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Chapter 538
Th e appartment was dark, illuminated only by the ghostly flickering of the television. Stretched out on his worn couch, Pete Weber shoved the crumbling remnants of his second double cheeseburger into a white Burger King bag and tossed the bag to the floor. He rubbed his greasy palms on his jeans, then pushed the stop button on the remote control of the new DVD player he had stolen the day before. The room went black, but Weber had never minded the darkness.
After a moment, he sat up and switched on the table lamp next to the couch. He looked at the piece of old shopping bag he’d scribbled on during his first two viewings of the show, nodding in approval as his eyes scanned down the paper. His notes were thorough. They contained everything he needed to remember.
He grinned, remembering how he used to mock First Lieutenant Frank Osborne Jr., Columbia class of ‘73, for the notes he made and studied before each mission of their ten-man Special Forces team. Web
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Leesa's Advent Chapter 539
The woman must have felt his eyes on her, because she beamed a fake smile and thrust out one hip in a time-honored stance. Weber returned the smile. Her body was better than okay. And she wasn’t wearing a wig. He was going to enjoy this in more ways than one.He moved closer, until less than a foot of space separated their bodies. In her gold stilettos, she was just a few inches shorter than him. He could see the uneven smears of make-up caked on her cheeks, and her breath smelled of stale tobacco and coffee. Surprisingly, her teeth were white and straight. Not one to take home to Mother, he thought, but she would do. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his money, making certain she saw both bills. He held one of the hundreds in front of her chin. She eyed it greedily.“I’m all yours, baby,” she purred, clutching the bill between her thumb and forefinger but making no move to pull it from his hand. “Whatever you want, I promise
Leesa's Advent Chapter 540
Wednesday morning, Conner arrived at work to find Sloane waiting in his office, looking completely at home in Conner’s chair with his feet stretched out atop the desk, his cell phone pressed against his ear. Sloane grinned and held up his index finger, signaling he would be through in a minute. Conner plopped onto the leather visitor’s chair beside his desk and waited. He hadn’t spoken to Sloane since Saturday, when he had relayed Jo Hegan’s information about Christy DeMars, but he didn’t need to be a detective to know Sloane’s visit was not a social call. Sloane’s presence meant only one thing—some new development in the case. Either Miller and Sorenson had come up with something important, or else the killer had struck again. Conner prayed it was the former, but he had a sinking feeling it was not.Sloane was doing a lot more listening than talking, but from the little Conner could hear, he was talking to someone back at headq
Leesa's Advent Chapter 541
He was honest enough about his talents to know it might. And could he refuse Sloane when his old friend so clearly wanted his help? Not if he wanted to keep what self-respect he had left. But how deep could he allow himself to be drawn in? He got up and resumed pacing. Finally, he turned back to Sloane. “If I said yes, where would I fit in?” “How about right above Miller and Sorenson?” “Take over? No way. I’m not even a cop anymore, remember?” Sloane studied Conner’s face. How hard could he push his friend? “I can fix that.” Conner’s response was immediate. “No way. I’m through with all that. It’ll have to be something else.” Sloane backed off, not wanting to risk losing Conner completely. “Then we’ll set it up however you want. Make you an independent consultant. Coordinate through my office. You need anything, you ask me. You got any suggestions, you tell me and I’ll see they’re followed up. Do as much or as little as you want.
Leesa's Advent Chapter 542
Sitting on the matted brown carpet of his sparsely furnished apartment, his back propped against the front of his couch, Conner watched the shoot-em-up climax of the “Christ Killer” episode of Vice Squad. Gunshots blasted from the screen as the cops traded fire with the cornered killer, a welcome sign the show was almost over. He could have watched the recording at his office or downtown at Police Headquarters, but this was more convenient, so he had gone ahead and bought a DVR player. He had the grim feeling he would be watching and recording more episodes in the weeks to come, so having the player seemed like a good idea. He’d been singularly unimpressed with the show, finding it nothing more than an hour-long paean to violence and sex. While the writing was imaginative in some ways, the show was full of impossible situations, clichés and completely unrealistic stereotypes of criminals and police. The real Vice Squad dealt with vice—prostitution, gambling, pornography—not
Leesa's Advent Chapter 543
Thursday morning, the shit, as Sloane had predicted, began to hit the fan. An industrious young female reporter from the Times had used her charms to pry a complete description of the condition of Sheila’s body from the motel manager. The details were bizarre enough to merit a follow-up story on the killing, and someone in the copy room immediately recognized that the murder matched the killing on Vice Squad. The television connection was all it took to fan a spark into a flame. The local radio and television news jumped on the story, trumpeting the copycat murder as their lead story. By dinnertime, the killing was the talk of Los Angeles. Curled up side-by-side on the couch in Cecilia’s living room, Conner with his shoeless feet on the coffee table, Cecilia with her legs drawn up underneath her on the couch, they watched a perky, dark-haired female reporter on the five o’clock news describe the grisly details of the killing. “That’s horrible,” Cecilia said as the st
Leesa's Advent Chapter 544
Saturday morning, Sloane dropped by Conner’s apartment to brief him on what the task force had learned since Wednesday. He approached the door with trepidation. This was the first time he’d been to his friend’s home in almost a year, since shortly after the Smithson killing, when he tried to talk Conner out of quitting the force. The hallway was as dingy and unwelcoming as he remembered it. He hesitated a moment, then knocked softly upon the scarred wooden door. A few seconds later, Conner opened the door and ushered him in. “Coffee?” Conner asked once they were inside. “If it’s already made, yeah. If not, don’t bother.” “It’s ready. Be right back.” While Conner disappeared into the kitchen, Sloane glanced around the barren apartment, shaking his head in resignation. The place still looked as if Conner had just moved in. The couch was the same beat-up, tan plaid monstrosity the place’s previous occupants had decided not worth the effort to carry down
Leesa's Advent Chapter 545
Monday Night. Ten o'clock. Channel 7. Throughout Los Angeles, people tuned to Vice Squad. The housewife in Van Nuys, trapped in her boring, ho-hum life, seeking to raise her voyeuristic thrills above the level provided by the supermarket tabloids. The street punk in Inglewood, grinning, eager to see what brand of mayhem would next be unleashed. The matron in Beverly Hills, half-stoned on prescription narcotics, fearful of being left out at the next upscale gossip session. The writers and producers lurking in every corner of the city, preying on pain and misfortune, scavengers, searching for anything that might gain them the almighty dollar. The mayor, City Council members and the Chief of Police, all hoping and praying the madness would cease. And Conner. Perched on his couch, yellow pad and pen beside him, DVR set to record so he could analyze and dissect what he saw. Mycroft Holmes, remaining above the fray, ready to help from a distance. Telling himself he could remain un
Leesa's Advent Chapter 546
Prowling back and forth across his living room, Weber reviewed his notes one final time before folding them twice and shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans. He was primed and ready to go, a bomb whose fuse had been set and activated. His body felt charged, as if a mild electric current was continuously circulating through his muscles. He loved the feeling. It was the feeling he’d carried through Vietnam, a feeling he thought lost forever. But he had rediscovered it, and he vowed never to lose it again. He checked his watch. Nine o’clock. Still early, but there was much to do. Tonight’s mission was far more complex than the previous two, but that only heightened his anticipation. Last night had been for planning and reconnaissance—tonight was the night for implementation. He wondered if the cops thought the respite meant his spree was ended. They would know soon enough it was not. He drove to West Los Angeles, to a sprawling apartment complex picked out the n
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