'I talked to the boys at the VFW. They'll be coming over later to help. Now, before either of you interrupt, hear what I have in mind. Marion was a force-recon Marine in Vietnam and John was an Army ranger. I figure on having them set up in Swedmark's tree house; their boy is in college now. From there, they can watch the backyard and most of the sides of the house. Ben and I were both just Army grunts, so we will stay in the house. Bob was in the command center of an Aegis cruiser and Betty was a controller for an AWACS. Those two will take care of communications.'
Jeffrey raised his hand, stopping Lori when he saw her open her mouth to speak. 'Lori, don't say anything. Jim feels the killer could be after you.
I believe him. You and I both know that Jim has been prowling the neighborhood at night. He can't cover everything. He needs help or he will get hurt.' Jeffrey added the last to stop any arguments from his daughter.
'Jim, you know you can't protect the whole perimeter. You want Lori safe, don't you?' Jeffrey smiled. He saw both of them getting ready to argue. His comments about the other's safety stopped the possible altercation before it started.
* * * *
Henry walked up to Kawalski's door. He knew it would be empty, but a still clammy scent of evil seemed to emanate from the building. Behind Henry were a half a dozen BCA agents and sheriff deputies waiting to search the building. Henry had convinced Frank the he should enter Kawalski's home first. He had stopped by Kawalski's one time last spring to discuss a scheduling problem that came up with the county mandated D.A.R.E. program. Henry hoped that he could tell what the killer had touched or moved.
The front door was open. Henry stepped in and stopped. Only a few feet in front of the door a table lamp illuminated a huge dark stain on the carpet. Henry knew the killer had set the stage to display his work. Henry tried to examine the rest of the room without stepping in further. It didn't work. His eyes kept moving back to the only illuminated object in the darkened room. Finally, Henry went to the windows and opened the drapes.
Without the lamp being the only light source in the room, Henry was able to examine the room past the stain. He noticed that the furniture had been arranged as silent witness to the murder site. His hopes of finding evidence plummeted when he saw the vacuum cleaner with the open back and missing bag. Henry studied the scene. Kawalski was a big man. Except for the blood, there was no sign of a struggle. Gallea was a trained deputy and he was taken without a trace from a public school building with cops all around. How could the killer do that?
Suddenly it didn't matter to Henry. He removed his portable radio from his belt. 'Base, this is Henry. Do you copy?'
'Henry, go ahead.'
'Nancy, you contact everyone in the field. No one working on the case is to be alone. If you have to pull them in until we can get them a partner, do it.'
Henry was about to say more when he noticed a flash of light coming from the stair's banister. He walked slowly over to it. The light had come from a gouge in the paint that had exposed the bare wood underneath. Henry noticed more scrapes on the painted surfaces and a few dark stains. He heard the noise of the forensic crew waiting to come in by the front door. When he turned to look, he saw the way the bloody stain and the doorway lined up with the scrapes. Something had been here, something to distract Kawalski. What could it have been? It was large, a good five to six feet of the banister and wall had scrapes on it. What would the killer use? Oh, my God! Al!
Henry rushed to the door. For the first time since his rookie year, Henry got sick. A couple of men from the forensic crew held his shoulders as he heaved.
After Henry emptied his stomach, he told the crew, 'Sorry, guys. It shouldn't have happened. I just didn't expect...' He saw the worried look on their faces. He took a deep breath and continued, but this time as a professional.
'Kawalski was probably killed just inside the doorway. There's a lot of blood but no sign of a struggle. The killer took the time to arrange the furniture and clean the house. He used the vacuum cleaner and took the dust bag with him. You will need to check if anything useful got caught inside the machine or in the brushes. I think the killer was able to surprise Kawalski by tying something up to the stairway across from the entrance.' The pause that Henry gave was unintentional. Somehow he needed a large breath before he could continue. 'I think he tied Al's body there.'
