'That's not Wald. That's the common wisdom.'
'Sh-sh-sh. Wisdom. I'll tie Wald and his ilk in knots. Their arrogance astounds me.'
'Where are you?'
'Russell, you are a belly laugh.'
'In the county, I mean? Out of? In the state still?'
'Very much where I belong. I was born here. There, clue number two.'
'Here, in the county?'
'Yes, Russell, here in the county. You still think like the cop you used to be. It must be hard to write entire books when your mind is so… flatfooted. Journey Up River was good though. I think Crump is a terrible self- aggrandizer-a clown. It would be a temptation, with you there to report all of his silly Posturing. But Art Crump had no purpose other than his own sex. That's why he was so sloppy. It's hard to think clearly in the middle of a sex act, even when there's killing to be done.'
'You manage.'
'You can't say that. There have been no traces of semen left at any scene. The bodies have not been penetrated, so far as your medical examiner can tell.'
He was right, of course. An idea roamed my head, but I said nothing.
'This is not about a man's desire,' he said. 'This is about the restoration of place, the dignity of an age that we cannot afford to let slip by. I'm pleased that you'll be writing my story for the county, Russell. You need me. It will be, actually, the greatest story you'll ever tell.'
'I still don't know what you want,' I said.
'One: Don't let Winters put a tracer on your phone. Record the calls if you'd like-accuracy in reporting is important, isn't it? It will allow me freedom to contact you without worry and you'll learn much more from a leisurely chat than a quick one. Two: I want you to keep Erik Wald informed of everything we say. I am interested in his… mind. Alleged mind. Three: I will make a dramatic statement very soon. I would inform the public if I were you-but that's not really your call, is it?'
'No. What kind of dramatic statement?'
'Russell, what do you think? Lobby on my behalf.'
I thought for a moment. 'I need something from you.'
'I wonder what.'
'Someone took out a woman named Amber Mae Wilson on July the third. The club, the writing on the walls, the recorded message on tape. Then he tried to cover it all up. He removed her. Why did you do Amber Wilson?'
I heard the sharp intake of his breath. 'N-n-no!'
'Yes.'
'Her h-head?'
'Just like the others.'
'M-my voice, m-my writing?'
'Identical.'
He groaned-a long, low, heartsick sound. 'Then… you say the body… disappeared?'
'Where did you take her?'
'Was she white?'
'Where did you take her?'
His voice suddenly accelerated into one long run-on sentence, a stuttering river of syllables. 'I didn't d-d-d-do her I’ve got no i-i-idea who would kill a w-white w-woman my q quest is not for that I have been c-c-copied and m-m-mocked and I forbid you to w-w-write this in the papers I do not white!'
I listened to his rapid breathing.
'I believe you,' I said.
'Ohhh…' He sighed, relief draining out of his voice and into my ear. 'Ohhh…'
'Let me give you my number for the car phone.'
'I have it,' he said almost meekly.
'Where will your 'dramatic statement' take place?'
A long pause ensued. I could hear him breathing more slowly now.
'You need me,' he whispered, and hung up.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I had never in my life seen more activity or confusion at the Sheriff's Department than I did an hour and a half later, just before nine that morning, when I was finally admitted to the inner sanctum of Sheriff Dan Winters's office, in which loomed the sweating, nervous figures of Winters, Martin Parish, and Erik Wald.
Of course, in the middle of our heat wave, the county building's air conditioning had overloaded and failed. Being a modern building, it had few windows that would even open. Outside, the smog lingered like smoke. Inside, the air was already stale and hot.
Waiting, I heard the phones ringing constantly, saw the double-time scurry of deputies and clerical workers, studied the drawn, tight-lipped faces on the officers who came and went in. a steady stream from Winters's lair. The mayor of the city of Orange and one of our county supervisors made what appeared to be abrupt and pointless appearances, then marched straight for the pressroom. I followed, to find Karen Schultz besieged and took for myself a dozen angry stares from the media a print people who had been treated, just a few hours earlier, to my rather major scoop. Channel 5 tried to interview me, but I walked away when the reporter excused herself to the lady room for a quick makeup check. Karen brushed me with an icy glance as I closed the door behind me.
But inside the sheriff's office, Winters, Parish, and Wald had the aura of the chosen. I could feel the energy in the hot room, the energy of organization and execution, of order method, purpose. And beneath that energy lay another: that the chaos and mayhem which had brought these men together, the silent and permeating force of their antagonist, the Midnight Eye.
Winters slammed down the telephone and looked at me 'We don't have much time. First, forget Dina. The story now is, we're deputizing the entire county, calling on every citizen watch out for each other and report back to us anything they might see, hear, smell, or dream that will help us get this guy. We've called it the Citizens' Task Force, and Wald is in charge as sheriff-adjutant. We're setting up phone banks, printing shirts and caps, trying to get everybody involved. Interview Wald about it. If you can't make it interesting and get us good play, we'll find someone who can. Second, you can get the ME's stuff; through Karen but not without Karen. She'll edit out what we need for ourselves. Third, we've already got a damn miracle-Wynn's next-door neighbor was shooting video of her family the day before they bought it, and we've got a suspect right there on the fucking tape. Kimmy Wynn ID'd him as positively as a kid half in shock can ID anybody, but it's a damn good start. Documents is isolating a still we'll have within the hour, and every paper and TV station that wants one will get it. Your part is to get this Task Force idea off the ground. Your part is to make us look good. We're asking for help, Russell. We're begging for it.'
Wald, standing by a window, looked at me.
'Think you can handle that?' asked Parish.
'You forgot point number four,' I said to Winters, ignoring
Marty.
'Four what? What the hell are you-'
'He called. The Midnight Eye. I just talked to him.'
A pressured silence fell over the room, as if a gun had just been cocked.
'I'm liking this,' said Wald evenly.
Parish regarded me with his slightly droop-lidded stare.
'Yes!' shouted Winters, driving a fist into the air. 'What'd the son of a bitch say? Are you sure it was him? Any idea at all where he's calling from?'
I told them everything we said, except our exchange about the murder of Amber.
