Scalpers

It was all Warner wished to hear. “Thank ... thank you, doctor.'

Dean gave Peggy a reproachful look, knowing she had no such clearance. Given the hour and the state of Tom Warner's nerves, Dean knew better. Now he glanced down at the ugly scar that remained of the dead girl's head. The patch of scalp taken was in a rough hexagram now, the skin around the wound having sunken in, as if to protect the naked area as best it could. Dean gave the shroud a tug, covering the dead, and with a quick push sent the drawer closing into the wall. Peggy stepped away from the pulled-to vault door.

'Why, Peggy? Why're you doing this to yourself?'

Peggy pointed to the vault. “That could just as well be me in there!'

'But it isn't.'

'And that's supposed to make it all right? Supposed to make me feel better?'

For the first time Dean realized her inner vulnerability; why she had come on so strong with him earlier. It had been a successful attempt to hide that part of herself. She had braced herself by hiding in his arms, and Dean, consciously or unconsciously, had taken advantage of her a great deal more than she'd taken advantage of him. It was apparent now that she was in emotional turmoil, like a soldier in the field asking why she was allowed to live when beside her, not a few feet away, another just like her had been blown away. Maybe Hamel was right all along. Maybe Dean had played the fool, helping her to escape bedrest. Maybe Peggy needed those sessions with Hamel, and her resistance to the notion only compounded her need to talk out this horror. Maybe, like Jackie in Chicago, Peggy Carson could not function professionally without coming to terms with her newly found ghosts, ghosts hoisted upon her by an evil of incredible intensity, an evil still roaming the trashy backways and lurking in parks, just beyond the safety of this building.

'What are you going to do? Return to where you were attacked and sit around the street corner until you're attacked again—'

'That, Dr. Grant, is my job.'

He shook his head. “No, no—your job is not to go out and knowingly commit suicide. Now, we've theorized, Sid and me, about the possibility that the killer's last two choices of victim were not coincidental—'

'Meaning what?'

'Meaning the bastards were looking specifically for a black female scalp.'

'So the thrill of the white redhead's gone, huh? Who came up with this shit?'

'Yours truly.'

'Are you covering again for Corman?'

'No, I don't have to cover for Sid. He's a good man, a good M.E.'

'And I'm a good cop.'

'And you don't need to prove it to anyone, certainly not by getting yourself a room at this inn!” Dean indicated the slabs.

'Don't worry, I'm not looking to check in here.'

'Good. Now. You need that time off you've pushed aside, kid, and you need to talk about it ... not to stare into the face of a dead girl you feel guilty over.'

'Bullshit. I just—'

'And maybe you really shouldn't be dodging Dr. Hamel.

Her face was steadily growing angrier and she exploded. “Just who the hell do you think you are, Dr. High-and-Mighty, know-it-all sleuth and poor hybrid imitation of Sherlock Holmes, Christ! Comin’ in here where you ain't wanted, tellin’ me I got to beware of—of—'

'Of yourself, Peggy—yeah, like my Jackie.'

'I'm not your Jackie. I grew up in a way you couldn't begin to dream possible! Raped by my own father, into drugs in junior high, forty-two when I was fourteen!'

The phone rang. Dean let it ring, but stared back at it. It could be Ken with important information. It could be Sybil. It could be Jackie....

'Take it,” she said.

'Don't go anywhere,” he told her.

She wiped her eyes as he went into the other room for the phone. The ringing machine shattered the quiet lab. When Dean lifted the receiver he had an odd sensation of fear: the last time he answered a telephone call in the dark of a pathology lab, Angel Rae was on the other end taunting him, telling him the horrible truth of how she had Jackie.

'Grant,” he said cautiously, into the phone.

He was instantly relieved to hear Kelso's near-bellowing voice. “Kelso, anything?” he asked, anxious.

'Seems Park was with the Seneca, Wisconsin police, a town of some 32,456 people. According to Prather, who says he left a message for you to return his call, this guy Park was the highest ranking officer on the force there when a series of scalpings took place. He was under a lot of heat, and when the killings stopped and he could not solve the case, he lost his job and moved out. Some of that could be smoke created for guys like us who are snooping, you know. He might be legit, and in Orlando on special assignment attached to Hodges. Certainly would want a man with his experience with me if I were facing a case as weird as this.'

Dean thought he heard a click, someone listening in. He looked up to see Peggy's whereabouts, but all he could confirm was the fact that she was gone. He cursed under his breath, causing Kelso to ask him what he was grumbling about now.

'Can't say how much I'd like you down here with me on this case, Ken. Sure is hard to know who a guy can trust when even the people who don't have a reason to lie to you do.'

'Sid?'

'Among others. As for Sid, ah, I think we've got it resolved.'

'Sybil mentioned the fact that you did a little digging in his dirt, too.'

'Probably shouldn't have.'

'Why? You'd do it to me, wouldn't you? I mean, if I were behaving irrationally? Which, by the way, brings me around to your behavior.'

'I know, call Jackie. I promise I will.'

'Tell her you'll be back by the end of the week. Tell her anything.'

'Again, thanks for the advice.'

'Oh, and Dean?'

'Yeah?'

'Careful down there, huh? I mean, if this guy Park is a psycho cop ... well, he's carrying a weapon at all times. You got a gun?'

'I packed one, but it's at the hotel.'

'Asshole. Strap it on.'

Dean thanked his friend again for the advice. “Any chance you might join me?'

'Would if I could, but I've already shot my travel allowance for the year.'

'Ken, suppose Park were fired for cause up in Michigan—you know, suspicious behavior, maybe something more. Suppose the smoke isn't smoke at all, but real fire?'

'Yeah, I thought of that.'

'Isn't there any way to find out about his true status?'

'Not if it's been masked by computers, to be corrected at some future date. The only one who might have the straight dope on him is the man in charge there in Orlando.'

'Hodges?'

'Right.'

'Know anything about Hodges?'

'A career man, like me.'

'Okay, thanks again, buddy.'

'No problem, Dino, and tomorrow I'll see if I can't get Hodges on the line, get the facts.'

'He's more likely to cooperate if you use the telex so he can confirm who you are.'

'Will do.'

They hung up. Hearing Ken's voice, being reminded of Jackie's distress, made Dean again want to chuck Florida for home and leave this bizarre battle for other men to fight. But the screeching of car tires from a few