The Killing Vision (18 page)

Chapman’s eyes were bright and excited.  “I was just
coming to see you.  We got something.”  He was waving around a sheaf of
papers.  “The tire track we lifted by the river?  The tread belongs to a
Michelin Cross Terrain tire.  Standard on the Lincoln Navigator.”

Halloran studied Chapman’s face.  “Something tells
me you’ve got more.”

“Guess who has a Lincoln Navigator?  Larry Carver.”

Halloran felt his stomach drop to his knees. 
“You’re kidding.”

Chapman headed back down the hall.  “I’m going to
see the chief.  I think we got enough for our warrant.”

* * *

11:08 AM

He had been planning what to say to her for the past
hour.  The Dr Pepper had finally run through him, and he’d made a mad dash to
the nearest building to take a leak, terrified he would miss her while he was
gone.  He had taken as little time as possible in the restroom and had dribbled
urine down the front of his shorts in his haste, but he tried not to care.  He
wanted to catch her when she headed back to her car.  “Great day,” he was going
to say, and when she responded he would ask her name.  What happened after
that, he had no idea.  He would just go with it. 

He sat up straight.  The angel had emerged from the building
and popped on her sunglasses, squinting in the bright sunlight.  She was heading
toward his bench.  This was it.  His heart thudded dully in his chest.  He
stood.

She was just a few feet from him, and Derek had
opened his mouth to say “Great day,” when her cell phone rang.  She stopped to
dig it out of her bag and answered it, brushing past him without a glance.  He
watched her walk away from him, his lips still parted to say the words.

He expected her to head toward the parking lot, but
instead she crossed the grassy quad toward the library.  On impulse he
followed.  She was still chatting on the phone and laughing girlishly as she
climbed the steps and pushed through the double doors.

He stood on the walk for a moment, then followed her
into the library.  The cool air and scent of old books greeted him.  The
workers behind the front desk were busy with paperwork.  No one saw him.  He
spotted the angel as she disappeared behind the far shelves, and he headed
toward her.

“Hey,” said a male voice off to his right.  He
turned to see a slender bearded guy with glasses and a black knit cap looking
at him.

Derek froze.  “What?”

“Like your shirt,” the guy said, nodding toward him.

Derek looked down and realized he was wearing a
Green Day t-shirt.  “Thanks,” he said.

“My favorite band.”

Derek glanced back toward the corridor behind the
shelves.  “Really?”

The guy leaned forward.  “Are you in my psych
class?”

“No,” Derek said.  “Sorry.”  He moved on toward the
shelves, craning his neck to spot the angel. 

Just when he was afraid he had lost her, he heard
her laugh, and turned just in time to see her slide into one of the study
cubicles in the corner.  She hung up her phone and starting pulling books out
of her bag.  He watched her from behind one of the shelves for a moment, and
when she had settled in he approached her.  “Hey,” he said.

She looked up, and his breath was nearly taken away
by her green eyes.  She gave him a puzzled smile.  “Hey, yourself,” she said,
and her voice was like music.

“Great day,” he said.  “Outside, I mean.”

Her smile grew wider, and she tried to hide it.  “Do
I know you?”

“I don’t think so.”  He moved up beside the
cubicle.  “I’m Derek.  Derek Roberts.”

“Hey, Derek Roberts,” she said.  “I’m Abby.”

Abby
.  An angel named Abby.  “So,” he
said, “how’s it going?”

“Just got out of calculus.”  She motioned to the
pile of books and paper spread out in front of her.  “Got some problems to work
on before I grab a bite to eat and head to my next class.”

“Want some company?  For that bite to eat, I mean.”

She smiled at him again.  “Look, you’re cute, but
I’m seeing someone right now.”  She looked back at the desk.  “And I’ve got a
ton of stuff to do.”

He nodded.  “Sure.”  He grabbed one of her
notebooks.  A pen was stuck into the spiral and he uncapped it.  “I’ll give you
my phone number.”

