Haggerty again, sitting alone in his cabin, his life in ruins around him. All his tears cried out and nothing left at all.
That’s when the door opened up and the cold air came blasting in. Chief Maven came over and joined me in front of the fire. He didn’t sit down. He kept standing and he was looking into the fire and warming himself.
“How did the hypnotism go?” I said.
“He should have tried to hypnotize a cinder block instead. That might have worked a little better.”
“Some people don’t hypnotize well.”
“Some people have actual working memories, too.”
“This isn’t about your memory, Chief. It was at least ten years ago.”
“I came face-to-face with a killer, McKnight, and I can’t even remember him.”
“Sit down.”
He did, but he left his coat on.
“What happened with your three candidates? Did the agents find out any more information?”
“Yes, they did.”
I waited a beat. But he didn’t continue.
“Chief, what did they find?”
“Parizi’s living in Flint. He’s the guy who got busted with all the stuff in his car. He’s on parole now for another bust, and apparently his parole officer can vouch for his whereabouts.”
“His parole officer doesn’t live with him.”
“No, but he sees him often enough. If you do the math on him getting all the way up here and back, it just doesn’t work.”
“Okay, what about the actor? What was his name?”
“Clyde C. Wiley? Our seventy-two-year-old actor? He’s living in Bad Axe again. I guess he’s been working on a film, except he’s actually the director this time. Which means, apparently, that he’s working almost around the clock. He’s got people around him at all times, and there’s just no way he could have slipped away for more than a few hours at a time.”
“The third man?”
“Fraser, the ex-cop.”
I waited again.
“The ex-cop,” I said. “What happened with him?”
“He did his time. Finally got out of prison about a year ago.”
“Okay, that’s perfect. Then what?”
“Then nothing. He’s dead. He moved to Florida and died in a car accident, about six months ago.”
“They’re sure it was him?”
“Yes.” He still hadn’t looked at me. “They’re sure. He’s in the ground.”
I put my head back and closed my eyes.
“All this running around,” he said, “and it comes to nothing. We’re right back where we started.”
“We’ll keep looking.”
“Yeah. I know.”
I could hear the defeat in his voice. Something I never expected to hear. Of all the things you could say about this man, good or bad, I would never, ever expect him to give up on anything.
“You need a drink,” I said.
Maven didn’t answer me. He kept staring into the fire while outside in the cold dark night the snow began to fall.
A hundred and fifty miles to the west of us, Lieutenant Dean Haggerty sat in his own chair, with no fire to warm him. At the head of his long driveway, through the blanketed trees, a lonely state trooper sat in his idling patrol car with the heat turned up as the falling snow melted on his hood.
None of us knew it at that moment, but there was one other person sitting in another vehicle, either down the road or on another road entirely but within walking distance of the house. Staying awake, staying warm, and waiting for the right time to move.
And we’re rolling…
… Slow approach to the barn. Nice and easy.
… Look at that light. Is that perfect or what?
… The camera loves the snow, you gotta admit.
… Careful now. Don’t rush the shot.
… Close to the wall. Let the camera feel it. That’s right.
… Hello, young Brandon! Mind if I borrow this for a second?
… Boom, just like that. Oh, that’s beautiful. Look at that.
… Bravo, young sir. That’s how you do it. That’s how you own a scene, people.
… Stay on his face. Drink it in. That is so goddamned perfect.
And cut.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I got the call at 4:30 in the morning. The fire in the woodstove had gone out and it was cold enough to see my own breath as I stumbled out of bed. I knew the call would not bring good news. No call at 4:30 in the morning is ever good news.
It was Maven who called me. Lieutenant Haggerty had been killed by a single gunshot, sometime between 3:00 and 4:00. The trooper did not hear the gunshot, although there was some question as to how well he’d hear a gunshot a good one hundred yards away, through snow-covered trees, with his windows shut and the engine running.
My first thought was obvious. Yes, he’s done it. The killer has struck again. My second thought was, if only Haggerty had let the trooper stay closer to his house. My third thought was, I’m glad I’m not that particular trooper right now.
“The agents are meeting at seven o’clock,” Maven said.
“I’ll be there.”
“This is going to get ugly today.”
“I know.”
I pulled into the Soo post parking lot at 6:45. The sun hadn’t come up yet. It was ten degrees and the air smelled like snow. I walked inside and I could feel the unnatural silence in the place right away. The interview room was empty. I went in and sat down. A trooper I didn’t know walked by and gave me a quick look. It wasn’t friendly.
Maven came in a few minutes later. He nodded to me as he took his coat off. Then he went back out into the office to get a cup of coffee. Actually, he brought back two cups. He put one down in front of me and sat down.
“Thanks,” I said.
He nodded again. He still hadn’t said a word. I wasn’t about to make him talk until he was ready.
Seven o’clock came and went. Then 7:15. It was almost 7:30 when the agents finally showed up. They came in shivering, each of them carrying folders thick with paper. It took them another minute to take their coats off and get settled with their own cups of coffee. They both looked tired as hell.
“First priority,” Agent Long said. “Chief Maven, if we truly understand what’s going on here, you could be next on the list. Or rather, your daughter could be.”
“I know that.”
