come, head turned sideways to shout instructions into the radio for Peterson, sick with the knowledge that the person who had been pushing the wheelchair loaded the old woman into one car,
He tried to tell himself it was only a coincidence; just another caretaker beaten down by frustration, finally shrugging off a burden that had become too heavy to carry. But he didn’t believe it.
Langer was running hard, having a hard time dodging all the shoppers, partly because there were so goddamned many of them, partly because his eyes were watering, making it hard to see.
Or maybe he was crying, because sometimes people with Alzheimer’s looked like they were dead, and sometimes people who were dead looked like they had Alzheimer’s.
31
They’d lost daylight savings time last Saturday night, and by 5:30 Halloran’s office was gloomy with that oppressive kind of half-light that settles when the sunlight weakens, like an old light bulb fading away before it blows out completely.
He sighed and snapped on the green-shaded desk lamp, postponing the need for the sterile glare of the overhead fluorescents. He’d never noticed the buzzing until Sharon had mentioned it. Ever since, it had been driving him crazy, especially at times like these, when the day tour had left and the building was quiet.
He perked up at the sound of Bonar’s voice in the outer office, and raised his brows when his friend’s considerable bulk filled the doorway. He’d apparently showered in the locker room downstairs, and had exchanged his uniform for slacks with an honest-to-God crease, a turtleneck sweater, and a sport coat. Halloran could smell Old Spice all the way across the room.
‘You look very handsome.’
‘I already have a date.’
‘You taking Marjorie to dinner?’
‘That was the original plan. Out to dinner, and then back to her place where I suspect I would have been forced to lay waste to the woman.’ He tossed his overcoat on the couch in disgust.
‘Did I hear past tense?’
‘Actually, I think it might have been future perfect. Did Minneapolis call you back yet?’
Halloran tossed his pen on the desk. ‘No, the arrogant asshole from Minneapolis did not call me back.’
Bonar clucked his tongue in a scold. ‘You have to talk nicely to the big policemen in the big city or they won’t share.’
‘Damnit, I’ve left three messages for this man. You can’t tell me he hasn’t had five minutes sometime in the past six hours to make a courtesy call to another department.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on that.’ Bonar glanced at the dark screen of the television in the corner. ‘You didn’t watch the news, did you?’
‘Hell, no. I’ve been having too much fun writing a report for the commissioners, who want very badly for us to arrest someone for the Kleinfeldts’ murders, preferably someone from very far away who has no connection with our county at all. A Colombian drug lord passing through on his way back to Bogota would be ideal.’
Bonar’s smile was grim. ‘Well, they had the TV on down in dispatch. I caught a piece of it on my way up here. Magozzi was the name of that detective, right?’
‘Right.’
‘Well, he happens to be the lucky lead on those murders in Minneapolis, and another went down this afternoon. At the Mall of America, no less. The whole city’s going nuts.’
Halloran frowned. ‘You mean the computer game thing?’
Bonar nodded. ‘And before you make the quantum leap and pretend you thought of it first, I’ve already been there. His call to the school had something to do with computers, and since chances are pretty slim he’s working anything but this case right now, that means the school is somehow connected to the computer game murders.’
Halloran straightened in his chair. ‘Jesus.’
Bonar shoved his hands in his pants pockets and started pacing. ‘So the Minneapolis murders are connected to a Catholic school in upstate New York, and our murders are connected to that same school, or at least they are if the kid did it, which makes you want to believe our murders are connected to their murders, right?’
‘Wrong. I don’t want to believe that at all.’
‘Me neither. And maybe they aren’t, because he’s looking for a current e-mail address, and we’re looking for a kid who lived there years ago before they even had computers. All the way up here I’ve been trying to figure out how a computer game killer in Minneapolis jibes with a family killing in Calumet, and there’s nothing there except a coincidence that makes your head hurt.’ He sighed and eased down on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, hands dangling between his legs. ‘I’m getting Sharon’s bad feeling about this.’
Halloran put his elbows on the desk and stared straight ahead, thinking hard. After a few minutes, he decided it was a futile exercise. He needed more information, and he wasn’t even sure that would help.
‘I’ve got to call Marjorie and cancel,’ Bonar said, standing abruptly.
‘And do what?’
Bonar looked blank. ‘I don’t know. Wait for Magozzi to call, I guess. This thing’s driving me nuts.’
‘Go,’ Halloran said. ‘Take your cell, and if I get through to him, I’ll call you.’
32
Charlie was totally confused. His ordered doggy world was upside down. Yes, he was sitting in the Adirondack chair next to his mistress, normally his favorite place in the world, but it was the wrong time of day, she wasn’t in her sitting-in-the-chair clothes, and there was no water running out of the long snake under the tree.
He was brave for as long as he could stand it, then he clambered off his chair, climbed up onto her lap, and started licking her face, whining, demanding an explanation.
Grace put her arms around him and pressed her head against his, giving comfort, and taking it. ‘Oh, Charlie, I killed another one,’ she whispered, closing her eyes.
The news about the Megamall murder had flashed over the Internet less than an hour ago. She’d been alone in the loft then, still working on tracing the e-mails long after everyone else had left.
For a long time, she simply sat there, numb, reading the bulletin over and over.
Harley, Annie, and Roadrunner had called moments later, all worried about her, and Mitch had called from his car soon after that. He was running between client meetings, trying to put out the fires that were consuming the company, and he’d heard the news over the radio. Grace reassured them all that she was fine, even as she staggered under the burden of this new blame, added to the old one she’d been carrying for ten years.
She’d left the loft immediately, wanting more than anything else to be alone in the house that fear had built, with the dog that fear had created, because it was only there she felt properly punished.
A scrambling sound on the north wall of the fence pricked Charlie’s ears and sent Grace’s hand immediately to her shoulder holster. She almost smiled to see the gun in her hand, pointed toward the sound, because she hadn’t realized that she still wanted to live that badly, and part of her wondered why.
Two small black hands appeared at the top of the fence, followed by a small black face. Dark eyes widened at the sight of the gun. ‘Jeez, Grace, don’t shoot me.’
She relaxed and put the Sig back in the holster. ‘What are you doing here, Jackson?’
He swung one leg over the fence and slid down into the backyard, then strolled over as if scaling an eight- foot fence to pay a visit was a normal course of events. ‘I saw you drive in. You never come home this early. Figured something was up.’ He stopped in front of her, tipped his head, and frowned. ‘You don’t look so good.’
‘I don’t feel so good.’
Now that was funny. To her partners, who had known and loved her for years, she lied like crazy, telling them she was fine. To this annoying kid she’d met only twice, her traitorous mouth had decided to tell the truth.
Jackson dropped to a cross-legged position on the drying grass, holding out a hand for Charlie to lick. ‘What
