“So, he snapped.”
“We’re doing everything we can to find him,” Overby said. “He can’t be far. It’s a small peninsula.”
Royce hadn’t given much away. But Dance could see from his focused eyes he was not only sizing up the Travis Brigham situation but was neatly folding it into his purpose here.
Which he finally got down to.
“Kathryn, there’s a concern in Sacramento about this case, I have to tell you. Everybody’s nervous. It’s got teenagers, computers, social networking. Now, a weapon’s involved. You can’t help but think Virginia Tech and Columbine. Apparently those boys from Colorado were his idols.”
“Rumor. I don’t know if that’s true or not. It was posted on the blog by someone who might or might not have known him.”
And from the flutter of eyebrow and twitch of lip, she realized she might have just played into his hand. With people like Hamilton Royce, you never could be sure if all was straightforward, or if you were fencing.
“This blog… I was talking to the AG about it. We’re worried that as long as people are posting, it’s like gasoline on the flames. You know what I mean? Like an avalanche. Well, mixing my metaphors, but you get the idea. What we were thinking: Wouldn’t it be better for the blog to shut down?”
“I’ve actually asked Chilton to do that.”
“Oh, you have?” Overby asked the question.
“And what did he say?”
“Emphatically no. Freedom of the press.”
Royce scoffed. “It’s just a blog. It’s not the Chronicle or Wall Street Journal. ”
“He doesn’t feel that way.” Dance then asked, “Has anybody from the AG’s office contacted him?”
“No. If the request came from Sacramento, we’re worried that he’d post something about us bringing the subject up. And that’d spread to the newspapers and TV. Repression. Censorship. And those labels might rub off on the governor and some congressmen. No, we can’t do that.”
“Well, he refused,” Dance repeated.
“I was just wondering,” Royce began slowly, his gaze keenly strafing Dance, “if there was anything you’ve found about him, something to help persuade him?”
“Stick or carrot?” she asked quickly.
Royce couldn’t help but laugh. Savvy people apparently impressed him. “He doesn’t seem like the carrot sort, from what you’ve told me.”
Meaning a bribe wouldn’t work. Which Dance knew was true, having tried one. But neither did Chilton seem susceptible to threats. In fact, he seemed like the sort who’d relish them. And post something in his blog about any that were made.
Besides, though she didn’t like Chilton and thought he was arrogant and self-righteous, using something she’d learned in an investigation to intimidate the man into silence didn’t sit well. In any case, Dance could honestly answer, “I haven’t found a thing. James Chilton himself is a small part of the case. He didn’t even post anything about the boy — and he deleted Travis’s name. The point of the ‘Roadside Crosses’ thread was to criticize the police and highway department. It was the readers who started to attack the boy.”
“So there’s nothing incriminating, nothing we can use.”
Use. Odd choice of verb.
“No.”
“Ah, too bad.” Royce did seem disappointed. Overby noticed too and looked disappointed himself.
Overby said, “Keep on it, Kathryn.”
Her voice was a crawl. “We’re working full-out to find the perp, Charles.”
“Of course. Sure. But in the whole scope of the case…” His sentence dwindled.
“What?” she asked sharply. The anger about Robert Harper was resurfacing.
Watch it, she warned herself.
Overby smiled in a way that bore only a loose resemblance to a smile. “In the whole scope of the case it would be helpful to everybody if Chilton could be persuaded to stop the blog. Helpful to us and to Sacramento. Not to mention saving the lives of people who’ve posted comments.”
“Exactly,” Royce said. “We’re worried about more victims.”
Of course the AG and Royce would worry about that. But they’d also worry about the bad press against the state for not doing everything to stop the killer.
To end the meeting and get back to work, Dance simply agreed. “If I see anything you can use, Charles, I’ll let you know.”
Royce’s eyes flickered. Overby missed the irony completely and smiled. “Good.”
It was then that her phone vibrated with a text message. She read the screen, and gave a faint gasp and looked up at Overby.
Royce asked, “What is it?”
Dance said, “James Chilton was just attacked. I have to go.”
Chapter 21
DANCE HURRIED INTO Emergency Admitting at Monterey Bay Hospital.
She found TJ looking troubled in the middle of the lobby. “Boss,” he said, exhaling hard, relieved to see her.
“How is he?”
“He’ll be okay.”
“Did you get Travis?”
“It wasn’t the boy who did it,” TJ said.
At that moment the double doors to the emergency room swung open and James Chilton, a bandage on his cheek, strode out. “He attacked me!” Chilton was pointing at a ruddy-faced, solidly built man in a suit. He sat beside the window. A large county deputy stood over him. Without a greeting, Chilton pointed to him and snapped to Dance, “Arrest him.”
Meanwhile the man leapt to his feet. “Him. I want him in jail!”
The deputy muttered, “Mr. Brubaker, please sit down.” He spoke forcefully enough so that the man hesitated, delivered a glare to Chilton then dropped back into the fiberglass seat.
The officer then joined Dance and told her what had happened. A half hour before, Arnold Brubaker had been on the grounds of his proposed desalination plant with a survey crew. He’d found Chilton taking pictures of animal habitats there. He tried to grab the blogger’s camera and shoved Chilton to the ground. The surveyors called the police.