Читать книгу Acoustic Shadows - Patrick Kendrick, Patrick Kendrick - Страница 13

It was Sara Logan on the phone. ‘Good morning,’ she purred.

Despite everything, his heart crept into his throat. ‘Are you here?’ he croaked. ‘I mean, at the hotel?’

‘No,’ she answered. ‘Still at the Gaylord Palms. We Feds like to stay at Marriotts. I keep the reward points and use them when I go on vacation.’

‘Since when do you take vacations?’

‘You’re always on vacation when you love your job.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Thiery rubbed his head, aching from lack of sleep.

‘You should come up. I’m sure it’s a wee bit nicer than your dive.’

Thiery ignored the invite. ‘I don’t know. This place is pretty sweet, if you don’t mind cockroaches.’

‘Eeeeyew,’ said Logan. ‘I’ve got a suite with a balcony overlooking a lake and a huge, very comfortable bed. I’m afraid I’ll get lost in it all by myself.’

Thiery shook his head. The girl didn’t give up. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ Changing the subject, he asked, ‘Anything new on your end?’

‘With the school shooting?’

‘Ye-es,’ he said, managing to make the word into two syllables.

He closed his eyes and could see her as clearly as if she were still in the bedroom they shared years ago. Still standing in front of the window at her little fuck pad in Ormond Beach, pulling her then shoulder length hair up into a ponytail, the sweat of their exertions still glistening on her dark skin.

‘I talked to the ATF agents last night,’ she answered, a noticeable shrug in her voice. ‘There’s nothing for them here, so they’re popping smoke and gone. Like you said – all amateur stuff on the explosives – probably couldn’t get them to detonate without attaching a grenade. We’ve got Coody’s hard drives. We overnighted them to our lab rats. I’ve got some people chasing down the numbers on the Weisz gun. So far, nada. And I’m collating a list of guns that the shooters had on them, and in their vehicle, and I’ll run that through our database as soon as I can. My boss told me to stick around to represent our bureau and assist your department as needed. So, if you need forensic or lab work, or just old fashioned … leg work … ’

Thiery again ignored her sexy punning.

‘So, how are you?’ Logan finally continued. ‘The boys doing well?’ she asked, straining to make personal conversation.

‘Grown and out of the house now. You still married?’

She hesitated. ‘Afraid so.’

He could have asked, ‘why so glum?’, or lent her a consoling ear, but he didn’t. He heard a click on his phone, glanced at the incoming call, but didn’t recognize the number.

Logan asked, ‘Is that your phone missing a beat or mine?’

‘Mine,’ he said. ‘Let’s touch base later, okay?’

‘Sure,’ said Logan. ‘And hey, thanks for not being a dick to me.’

Thiery clicked over to the second call without comment.

It was Chief Dunham. ‘She’s gone,’ he said, dolefully.

‘Who?’ asked Thiery, wide awake now.

‘The wounded teacher: Erica Weisz.’

‘She died?’

‘No, sir. She’s just … gone. Left without checking out. I got a call from the Sheriff’s office this morning. The hospital called them late last night.’

‘Why did they wait so long to notify you?’

‘Not sure. They had a deputy watching her last night, but he’s a young guy and got distracted. Stepped away for a minute. They looked around the hospital for a couple hours, but couldn’t find her, so they just wrote it up as a missing witness wanted for questioning. She hasn’t been gone for twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t reported by a family member, so it’s not really an official missing person’s case yet. They think she just left.’

‘With a shotgun wound to the abdomen?’ Thiery questioned. ‘She’d have to be really scared of something. Maybe she’s afraid of the trouble she could be in over having a gun?’

‘Could be. Federally, schools are supposed to be part of the Gun Free Zone Act. Breaking that law, a person could buy themselves a whole lot of trouble, even if she probably saved dozens of lives.’

‘I hear you,’ said Thiery, his head beginning to ache from lack of sleep. He made a mental note to ask Logan about that when he had a chance. ‘I’m heading over to the hospital now,’ he said. ‘Should be able to review the security videos. Could you do me a favour? Call the local PDs, and put out an APB on her? And let’s do an Amber Alert, too.’

‘Already got it written up. Just waiting for your okay.’

‘Thanks, Chief. Know any place I can grab a quick bite?’

‘Uh, you may have noticed there isn’t much in Frosthaven, but there’s Dutch’s Diner in Avon Park on Main Street. That’s about halfway to Sebring, where I’m at, maybe fifteen, twenty minutes from where you are. I could meet you there, if you don’t mind company.’

‘Not at all. See you there.’

Thiery arrived at the diner half an hour later. Dunham was already there, a cup of black coffee steaming in front of him. He smiled pleasantly, but he, too, could not hide the signs of fatigue. He stood and shook hands with Thiery.

‘Get any sleep last night?’ Thiery asked.

‘Probably about as much as you.’

Thiery nodded. ‘What’s good here?’

‘Everything. I like the Mustang.’

The place was fashioned with a retro look, like Mel’s Diner from the old TV show Happy Days: black and white chequered floors like flags at race tracks; the breakfast counter was made from the grille of an old car; neon lights that read ‘Ford’ and ‘Chevy’ decorated the walls; the breakfast plates on the menu were named after muscle cars; the Mustang was ‘a good chunk of corned beef hash grilled with two eggs’. Thiery was hungrier than that.

