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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.
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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
Leesa's Advent Chapter 547
EARLY THURSDAY MORNING, still not quite sure why he’d agreed to it, Conner slogged along in an unending stream of brake lights on the San Diego Freeway, inching his way south with thousands of commuters on the clogged highway. Most were heading to work—in a way, so was he. When his phone had jarred him from sleep twenty minutes earlier, he knew instantly it was Sloane, calling to tell him the Video Killer had struck again. Sloane had been blunt. Would Conner go to Venice to take a look at the scene? His automatic reaction had been to say no; this was exactly the type of involvement he wanted to avoid. He had no stomach to subject himself to the grisly realities of the case, realities that would be driven home by viewing the killer’s work first hand. But instead of following his instincts and saying no right away, Conner had allowed himself to think. He remembered the way he felt the day before, waiting to hear from Sloane that another body had been found, frustrated by his i
Leesa's Advent Chapter 548
He guessed that the man had been killed here. But what about the woman? Where was her body? And the guy’s head? He scanned the ground around the corpse; no trail of blood led away from the body. While he pondered the questions, the forensic unit arrived, a three-man team headed by Felix Simonton, a short, wiry man in his late fifties with whom Conner had worked many times. Conner used the team’s arrival to move away from the corpse. He was glad to see Simonton, who was the best the department had. “Hi, Felix. Welcome aboard.” Simonton shook Conner’s hand. “Hey, Case. Good to see you again. Ivan said I might find you here.” Conner introduced Simonton to Johnson. “We’ve got a bad one here, Felix,” Conner said. “So I hear. If you gentlemen are through, my boys and I’ll get to work.” Conner looked at Johnson. The black detective did not seem bothered that Simonton was addressing Conner rather than him. Conner was glad. There would be no jurisdicti
Leesa's Advent Chapter 549
The sun had melted the marine layer while Conner was underground, leaving a clear blue sky in its place as he headed home on Sepulveda Boulevard, preferring to take his chances with local traffic and red lights rather than fight the congestion on the freeway. He needed to be moving, not stalled in some four-lane parking lot. Despite the clear sky and bright sunshine, there was little appealing about the drive. The street was flanked by an endless string of ugly, sign-cluttered storefronts and massive, block-long apartment complexes with flapping For Rent banners strung from seemingly every balcony. The cheerless buildings matched his mood. Images of the mutilated bodies flashed in his mind like a series of strobe-lit snapshots. He cranked up the radio, pressing the station buttons until he found the throbbing beat of “Jumping Jack Flash,” but even Mick Jagger’s screaming vocals couldn’t distract him from the gruesome images. He could feel the muscles in his b
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