She blew out an amused breath.  “That’s okay, I
don’t— ”

“You might change your mind,” he said.  He jotted
down his cell number on the front cover, then handed it back to her.

She took it with a smirk.  “What did you say your
name was again?”

“Derek Roberts.”

She smiled and turned away.  “I’ve really got to get
to work, Derek,” she said.  She turned away from him.

“I hope I hear from you,” Derek said, stepping back,
and when she didn’t respond, he turned and headed out of the library.  He
wasn’t exactly sure what just happened, but he felt like an idiot.

* * *

3:34 PM

Halloran stood with Chapman and two police officers
outside Larry Carver’s office, drumming the rolled-up warrants against his
closed fist.  He could see Carver through the office window; he was talking on
the phone, standing behind his desk and shooting them black looks over the top
of his reading glasses.  Halloran met the mayor’s eyes. 
He knows
,
Halloran thought.  Carver’s secretary busied herself with her files, but
Halloran could tell she was only pretending to work.  She had barely spoken to
them since they arrived, and when she did, she refused to meet Halloran’s gaze.

After an eternity, Carver hung up the phone and made
his way to the door of his office.  He opened it slowly and nodded at the group
in the foyer.  “Gentlemen,” he said coldly.

Halloran held up the paper.  “Mayor, I have warrants
to search your office, your vehicles, and your home with regards to the Sarah
McElvoy case.”

Carver’s face turned ashen, and a muscle worked in
his jaw.  “I assumed that’s why you were here,” he said evenly.  “You’ll be
glad to know I was on the phone with my attorney.”

“That’s a good idea,” Halloran said.  “Detective
Chapman and I will be going over your office.  Chief Pettus has another team at
your home.  You’re welcome to wait out here with these officers.  But we will
need to ask you some more questions.” 

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” Carver
spat.  “I will own you.”

“We just have some questions,” Halloran said.

Carver looked at him hard.  “I’m not answering
shit
until my attorney gets here.  You’re going to regret this.”

Halloran shrugged.  “Just make yourself comfortable
for now.”

* * *

5:38 PM

Joel was nervous as hell.  A dull throb had begun
behind his eyes, and he rubbed his temples to try to push it away. 

He had planned on leaving at 5:30, but just now as
he got a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror, he saw massive sweat stains
on his shirt under the arms.  In the bedroom, he ripped off the dirty shirt and
fumbled through his closet for a clean one.  He thought briefly of ironing it,
but realized he wouldn’t have time.  Besides, it didn’t look that bad.

God, he needed a cigarette.  He’d smoked his last
one at lunch, and he’d been jittery for the past hour.  Whether it was from the
lack of nicotine or his impending date, he wasn’t sure.  But he didn’t want to
meet Dana with cigarette breath.

He’d tried several times over the years to quit
smoking.  He’d used patches and gum, and once he’d even bought one of those
electronic cigarettes off of television.  Nothing had helped.  The longest he’d
been able to survive had been thirteen days last winter.  That had been
horrible.  He had packed on ten pounds and had endured days of feeling as if he
could crawl out of his skin and cling to the ceiling.  By the time he gave in
and finally had a smoke, his skin was sallow and his eyes were sunken in like a
junkie’s.

He fumbled with the pack on top of the bureau now,
crinkling the cellophane on the box.  He held it up to his face and breathed in
the mellow aroma, feeling his pulse quicken as he did so.  He tossed the
cigarettes back where he found them.  That would have to do.

On his way into town, he slowed down as he passed
Wade’s house.  It looked like everyone was home.  Joel wondered what kind of
weird shit Wade had planned for the evening.  He thought again of last
Saturday, when Wade had been stoned and drinking.  What kind of example was
that for Derek?  He remembered Marla calling him, teary and angry and. . .
wounded.  That was it.  She had sounded wounded.  It all made Joel’s stomach
burn.  Wade didn’t know how good he had it, and he was pissing it all away.

