The Killing Vision (25 page)

Chapman stared at him for a moment.  “She
told
you?  What did she say?”

Joel looked at the table.  “She said she did it. 
She killed her.”

For a second, Chapman didn’t move.  He sat with his
mouth open, pinching his bottom lip.  He shook his head and reached for his
water.  Instead of grabbing it, he grazed it with his knuckles, and the bottle
tipped over.  Water flowed over the table.  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Chapman said,
rising from his seat.

“I got it,” Joel said.  He grabbed some paper towels
and began to blot the puddle.

“Here, I’ll help,” Chapman said.  He reached for the
paper towels and brushed his hand against Joel’s arm.

* * *

6:10 PM

Halloran sat in Chapman’s den, sipping his beer and
flipping through the television stations.  God, he hated TV.  He stopped on the
news—the channel out of Springfield.  They’d have a big top story tomorrow.  He
looked at the anchor, Randy Webber, with his blow-dried hair and shit-eating
smile and felt sickened at the thought of him delivering that news with
unseemly excitement. 

He stood and wandered over to the shelves on the
back wall.  The bottom was full of board books for Isabel, and he laughed as he
saw a couple of Cheerios wedged between the covers.  There was a set of encyclopedias—no
doubt John’s or Sheri’s from high school.  And someone really liked Stephen
King.  Hardbacks.  They were book club editions, but hardbacks just the same.

He had just taken another sip of beer and turned
back toward the television when something in the corner between the bookshelf
and the paneled wall caught his eye.  A black case with a silver latch.  He
pulled it out and opened it and suddenly the beer was like acid in his
stomach.  He was staring at a clarinet.  And even before he looked at the
nametag, he knew what he would see.

Sarah Jo McElvoy.

He pulled his phone from his pocket to call the
station.  He had to know where Chapman had gone.

* * *

6:17 PM

Joel pulled his hand back. 

It was as if he had plunged his arm into a mass of
writhing, slimy worms.  And worse was what he had seen.  The girls—Sarah Jo
McElvoy.  Carmelita Santos. Another named Brittany.  He backed away from the
table, not wanting to meet Chapman’s eyes.

“Mr. Roberts?” Chapman said, and his voice seemed
far away.  “What’s wrong?”

Joel looked at him then.  His eyes were so green. 
So innocent.  Surely he was wrong.  This had to be a mistake.  Maybe it was
leftover from where Chapman had touched someone else.  But deep down he knew. 
It was the truth.  He continued to back away.  And before he could stop
himself, before the reasoning part of his brain could take over, he blurted
out, “You killed them.”

Chapman froze.  “What did you say?”

Joel didn’t move.  He continued to stare at
Chapman.  He realized Chapman’s eyes didn’t look innocent at all.  They had
suddenly become cold and dark.  Joel took another step back and felt the
counter against the small of his back.  He was cornered.

Chapman kept his gaze steady as he reached inside
his suit jacket and brought out his gun.  He pointed it at Joel.  “Tell me
again what you said.”

Joel’s mouth was dry as sand.  “I said. . . you
killed them.”

Chapman moved around the table and took a step
toward Joel.  “Killed who?”

“Those girls.  You did, didn’t you?  You murdered
them.”

Chapman shook his head.  “What are you talking
about?”

“You killed them.  You strangled them.  Then you
froze them.  Then you dumped them in the river.”

Chapman was closer now.  He leveled his gun at
Joel’s chest.  His voice was a whisper.  “How do you know that?  Who have you
been talking to?”

The back door swung open and Dana called out,
“Joel?”

Chapman turned toward the sound.

Joel flew at him, grabbing for him, but Chapman was
too quick.  He sidestepped out of the way, and Joel crashed to the floor.  And
before Joel could utter a sound, Chapman had Dana’s arm and the gun pointed at
her.  She screamed, dropping her bags and scattering tomatoes and cans across
the floor.

She looked at Joel, her eyes round and scared. 
“What’s going on?”

