Stallings got out of the Impala and motioned Mazzetti to stay put. He led the nervous young man away from the car.
Ernie said, “Who’s that?”
“No one, just an idiot who jumped in my car. Ignore him.” When they were under the shade of the canopy covering the gas pumps, he said, “Now, what do you got for me?”
“I met the guy who used to sell to Lee Ann.”
“Where is he?”
“He left the city last night. Everyone’s scared the way the cops are coming down on people. He needed cash, so he was going to Atlanta for a few weeks.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said Lee Ann stopped buying from him right before she was found dead, because she’d met a guy who worked at a pharmacy and she thought he might become a good source for her and for the dealer. She never got back to him.”
“Did she say anything about the pharmacy guy?”
“He’s a blond guy. That’s it. I asked him a lot of questions. Just like a cop.”
“What’s your dealer friend’s name?”
Ernie just gave him a look. “He goes by the name ‘Malachi,’ but I don’t use last names. You know that.”
“If I get the Atlanta cops to find him you think he’ll talk to me?”
“He didn’t really know Lee Ann that well except he sold to her a few times. He said she worked at Kinko’s.”
“Yeah, that’s right. Sounds like she had a connection with someone at a pharmacy too. I’ll start checking the pharmacies near the Kinko’s.” He put his arm around Ernie. “You’re a good kid. You need to try and find a real job.”
“I just applied for one.”
“Really. Doing what?”
He broke out in a broad smile. “I want to be a fireman.”
Stallings laughed, slapped him on the back, and said, “Good for you.”
At the PMB, in the Land That Time Forgot, Stallings and Mazzetti sat at the conference room table looking at a list of stores Patty had visited in the last few days. They had already talked to the stores she canvassed yesterday to see if there was any connection or any strange blond employee. Nothing.
Tony Mazzetti appreciated the odd looks everyone gave him when he walked in with Stallings. The lieutenant wasn’t around, so he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. He believed Stallings now when he said he didn’t call the media, but he wouldn’t say who did. Stallings obviously knew who had used his phone and said he handled it, but Mazzetti’s curious nature made it hard to let go.
Stallings shook his head. “Beats me where she is. I say we call in the cavalry.”
“Is this why it took so long for you to call in your daughter’s disappearance? Not sure she was really missing?”
Stallings looked at him like he was trying to decide how trustworthy Mazzetti was. “Just between us, Tony?”
“I swear.” He raised his right hand to emphasize his sincerity.
“I been over this with I.A. With that dickhead, Ronald Bell, specifically.”
“What happened?” He was interested and concerned for the first time.
“The main delay in calling it in was that my wife was high at the time. I mean out of her mind on Oxy and Percocets. She couldn’t have been more incoherent if she was mainlining heroin. I had to deal with her, thinking she knew where Jeanie was, keep the whole mess away from the other kids, then, by the time I knew something was wrong she was so unhinged that I couldn’t let the detectives talk to her.”
Mazzetti just stared, never realizing something like that could’ve happened but seeing it for the truth right off the bat. He felt like a shithead for the things he thought and the way he’d treated this poor guy. Jesus.
“To this day Maria is confused about the whole thing. Jeanie’s disappearance nearly knocked her over the edge, but we’ve been bringing her back little by little.”
“She doin’ okay now?”
Stallings just looked at him but didn’t answer. Then he said, “We gotta find Patty.”
“Let’s get to work.”
Stallings said, “I’ll go by the next set of pharmacies. You go through her notes and desk, talk to the other detectives, and let the L.T. know that we’re concerned but not panicked.” Then he added, “Yet.”
William Dremmel had been staring at the information he’d found on Maggie Gilson and wondered if there was room for three in that little lab of his. Was he getting out of control? From one test subject every couple of weeks to two at once seemed bad enough but then to think that a third would make things even more interesting scared him a little. Maybe he was misguided on his research and treatment of his subjects. Maybe his mother had unbalanced him more than he thought.
It was easier to be abstract away from the test subjects, whom he had allowed to stay conscious as long as they were quiet. The only thing that Detective Levine had said to him was, “These cuffs are cutting off my circulation. You need to loosen them.” It wasn’t a question or request, it was an order. He hadn’t been offended by it either. She was an expert in the use of handcuffs and she felt this set was too tight. He’d decided that after he dosed them and they were out cold, he’d loosen both sets of cuffs. It made sense. He didn’t want unnecessary pain and medical issues that might infringe on his findings.
Now, sitting in the family room, watching Casablanca with his mother, Dremmel shifted uncomfortably on the sofa with his mother’s wheelchair parked next to it.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? You can tell me.” His mother put a small hand on his broad shoulder and started to knead the thick band of muscle. “C’mon, you used to share everything with me.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“I can see in your eyes that something is bothering you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, something is stuck in my head.”
“What?”
“It’s some kind of memory or nightmare from my childhood.”
“Can you recall any details, dear?”
“It involves you and maybe a man.”
She smiled as she looked off.
Dremmel said, “It’s not a dream, is it?” It started to become clearer in his mind.
“What does the man look like?”
He hesitated. “A young black man?”
Now she was grinning. “Arthur. Such a sweet young man.”
“It’s true. You and him. In the…” He remembered it all and how it had ruined his life.
Forty-three
Tony Mazzetti had never experienced emotions like this. He was scared. Not the way he was scared of cockroaches or scared of the dentist; this feeling was on an entirely different level. Now, for the first time, he understood why families were so freaked out when someone was missing even if his experience told him they would turn up soon enough.
John Stallings had kept him calm when they were together, but now Stallings was out retracing her steps and Mazzetti was feeling the creep of panic rise in his throat with every phone call he made. He’d talked to Patty’s mother and tried not to alarm her; he told her he was a coworker of Patty’s. He doubted she’d been told of any real relationship between her daughter and him, but he sure as shit intended to start one up once he found her.
He focused on using his considerable experience and training to figure out who might know where Patty was. Whom she might have talked to. What she might have done. Somehow this was easier when he didn’t know the missing person and had no personal stake.
