“Not yet, Jim. You know how it is. Always give a cop killer a chance to go for his weapon.” He smiled at Morgan. It was a cold, clearly threatening smile. “Not a good chance, but a chance.”
“I was sorry about Nick, but it couldn’t be helped.” He shrugged. “Besides, he wasn’t much of a cop. He was even less of a Christian.”
“Were you sorry about Darlene Beckett?”
Morgan’s face twisted obscenely. “She got what she deserved. I’m sure the Lord’s punishment was even harsher.”
“Why do you think so?”
“You have to ask, after what she did to that boy? I thought the great Harry Doyle could see that. Or are you going to tell me she didn’t deserve to be punished? Are you suddenly some great defender of women who abuse children? Are you, Harry… the same Harry Doyle who was murdered by his own mother?” He shook his head vehemently. “No, she was nothing but a tramp and she used that kid to satisfy her filthy cravings. She deserved just what she got. Reverend Waldo saw that. He couldn’t say it just that way. He couldn’t say right out what needed to be done, but he saw it, he saw it, Harry.”
“Did Darlene remind you of Betty Higgins, Jim? Was that it?”
Morgan’s head jerked back as though he had been slapped. “How did you find out about her?” His voice sounded almost like a growl.
“There were others too, weren’t there, Jim-other abusers at all those foster homes you were sent to one after the other when you were just a little kid?”
Bitterness filled Morgan’s face. “That’s what kids are for. Don’t you know that, Harry? They’re for the satisfaction of sinners. Darlene Beckett understood all that. And… that’s… why… she… had… to… die.” He pressed the knife tighter against his leg. “It was perfect, you know, the way I worked it out. I followed her for weeks-I even saw Nick messing with her. But I waited for the perfect chance. Then she went off with that clown in the cowboy clothes and he took her to that beach at Frank Howard Park. So I followed them in and killed them both.” A small smile flitted across his lips and then disappeared. “I was off duty, but I lived close by. So I went home and changed into my uniform and drove back in my patrol unit. It was a perfect cover if anyone saw me. I loaded her into the trunk and took her to Brooker Creek. I had always intended to dump her body there, no matter where I ended up killing her. I was assigned that area for the whole month, so I knew when the body was found and the call came in-with any luck at all-I could be the first unit at the scene. And, of course, I was.” His face broke into a wide grin. “And I did such a good job I even got an official attaboy from the great Harry Doyle.” He let out a low, soft laugh. “From there on it was a cinch to make the team investigating the case.”
Harry nodded slowly. “Tell me about Bobby Joe. Why did he have to die?”
Jim looked down at the floor and shook his head. “He was the only one who knew about me. He knew I’d been tailing Darlene, because he’d been doing the same thing. He’d started out trying to get back into the good graces of his daddy. But she seduced him, just like she seduced everybody. Later, when he saw that I was tailing her too, he approached me about it. He was worried I’d let his daddy know he was sleeping with her. But I told him not to worry, that she was the one I was after, not him… I guess I knew right then that Bobby Joe might have to go eventually. He was such a little coward he just couldn’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut. He was also the only one who knew I was a deputy. I’d kept that from people at the church; didn’t want the kids I worked with to know. Then one day I ended up pulling Bobby Joe over for speeding. I didn’t know it was him, of course, and I let him go without even a warning ticket. But right then I told him he needed to keep his mouth shut about my job.” Jim let out another small laugh. “You see, I had no desire to kill Bobby Joe. But you left me no choice. When you started in on him, I knew sooner or later you’d break him. He was just too weak… So it was your fault, Harry. You’re the reason Bobby Joe had to die. You wouldn’t fall for Nick as Darlene’s killer, even when I gave you those computer records. You just kept on after Bobby Joe. You knew it was someone at the church and you were like a dog with a bone, you just wouldn’t ease up and take what I handed you on a platter. And that’s why Nick had to die, Harry. He was your fault too.” Jim’s voice began to rise. “I needed you to accept him as Darlene’s killer. But you wouldn’t do that! You wouldn’t accept the evidence I’d put together about the doctored computer records. And that evidence was iron clad. I know it because I doctored those records myself. But they weren’t good enough for you, were they? You just kept insisting Nick was too good a detective to let himself get caught that way. And even after I’d killed him and gave you his bloody shoes and a suicide note to tie it all together, you still wouldn’t buy it.” He tilted his head to the side and his voice became softer. “Why was that, Harry? Why did you refuse to look anywhere else but the church? Did that whore, Darlene, tell you it was someone at the church? Was it a case of the dead talking to you again, Harry?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re telling me that whore came back at me from the other side? Is that what you’re telling me, Harry?”
