Blood Work

shooting. Both times Cordell had driven.

Avoiding the leading question, McCaleb had asked her if she had noticed anything of a personal nature on the dashboard of the Suburban. Without hesitation Mason said there had been a photograph of Cordell’s family on the dashboard. She said she had even leaned over to get a look at it. She remembered that it was Cordell’s wife holding their two little daughters on her lap.

As they were heading home, McCaleb felt a mix of dread and excitement growing inside. Someone, somewhere, had Gloria Torres’s earring and James Cordell’s family photo. He now knew that the evil of these two killings came together in the form of a person who killed not for money, not out of fear and not for revenge against his victims. This evil went far beyond that. This person killed for pleasure and to fulfill a fantasy that burned like a virus inside his brain.

Evil was everywhere. McCaleb knew that better than most. But he also knew that it could not be confronted in the abstract. It needed to be embodied in flesh and blood and breath, to be a person who could be hunted down and destroyed. McCaleb had that now. He felt his heart rise up in rage, and a horrible joy.

21

THE SATURDAY MORNING mist came in thick and felt like a gentle hand on the back of his neck. McCaleb had gotten up by seven so that he could get into the laundry in the marina’s commons building and use several of the machines at once to get all of the bed clothes cleaned. Then he set about getting the boat cleaned up and ready for overnight guests. But as he worked, he found it hard to concentrate on the chores in front of him.

He had talked to Jaye Winston when he got in from the desert the evening before. When he told her about the photo that was missing from Cordell’s Suburban, she grudgingly agreed that McCaleb might be onto a viable new lead. An hour later she called back and said a meeting was set for 8A.M. Monday at the Star Center. She and her captain and a few other sheriff’s detectives would be there. So would Arrango and Walters. So would Maggie Griffin from the FBI. Griffin was the agent who had taken McCaleb’s place in the VICAP slot in the L.A. field office. McCaleb only knew her by her reputation, which was good.

And that was the problem. First thing Monday morning McCaleb would be on the hot seat, the focus of intense scrutiny. Most, if not all, of those in the meeting at the Star Center would be non-believers. But rather than prepare for the meeting or do what additional investigation he could, McCaleb was going fishing on the jetty with a woman and a little boy. It didn’t sit right with him and he kept thinking he should cancel the visit from Graciela and Raymond. In the end, he didn’t. It was true that he needed to talk with Graciela, but more than that, he found that he just wanted to be with her. And that was what brought the twin paths of his uneasy thoughts to an intersection: guilt over putting the investigation aside and guilt over his desire for a woman who had come to him for his help.

When he was done with the laundry and the general cleanup, he walked over to the marina center. At the store he bought the makings of the evening’s dinner. At the bait shop he bought a bucket of live bait, choosing shrimp and squid, and a small rod-and-reel outfit that he planned to present to Raymond as his own. Back at the boat, he put the rod in one of the gunwale holders and dumped the bait bucket into the live well. He then put away the store items in the galley.

He was finished and the boat was ready by ten. Seeing no sign of Graciela’s convertible in the parking lot, he decided to walk over and check with Buddy Lockridge about his availability on Monday morning. He first went up to the gate and made sure it was propped open so Graciela and the boy could enter the marina, then he went to Lockridge’s boat.

Adhering to marina custom, McCaleb did not step onto the Double-Down. Instead, he called Lockridge’s name and waited on the dock. The boat’s main hatch was open so he knew Lockridge was awake and around somewhere. After half a minute, Buddy’s disheveled hair, followed by his crumpled face, poked up through the hatch. McCaleb guessed he had spent a good part of the night drinking.

“Yo, Terry.”

“Yo. You okay?”

“Fine as always. What’s up, we going somewhere?”

“No, not today. But I need you Monday morning early. Can you drive me out to the Star Center? I mean like we’ve got to leave by seven.”

Buddy thought a moment to see if it fit with his busy schedule and nodded.

“It’s a go.”

“You’re going to be all right to drive?”

“You bet. What’s going on at the Star Center?”

“Just a meeting. But I’ve got to be there on time.”

“Don’t worry about a thing. We leave at seven. I’ll set the alarm.”

“Okay, and one other thing. Keep an eye out around here.”

“You mean the guy from the clock plant?”

“Yeah. I doubt he’ll show but you never know. He’s got tattoos running up both arms. And they’re big arms. You’ll know him if you see him.”

“I’ll be on the lookout. Looks like you’ve got a couple visitors right now.”

McCaleb saw that Lockridge was looking past him. He turned and looked back at The Following Sea. Graciela was standing in the stern. She was lifting Raymond down into the boat.

“I gotta go, Bud. I’ll see you Monday.”

Graciela was wearing faded blue jeans and a Dodgers sweatshirt with her hair up under a matching baseball cap. She had a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and was carrying a grocery bag. Raymond was wearing blue jeans and a Kings hockey sweater. He also had on a baseball cap and carried with him a toy fire truck and an old stuffed animal that looked to McCaleb like a lamb.

McCaleb gave Graciela a tentative hug and shook Raymond’s hand after the boy stuck his stuffed animal under his other arm.

“Good to see you guys,” he said. “Ready to catch some fish today, Raymond?”

The boy seemed too shy to answer. Graciela nudged the boy on the shoulder and he nodded in agreement.

McCaleb took the bags, led them into the boat and gave them the complete tour he had not shown them on their earlier visit. Along the way, he left the grocery bag in the galley and put the duffel bag down on the bed in the main stateroom. He told Graciela it was her room and the sheets were freshly washed. He then showed Raymond the upper bunk in the forward stateroom. McCaleb had moved most of the boxes of files under the desk and the room seemed neat enough for the boy. There was a guard bar on the bunk so that he wouldn’t roll out of bed. When McCaleb told him it was called a berth, his face scrunched up in confusion.

“That’s what they call beds on boats, Raymond,” he said. “And they call the bathroom the head. ”

“How come?”

“You know, I never asked.”

He led them to the head and showed them how to use the foot pedal for flushing. He noticed Graciela looking at the temperature chart on the hook and he told her what it was for. She put her finger on the line from Thursday.

“You had a fever?”

“A slight fever. It went away.”

“What did your doctor say?”

“I didn’t tell her yet. It went away and I’m fine.”

She looked at him with a mixture of concern and, he thought, annoyance. He then realized how important it probably was to her that he survive. She didn’t want her sister’s last gift to be for nothing.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m fine. I was just doing a little too much running around that day. I took a long nap