Trial Junkies

There was only one problem.

It wasn't Frederick Langer.

He looked similar, all right, but he was too big and thick to be the creep. And the glasses were different.

Damn.

Hutch frowned, disappointment sweeping through him as he pocketed the phone. If they couldn't show a connection between Langer and Jenny, what else did they have? How could they ever hope to prove that he'd slaughtered her?

'Looks like our boy's up to something,' Gus said. 'What the hell is he doing?'

He handed the scope to Hutch and Hutch put it to his eye, pointing it toward the auto body shop. Revulsion welled up inside him as he realized Langer was moving one of his hands in an all too familiar way.

'Oh, shit,' he murmured. 'This guy doesn't just watch.'

'What's he up to?'

'Tenderizing the beef, as Andy would say.'

Gus groaned. 'Son, I could've gone the rest of my years without you sharing that particular tidbit of information.'

'Hey, you asked.' Hutch lowered the scope. 'I think I'll let him do his business in private. Way he's going at it, it shouldn't take long.'

'Christ on a cracker,' Gus said.

They were silent, sitting there in the darkness as they waited for Langer to be done, Hutch thinking about all the time this guy had spent stalking Ronnie. A slow burner, as Gus had said. And if Langer had indeed changed up his modus operandi with her, that was a good thing. Otherwise Ronnie might not be alive today.

Then again Jenny would be, wouldn't she? She'd be in her apartment right now, maybe working on a case or getting ready for bed. Maybe even worrying about Hutch out there in Lala Land, wasting his life away.

Where were you, Ethan.

Why didn't you return my calls?

Hutch decided it was best not to think about these things. He had no desire to turn this into some kind of Sophie's choice moment between Jenny and Ronnie.

Thankfully, Gus broke the silence. 'You heard anything about Veronica?'

'Nothing new.'

'Way she's being railroaded, I don't blame her for taking off.'

'Except we both know she'll be caught,' Hutch said. 'And when that happens…'

'Don't give up just yet, son. We still got a bonafide pervert to wrangle and that could change the whole rodeo.' He gestured. 'Speaking of which, you'd better check on him. See if he's done floggin' the dog.'

Hutch nodded and raised the scope, pointing it toward the auto body shop.

His heart froze.

Langer wasn't there.

'Fuck,' he said, adjusting the lens and panning the street. 'The son of a bitch is gone.'

'Are you kidding me? Give me that thing.'

Hutch handed over the scope and Gus pressed it to his eye, panning and focusing, trying to get a bead on Langer. From the look on his face, he wasn't having any luck.

He lowered the scope. 'We might have a very serious problem on our hands.'

'Meaning what?'

'What if I'm wrong? What if this boy isn't a slow burner after all? That little move he just made could've been the beginning of something. Maybe his particular perversion is to relieve himself, then punish the girl for making him do it.'

'Holy shit,' Hutch said. His heart started thumping, going into overdrive.

'Holy shit, indeed,' Gus murmured, then jerked his door open.

— 57 -

Gus moved quickly to the trunk of the car, then opened it and rummaged around inside. 'You ever use a firearm?'

Hutch suddenly felt less than adequate. 'Just in the movies.'

'Close enough,' Gus said, then handed him a battered revolver that looked like something Clint Eastwood would carry. Hutch was used to prop guns or feather-light polymer weapons, but this one was big, bulky and weighed half a ton.

'Where the hell did you get this thing?'

'Had it for years. It might not look like much, but it'll stop anything that moves.'

'No shit,' Hutch said.

He glanced toward the auto body shop, which was shrouded in darkness. He wondered if Langer had merely changed positions or maybe left the area altogether. But every instinct he possessed told him no, that Gus was right. That Langer's little masturbatory exercise had been the prelude to a much darker scenario. One that was playing out at this very moment.

They needed to get inside that apartment house.

'Just point it and squeeze the trigger,' Gus was saying. 'But use both hands and watch out for the kick.'

'Should we call the police?'

'We could, but she'll probably be dead by the time they get here. I think it's up to us.'

Gus had always struck Hutch as a solid, self-sufficient guy, but the sudden transformation from retired bailiff to no-nonsense vigilante was surprising. He spoke with purpose and authority, like a man who had seen a bit of action in his time and remembered all the moves.

Gus stuck another battered revolver into his waistband and closed the trunk. 'Langer seems like he's a little on the timid side, so I figure even if he's in the building, he'll still be working up the courage to act. The faster we move, the better chance we have of stopping him before he does the deed.'

'So let's get going, then.'

'Easy, now, partner. We can't just go in there blasting. We need a battle plan. I took a drive past that apartment house when they first got here. Saw the waitress go inside. The place is small, only eight or so units in the building, with a lobby on the first-'

'You call this moving fast?'

Gus glowered at him. 'The point is, we don't know which unit she's living in and he does. I figure if we split up, take the front and back, we can cover more ground.'

'Or we could check the mailboxes in the lobby.'

'Good idea, genius. You know the little gal's name?'

Hutch gave him a weak smile and decided it might be best to let Gus run the show.

'Front and back it is,' he said.

The apartment building was so old and rundown it could easily qualify as a slum. If Hutch had passed the place at random, he would have assumed it was abandoned. Or close to it.

Did the waitress actually live here?

As the old saying went, desperate times, desperate measures, but Hutch thought she'd have to be pretty destitute to take up residence in a glorified landfill like this. Of course, this came from a guy with a door man and three thousand square feet overlooking the lake, not to mention the house in Malibu and the high-rise in Century City.

Sometimes Hutch had to remind himself just how fortunate he was.

He and Gus stood in the darkness of the body shop driveway, a few short yards from where Langer had stood making his offering to the gods of perversion. A streetlight began to stutter and buzz nearby, as if somehow sensing