Scars (Nevada James #2) (Nevada James Mysteries) (15 page)

Chapter 23

I didn’t
take a vacation. I probably should have, but sitting on a beach by myself
didn’t sound all that appealing. Besides, if I wanted to sit on the beach, it
was only a ten minute drive away from anywhere in the city. San Diego was good
that way.

A week
passed with no sign of Brad Ellis. I doubted he was still in California. Mexico
seemed more and more likely. These days it was harder and harder to get around
in the U.S. without a camera getting a shot of your face. If facial recognition
didn’t get him, someone would notice him sooner or later. He’d been the biggest
story on the nightly news since the night he’d revealed himself. There had even
been national coverage. I doubted he’d have wanted to stick around.

The
second biggest story in San Diego had been Conrad Meyers, who had been true to
his word and walked into SDPD headquarters with his wife and his lawyer the day
after I’d visited him. There was a great deal of talk about the Unabomber and
how the crimes had been similar, some even speculating that Meyers had hoped
the other man’s
modus operandi
had been close enough that his attack
would be confused for the Unabomber’s work. They were right about that. Meyers
had told me so himself. He had been a copycat, after all.

I called
Harold Lanford’s house a few hours after Meyers turned himself in. Julia
answered the phone. “It’s Nevada James here,” I said. “Is Detective Lanford
up?”

Julia
sniffed. “Detective James,” she said. From her voice I could tell she’d been
crying. “Howard…Detective Lanford…” She didn’t need to finish the sentence. My
heart sank.

“Damn
it,” I said. “I’m too late.”

Julia
started crying again. I was starting to get sick of people crying every time I
opened my mouth. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“No,”
she said. “It meant a lot to him that you came to talk to him. He said it made
him feel useful again.”

“That’s
nice to hear. He helped me a lot. I wish I could have told him.”

One more
thing I’d get to regret for the rest of my life. At least this one wasn’t
technically my fault.

Over the
course of the week I spent a few afternoons working out in Molly Malone’s dojo,
moved back into my old motel in Mission Valley, and made an effort to be
somewhat social. Dan Evans came out and took another statement from me. I met
Sarah Winters for coffee. She looked like shit, but she’d survive. Sarah was an
almost stupidly nice person and I still thought she ought to reconsider her
life choices and become a kindergarten teacher. She could be a warrior when she
needed to be, though. After what had happened with Ellis, she was going to be a
lot harder to fool in the future.

Part of
me wondered if that was a good or a bad thing. She’d never really get over what
had happened. Nobody ever did. There was something about me that had liked her
continual optimism. Or was it innocence? Maybe. And maybe I’d just been
underestimating her again.

I spent
an hour one afternoon looking at what was quickly becoming my new house in
Ocean Beach. It was coming along well. I’d probably be able to move in by the
end of the month. I was looking forward to having my own place again. Nearly
everything I owned was in storage, including my motorcycle. It wasn’t like I
owned a huge number of things, but it would be nice to see the things I
did
have once in a while.

Once I
was back in my old motel I thought about buying another bottle of vodka to keep
nearby in case I needed to hold it, but ultimately decided against it. I wasn’t
sure I needed it anymore. That might change, but for the time being I seemed to
be all right without it. Progress, I guess. I even went to an A.A. meeting and
told everyone about it. Half of them looked at me like I was crazy. The other
half understood. A.A. was always like that.

Anita
Collins did a half-hour interview on one of the morning news shows. They went
to her house to film her in the room with the paintings of her family. She was
in her kindly grandmother mode, smiling fondly as she recalled her husband and
son. “It’s been a long wait, but justice will finally be served,” she said. My
name wasn’t mentioned. That was by design. As far as anyone in the media knew,
I had nothing to do with any of this. The last thing I needed was a gaggle of
reporters outside my motel door.

I went
down to the pier at Ocean Beach one afternoon and bought a box of lobster tacos
and fries. I gave about half of the fries to a group of excited seagulls while
I watched the waves roll in. Later I wondered if it was okay for seagulls to
eat fries. Probably. Unless seagulls were susceptible to heart disease. Then it
wouldn’t be so great.

