The dog’s wrath subsided, leaving him in an agitated state. He circled the yard, his nose close to the ground, making a high whining sound. Occasionally, he barked for effect. I sat down on my step and waited for his circuit to bring him in close. I held out a hand, babbling nonsense, while he trotted back and forth. He was still fulminating and incensed, but he’d probably already lost track of what had set him off. Heart still banging, I fetched a flashlight. I approached the fence, sweeping the wide band of harsh light from side to side. I didn’t venture out into the alley and I didn’t turn my back on the dark, but I was confident Killer would attack anyone who tried to cause me harm. Satisfied that all was well, I returned to my front door.
I didn’t want to leave him alone in the yard, so I invited him in. Gingerly, he stepped over the threshold. This was apparently the most mystifying event in his entire life. He sat at attention, holding his big shaggy head still as he studied the interior. He could probably smell Ed the cat, but surely he was accustomed to him by now. With some uncertainty, he wagged his tail, after which he allowed me to pet and praise him. I filled a bowl with water and marveled at what a mess he made while he was drinking his fill. Afterward, he moved to the door.
He checked to make sure he had my attention, and then he whined softly and scratched at the wood. It was possible he needed to go out and pee on one of Henry’s trees, but it seemed more likely he was worried about his dolly. I let him out and he trotted here and there until he found her. He picked her up carefully in his teeth and toted her inside. He deposited her on my living room floor and proceeded to lick her from head to toe. Before I locked up for the night, I left a note on Henry’s back door and a second note pinned to the tent, advising them that Killer and his baby had been invited for a sleepover that night. It was the best rest I’d had in recent memory.
35
Friday, October 6, 1989
Friday morning, while I ate my Cheerios, my phone rang. I crossed to the desk and picked up the handset.
In response to my greeting, there was silence.
Ordinarily, calls at this hour involve a lot of heavy breathing on the other end and my usual response is to activate a tinnitus-inducing air horn and then hang up. In this case, I waited, my senses sharpening. “This is Kinsey.”
“You left me a message.”
A woman’s voice, and I thought it safe to assume this was Ned Lowe’s ex-wife Celeste, though I was feeling so protective of her that I redacted her name from my mental directory.
“I did, and thanks for returning my call.”
“What happened to Phyllis?”
“Ned pounded the shit out of her trying to track you down. He failed, but he hasn’t given up.”
“How’s she doing?”
“She’s in the hospital and the care she’s receiving is excellent. Her doctor seems optimistic.”
“Thank god for that. Ned’s still on the loose?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You know I stole the keepsakes that tie him to those poor girls he killed, which is why I’m being so paranoid. I won’t feel safe until the package is in the hands of the police.”
“I’m with you on that. How do you want to go about it?”
“I can’t risk putting his souvenirs in the mail. Too many things can go wrong. These may well be the only tangible items that connect him to those killings.”
“What about entrusting the package to the closest law enforcement agency in your area—”
“No, no,” she cut in. “Documents get lost. Evdence disappears. Some detective ends up with the package on her desk and sticks it in her bottom drawer because she doesn’t know what else to do with it. I can’t take that chance.”
“You’ve given this more thought than I have, so you tell me.”
“I’m willing to fly to Santa Teresa. I’ve checked and there are flights available on four different airlines, connecting by way of five different hubs. Once I set up the reservation, I’ll call with the details and you can pick me up at the airport. I want you waiting outside where I can see you.”
“I can do that. And then what?”
“You’ll drive me to the police station and I’ll deliver the package to the officer who’s been working the case. Lieutenant Phillips?”
“That’s right. He’ll be thrilled.”
“Let’s hope so. Afterward, you can return me to the airport and walk me to my gate. Once I’m through security, I should be fine.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow, if you’re available.”
“I’ll make myself available. You’re talking about Saturday,” I said.
“That’s right.”
“Do you remember what I look like?”
“I do. What about you? Will you recognize me?” she asked.
“Unless you’ve altered your appearance.”
“I’m the same.”
“Me, too. I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“I’ll call as soon as I have the tickets in hand.”
? ? ?
I hadn’t leveled with her about how Ned had picked up Phyllis’s new address and I was happy she hadn’t asked. If pressed, I’d have felt honor-bound to lay out the whole creepy account of his camping under my office, with access to every call I made. I’d done what I could to tighten security since then, well aware of how relentless he was in the pursuit of his goal. He wanted his trinkets, and if he was thwarted, he’d go after one of us instead. Better me than her. I still had a score to settle with him in any event.
When I reached the office, I put a call through to Cheney at the Santa Teresa Police Department. When he picked up and identified himself, I said, “Do you have a few minutes?”
“I was just about to call you and ask the same thing. You want to pop over to my spacious cubicle?”
“Why don’t we meet somewhere in between?”
“The sunken garden at the courthouse?”
“Perfect. I’ll see you there.”