The Killing Vision

SUNDAY, JULY 15

10:45 AM

For the first time since the search at his home, Halloran found himself face to face with Larry Carver.

Halloran and Pettus sat on one side of the table in the interrogation room and Carver and his attorney sat on the other. Carver’s face was stony and red and his cold eyes darted between Halloran and the chief. If Halloran had had any doubts about how pissed off Carver was, they were gone now. The man exuded anger like an odor. Carver’s lawyer, a well-respected attorney by the name of Daniel Woods, looked equally pissed. He wore the expression of someone who had just stepped on a disgusting insect.

“I suppose you’re wondering why we called you in here,” Halloran said.

Carver’s nostrils flared. “I would have thought Friday night would have been the end of it, when you didn’t find anything.”

Woods laid a pudgy hand on the mayor’s arm. “Easy, Larry.”

Halloran opened the file folder in front of him and pulled out an eight-by-ten photo. Wordlessly he slid it across the desk to the other two men.

Carver looked at it, then blew out a breath. “I give up. What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?”

“Tire track,” Halloran said. “We found this on the river bank near where the McElvoy and the Santos girl both washed up.”

“So?”

Halloran pulled out a second photograph and laid it beside the first. “This is the front passenger tire on your Lincoln Navigator. It’s a perfect match. Right down to a piece of gravel stuck in the tread.” He pointed with the end of an ink pen. “Here.”

Carver slammed a fist down on the table. “I had nothing to do with those girls,” he spat.

Woods put a hand on Carver’s shoulder. “Don’t say anything else, Larry.”

Carver shrugged out from under Woods’ grip. “Get your goddamned hand off me.”

“Are you denying this track is off your vehicle?” Pettus asked.

“I know it’s mine,” Carver said, and Halloran felt a thrill through his gut.

Woods’ face was ashen. “Larry. . .”

“Shut up,” Carver told him. “These people want some dirt on the mayor, and they’ll get some dirt on the mayor.” Carver swallowed and looked at Halloran. “I was at the river. I won’t deny it. I’ve been there several times over the past few weeks.”

“Doing what exactly?” Halloran asked.

Carver shifted in his seat. “I’ve been down there with a few. . . ladies.”

Pettus gaped at the mayor. “You mean, hookers?”

Carver nodded and stared at the table. “Hookers, prostitutes. . . whatever you want to call them. I usually pick them up on Fourth Street.” He looked at Pettus. “You know where I’m talking about.”

Pettus nodded. “But why take them down there?”

“So we won’t be seen,” Carver said. “I can’t very well risk checking into a motel in town, now can I?”

“Can any of these women verify your story?” Halloran asked.

“Undoubtedly.” Carver rattled off three or four names, including one well-known transvestite. Halloran shot a glance at Pettus and saw just the faintest trace of a smile play across his lips.

There was a knock at the door, and Chapman stuck his head in and motioned for Halloran to join him in the hallway. Halloran excused himself and slipped out the door.

“How’s it going in there?” Chapman asked.

Halloran shook his head. “He didn’t do it.”

“What about the track?”

Halloran told him what Carver had divulged, and they shared a quiet snicker over the transvestite.

“You think he knew it was really a guy?” Chapman asked.

Halloran chuckled. “After what we found in his basement I wouldn’t be surprised.” His gaze fell on the papers in Chapman’s hand. “What’s up?”

“Been talking with Shelley Mitchell—the roommate of the Saunders girl.”

“What’d you find out?”

Chapman glanced at his notes. “We’ve got a person of interest. She says the two of them partied a couple of times with a guy named Wade Roberts.”

Roberts. That name sounded familiar. “Wasn’t the guy that came in to see me about the mayor named Roberts? Didn’t he say he had a brother named Wade?”

Chapman nodded. “One and the same.”

Halloran looked away, thinking.

“Oh, and get this,” Chapman said. “I ran a search on all the vehicles registered in Wade Roberts’ name. Got a hit on a black Ford Escort like the kind that was seen in the Saunders girl’s neighborhood.”

Halloran took a deep breath. “Sounds like we need to pay a visit to Mr. Wade Roberts.”

* * *

11:30 AM

Derek sat at his desk watching as the homepage for hotbabes.com loaded with agonizing slowness on his computer screen. F*cking dial-up internet. As close as they were to town they should at least be able to get DSL. Chad’s house had cable internet and they could watch full porn movies there. But here he was stuck with stills and most of them low-resolution. Hell, his dick would be limp by the time he got to see his first tit.

