Creatures of Appetite (14 page)

“Nothing,” Scroggins replied. “We’ve got search teams scouring the state, using bloodhounds and satellites, there are posters everywhere. They’ve turned up exactly zip.”

“It’s like she disappeared into thin air,” Gilday said.

“She’s close by. Within fifty miles,” Thorne said.

“How do you know?” Kane asked.

“She’s close by because the Iceman is close by. He’s in the area. Wait, what’s this guy doing now?”

Thorne pointed at Robertson through the window. Robertson spat violently at Forsythe and banged his head against the table repeatedly.

“He does that when he’s angry. He can do it for hours,” Scroggins said.

“Captain’s trying to make it difficult for you,” Gilday said. “How do you know that the Iceman’s in the area?”

“I looked at the map.”

Forsythe and Hairston exited interrogation and entered the anteroom.

“He’s all yours, Agent Thorne,” Hairston said.

“And I want to go on record that I’m against you meddling in this. We have the situation in hand,” Forsythe fumed.

“You wouldn’t have anything but your dick in your hand if it wasn’t for his meddling,” Kane said.

“Don’t get smart, Missy, tits and ass only take you so far,” Forsythe turned to Thorne. “He hasn’t asked for a lawyer yet. We don’t want him to ask for a lawyer. You fuck this up and I will make it my mission to ruin your life in whatever way that I can.”

Thorne looked at Forsythe for a long moment.

“One of these days you and I are going to have a serious disagreement,” Thorne said calmly.

Thorne picked up his briefcase and entered the interrogation room.

R
obertson stopped banging
his head against the table when Thorne entered interrogation and sat down across the table from him. Thorne took out some gum and popped a stick into his mouth.

“Hey, Ryan, how are ya?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Robertson yelled.

“I know.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“I know. Gum?” Thorne offered the pack to Robertson.

“You shot me!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“You did?”

“I did, I’m sorry. Case of mistaken identity, I thought you were somebody else.”

“Who?”

“I thought you were Mr. FunnyPants. Gum?” Thorne offered the pack again.

“Okay,” Robertson said after a moment. Thorne took out a piece, unwrapped it and put it into Robertson’s mouth for him.

“If I had known who you really were, I never would have shot you. You’re okay, right? They told me you were wearing a vest, so no permanent damage, right?”

“My chest hurts, it’s black and blue all over,” Robertson pouted.

“I’m really sorry about that, I shouldn’t have shot you, my mistake. You want to see a lawyer?” Thorne asked.

“A lawyer?”

“A lawyer, I can get you a lawyer if you want one, you want a court-appointed lawyer?” Thorne could almost hear Forsythe have a heart attack on the other side of the glass. Robertson thought about it for a minute.

“I don’t trust lawyers,” he said finally.

“You know what? Me neither,” Thorne said.

“’Sides, I didn’t do anything that I need a lawyer for, anyhow,” Robertson said.

“Hey, if you say so, who am I to argue?”

“If I’m not the guy you’re looking for, what’s his name?”

“Mr. FunnyPants.”

“If I’m not him, then what am I doing here?” Robertson asked.

“Well, I was hoping that you could help me with something. See, Ryan, somebody’s been doing some killing.”

“So?”

“You know what?” Thorne said. “I feel the same exact way you do, most of the time. I mean, let’s face it, there are some very disagreeable people out there, right?”

“Right.”

“There are some real miserable fucks out in the world that deserve to die, that’s what I think. Nasty assholes that should be killed. Fuck ’em, right?”

“Yeah, fuck ’em,” Robertson liked the turn this conversation has taken.

“You met the captain, right?” Thorne asked, putting a stick of gum into his own mouth.

“Who?”

“Big fat guy, shouts a lot. He was just in here.”

“Oh yeah. I don’t like him.”

Thorne opened his briefcase and took pictures out of it, framed school pictures of the little girls Robertson had killed. Thorne propped them up on the table, just out of Robertson’s reach. Robertson appeared somewhat uncomfortable.

“Me neither. He’s a case in point,” Thorne said. “A real gaping asshole, the captain. But the deal is, nobody’s killing big mean bastards like him. At least not yet. But somebody HAS been killing these little girls.”

“It’s that guy, the guy in the papers.”

“What guy?”

“The guy, the guy in the papers, they call him the Iceman. He’s killing little girls,” Robertson was definitely uncomfortable now.

“You’re right, he is,” Thorne said. “But not these girls. These girls, right here, were killed by somebody else. And I need to find whoever it is.”

“Why? Can you put those away?”

“I was hoping you could look at these pictures and help me find this guy, Ryan.”

“Why, what do you care? You said yourself, some people deserve to die.”

“Yeah, some do. But not these girls. These are kids.”

“So?” Robertson sneered.

“So it’s innocent blood,” Thorne said. “Innocent blood is being spilled and we have to act when that happens.”

“Can you put those pictures away?”

“I need you to look at them for me.”

“I don’t want to look at them.”

“Somebody’s got innocent blood on his hands and we have to find him.”

