Patty smiled, not bothering to ask what Stallings had done to deserve such treatment. She had learned in her time as his partner that it was just as likely that he had scared the man with physical violence as it was that he had paid the rent on the man’s apartment.
Stallings smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Curtis.”
Inside, the bar stretched from front to back with tables sprinkled across the dirty linoleum floor. It was way early by bar standards. In a couple of hours this place would be pulling in a decent crowd.
The stage had instruments on it but no performers. She hoped their information was right and Donnie Eliot was here. They had a lot to talk about.
Stallings said, “Let’s find the manager. He’ll point us to Donnie.”
“Think he’ll mind talking to the po-po?”
“Not really my concern.” He looked up and his expression changed immediately.
Patty said, “What’s wrong?”
He just pointed.
Patty followed his finger to a group of girls sitting at the table closest to the bar. At first she didn’t see the problem; then, after a moment of study, she understood his attitude.
Sitting in the middle of the girls was his daughter, Lauren, dressed like a college student and sipping a drink.
Twenty-one
John Stallings was at a loss while he waited outside the little bar with Lauren. He checked his watch every twenty seconds as he waited for his sister, Helen, to swing into the lot and pick up the precocious girl. He didn’t like leaving Patty inside alone, but they still had a job to do.
Patty had confronted Lauren and her friends and then led the girl out to her father.
Outside, when they were alone, Lauren said, “Dad, stop treating me like a little kid.”
He shook his head. “I’m treating you like a fourteen-year-old. A fourteen-year-old who should not be at a bar. Not for another seven years.”
“Patty checked my drink. It was just Diet Pepsi.”
Thank God for small favors. He’d had plenty of practice with her mother, checking to make sure a drink wasn’t alcoholic.
Lauren said, “What are you doing here at eight o’clock?”
He turned, red faced. “I’m working. I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
“Really? I thought you were supposed to be at home, with us.” Her angelic face held no scorn, which made the impact that much more brutal on him.
He couldn’t think of an answer and stared silently at his wayward daughter as he spied his sister Helen’s little Honda CRV racing down the street. She probably thought she was saving her niece from certain death.
Stallings realized Helen was saving him.
He’d spent the day thinking of something clever to say. Holly had surprised him, and that was a fact. Who would’ve thought that cute little towhead was a member of some kind of cannibal cult? He never would’ve imagined there was any such thing in Jacksonville. Maybe that was their first attempt, because they sure didn’t seem to know what they were doing.
His effort to keep distance between his victims and himself had backfired because after last night he had no way of finding Holly again. No cell, no address, nothing. But now he realized she had played the same game and kept her information from him. She didn’t want any links either. It was a little spooky.
He’d been by the old “sorority” house. It was just an abandoned building on a block with a lot of abandoned buildings. It was late in the day when he had the idea that he thought might work. He’d driven to the garage where they’d left her little Toyota the night before, when they were on a date, before she tried to eat him or he attempted to kill her. It was still up on the third floor of the garage near the Modis Tower.
He sat back in an unlocked Mustang, two rows over and a few spaces down. There was no trace he had entered the parking garage. The lone camera on this floor pointed only at the elevator. If she came from that direction all the cops would have is a time she arrived. No one had seen him. Like any good predator he was stealthy as well as deadly.
It was dark now, and he didn’t know how long he’d have to wait. But the idea of surprising this girl excited him enough to give him patience and stamina. When he felt like this, he didn’t get tired or hungry. He could sometimes go for days just on this kind of thrill.
He didn’t have to wait for days. About an hour later he saw the door to the outer stairwell open, and to his surprise out walked little Holly all by herself. She wore a yellow sundress as if she had been used as bait in some other area. She had a small leather purse and looked older and more sophisticated in high heels.
Slipping out of the Mustang he stayed low behind the few cars that were still there. She whistled a song he recognized. It was an airy whistle with a weak sound but cute coming from Holly. As he crept along he drew the long knife he had been saving for an occasion just like this. It was solid with a nine-inch blade and solid hilt like a medieval dagger. It felt like his claw instead of a tool.
He made it all the way to the rear of Holly’s little blue Toyota before she even turned. Her bright eyes widened at the sight of him, and her song trailed off uneasily.
He didn’t say a word. Just stepped up to her and thrust the knife straight up, catching her under her chin and driving the steel pike up into her brain. The entire blade disappeared into her soft flesh, and he felt the tip of it ping off bones and cavities inside her skull.
Her eyes remained open as a short breath of air spurted out of her. Then her legs just gave out and she started to fall.
He reached up with two fingers and managed to grasp the edges of her tiny nose stud as she started to drop. The miniscule diamond came out, and he had his coveted souvenir that easy. A broad smile spread across his face. This was the harshest, quickest kill he had ever made.
And he liked it.
Twenty-two
John Stallings felt as if he had an open wound in his chest as he tried to regain a professional perspective after watching his daughter leave with his sister. Her friend, Angie, who had driven, said that her parents didn’t mind the seventeen-year-old coming to a bar as long as she didn’t drink alcohol. What were parents thinking these days?
Patty looked over and said, “Do you need to go? I can handle this.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to check on Lauren just now.”
“Helen has her safe for the night. I’d tell most fathers not to worry about it, but with you I’ll advise you to calm down for the evening and talk to her in the light of day. We can look for this mope tomorrow if you want.”
“Let’s grab him tonight. If he knows something or supplied Allie Marsh the X, then we can take it from there. We might have a hard time finding him tomorrow.”
Outside the club they could hear the band play, with bass pulsing through the walls. Stallings rolled his eyes at Patty.
She reached over and patted his arm. “It’s okay, grandpa. I’ll go in and tell those kids to keep the racket down.”
“Funny,” he muttered and stepped out of the car.
Curtis the doorman was nowhere in sight. Inside the low-ceilinged, musty club, bright lights shined on the three-piece band crammed on the tiny stage at the front of the club. Maybe twenty people listened as they pounded out a heavy-metal anthem. All Stallings cared about was the drummer stuck in the rear between a bassist and a tall guitarist. The drummer’s long, dirty hair, matted from sweat and sticking to his bare shoulders, dipped onto a