The crunch of gravel out in the driveway startled him. That couldn’t be his mom. It was too early for her to be home from church. He glanced out his window to see an unmarked sedan pulling in. The car stopped and two men in suits climbed out. One was a red-headed guy with freckles. The other had dark hair and a mustache, and Derek thought he may have seen him on the news. What the f*ck were they doing here?

He slipped out of his room and padded barefoot to the top of the stairs. Below through the frosted glass of the front door he watched them step up onto the porch. There was a second of silence, and then a light knock. Wade had heard them as well, and he was already at the door to meet them.

“Mr. Roberts?” came a voice on the other side.

“Yeah?”

“I’m Lieutenant Mike Halloran and this is my partner John Chapman. We’d like to ask you a few questions if you have a few minutes.”

Wade stepped back and opened the door wide. “Sure, come on in.”

The other men stepped into the living room and the one with the mustache looked up and locked glances with Derek. He nodded in greeting and Derek nodded back.

Wade motioned to the couch. “Have a seat.”

The three of them had moved out of Derek’s field of vision, but he heard Wade say, “What’s this all about?”

One of the cops said, “We’re investigating the disappearance of a female college student. Abigail Saunders. She hasn’t been seen since Friday night.”

“What’s this got to do with me?”

The other man said, “Do you own a 2003 Ford Escort?”

“That’s my son’s car.

Derek felt sweat pop out on his brow. F*ck, oh f*ck.

“That car was seen hanging around the Saunders girl’s apartment on Friday.”

“What?” his father said.

“Is your son here?” the first cop asked. “Maybe we can clear all this up.”

“Derek!” his father called, and Derek’s legs suddenly felt like rubber.

He moved down the stairs to the living room. The two detectives were sitting on the couch. Wade sat in his recliner. They were all looking at him. “Sit,” Wade told him. Derek sank into the chair closest to the cops.

The one with the mustache said, “Were you hanging around on Woodside Avenue on Friday?”

Derek shot a glance at his father, then looked at the floor. There was no reason to lie about it. They already knew it was him. “Yeah, I was there.”

“What were you doing?”

“Following a girl.”

The detective pulled out a small photograph and showed it to him. It was the angel. “This her?”

Derek nodded. “That’s her.”

“Why were you following her?”

Derek looked at him. “I thought she was pretty. I just wanted to see where she lived, what she was doing.”

“How many times had you been there?”

“Just twice. I followed her home from the Gas-N-Pack on Thursday.”

“And you went back there on Friday?” the other detective asked.

Derek nodded. “I know it was stupid. I just wanted to get a look at her again.”

“Did you?”

Panic was starting to boil in Derek’s stomach. “Yeah. I followed her back to the college. I asked her out, but she kinda blew me off.”

“That make you mad?” the cop with the mustache asked.

“Sort of.”

“Then what happened?”

Derek looked at him. “Nothing. I came back home.”

“Did you go back to her apartment?”

“No,” Derek said, “I told you I came back home.”

“You’re sure you didn’t go back?”

Beside him, Wade sat up on the edge of his chair. “Look, he said he didn’t go back there. What’s going on?”

The detective with the mustache looked at Wade. “Look, Mr. Roberts, we know you’re acquainted with Miss Saunders. We talked to her roommate.”

Derek watched his father’s face grow red, then purple. He thought at first Wade was having a stroke. “Dad. . . ?”

Wade looked at him, then back at the cop. He licked his lips. “Yes, I know them. We partied together a few times.”

“So we’ve been told.” The cop looked at Wade squarely. “Look, Mr. Roberts, Abigail Saunders hasn’t been seen since Shelley Mitchell left their apartment on Friday at four o’clock. We’re suspecting foul play.”

Wade shot a glance at Derek. “And you think one of us had something to do with it?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.” He shifted in his seat. “Look, we know you both know her. Maybe you found out she had a thing for your son and it made you mad.”

Honestly, now Wade’s head looked like it was going to explode. Sweat was pouring down his face. “I think we’re done here,” he said, and Derek could tell it was taking everything Wade had to stay calm. “We’re not answering anything else.”

The detective shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He and the other man stood, and Wade did the same. “We’ll be back.”

“You better have a warrant.”

“We will.”

The two men went out the front door. Wade followed them and watched them get back into their car. He whispered, “F*ck.”