The next
day I was watching
The Price is Right
in my motel when the news broke
in. Conrad Meyers was being arraigned and was going to be making a statement to
the media on the courthouse steps. I’d been told a deal was in the works; he
was going to plead down to two counts of manslaughter. He was still probably
going to spend the rest of his life in prison, unless he got a heck of a lot of
time off for good behavior. He didn’t seem like the type who was going to be
starting shit with the guards or joining a gang in prison, so that seemed like
a possibility.

I went
outside to get some fresh ice and two cans of Diet Coke from the motel’s
vending machine. When I got back Conrad’s lawyer was speaking. I turned the
volume down. I didn’t need to listen to it. Conrad stood next to the lawyer, eyes
on the ground, nodding now and again. He looked a great deal weaker than when
I’d seen him last. That wasn’t a surprise. I didn’t feel good about sending him
to prison, but like Dan had said, it wasn’t me sending him, anyway. Two people
were dead, whether he’d meant to kill them or not. There had to be an
accounting for that. What it wound up being wasn’t for me to say.

After a
moment Conrad’s lawyer turned to him and nodded. Conrad stepped forward and
looked out at the assembled media. I didn’t need the volume to understand what
he was saying. The apology he was giving was written all over his face.

There
was a sudden commotion and the camera turned away from Meyers as if someone had
bumped into the cameraman. When it found Meyers again Anita Collins was with
him. She’d worn a black suit that looked like it belonged at a funeral. Where
had she come from? Had she been asked to make a statement? If that was the
case, it wouldn’t be at
this
press conference. Unless she was going to
announce she was forgiving him, but I’d have bet good money that wasn’t going
to happen.

Anita
put one hand on Meyers’s chest and said something to him. She had a gentle
smile on her face. Maybe she was going to forgive him, after all. Then her
other hand went into her purse. I saw it emerge with the knife at the same time
Meyers did, just before she drove it into his chest. Meyers staggered and the
camera moved; people were panicking now, trying to get away. When it came back
to the podium Anita had removed the knife and was driving it into Meyers again.
She got a third stab in before a police officer managed to grab her around the
waist and pull her away.

The
camera lingered on Meyers’s body for a moment before the feed cut out and then
switched back to the studio, where the two anchors looked like they had no idea
what to do. One of them was moving his mouth but I’d never turned the volume up
so I couldn’t tell what he was saying. It didn’t matter much. Meyers had taken
three good hits in the chest, from what I’d seen. If he was still alive at all,
he wouldn’t be for long.

I was an
idiot. Anita had told me it was
almost
over. She’d told the press that
justice
would be
served. I’d thought she was talking about the trial
that was coming. She hadn’t been. She’d never planned for there to be a trial.
If I’d listened to her back when I’d been at her house I might have realized
the truth. This was always going to end in blood.

Chapter 24

I drove
out to Playa del Mar a week later. I could have gone earlier, but I’d put it
off until I thought I’d be able to do this and stay reasonably calm.

The
security guard out front was the same guy I’d talked to before. He didn’t greet
me when I stopped. He nodded once, then opened the gate without a word. He
looked like someone had shot his dog.

Two
minutes passed from when I rang the bell to when Anita opened her front door.
She wore sweat pants and an old t-shirt that left the scars on her left arm
fully exposed. My eyes lingered on them a second longer than they should have.
I wondered what they felt like.

Anita
shrugged. “Come in.” She didn’t bother with any of her grandma routine today.
That was just as well. I’d have been tempted to shoot her if she pulled that
shit with me.

I
stepped inside and she shut the door. “I was surprised they didn’t keep you
locked up,” I said.

Anita
tugged on the right leg of her sweat pants and showed me the ankle monitor she
was wearing. “I’m not exactly a flight risk. Even this seemed excessive, if you
ask me.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you
want tea? Coffee?”

“No,” I
said. “I want to punch you in your fucking face.”

She nodded.
“You can if you want. I don’t really care. Let’s go sit.”

Anita
led me into the room full of paintings where we’d met before. It looked the
same as it had last time, except she’d lit more than a dozen candles around the
room. Classical music was playing from a speaker in the corner. I was fairly
certain it was Vivaldi. “Is this
Four Seasons
?”

