They finished eating. Al ordered coffee for both of them. She knew he was finally going to say what he had brought her here to say.
“We’re going to get him,” he said after the waitress had brought their coffee.
“I hope so. Sometimes I’m not so sure.”
“We’ll find him,” he said again. “I know it, Dillon, don’t ask me how, but I know it. It’s going to be you and me that gets him.”
“What are you trying to tell me—that you’re psychic or something? How can you possibly know that we’re going to get him at all, much less that it’s going to be you and me?” Jen shook her head in exasperation. “I don’t believe you. It’s not like you to go all mystic on me.”
“I can’t explain it myself. It’s just a feeling I have, a feeling that my whole damn career has led up to this.”
“Oh, come on, Al!”
“Okay, okay.” He waved a hand at her. “Forget my male intuition. Let’s just play pretend for a minute, okay? Let’s pretend we—you and me—do get him. What then?”
“What do you mean, what then? We do whatever the situation calls for. Just like we always do.”
Al looked at her for a long time as if debating with himself whether he should go any further. Finally he made his decision and took a deep breath.
“What if you and me do find him,” he began, “and we do a little more than the ‘situation calls for,’ as you put it? Will you help me do just a little more if we get the chance?”
“Al, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, I don’t want to discuss it.”
She signaled the waitress for the check.
“Damn it, Dillon, I do want to discuss it. You’re my partner, and I’d like to have some idea where you stand and whether or not you’ll back me up. I know what I want to do, what I will do, if I get the chance. But I don’t know what you’ll do.”
“You know what you’re saying, don’t you?” Jen lowered her voice. “You’re talking execution, Al. You’re a cop, for Christ’s sake, and you’re talking about execution.”
“So what? If we don’t do it, do you think anyone else will? Do you think those women’s families will care if we waste the animal that butchered them?”
Al’s voice was starting to rise in agitation. He stopped for a moment and looked around to see if anyone was listening. No one appeared to be, and he went on in a lower tone.
“Do you want to see those poor people put through months or years of waiting to see justice done? You know as well as I do that Kelty or whoever this maniac is will probably never see the needle.”
“Al, I don’t know whether I’ll be the one to kill this man or not, but I can tell you one thing. I won’t kill him in cold blood.”
“He has to die, Dillon. You know that.”
“I don’t know any such thing, and neither do you. We don’t even know who he is, for Christ’s sake. He could turn out to be your brother, your friend, even another cop. What then, Al? Could you execute him then, or would that make a difference? He’s somebody’s friend, somebody’s brother, somebody’s son. What if he’s yours? Could you kill him then, or would he become a poor sick individual who couldn’t help himself?”
She pulled a ten out of her purse as she saw the waitress approaching and slammed the money down on the table.
“Think about it, Al. Think about it real hard.” She stood up. “I”m going to the ladies’ room. I’ll meet you in the car.”
In the restroom, Jen saw that her hands were trembling. She took several deep breaths and toyed with her makeup until she was calm. She was suddenly grateful to Lonnie that he had paired the two of them with the FBI agents. If and when they found the killer, the two of them would not be alone. Al would not get the chance to waste the killer if he gave up without a struggle, and she would not be faced with the decision of what to do if he did.
CHAPTER 22
The afternoon passed much as the morning had. Will and Don returned around four with little to report on the search for Arthur Kelty. His last known address had been a rooming house in St. Louis. The Bureau had discovered that only because he and his father had once stayed there during Wayne’s cross-country killing spree. Artie had shown up a week after his escape from the juvenile detention center and stayed six months. The man who owned the rooming house had been convinced of Wayne’s innocence and put Artie up without question. Later the man had been accused of molesting a neighborhood boy, but the charge had been dropped when the boy refused to testify. The agent who had interviewed him about Artie suspected the man had been more interested in Artie than in Wayne’s innocence.
At four-thirty, they called it a day. Since Will had decided to follow her to her apartment directly from the building, they walked to their personal vehicles together, Jen trying hard to ignore Lonnie and Al as they walked behind them. They were talking in low tones, and she was thankful she couldn’t hear what they were saying. Most of it was probably x-rated.
As she approached her home, she grew more nervous. She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted this meeting between her son and Will to go well. It was a kind of test, she supposed, a test of how well Will might fit into their lives, as well as a test of his intent.
Are we talking long-range thoughts here, Dillon, she questioned herself. It surprised her that she had gotten that far in such a
