Johnny went to the window and looked out on darkness, his cup of water in his hand. There was nothing to see but snow, but if he turned around, Bannerman would break off - you didn't have to be psychic to know that.
'Frank's dad worked on the B&M line and died in an accident when Frank was five or so. He was drunk, tried to make a coupling in a state where he probably would have pissed down his own leg and never known it. He got crushed between two flatcars. Frank's had to be the man of the house ever since. Roscoe says he had a girl in high school, but Mrs. Dodd put paid to that in a hurry.'
I bet she did, Johnny thought. A woman who would do that thing... that clothespin thing... to her own son... that sort of woman would stop at nothing. She' must be almost as crazy as he is.
'He came to me when he was sixteen and asked if there was such a thing as a part-time policeman. Said it was the only thing he'd ever really wanted to do or be since he was a kid. I took a shine to him right off. Hired him to work around the place and paid him out of my own pocket. Paid him what I could, you know, he never complained about the wages. He was the Sort of kid who would have worked for free. He put in an application for full-time work the month before he graduated from high school, but at that time we didn't have any vacancies. So he went to work at Donny Haggar's Gulf and took a night course in police work at the university down in Gorham. I guess Mrs. Dodd tried to put paid to that, too - felt she was alone too much of the time, or something - but that time Frank stood up to her ... with my encouragement. We took him on in July of 1971 and he's been with the department ever since. Now you tell me this and I think of Katrina being out yesterday morning, walking right past whoever did it ... and it's like some dirty kind of incest, almost. Frank's been at our house, he's eaten our food, babysat Katie once or twice... and you tell me...
Johnny turned around. Bannerman had taken off his glasses and was wiping his eyes again.
'If you really can see such things, I pity you. You're a freak of God, no different from a two-headed cow I once saw in the carnival. I'm sorry. That's a shit thing to say, I know.'
'The Bible says God loves all his creatures,' Johnny said. His voice was a bit unsteady.
'Yeah?' Bannerman nodded and rubbed the red places on the sides of his nose where his glasses sat. 'Got a funny way of showing it, doesn't he?'
12.
About twenty minutes later the telephone rang and Bannerman answered it smartly. Talked briefly. Listened.
Johnny watched his face get old. He hung up and looked at Johnny for a long time without speaking.
'November 12, 1972,' he said. 'A college girl. They found her in a field out by the turnpike. Ann Simons, her name was. Raped and strangled. Twenty-three years old. No se**n type obtained. It's still not proof, Johnny.'
'I don't think, in your own mind, you need any more proof,' Johnny said. 'And if you confront him with what you have, I think he'll break down.'
'And if he doesn't?'
Johnny remembered the vision on the handstand. It whirled back at him like a crazy, lethal boomerang. The tearing sensation. The pain that was pleasant, the pain that recalled the pain of the clothespin, the pain that reconfirmed everything.
'Get him to drop his pants,' Johnny said. Bannerman looked at him.
13.
The reporters were still out in the lobby. In truth, they probably wouldn't have moved even had they not suspected a break in the case - or at least a bizarre new development. The roads out of town were impassable.
Bannerman and Johnny went out the supply closet window.
'Are you sure this is the way to do it?' Johnny asked, and the storm tried to rip the words out of his mouth. His legs hurt.
'No,' Bannerman said simply, 'but I think you should be in on it. Maybe I think he should have the chance to look you in the face, Johnny. Come on. The Dodds are only two blocks from here.'
They set off, hooded and booted, a pair of shadows in the driving snow. Beneath his coat Bannerman was wearing his service pistol. His handcuffs were clipped to his belt. Before they had gone a block through the deep snow Johnny was limping badly, but he kept his mouth grimly shut about it.
But Bannerman noticed. They stopped in the doorway of the Castle Rock Western Auto.
'Son, what's the matter with you?'
'Nothing,' Johnny said. His head was starting to ache again, too.
'It sure is something. You act like you're walking on two broken legs.'
'They had to operate on my legs after I came out of the coma. The muscles had atrophied. Started to melt is how Dr. Brown put it. The joints were decayed. They fixed it up the best they could with synthetics...
'Like the Six Million Dollar Man, huh?'
Johnny thought of the neat piles of hospital hills back home, sitting in the top drawer of the dining room hutch.
'Yes, something like that. When I'm on them too long, they stiffen up. That's all.'
'You want to go back?'
You bet I do. Go back and not have' to think about this hellacious business anymore'. Wish I'd never come. Not my problem. This is the guy who compared me to a two-headed cow.