a great deal of careful reading of scientific evidence. I'm afraid I can't answer you one way or another at this time. Now please, if you will—'
'But Dr. Grant, your reputation, your years of experience ... can't you give me at least your best ‘guesstimate'?'
'Guesstimate—do you people want to print guesses and hunches and gossip, or do you want facts, figures and informed opinions?'
'We're in the business of reporting to the public, and the public has a right to know if it's true or not, if the Scalper has been killed by an Orlando policewoman tonight, a policewoman who was attacked by the Scalper not two days ago!'
'Yeah, all right, then ... you've already got your story outside in the parking lot. You don't need me to add anything to it.'
'Can I take that as confirmation, sir?'
'You may not.'
'But you said—'
'I said, if you were listening, that at this point nobody knows what happened here, and nobody knows if David Park was or was not the Scalper. Is that clear enough? Sorry to spoil the headline you'd probably already fashioned and sent to your editor. Officer, will you get this man out of here?'
'Come on, Murphy!” shouted a cop at the reporter. “How'd you slide in here, on your own grease, or VO- 5?'
'Damned reporters,” muttered Sid. “They always want to try people in the press.'
'Everyone wants assurances, Sid—assurances from men like us—that everything's right with the world again, and that God has seen to the punishment of the wicked.'
'Ain't it the truth. Looks like we got an all-nighter ahead of us, my friend. Are you up for it?'
'Hodges hasn't given us much choice.'
'Got a cot in the lab. We'll try and catch forty winks between tests. Got to keep the coffee coming, and somehow make my wife believe I'm working again.'
'Come on, let's get out of here and get to it,” said Dean.
'Got everything?'
'It's all here,” Dean said, patting his valise, “all the real story, if we can rightly decipher it.'
'Hate to imagine what tomorrow's headlines'll say.'
'Pretty good notion,” Dean muttered as they arrived at the coroner's car and began putting their wares into the back seat. “I know I'll be misquoted, and have my words twisted or given some innuendo I hadn't intended—or taken out of context.'
'It's an occupational hazard,” replied Sid. “It's why I try my best to leave the talking to others.'
They pulled out of the lot, driving down 436 to Denny's for two takeout meals and coffee, and soon they were racing back downtown.
TEN
Van almost burst with squeals of delighted laughter, squeals of pleasure more happy that Ian had thought possible, and to add to the merriment, Ian snapped on a pounding Bob Seeger tape, the ear-shattering music causing Van to bounce in the back seat like a little kid until he bumped his head hard against the top, giving Ian cause to laugh. They were giddy with accomplishment. So much had been done to protect them from the creeping steps of Park, who'd followed them from Michigan. This feeling, together with the enormous feeling of a sense of unfolding fate, combined to fill them with excitement and anticipation. Their fate tied to beings more powerful than anything on earth or in the mythical heavens, beings that directed their every step.
They were now parked outside the outpatient clinic of Mercy Hospital, where Ian knew the string of helpless women with tots in tow to be never-ending.
'More than we can use. Just watch, I promise you, Van,” Ian vowed. “There, there comes one now.” Ian had seen her in and out of the clinic before. Diaz—no, Jimenez—and one of her kids on her arm. Ian pointed as he spoke. Van pressed his eyes to the glass, seeing them half a block away, mother and child. The streetlamps silhouetted their forms.
Van had reconsidered Ian's idea, his new, assertive nature. And the thought of getting a child back to the house in the woods to take all night with, as Ian had put it, pleased Van's sense of play, as well as his undeniable urge to have the child at his complete mercy. He told Ian he wanted a girl child.
Ian had obliged. There they were, just ahead, mother and child.
Ian said if they took no scalps, if they just kidnapped the child, then all the work of setting up Park would mean something. He actually ordered Van to not scalp the mother, forbidding it. Ian was indeed getting carried away with himself.
Still, Van promised. At the moment, he was so excited, he thought he was going to bounce through the roof of the Mercedes. He squealed in delight.
'Crouch down back there. If she sees you, it's all over,” Ian told him.
Van mumbled an obscenity as he complied, but from time to time he peeked out over the edge, unable to control his urges as the car slowly crept toward the prey. The hunt was on again.
'What's the plan ... what's the plan?” He whispered from behind.
'Shh!'
'What's the plan!'
'Follow her up the street. She's going for the bus stop.'
'How'd you know that?'
'Going that way, trust me.'
'Then what? What then?'
'I'll talk to her, say something...'
'What?'
'Something...'
'How close are we?'
'Close! Get down. There, at the alleyway. You just get ready when I pull her into the alley.” Ian told Van.
'Why're you bullying me?'
'Don't be silly.'
'Nagging ... you're nagging.'
'I am not, now will you get down!'
For now, Van would just say what he was expected to say, “Good ... good...'
Ian pulled the car alongside the woman and girl, tooting his horn in a quick salutation. Van, deep in the back, listened to Ian charm them, and Van felt proud he understood the nonstop change in plans as his brother spoke. Ian often did that, changed in mid-stream. He was trying to talk them into the car for a ride.
The woman had come to the window when Ian lowered it from his side automatically and called her by name. She said hello, recalling having seen him around the clinic. “Want a ride? I'm going that way.'
'No, no...” she answered.
'No problem, really...'
'Naw, naw, sir, it is too far. Bus is place for me, bus to home...'
She stepped away from the car, snatching the child, perhaps thirteen.
'Do something,” Van whispered.
Ian got quickly from the car and went after the woman, saying, “I'll just walk you to the stop, then.'
'Is not necessary,” she complained.
'But I want to, Mrs. Jimenez. You and your girl shouldn't be out alone so late.” He said it in his best, most polite manner, just the way his mother had taught him to speak to a lady. He continued talking to the confused woman amiably, about the weather and such, and asking her questions. “How many children do you have? Two? Three?'
'Four, it will be.” She patted her stomach, indicating she was pregnant. “Four ... four now ... a girl, I wish, but