Derek watched the car back out of the driveway and then looked back at Wade. “Dad? What’s going on?”

Wade kept his gaze on the black sedan. “Nothing. Not a goddamned thing.” When the car was out of sight, Wade shut the door and looked at him. “Not one word about this to your mother. Understand? Not one f*cking word.”

“Do you really know that girl?”

Wade didn’t answer him. He sat back down the recliner and turned on the television. The NASCAR race was just starting and Wade stared at it without saying anything else.

Derek turned and headed back up the stairs. Something weird was happening. Something weird and big.

* * *

2:10 PM

For mid-July the day had turned out breezy and pleasant. The humidity of the past week was gone, and that made the heat easier to tolerate. Joel was glad. He was always miserable to the point of exhaustion in the heat. And today he did not want to be miserable.

He and Dana had come to Riverside Park for the afternoon. Dana had packed a picnic lunch for them—“Cheesy, I know,” she told him with an embarrassed laugh—and they had enjoyed it in the shade of the tall oaks by the river. The breeze coming over the water was steady and almost cool. Joel tilted his head back and breathed in the fresh air. It was hard to believe this area had been swarming with cops just a few days ago.

“It was right down there where they found those bodies, wasn’t it?” Dana said, making him jump.

“You sure you don’t read minds?” Joel said and gave her a grin. He pointed to a pile of brush at the water’s edge. “There, where all those limbs and branches are.”

Dana shivered. “I still can’t believe it happened here in Cedar Hill.”

“I can’t believe they haven’t caught the guy yet.”

“Wonder if you and I could solve it?” she said. “Between the two of us, reading people and objects, I bet we could find him in no time flat.”

“Maybe.” He hadn’t yet told her about his visit with Lieutenant Halloran, and he wondered if they had even followed up on his lead with the mayor. He had been watching the news every night since, but there had been no mention of anything. Just as well. He was sure he had come across as some kind of nut case, and if he presented himself as a psychic that would certainly seal it for him. “You ever work with the police?”

“No, but I see it all the time on TV.”

Joel grunted. “Something tells me our local cops wouldn’t be as generous with their time.”

“Maybe not.” She took a deep breath and blew it out. “I’d just like to help some way, you know?”

Joel nodded. He thought of the mothers he had seen on the news and their tearful, desperate pleas and how he wished to be able to either find their children or bring them some closure. He stared out across the river. “I went to the police last week,” he said.

She gaped at him. “What? Why?”

He told her everything about what he found in the mayor’s house, about speaking with Halloran and how he came away feeling he might have done more harm than good.

“But you were just doing what you felt you had to,” Dana said. “I would have done the same thing.”

He smiled at her. “I know you would.”

“And you don’t know what may be going on with the investigation that isn’t being made public.” Her voice was sounding excited, and it was cute in a way. “Maybe they’re watching the mayor, seeing what his next move is. Maybe they’re on a stakeout at his house.”

Joel thought of the detectives he had talked to sitting in a darkened sedan with coffee and donuts and had to laugh.

Dana looked at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “You’re hilarious.” He opened his mouth to tell her about the strange call from Barry, but he stopped himself. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get into that right now.

Dana smiled and pulled a dandelion from the grass and twirled it in her fingers. He watched her and felt a strange warmth surge through him. And he knew what it was.

He was falling in love.

* * *

4:45 PM

Halloran could tell Wade Roberts was not surprised to see him again. Even as patrol cars swarmed into the driveway while he was serving the warrant, Roberts showed no emotion. Behind him, Halloran saw a haggard blonde woman—presumably his wife—peeking at them from the kitchen.

“This is bullshit, you know,” Roberts told him.

“Maybe it is,” Halloran said.

Roberts, his wife, and his son waited outside on the lawn while several men entered the house with Pettus. Chapman and another cop took the vehicles, and Halloran headed toward the barn and outbuildings with Brooks.

Inside the barn was a vehicle beneath a stained tarp. Halloran pulled the tarp off and Brooks whistled softly.

It was a Mustang. A ’sixty-four-and-a-half or a ’sixty-five from the looks of it. It appeared Roberts was in the process of restoring it.

“Nice car,” Brooks said. “I always wanted a Mustang.”

“I had one,” Halloran told him. “A ’sixty-seven.”

“No shit?”

“Damn thing was always breaking down. It was in the shop more than it was on the road.” He ran his fingertips along the ridge of the front fender. “They’re nice when they’re fully restored, but unless you got a boatload of money to sink into one, they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

“You still have yours?”

