'Don't they all? These kind of killers?'
'I'm not sure. I don't think Ted Bundy, Albert DeSalvo, or Albert Fish wanted to be caught.'
'Who's Albert Fish?'
'He killed a lot of kids, then ate them.'
'Jesus Christ almighty.' He polished off the beer. 'Did they leave a lot of clues around, those guys?'
'Not really. Nothing like A's or swastikas or whatever that thing is.'
'I think it's good you checking that stuff out at the library, so don't get me wrong when I say this. But my instincts tell me we got to figure out what the victims got in common, then we can think like the killer. I'm going to leave these with you, Maguire. I been over them, made my notes. I want you to do the same, we'll compare tomorrow, okay?'
'Okay, but what am I looking for?'
'Similarities. Anything you can find about these people they got in common. Don't worry about it being stupid. I mean, like maybe they all have an F in their names, which they don't, or none of them have an F in their names, which is true. What I'm saying, Maguire, is that nothing is too small or too stupid to consider.'
'I've got you.'
Hallock pushed back his chair. 'What time you get up in the morning?'
'Pretty early.' He'd thought about going to Annie's church, but his priority was to look over this material. He was too tired to do it tonight.
'I'll come by around ten, see what you got.'
'Okay.' He walked Hallock to the door. 'You know, Chief, you could stay with me if you want to. I've got three bedrooms.'
'Thanks, Maguire, but I wouldn't want to crimp your style or anything.'
'What style's that?'
'Oh, I don't know.' He smiled and nervously pulled on his long nose. 'Anyway, I need to be alone. Got to think through some stuff, figure out what I'm gonna do with the rest of my life. Besides, Liz Wood needs my business. Least I can do.'
They shook hands. Colin snapped on the porch light. Halfway to his car Hallock said, 'Hey, Maguire, when are you gonna get rid of that mustache?'
He was surprised. 'You don't like it?'
'Puts me in mind of the outlaws in the Westerns I saw as a boy.'
Colin laughed. 'I'll think about it.' He waited until Hallock was in his car before he turned off the light.
Back in the kitchen he checked the time. Twelve-twenty. He wanted to call Annie and say goodnight again. Lifting the receiver from the wall phone, he hesitated. Maybe she was asleep and wouldn't appreciate being awakened at this hour. On the other hand, she might like it, be glad to know that he was thinking of her. He started to dial, then replaced the phone. She had to preach the next day, it wasn't fair to wake her. He couldn't believe it-he was hung up on a preacher, for God's sake! His hand slipped from the phone and he started to walk away when it rang.
'Colin,' Annie said. 'I didn't wake you, did I?'
He felt himself grow light, as if all his bones had vanished. 'No, I'm awake. I was just thinking about calling you.'
'Really?'
'Really.'
'That's nice,' she said. 'I'm calling because… I wanted you to know that… I wish you were here with me.'
Her words hit him in the pit of his stomach. 'Annie,' he said.
'I just wanted you to know that.'
'I wish I could be there, too.' He didn't say he'd come back, drive ninety miles an hour to get there. He knew nothing had changed. 'I'm glad you told me.'
'Me, too. Goodnight, Colin.'
'Goodnight, Annie.'
He waited to hang up until he heard her break the connection. God, he felt good! She cared. The phone rang again. He grabbed it. 'Annie?' There was no answer. 'Annie? Is that you?' Again there was silence, but he could tell the line was open. 'Hello? Who is this?'
No answer. And then he heard the click. Returning the receiver to the cradle, he felt an icy sweat bead on his neck, then creep down his back. He tried to tell himself it was a wrong number but he wasn't buying. Somehow he knew exactly who his caller was; he just didn't know his name.
LOOKING BACK-50 YEARS AGO
In keeping with its policy of giving its patrons the very best in sound motion pictures, the Seaville Theatre has installed and has now in operation the revolutionary new 'High Fidelity' sound reproducing system manufactured by the RCA Victor Co. About $5000 was spent in equipping the Seaville Theatre with this latest development in sound reproduction.
TWENTY-SIX
She had given a terrible sermon, stumbling over words and phrases, having a coughing fit, losing her place, and all the time Steve Cornwell-who would give anything to see her replaced-was sitting there in the first row, grinning. The more he grinned, the more mistakes Annie made. It had infuriated her, anger tripping her up further. She'd spent an inordinate amount of time on this sermon, rewriting and rewriting, and because of her date with Colin, for once she'd had it finished by two on Saturday afternoon.
And then she'd blown it. The topic was Commitment and Fidelity in all their ramifications. Was it some unconscious nonsense on her part that had made her louse it up? Some feeling of infidelity toward Bob? Or maybe it was seeing Russ Cooper in the third pew, tears on his cheeks. Or perhaps it was Burton Kelly, pouting in the fifth row, center. All those things might have added to her poor performance, but the main reason was her own fault: She had been preoccupied with Colin, going over the night before, waiting for him to enter the church. She'd been so sure he'd come.
Once again she'd made herself vulnerable to another person and she'd been disappointed, hurt. On top of it all she was embarrassed about the phone call she'd made to him the night before. She truly wished she hadn't done that. Well, it was all too late, the service was almost over, the final hymn just ending.
Nervously, Annie gave her closing remarks, then took her place to greet the parishioners as they went into the parish hall. When they'd all gone by her she started to follow, then noticed a surly-looking Steve Cornwell standing near the back. She waited. He said nothing but continued to stare at her, hands in his trouser pockets.
Annie considered asking him what he wanted, rejected the idea, and started for the hall. As she reached the door Steve's laughter stopped her. Angry, she whirled back to face him but he was gone. For a moment she looked out into the empty church, trying to regain her calm, telling herself to forget Cornwell.
Inside, Peg Moffat, coffee in one hand, cookies in the other, was by Annie's side at once. 'What's wrong, kid? You look terrible.'
'Steve Cornwell,' she managed to get out.
'Uh-oh. What did he say?'
'He didn't say anything. He just stared at me, then he laughed.' She shuddered, running her hands over her arms as if she were cold.
'What do you suppose it meant?' Peg bit into a chocolate chip cookie.
'I don't know.'
'You didn't do anything dumb last night, did you? You want one of these? They're dynamite.'