The waitress had pink dyed hair, earrings in her nostrils, and her arms were tattooed up to her neck. What skin still showed was as white as bone. She was friendly and attractive in an ‘alt girl’ way and as incongruent as the Pope in a strip bar. Most people in the area leaned toward cowboy boots and hand-tooled belts as their fashion statement. Thiery said he was starving and she suggested the ‘Barracuda’: three eggs, three links of sausage, three pieces of bacon, with biscuits and gravy.

The food came quickly, and Thiery went for it, eating as if he was still playing football in college, though he had to work out a lot harder to keep his weight down to what it was thirty years ago.

Thiery and Dunham ate without talking, the sounds of forks striking ceramic plates serving as the bulk of conversation until they were both finished, their hunger abated.

Sara Logan kept seeping back into Thiery’s head, specifically, the memory of their discussion about why they couldn’t continue to see each other. The anger. The hurt. One memory brought on another, until, inevitably, they turned to his wife’s disappearance and all the doubts and regrets that brought.

‘Why do you think she left?’ Dunham asked.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Thiery, momentarily thinking Dunham was referring to his wife. Refocusing, he pulled himself back to the present. ‘Maybe she has an abusive husband or boyfriend looking for her. Maybe she didn’t leave alone. Did you get a chance to talk to her at all yesterday before the ambulance took her away?’

Dunham looked sheepish, casting his eyes down. ‘No. I’m sorry, I didn’t. We were so busy yesterday. I still can’t believe this happened here.’

‘Don’t beat yourself up. You had an emergency situation. Dozens of witnesses, wounded, and the dead to deal with. The parents of the children must have kept you hopping.’

‘Yep. At one point I was sure we had more cars arriving than people. We got swamped.’ He paused to reflect for a moment, and Thiery could see the sorrow in his eyes. ‘We’ve got to make a better plan. There’s been talk about all the departments in the county going under the Sheriff’s department. The Sheriff has asked the county to almost double his budget.’

Thiery nodded, but added, ‘You could have had a platoon of marines in here yesterday, and it wouldn’t have made any difference. The damage was done and over by the time you and your men got to the school. As it was, you did a stellar job.’

Dunham looked out the window of the diner, his eyes wet.

‘What do you think about the slow response time from the Sheriff’s Office? How is it you could beat them there when their station is just a few blocks away?’

Dunham turned his focus back to Thiery. ‘Don’t know. I’ve heard their response times have been getting slower. I try not to stick my nose into everyone’s business here, but I’ve also heard some of the guys saying they are trying to get more money for more men and equipment.’

Whispering, Thiery asked, ‘are you saying you believe the Sheriff would deliberately slow his department’s responses to increase his budget?’

Dunham looked back out the window and cleared his throat. ‘I’m saying I’m a Police Chief in a small town, and I don’t know everything, but I get wondering at times. There’s a saying my daddy used to have about big government: “When elephants fight, the only thing that gets hurt is the grass”.’

Thiery made a mental note to look into it, but, for now, he had more pressing issues. He grabbed his wallet and said, ‘Let’s head over to the hospital. I’ve got the tab. The state picks up my expenses when I travel. I’ll let the governor buy us breakfast today, okay?’

Dunham nodded and wiped his eyes as subtly as he could with his napkin.

‘You can follow me over. I better bring my car in case I get a call.’

In the parking lot, both men hesitated before climbing into their respective cars; Dunham seemed to have something else he wanted to say.

‘When I talked to the hospital, they said the other lady was waking up,’ said Dunham. ‘You know, the receptionist?’

‘Yeah? That’s good to hear,’ said Thiery. ‘Maybe she can tell us something about this Weisz woman.’ He stood for a moment, considering. ‘Besides the teacher missing, you know what else is strange?’

Dunham shrugged.

‘The age difference in the shooters. I mean, typically, if there’s two shooters, like at Columbine, they’re about the same age. Maybe went to the same school they attacked, shared the same vendetta. But, Coody is nineteen, and Shadtz was forty-one. What could they possibly have in common?’

Dunham looked at the pavement a moment before answering. ‘They both liked to kill people?’

Moral saw the news as soon as he landed at Orlando airport. It was on the huge flat screen TVs that greeted him as he stepped off the plane.

‘This just in,’ reported THN’s Gail Summer. ‘One of the survivors of yesterday’s shooting has disappeared.’ Over her shoulder, a picture of Erica Weisz popped up. ‘Erica Weisz, the teacher we now know used her own gun to shoot the intruders at Travis Hanks Elementary School yesterday, has vanished. Hospital staff stated she did not check out officially, and her absence was not reported immediately as staff spent several hours looking for her in the building and around the facility. When Ms Weisz did not return to her room after almost two full hours, the Calusa County Sheriff’s Office deputy assigned to watch her room reported her as missing. The officer said he never saw her leave, and does not understand how she could have left with such critical wounds.

‘In the meantime, to report on this unusual set of circumstances, we go back to Dave Gruber who has been standing watch at the hospital since yesterday’s tragic shooting in which a dozen persons died. Dave?’

Gruber was rested now, his eyes bright, eager for breaking news, his blond hair perfect, immovable as a plastic helmet in the light breeze moving through the parking lot in front of the Emergency Room doors.