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Chapter 584
Weber strode swiftly out of the building, exiting beneath the opposite tower from the one where he had thrown the boy. A small crowd was already beginning to gather around the costumed body, and more students were scampering in that direction, eager to see what was going on. A couple of kids glanced Weber’s way as he hurried away, but he resisted the temptation to break into a trot. He wanted to be noticed, but as an afterthought, not as someone running from a crime scene. His hat and sunglasses would prevent anyone from giving much more than a description of his clothes and his build.
Suddenly, a siren wailed from surprisingly close by, and he saw a campus security cruiser rushing up the plaza, its rooftop light bar flashing red and blue. Damn cell phones, he thought as he quickly shifted his path away from the oncoming car. Someone had already called in the killing, and the cop had obviously been very nearby. Weber had not expected the cops to be here quite so swiftly
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Leesa's Advent Chapter 585
He inched his hand toward the gun under his shirt as he considered his options. How many were back there? He had seen only one guy when he stepped onto the sidewalk, but maybe there were more now. Why were they stopping him? Could he play dumb and bluff his way out? In his new outfit, he thought he might, as long as they didn’t frisk him or ask to look inside his backpack. If they did either, he was cooked. His fingers wrapped around the butt of the Browning, his decision made. Surprise was his best chance.Conner took a few steps toward the waiting man, then stopped. Something about the guy’s reaction pricked at his brain. Most people would have looked back at the sound of his voice. This guy had stopped, sure, but he hadn’t turned around. Instinctively, Conner sensed danger. Suddenly, the man began to spin, his hand holding something dark, but Conner had already launched himself to the side, flinging himself to the ground behind a pair of sturdy blue U.S.
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When Conner entered the plaza, he found the scene much busier than the one he and O’Malley had circled over just a short while ago. Three LAPD squad cars and two more university police cruisers formed a ragged semi-circle around the murder scene, their glaring headlights all pointing inward, illuminating the area around the body like klieg lights from a movie set. The crowd of gawkers milling behind a row of yellow police barriers added to the image of a movie production at work. But this was no movie. An ambulance sat on the lawn close to the body, but its flashing lights were off, and two paramedics stood idly nearby chatting with one of the cops, confirming what Conner had already guessed—the kid was dead.He stopped near the far end of the plaza, away from the crowd, where O’Malley would be able to land the chopper to pick him up. Now that he knew what to look for, he wanted to get back up in the air, where he would be able to cover the most ground. He was glad he had a good reaso
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Conner watched Sloane break away from the horde of reporters and shuffle back inside the yellow barriers, lumbering back toward the Explorer like a weary bear. He yanked the door open and slid into the driver’s seat beside Conner.“Bunch of assholes,” Sloane sighed as he pulled the door closed behind him. The solid thunk of the door gave evidence of his anger and frustration. “They all wanna know when we’re gonna get this guy, like we’ve got some kind of schedule cooked up telling us the day and time.” He rubbed a thick forearm slowly across his forehead, using his sleeve to wipe away the glistening film of sweat that mottled his skin, then twisted in his seat to face Conner. “So, what happened, Case?”Conner recounted his story in detail, hating to think about how close he’d come, but knowing that talking about what he’d seen would implant it more firmly in his brain. By the time he finished, he was see
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Conner forced his tired eyes open and glanced groggily at the clock atop the cardboard box that served as a nightstand beside his bed. His eyelids felt like sandpaper as he blinked to bring the blurred red digits into focus. It was just past seven. He groaned and pushed the sheet aside, feeling like he hadn’t slept at all, which was not far from the truth. After returning from the murder scene and his brush with the killer, he’d spent most of the night thinking and scribbling notes while his impressions were still fresh in his mind. Sometime after four o’clock, he finally dragged himself to bed, but even then sleep resisted him. Just one more hour in bed would be wonderful, but he had too much to do today.He rolled slowly to the side of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge and pulling himself up into a sitting position. For a moment he just sat there, head slumped forward while he rubbed his heavy-lidded eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to clear
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Conner knew he was chasing a long shot—the killer could just as easily practice on tin cans in some remote canyon. But at least it was something, an angle to pursue while the task force went about its work gathering a list of Superman costume buyers and interviewing everyone connected with Collins-Cline for some hint how the killer could have known about the costume in advance. Meanwhile, the Vice Squad production crew was at the beach, filming the revised scenes penned by Keith Stennie.Inspired by his buccaneer persona, Stennie had come up with an old pirate method of execution, one they were certain would attract the killer’s interest. The primary victim was to be buried in the sand up to her neck and left to drown as the tide rolled in. Conner hated the thought that they were risking someone’s life in such a horrid manner, but unless the investigation turned up some important information soon, someone was going to die next week whether they changed the s
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The wariness in Malomond’s eyes deepened. Conner knew most of his clients walked on the wrong side of the law, and Malomond would necessarily be protective of them. The ex-cop pulled himself erect and looked down at Conner. “I don’t talk about my customers, Case. You shoulda known that before you ever came here.” Conner held the big man’s gaze. “I know that. I’m hoping this one might be different.” “Why?” “Because the guy I’m looking for has killed seven people, including a ten-year-old kid. And he’s gonna keep killing until we stop him.” Malomond studied Conner. “What’s your interest? I heard you quit.” “I did. But this is a bad one. I’m unofficial, but I’m lending a hand.” Malomond’s look softened. He leaned back against the thick wooden rail fronting the shooting booth, his belligerence gone. “The guy you’re looking for don’t sound like none of my guys, Case. Honest.” “He’s probably not one of your regulars. Maybe a guy who comes in now and then, or was here for awhile and
Leesa's Advent Chapter 591
For the first time, the killer had a face.Perched on the edge of his couch, Conner stared at the two sketches in his hands. The light from the floor lamp beside the couch threw a soft glare on the portraits. They were good. Malomond had come through as promised, meeting with the police artist within three hours of Conner’s visit and providing a detailed, cop’s description, albeit one based on memories several months old. The first sketch showed the killer with long hair and a thick beard, the way he looked when he practiced at Malomond’s range. With the dark hair and beard covering much of his face, Conner thought he looked a bit like Charlie Manson, with one notable exception. In every photo he’d ever seen of Manson, the man’s eyes were fixed in a crazed, fanatical stare that let you know right away something was wrong inside him, that the wiring in his brain was different from other men. The Video Killer bore no such look. He looked tough, sure, but you could pass him on the street
Leesa's Advent Chapter 592
A kaleidoscope of emotions washed over him. Joy at seeing her. Surprise she would be here at all. Hurt and anger that she’d left him in the first place. A longing to hold her. Relief. Confusion. Desire. And finally, and most strongly, a warm feeling of love. The last surprised and pleased him. He’d begun to accept that his emotions had become hollowed, had almost grown used to moving through life in a semi-anesthetized state, shielded from the slings of pain, loss and sadness, but paying the price for that protection by being inured against joy and love as well. He had missed the change stealing over him these last few weeks, too busy devoting his thoughts and energy to catching the killer to notice the gradual reawakening of his feelings. His focus had been turned outward, leaving him oblivious to the transformation unfolding within. He had suffered the anger, the hate, the frustration and sadness engendered by the killings, had enjoyed the pride and anticipation of uncovering the la
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