The somber crew entered the building. Henry turned to leave when a TV truck pulled up. He walked to his car, closed the door to the questioning reporter and drove away.
* * * *
Marion had hated Vietnam. He had nightmares about it for years. There were still times when he woke from sleep, dripping with sweat with the memories of war. But it was also the only time he had ever felt the intense fire of life burning within him. He sometimes wondered if the intensity of life during war was too much for the normal human to stand. The withdrawal from the burning clarity caused the problems that war veterans have, just like the withdrawal symptoms of the heroin addict. The one main difference was that war veteran lived with the withdrawal for life, while the drug addict could eventually leave the affects of the addiction.
Marion hunted. It wasn't the same intensity as war, but life and death were at stake, even if it was only an animal's. He looked at hunting like the methadone treatment for the heroin addict or the nicotine patch for the smoker. It was a way to tame the nightmares of war. When Jeffrey came to the Vets Club asking for help, Marion had to go. Up in the tree house, he scanned the neighborhood with night-vision goggles. John dozed behind him, waiting for his watch. He reached nervously for his bow, the fire of life starting to burn within him. At first, he was upset when Jeffrey had said no guns. He had not wanted a stray bullet to hurt anyone. Marion now relished the idea of getting close enough to a killer to attack with an arrow.
Marion prayed the killer would come. He had hunted deer with John and knew what they could do with their bows. In the house, Ben and Jeffrey had bats and knives. Ben was the legion baseball coach. Marion had seen Ben hit a line drive so hard it had broken the hand of the pitcher when he tried to catch it. He didn't know much about Bob or Betty, but they had been fast and precise on the radio calls. Marion's biggest surprise had been Makinen. After dark, he had watched James slip through the neighborhood as silently and quickly as a ghost. Marion had not seen James carrying any weapons when he left the house that night, but he projected the same lethal presence of his old gunnery sergeant. The man had served in the Korean War and was on his second tour of duty in Nam when Marion met him. There had been many times in Nam that Marion had been scared, but no matter what was happening, fear had never been an option when Gunny was watching. When Gunny was around, the only emotion Marion had was pity for the enemy.
Marion shook his head to remove the memories. He reconed the neighborhood. Again, he wished the killer to show. He knew the killer was a coward; otherwise, he would come at you straight on, man to man, and not attack young girls. He wanted to see the scum's eyes as he saw his own death coming. Marion knew if the killer came, he would die. He had seen death in Makinen's eyes before he left on scout, and he knew the others would not hesitate to kill.
Marion saw a small truck pull up at the end of the block from Jeffrey's house. Into the radio he said, 'Base, this is lookout. Ute pulled in at end of block. Doesn't match any of the neighbors' vehicles.' Marion sensed John ease on up beside him. He knew John would be checking the area behind the house in case the killer would use a disturbance out front to sneak in the back way. Marion saw a shadow move at the end of the block and recognized the lethal motions of James.
Over the radio earphone he heard James whisper, 'Negative on the Ute, it's a damn TV reporter.' Just then the cameraman turned on the camera light and the intense beam flashed across the night-vision goggles, blinding Marion. 'Damn! John, watch out for the light. I'm blinded.'
It took minutes for Marion to rub the vision back into his eyes and even longer before he could see any distance. By the time he could see what was going on, Jeffrey was on the sidewalk yelling at the reporter and cameraman. Glancing down the road, Marion saw an old Chevy pickup idling closer with its lights off. 'Base, this is lookout. Chevy pickup coming in with its lights off.' Jeffrey must have had the radio ear piece still on because he stepped to the side to look down the road past the TV crew. The cameraman, seeing Jeffrey's movement, swung his camera down the block. The light from his swinging camera caught James in mid-stride as he raced through the yards to check the truck. Marion heard the squeal of tires and the truck's brights turned on. The truck backed into the night leaving only the smell of burnt tires behind.
Marion saw Jeffrey pull the camera away from the man and throw it to the ground. He heard the words, 'You
