'Give me some credit.'
'Yes sir. Do you want me to drive by his house?'
'Do you think he might be in the backyard, studying the moon?'
'The moon?'
'Just let me know if you see him, all right? Don't stop him, don't talk to him, don't follow him, just let me know. Will you do that, Metzger?'
'You bet… How come, sir?'
'Personal reasons, all right? And don't mention to him, or t o anybody else, that I was looking for him, understand?'
'Yes sir.'
'Metzger, you do know his private car, don't you? You'll recognize it if you see it.'
'Sure thing, you bet, Chief.' Tee returned the speaker to the dashboard of his cruiser. It's because we don't pay them enough, he reflected, thinking of Metzger. If we could just get the town to raise their salaries, maybe we could attract better men.
It seemed a futile exercise, trolling the midnight streets of Clamden in search of McNeil. There were 195 miles of road in the town-even assuming he was in the town and not in one of the five other communities that bordered itand yet Tee felt that he had to do something, try something, stir things up. The fine-grained sifting of the FBI was probably efficient in the long run, creating evidence from fibers and sloughed-off flakes of skin, but Tee needed to stop him now. This was his town, the victims were his people, under his custody, and the problem- for Tee-was immediate. The FBI and the state police might compile all of their bits and scraps into an impressive pile of evidence that would ultimately convict, but Tee needed action to stop Johnny first. There were times when he could not understand how Becker could function within such a painstaking organization. His friend was bold and decisive, intuitive and quick. In all things quick, lightning-fast as his own honed reflexes. Tee wondered how he could tolerate the plodding ways of the Bureau.
Becker had seemed greatly distracted for the last several days and would not tell Tee why, but he had lost all sympathy with Tee's theory that McNeil was Johnny Appleseed, or indeed that McNeil merited any further investigation whatever, which made Tee all the more determined to pursue his suspicions-his conviction, reallyon his own.
Despite having scorned Metzger's suggestion, Tee swung by McNeil's house first, going to see… what, he did not know-McNeil coming perhaps, McNeil going, McNeil in any activity.
But there was something at McNeil's house, or rather the absence of something. His car was not there. Tee looked into the garage and saw that the automobile was gone, but the purloined golf trophy was still there, the tip of the golfer's club glinting in the beam of Tee's flashlight. McNeil hadn't moved it, but why should he? He was content that it was secure. Embo Idened, Tee walked around the outside of the house to the bedroom and peered in the window. He could make out a form on the bed but could not identify it. After debating with himself for a moment, he pointed the flashlight and snapped on the beam very briefly.
Mrs. McNeil lay on her back, her mouth open, her limbs splayed across the bed, encroaching on McNeil's side as well as her own. It was hard to tell for sure over the drone of the air conditioner, but Tee thought he heard her snore. He wondered how Mrs. McNeil did it. Marge was awake as soon as he opened his eyelids, much less gone for the night.
He put thoughts of Marge out of his mind and returned to his car and began his long cruise of the night. If McNeil was in his own car now and not the anonymous Caprice, he was vulnerable. Tee might have passed the Caprice any number of times in the past few years, ignoring it where it was parked, scarcely noting it as it drove right past him, a body in the trunk, McNeil laughing to himself behind the tinted windshield. The thought infuriated Tee, but now McNeil had nowhere to hide. If he continued to act as Johnny Appleseed until he replaced the Caprice, he was exposed and Tee would find him, or at least do all he could to try.
Becker had been certain that Johnny would continue his ways, that they meant too much to him to abandon them just because of inconvenience, or even a threat to his security.
From McNeil's house he turned south and worked every street, every cul-de-sac, every private road, patrolling only slowly enough to be sure that he did not miss anything. There were any number of long, hidden driveways that twisted their way through trees and up hills, sometimes forking off to several houses but still unmarked and omitted from the maps. At this time of night it would be simple for Johnny to take his car halfway up such a drive, park it to the side, completely out of sight from either the road or the houses, and walk to his assignation.
Tee investigated the driveways as well. Progress was torturously slow, especially since he was tormented with the thought that the delay in this part of the town was only allowing McNeil to conduct his business somewhere else. But McNeil was out there somewhere, Tee was convinced of that.
It had been many years since he had patrolled the town at this time of night and he was being slowly mesmerized by the unchanging innocence of the drive when his radio crackled to life.
'You still there, ChieP' Metzger asked.
'I'm here.'
'I think I've spotted McNeil's car.'
'You think you've spotted it?'
'No, I've spotted it. I mean, I'm pretty sure. I don't know his license plate, but it looks like it-'
'Where?' Tee interrupted. 'There's this long drivewayjust off of Kettle Creek.. 'That's in my neighborhood. I know the one. Is the car there now?'
'Yes sir. Do you want me to-'
'Are you anywhere near it?'
'Well, actually, Chief, I'm parked right beside it.'
'Do you see McNeil?'
'No sir.'
'Then get away from it, drive away right now. Go to the spot on Hillspoint where we set up the radar trap. Turn off your lights and watch. You can see the entrance to Ketthe Creek from there. If McNeil comes out before I get there, call me and tell me which way he went.
Otherwise, just sit there and watch. If I pass you without pulling up, just stay there. Just keep watching until you hear from me. Clear?'
'Sure, you bet, Chief.'
'What are you doing right now, Metzger?'
'Waiting for your instructions.'
'I justgave you my instructions. Drive away from his car, now. Go to Hillspoint and wait.'
'Right.'
'Is your car moving, Metzger?'
There was a slight pause. Tee could imagine Metzger putting his car into gear and pulling back onto the road before answering. 'Yes sir,' he said.
'I'm on my way,' said Tee.
Tee mentally ran through the houses on Kettle Creek that McNeil might possibly be visiting. The road was close to Tee's home; he and Marge had taken Sunday walks there in happier days, indulging in loose fantasies of buying other, grander houses, and together they knew or knew of virtually every homeowner on the road. Tee could think of none who had all pairs. Several of the couples were grandparents, one was a gay couple: two middle-aged men. None of these seemed within Johnny Appleseed's range of interests. The rest of the houses belonged to couples in their thirties and forties, some with preteens and several with adolescents, but none with children young enough to require nannies or mother's helpers or all pairs. The driveway could be just a drop spot for the car, of course. His quarry did not have to be on Kettle Creek. Johnny liked to go through the woods and he could be on a half-dozen other streets in ten minutes via the route through the trees.
Tee drove up the long hill, saw the reflector under Metzger's headlight, sticking out, typically, about eight inches farther than it should. When he came within Metzger's view, the idiot flashed his lights in recognition. Tee denied the impulse to pick up the radio and yell. He drove past the cruiser without glancing at it and turned into Kettle Creek. A shadow raced across the road in front of him and Tee flinched, remembering the deer that he had killed. The shadow was gone almost as soon as he saw it, and he tried to forget about it and concentrate on the