He thought of the night ahead of him, and the anger
in his belly turned to panic.  He hoped he didn’t screw this up.  Dana was the
first girl that had shown any interest in him ever.  And whether she was going
tonight out of pity or because she genuinely liked him he didn’t know.  He
didn’t really care at this point.  He just wanted to get through tonight and
see what happened.

He pulled up to the address Dana had given him.  It
was a modest craftsman-style house with a wide front porch and a patriotic
wreath on the door.  The yard was immaculate, and a trellis of roses climbed to
the second story.  All very middle class.

Joel climbed out of the Explorer and made his way up
the walk to the steps of the porch.  There was a swing and a couple of wicker
chairs, and he wondered if they all sat out here drinking lemonade and
discussing the neighbors.

He rang the bell, and from behind the door came the
sound of yapping.  The door opened and Frank greeted him.  He was a balding,
pudgy man in his mid-fifties, much shorter than Joel, and his blue eyes were
bright and friendly behind his glasses.  “Hey, Joel.”  The dog, a Yorkie,
continued to yap.

“Mr. West.”

“Please.  Call me Frank.”  The Yorkie was barking
furiously at Joel.  Frank nudged him with a sock-clad foot.  “Shut up,
George.”  The dog wandered off and Frank leaned in toward Joel.  “I hate that
dog,” he whispered.  “Come on in.”

The living room was neat but not fussy.  A newspaper
was sprawled over the arm of the recliner and an old episode of
CSI: Miami
played on the ancient console television.  A fireplace dominated one wall of
the room, and Joel spotted a framed school picture of Dana sitting on the
mantle.  She appeared to be about twelve, though it was hard to say knowing she
looked younger than her actual age.

Frank motioned to the couch.  “Have a seat.”  He
leaned through the doorway that led to the rest of the house and called for
Dana, then sank back into the recliner.  “So how’re things going?” he said to
Joel.

Joel nodded.  “Good.”

“What do you do again?”

“I work for the cable company.  Service and
installation.”

Frank smirked.  “Ah, so you’re the one that bilks me
out of ninety bucks every month and still can’t keep the service from going out
every time we have a thunderstorm.”  Joel felt his face flush, and Frank
laughed.  “Relax, I’m just kidding.  I’ve been with the water department for
thirty years, so I understand public disdain.”

Joel laughed and felt himself loosening up.  Frank
seemed like an all-right guy.  He leaned back into the couch and glanced at the
TV screen.  David Caruso was strutting around with his sunglasses in his hand,
making some lame pun about a freshly-discovered body.  Joel thought of his
meeting with Halloran; he couldn’t picture a detective from Cedar Hill parading
around like an asshole.  Halloran seemed like a man with more important things
to do.

Frank picked up the newspaper and folded it, then
picked up the remote and turned down the set.  “I don’t even like that show.  I
just keep the TV on for the noise.”

“Hey, Joel.”

Joel looked up to see Dana in the doorway.  She was
wearing a gray silk top with a blue paisley pattern and a pair of jeans, and
her face was bright and flushed.  He wanted to tell her how wonderful she
looked, how the sight of her made his heart feel like a small bird trapped in
his chest, how he was suddenly light-headed and exhilarated.  Instead, he stood
and managed to choke out, “Hey.”

“So where we going?” she asked.  “I’m starved.”

“You like Chinese?”

“My favorite!”  She leaned over and gave Frank a
kiss on his bald spot.  “See ya later, Daddy.”

Frank had unfolded the newspaper and spread it out
on his lap.  “Have fun, you two.”

* * *

8:48 PM

“Holy shit,” Halloran said.

Three police cruisers plus the Chief’s unmarked
sedan were parked in the mayor’s driveway.  The windows of the house blazed
with light, as if a grand party were going on inside. Halloran counted three
officers milling around the front door, which meant there were at least three
more inside, plus the two behind Halloran’s car bringing home the mayor.  If a
criminal wanted to strike somewhere in Cedar Hill, tonight was the time.