Joel shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Dana.”

“Your boyfriend knows a lot,” Chapman said.  “I
don’t know how, but he knows too much for his own good.”  He pulled Dana toward
the door.  “We’re going for a little ride.”

Dana grabbed for the door frame as Joel struggled to
his feet.  “Joel!”

Chapman turned and fired, shattering the window over
the sink, and Joel ducked back to the floor. 

“Joel!” Dana screamed again, but Chapman had already
dragged her out to the back porch.

Joel grabbed a chair to pull himself up with, and
that was when he saw the blood on his shoulder.  Suddenly numb with fear, he
touched the torn red-soaked sleeve and felt the raw flesh where Chapman’s
bullet had grazed him.  It was the jolt he needed to get to his feet and lunge
for the door.

Just as he crossed the kitchen, a dark sedan and two
patrol cars wheeled into the drive.  Chapman and Dana stood with their backs to
him on the steps, facing Halloran and the other cops as they emerged.

Halloran raised his hands.  “John!  I found Sarah
Jo’s clarinet.  What the fuck?
 
What the
fuck!”

The other officers had taken positions behind their
open doors.  All of them had their weapons pointed at Chapman and Dana.

Halloran continued to move toward the house.  “Why? 
I don’t understand.  How could you do it?  How could you kill them?”

Chapman shook his head.  “Why does anyone do
anything?”

“I trusted you,” Halloran said.  “You lied to me. 
You planted evidence.  You tried to frame innocent people.”

“It was all so easy to do.  No one stopped me.  No
one asked any questions.  Not even you.  Not even Sheri.  She never once wanted
to know what I was doing out in the shed behind the house.  Never.”

Halloran took another step closer and Chapman shoved
the gun to Dana’s head.  Dana was whimpering, and the fact that Joel couldn’t
see her face made it worse.  “Don’t come any closer,” Chapman said.  “I’ll kill
her.”

Halloran blew out a breath.  “How do you think this
is going to end, John?  It’s over.  Give it up.”

Just at that moment, Joel locked glances with
Halloran, and Halloran looked away.  Had Chapman noticed?  If so, he gave no
indication. 

Barry’s words echoed through Joel’s head: 
Tackle
him.
 

But Chapman held a tight grip around Dana’s neck. 
Surely if Joel grabbed him now the three of them would plunge off the porch and
break Dana’s neck.  Or Chapman’s gun would go off.

Even if you think it’s too
dangerous.   Do it anyway.

Joel slipped through the door, keeping his eyes on
the back of Chapman’s head.

Halloran raised his hands again. “Let her go, John.”

“Back off, Mike,” Chapman said.

“Let her go and I’ll do everything I can to keep you
out of the electric chair.  I’ll testify you were sick.  You didn’t know what
you were doing.”

“I knew what I was doing,” Chapman said.  “Every
time.”

Chapman had moved slightly away from Dana and Joel saw
his grip loosen. 

You’ll know when.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Joel launched
himself at Chapman and Dana.  He grabbed the smaller man around the waist and
the three of them plummeted off the steps to the ground below.  Joel felt
something pop in his shoulder as they hit. 

The cops were on them at once.  Chapman was gasping;
the landing had knocked the wind out of him.  Two officers had him cuffed in
seconds and were leading him back to one of the patrol cars.

Instantly, Dana was beside him.  “Joel!  Oh, my god,
are you all right?”

He realized she was touching him and he saw that
everything else within her was silenced by her concern for him.  He managed a
smile.  “I’ll be okay.”

Halloran squatted in front of them.  “Mr. Roberts,
that was either very stupid or very brave, I’m not sure which.”

Joel laughed.  “A little of both, I think.”

Halloran gave him an approving nod.  “In any event,
thank you.”  He stood and glanced over his shoulder at the activity behind
him.  “You two sit tight.  We’ll have an ambulance here shortly.”  He headed
back toward the patrol car where Chapman sat in the back seat like a statue.