“Nah. Sold it a year or two after I bought it. I was fresh out of college and struggling to make it to my next paycheck. I couldn’t afford to work on my car all the time.”

“That’s a shame.”

Halloran stared at the car. “Yeah, it is.” He opened the door. “Might as well start here.”

But the Mustang came up clean, and he and Brooks turned their attention to the boxes and crates stored around it. There appeared to be nothing here but tools and rusted paint cans.

Halloran had just shoved a cardboard box back under the workbench when he spotted something stuck behind one of the wall studs. He reached for it and pulled out a worn cigar box. Inside was a small bag of marijuana and some rolling papers. “Well, well, well,” he said. He held up the bag for Brooks to see.

“If nothing else, we got him on possession,” Brooks said.

Halloran set the box and its contents on the hood of the car and pulled out his digital camera to get a shot of it.

“Lieutenant?”

Halloran looked up to see one of the younger officers at the door of the barn. “Yes?”

“Detective Chapman sent me to get you. He says there’s something you need to take a look at.”

Halloran snapped the picture and pointed to Brooks. “Get that tagged and bagged.” He followed the younger officer outside. “Find something in the Escort?”

The cop shook his head. “Kid’s car was clean. Got something in the dad’s truck.”

Several officers and Chapman were huddled around the passenger side of blue Ford pickup. Halloran came up behind them and laid a hand on Chapman’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

Chapman turned and held up something in his gloved fingers. It was Abigail Saunders’ driver’s license. “It was under the passenger seat,” he said. “Just laying there.”

“Get it bagged,” Halloran said.

“There’s something else,” Chapman said. He lifted his other hand. He was holding a pair of tweezers, and when Halloran saw what was in them he felt his knees go weak.

“I’ll be goddamned,” he said.

* * *

5:42 PM

It had been a damn fine day, Joel thought.

He and Dana had spent the remainder of the afternoon walking through the park and talking. Dana had chatted on and on about the murders like she was discussing a mystery novel. And while her enthusiasm and her wanting to help out were charming and energizing, Joel had been glad when the conversation had turned to something else.

They talked about their futures. Dana would graduate college next spring and hoped to become an elementary teacher. Joel could see her doing that. She was so much like a child herself—full of imagination and life. Little kids would love her. But as much as he enjoyed hearing her hopes and plans, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of jealousy. She knew what she wanted out of life. She knew where she was going. All he would ever be was a lowly peon, doomed to an endless dead-end job until he was worn down and able to draw his retirement.

But maybe with the right woman to spend the rest of his life with, it would be all right. Maybe the banality of life would be easier to take. Maybe Dana was that woman. He smiled to himself. Maybe she was the answer he had been searching for.

He still didn’t know why he hadn’t told her about Barry’s call, but he knew she would worry, and worrying Dana was not something he wanted to do. He smiled at that. Having a woman worry over him was not something he was used to.

He had just turned the corner below Wade’s house when the flashing lights caught his attention. Lots of them. He slowed the Explorer down to a crawl as panic filled his gut. Cop cars all over Wade’s lawn. What the hell was going on? Was someone hurt?

Then he spotted them—Wade, Marla and Derek—standing beside one of the cop cars. Wade was smoking a cigarette. Marla’s face was puffy, as if she’d been crying. Derek wore a f*ck-all expression, like he had been mightily inconvenienced.

Joel turned into the drive and a heavily muscled cop raised a hand to stop him. “You can’t come in here,” he shouted.

Joel lowered the window. “This is my brother’s house. Is everything okay?”

The cop looked around behind him, then back at Joel. “Everything’s under control. Everybody’s all right.”

“Can I see him?”

The cop looked around again, then nodded. “Park over there out of the way,” he said, motioning to an empty area close to the road.

Joel pulled the Explorer over and climbed out, then threaded his way through the maze of lights and cars to where the three of them stood.

Wade spotted him first, and his face changed from indifference, to annoyance, to relief in a matter of seconds. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s going on?” Joel asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Some girl’s disappeared,” Wade said flatly. “They think me or Derek had something to do with it.”

“What? Who?”

Wade looked at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze to the ground. “Just a girl I know, okay?”

Joel glanced at Marla and saw fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She stared straight ahead as if she could wish herself out of here.

“They think she’s dead,” Derek said.