The lanai door behind Morgan opened and Vicky stepped inside. She immediately dropped into a shooting stance, leveling her Glock at Morgan’s back.
Morgan’s head pivoted and the bitter smile returned. “Hi, Vicky.”
“Drop the knife, Jim. Drop it or I’ll drop you.” She glanced at her partner. “Sorry, Harry. We lost him on the beach. It was so dark we couldn’t be sure if he’d come into the house or not.”
Suddenly Vicky realized her position in the room was all wrong. Harry was directly behind Morgan, right in Vicky’s line of fire, just as she was directly in his. Neither she nor Harry could use their weapons without the risk of hitting each other. She began moving to her right, but Morgan had seen it as well. He lashed out with his left hand, the hunting knife slicing across Vicky’s gun hand and sending her Glock clattering to the floor. In the same motion he lunged past her and crashed through the screen door. Within seconds he was out of the house and into the enveloping dark of the beach.
Harry leaped forward, barking into his hand-held radio as he hurried to Vicky’s side, telling the others outside that Morgan was loose and escaping along the beach. He looked at the wound on her forearm. It was deep but not life threatening. “I’m going to call in an ‘officer down’ so you can get some medical help.”
“Screw that,” Vicky shot back. “Tell me where your bandages are and I’ll be right behind you.”
“We’ve got enough people out there.”
“Just tell me,” she snapped. “Then get the hell out of here and catch that cop-killing son of a bitch.”
“The bathroom off the master bedroom,” Harry shouted as he crashed through the screen door and raced to the dunes.
The dark closed around him and the crashing surf cut off all other sound. Harry lay in the dunes, his eyes searching for movement; ears tuned to any sound that might point the way toward Jim Morgan. He fought the tension that was infusing his muscles, tried to keep his body loose. Morgan would use the knife if he could to avoid the giveaway bark of his Glock and Harry knew he would need to react quickly. He also knew that Morgan could be lying only a few feet away and he’d never know-not until that hunting knife lashed out in the darkness. Farther out along the beach, flashlights came on as other members of the department began searching. Harry had turned off his radio when he’d entered the dunes. Now he turned it on again to warn the others that he was coming out on to the beach. The last thing he wanted was to be shot by one of his own men.
When the answering call came that his message had been received, he heard a brief rustling to his left, then the sound of movement heading south along the beach. Morgan, he realized, had indeed been lying in the dunes. Now, after hearing Harry’s call to other searchers, he’d bolted and headed away from the probing lights.
Harry followed, keeping his body low to the ground, aware he was backlit by the lights of the buildings facing the gulf. Morgan, conversely, was hidden by the dark water and the moonless sky. Trying to reverse those positions, Harry gambled and raced toward the surf, turning back when he reached the water. Nothing came into view. He paused, turning in a slow circle. Morgan had either flattened his body against the sand or had entered the water. Harry reversed their positions mentally, trying to decide how he would elude his pursuers if he were Morgan. Then it came to him and he raised the radio to his lips.
“This is Doyle. Are the streets covered?”
Pete Rourke’s voice came back. “We’ve got a blanket out there, Harry; our people and Clearwater P.D. You have any idea where he is?”
Harry hesitated. If he was right, he knew he couldn’t answer Rourke’s question. “I think he may have gone into the water. You need to get some men into the surf, but tell them to watch the beach behind in case he slips through. We could use some big lights to illuminate the area.”
