pointing through the windshield at two cars pulling into the parking lot, driving toward the entrance. “They must be employees. We don’t want to scare them, so let them park and we’ll head up there once they get the door open.”

  “All right,” she said stiffly, trying to get back into cop mode.

  “What were you saying before that?”

  “About what?” she said, playing it off.

  “Something about me being older.”

  “I said I was surprised you could see the cars coming in from that far away, old man.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t need to if you’d brought binoculars, now would I?”

  She eased the car in. A well-built man got out of the first car and headed for the door, dangling a large ring of keys in his hand. He undid the lock and propped the door open, then returned to his car. Another man got out of the second car, heaving a large wheeled suitcase out of the backseat and setting it upright on the blacktop. He wheeled toward the front door, suitcase handle in one hand and a bright red wig in the other.

  He called out in a deep, gravelly voice, “I’m gonna go get set up, Zack.”

  “Sure thing, Matilda,” the muscular man said over his shoulder. He took a crate full of records out of his car and set it on the hood, looking up at the approaching vehicle. Carrie stopped, and she and Rein got out, heading toward him. It was dark in the parking lot, and Zack moved back.

  Rein raised his hand in greeting. “Hi, do you work here?”

  “Yeah. Who are you?”

  “We weren’t sure if you guys would be open tonight.”

  “Because of the murder, you mean?”