“Yes,”
she said. “Adam liked it.” She nodded at a couch. “Sit, Nevada. We may as well
get this over with.”

I sat on
one of her blue couches and she sat down across from me. A half full glass of
white wine sat on the table between us. She picked it up and took a sip,
closing her eyes as she savored the taste. “This is a Stonestreet chardonnay,”
she said. “It’s wonderful. I hope you don’t think me rude that I don’t offer
you a glass. I heard you’ve got nearly four months of sobriety now.” She peered
at me. “Or have you relapsed? If that’s the case…” she held up the glass.

“No,” I
said. “I haven’t relapsed.”

“Congratulations,
then.”

“I
didn’t come here for congratulations.”

“No,”
she said. “You came here to be angry with me. Fine. Be angry. I honestly don’t
care, Nevada.”

Part of
me wanted to grab her and shake her. “You lied to me.”

She
shrugged. “I told you what you needed to hear. You were going on about the
system
,
and if I’d told you what I was planning you would have walked out the door.”
She looked at me with eyes of steel. “I was always going to kill him, Nevada.
It’s all I’ve wanted for twenty years.”

I wasn’t
sure what to say to her that was going to get through. “Do you think this is
what your family would have wanted?”

“I don’t
know.” She looked over at a portrait of her husband. “Adam was a gentle man. He
would have said violence was never the answer. But he also didn’t know he and
his son would die because some deluded hippie was afraid computers would take
over the world.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It was what
I
wanted.” The corner of her mouth turned upward into a crooked smile. “I think
you probably don’t want to hear a thank you, but I’ll say it anyway. Thank you,
Nevada. I truly didn’t think you’d be able to find him for me. You were my last
hope. And you came through.” She raised her glass in a toast. “Cheers.”

“He
wasn’t…” I started. “He wasn’t a bad man. He did something stupid and it had
tragic consequences, but it wasn’t an act of evil.”

“It’s
strange to hear you defend him,” Anita said. “But here’s the simple truth,
Nevada.” She leaned forward and looked into my eyes. “I don’t care.”

I’d
never been a wine drinker but a glass of something strong didn’t sound half bad
right now. “You’re going to go to prison.”

“I doubt
it,” she said. “Maybe. But I also have trouble believing a jury is going to put
this,” she scrunched up her face and became the kindly grandmother, “
nice
old lady
in jail.” She relaxed and grandma was gone. “Maybe they will. But
I don’t care. My life ended twenty years ago. If I spend a few years in a
cell…” she looked around. “This will still be here when I get back. And if I
never come back…if I die behind bars, I’ll
still
have killed the man who
murdered my family. I win.”

I sat on
the couch, trying to think of something clever to say. The truth was I’d been
outplayed. I’d seen through her old lady act, so she showed me her real face.
Apparently I’d been so impressed it had made me unable to see what was really
going on.

“Anyway,”
she said. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit hypocritical?”

“How?”

“You’re
trying to tell me I did the wrong thing, but the truth is you’re going to do
exactly what I did when you catch up with the Laughing Man.” I tensed up, ready
to say something nasty, but the words failed me. “You’re not going to trust
your precious system to deal with him, Nevada. You told me yourself you’re
going to kill him. As slowly as you can. That’s what you said. You need for it
to hurt. Tell me I’m wrong, Nevada. Have you reconsidered all of that since the
last time you sat in this room?”

I
supposed we were past the point of lies. “No,” I said. “I haven’t.”

“Then
you’ll have to forgive me for thinking I’m entitled to the same justice you
are.” She smiled. “Now, if you’re not going to have a drink, I think you should
leave. This conversation is getting tedious.”

I stood
up and headed for the door. Just before leaving the room I turned. “Let me ask
you something?”

She
nodded. “You may.”

It was
an awful thing to ask, but there were only so many people I could put this
question to. “What did it feel like? When you killed him? After all that time?”

Anita
gave me an appraising look and sipped her wine. “Because it’s you, I’ll answer
that.” She looked me in the eyes. “It felt
wonderful
, Nevada. It felt…”
she sighed. “It felt so good. The release of all that pain… It may have been
the best thing I’ve ever done.”

I considered
that. “Yeah,” I said. “That’s about what I thought.” Then I turned and left. I
didn’t look back.