“My God, Joel,” Dana said, looking at him.  “You’re
bleeding!”

“I think I got shot when he was taking you out,” he
said.  The swirling lights on the police cars were starting to nauseate him. 
He rested his forehead against his knee.  Everything was starting to spin.

She touched his shoulder gently, and her eyes were
soft and round with worry.  “Oh, my God, Joel,” she said again, whispering this
time.

“You’re gorgeous,” he told her.  And everything went
black.

Saturday, August 4

12:38 PM

Halloran put the last of his bags in the back of the
Trailblazer and shut the hatch.  It was beautiful out.  The velvet breeze
stirred the summer air and brought the sounds of lawnmowers and kids playing at
the park.  It would be a fine day to drive.  He hadn’t driven his own vehicle
in a while, and he was looking forward to getting behind the wheel and letting
the Chevrolet stretch its legs on the interstate.  He hoped to make the
outskirts of Kansas City before stopping for the night.

Since Chapman’s arrest and confession, Halloran had
been buried in paperwork and red tape.  He had been questioned extensively, as
had Chief Pettus and every other officer that had worked with Chapman.  No one
had seen it coming.  The idea that one of their own had committed those
atrocious acts was horrifying.

No one, however, had been more devastated than Sheri
Chapman.  The realization of what had been going on in the shed behind their
house, what was stored in the old second-hand freezer, was more than she could
take.  She and Isabel had left the house and were now living with Sheri’s
parents in Springfield.

Halloran understood the need to get away.  When the
investigation wrapped up, the first thing he did was call Mark Miller in
Wyoming.  Yes, the invitation to visit was still open.  Yes, the fishing was
good.  And yes, there was a spare bed Halloran could have for a few weeks. 
Miller hadn’t asked any questions and Halloran hadn’t offered any reasons. 
There would be plenty of time to fill him in later.

Brooks pulled up and parked his Impala behind the
SUV.  He stepped out, straightening his ball cap.  He was wearing jeans and a
Jason Aldean t-shirt.  It was the first time Halloran had ever seen him out of
uniform.  “Thought you forgot,” Halloran told him.

“You know my daughter wouldn’t let me forget
anything this important,” Brooks said.

Halloran picked up the pet carrier and Mel meowed at
him through the wire door.  “Just for a little while,” Halloran said.  “You’ll
get to play with another cat for six whole weeks.”  He handed the carrier to
Brooks.  “Tell your daughter to take good care of him.”

Brooks took the handle.  “You sure I can’t talk you
out of this crazy thing?”

Halloran chuckled.  “Positive.”  He leaned back
against the Trailblazer.  “I need this.  I need to clear my head.  When I come
back to work I want a clean start.”  He looked at Brooks.  “With my new
partner.”

Brooks gave him a glance, then looked away with a
shy grin.  “Pettus hasn’t made the decision yet.”

“He will,” Halloran said.  “You’re a good cop,
Greg.  And you’ll make a damn fine detective.  Pettus knows that, too.”

“Thanks,” said Brooks.  “I appreciate that.”  He
stuck out his hand and Halloran shook it.  “Take care.”

Halloran nodded.  “I’ll see you.”  He bent down and
peered into Mel’s face in the carrier.  “See you in six weeks, you stupid cat.”

He climbed into the Trailblazer, started it, and
pulled out, heading toward the interstate.  He had an eight-hour drive ahead of
him, a full tank of gas, and some good eighties rock on the satellite radio.

He was already feeling better.

* * *

3:45 PM

After a light lunch and an early matinee, Dana had
wanted to go out to the park and enjoy the outdoors.  After being cooped up in
the house for two weeks, Joel was more than happy to go along.  His arm was
still in a sling, more for the break he sustained when he tackled Chapman than
the gunshot, and though everything appeared to be healing nicely, he had been
told to expect some type of surgery in his future.  Monday he planned on
returning to work, and Betsy had already assured him he could have some light
duty desk work for a while.  There would be no climbing cable towers for
several weeks.