Joel looked at him and saw that what he had first thought was an expression of defiance was actually fear. The boy’s hands were trembling and Joel could see he had bitten off most of his fingernails.

Wade dropped his cigarette butt and ground it into the dirt with the heel of his boot. “F*cking cops. I didn’t have anything to do with this. Derek didn’t have anything to do with it. This is all a bunch of bullshit.”

Joel stared at Wade. He knew Wade had been involved in some heavy shit over the years, and he also knew Wade had been partying more than usual lately. But could he actually be involved in something else?

There was one way to know, and even though Joel didn’t want to do it, he knew he had to. He moved over to Wade and leaned against the car beside him. “Everything will be okay,” he said. Then he placed his hand on Wade’s shoulder in a display of brotherly concern.

As many times as he had done this, he was still unprepared each time for the waves of sensations that tore through him. He saw it all, felt it all. He saw the endless stream of women, saw the barely-contained violence toward Marla, saw the drugs and booze and sex. Felt the claustrophobic existence of home and family. And he saw with sickening clarity what Clifton had done to him all those years ago. But there was nothing at all to indicate Wade had been involved in anyone’s disappearance. Wade was a partier and an adulterer, but he was not a killer.

Joel let go and slumped against the car. He was drained. For a moment he thought his legs would give out and he would tumble to the ground, but he managed to brace himself against the hood of the Crown Victoria.

Wade looked at him. “You okay?”

Joel nodded. “Just tired.”

“Mr. Roberts?”

Coming across the yard was the detective Joel had spoken with last week, Halloran. He was with a younger lanky man in a white dress shirt and tie, presumably another detective, and a stocky police officer. Halloran met Joel’s gaze, and Joel noticed the flash of recognition in his eyes. He nodded and Joel nodded back. But now he realized Halloran had been addressing Wade.

Wade stood up straight.

“Mr. Roberts, I’m gonna need you to turn around,” the stocky cop said.

“Wait,” said Wade, “what?”

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

Wade’s eyes grew round with fear and anger. “What is this?”

“We found your stash in the barn,” Halloran said. “We’re taking you in for possession of marijuana and drug paraphernalia. We’re also placing you under arrest in the disappearance of Abigail Saunders.”

“What the f*ck?” Wade cried. “I didn’t do anything!”

“We found Miss Saunders’ license in your truck,” Halloran said.

“That’s impossible,” Wade said.

Joel could only stand there as the burly cop, reciting Wade’s rights, led his brother over to one of the squad cars. Beside him, Marla began to sob into her hands. Derek was frozen as if made of stone.

“Get me a lawyer!” Wade shouted, and Joel wasn’t sure if he was telling him or Marla.

“We’re taking him downtown,” Halloran said to Marla. “You won’t be able to see him tonight. Come down in the morning. In the meantime, your husband gave you some good advice. I’d get an attorney as soon as possible.”

* * *

10:57 PM

He had asked her name as soon as she had slid into the car.

“Brittany,” she said.

“What a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.”

“Where do you live, Brittany?”

“Munson Street. It’s about four blocks—”

“I know where it is.”

And when he sailed past Munson Street without even slowing down, he noticed her tense up and shoot him a worried glance. “You just passed it.”

He said nothing and kept his eyes on the road.

“Turn around! You passed my street!” She tried the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. It was designed that way. She beat on the glass, but it was shatterproof and her hands bounced off as if they were made of rubber. She had backed up against the door, crying in panic now. “Let me out of here! Let me go!” And with that, she twisted in the seat and kicked him in the side, and his kidney exploded in pain.

They weren’t quite at the park yet, but he managed to pull off the road into a secluded drive and throw the car into park. She was still kicking, but he managed to grab her ankles and hold her feet still. He could tell she didn’t expect him to be so strong— none of them ever did.

She only screamed once more before he was on top of her, before his fingers wrapped around her throat, cutting off her voice. The gloves were thin, and he could feel her pulse pounding against his fingertips. Pounding and pounding until it began to peter out and she went limp beneath him.

Even through the pain in his side, he managed to drive home and carry her inside with little effort. He stripped her clothes and positioned her inside the freezer like the others, closed the lid and secured the room.

So far he had heard nothing of her disappearance, and he wondered if she had lied about being out past her curfew. Surely by now someone would be missing her. Unless her parents or whoever she lived with was used to her not coming home.

He gazed upon her now in the soft yellow glow of the freezer’s light. So beautiful, so perfect. He couldn’t imagine anyone not caring about her.