“What makes you so sure they’re innocent?”

“They’re just little kids, too young to be mean, miserable and nasty. Innocent.”

“Shit,” Robertson spit out his gum. “You don’t know anything, do you?”

“What don’t I know?”

“Put those away.”

“What don’t I know? It’s innocent blood, Ryan.”

“STOP FUCKING LOOKING AT ME!” Robertson lunged for the pictures but was halted by the bolted chair he was handcuffed to. He glared at Thorne.

“Innocent blood, my ass! Little kids are meaner and more miserable than anybody. ANYBODY! ESPECIALLY LITTLE FUCKING GIRLS! Don’t you remember being a kid? Don’t you remember how fucking cruel kids are? The things they’d say and do?”

“How they stared at you?” Thorne asked.

“Looking and laughing and pointing! Making fun. Little girls have no innocent blood in them. Especially the popular pretty ones. They’re the worst!” Robertson rattled his chair, furious. “Put those away. PUT ’EM AWAY!”

“That’s why you killed these girls? They wouldn’t stop looking?” Thorne asked.

“I killed them because they deserved it. They deserved to be sliced up. They deserved what they got.”

“You’re not crazy, you knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

“I did, I killed every one of these girls here and I’d do it again. I will. Just watch, I’ll get ’em. I’ll get ’em all back. Fuck ’em!” Robertson yelled, spittle spraying.

“I see.”

“Now put those fucking things away!” Robertson demanded.

“I don’t think so, Ryan,” Thorne stood. “I think I’ll let them watch you for a little while.”

“NO!” Robertson screamed and rattled against his chair and handcuffs. Thorne winked and walked away.

Robertson continued to scream after Thorne exited and shut the door to the interrogation room carefully and quietly.

“Turn the camera off,” Thorne said to Hairston. “Let him get stared at for awhile.”

Everyone in the room was quiet as they watched Robertson rage on the other side of the glass.

“I’m hungry again, I’m going for some pizza,” Thorne grabbed his coat. “Don’t bother me unless it’s real fucking important.”

B
arb Mullens lifted
her daughter Darcy up and set her on the kitchen counter to put the young girl’s snow boots on. Darcy was seven and so cute that sometimes Barb was amazed, absolutely amazed that this little girl had emerged from her.

Not that Barb had been a bad-looking kid herself, but nothing like Darcy. Lord knows Darcy didn’t get her looks from her father. Chad looked good now but when he was young he was homely as all get out. If somebody had told Barb back in fourth grade that she would someday grow up and marry Chad Mullens, she would have been horrified. Chad really grew into his looks.

But Darcy, with her corn-silk blonde hair and bright blue eyes, she was a stunner from day one. And so good, a good kid too. Sometimes kids weren’t good, no matter what the parents did, sometimes kids were just rotten. Not Darcy, she was sweet beyond compare. Barb tightened Darcy’s left boot.

“All ready to go?” Barb asked.

“Ready to go!” Darcy said happily, further breaking Barb’s heart. How many kids were happy to go to school?

“Remember the rules,” Barb said, starting a now familiar routine. “After school’s out, you wait INSIDE with Mrs. Goodwin until?”

“Until you pick me up!”

“Until you SEE me and I pick you up. Me or Dad, nobody else. What’s next?”

“Don’t ever talk to strangers!”

“And if anyone, ANYBODY, ever touches you in your private place, what do you do?”

“Tell you.”

“Who else?”

“Tell Daddy.”

“Who else?”

“Mrs. Goodwin, my teacher.”

“Who else?” Barb looked at Darcy, who had to think about it for a minute. “There’s one more person you can tell if someone does a bad thing. Who do you tell when somebody does something bad?”

Darcy got it. “A policeman!”

“Right! You can tell a policeman. Or a policewoman.”

“Policewoman,” Darcy repeated solemnly.

“That’s my good girl,” Barb kissed Darcy on her nose and lifted her down off the counter. “Let’s get you to school.”

T
horne walked into headquarters
, whistling as he shrugged his coat off and tossed it onto a chair next to his desk. Kane looked up bleary-eyed from her desk. She’d been there the whole night, studying the file and pictures, finally catching a few hours of shut-eye at the desk with her head in her arms right before dawn.

“Where were you all night?” Kane asked.

“In my room at the resplendent Budget Inn. Ordered a large meat-lovers pizza, crashed and watched some cable. They got all these forensic criminal dramas on television now, I like to watch them and giggle my ass off.” Thorne sat in front of his chessboard and studied it. He clicked on his CD player and the excellent Etta James began to do her thing.

“So what, you basically took the night off?”

“You could say that.”

“How could you do that? We still have another psycho out there holding a young girl, and you decide to pig out in front of the TV?”

“Yep.”

“I can’t believe you, you bust a nut going after Robertson, running like mad in the snow, but when it comes to the Iceman and the Frederickson girl you inexplicably decide you need a break?”

“You haven’t been listening, I thought you wanted to learn from me. I’m not going to repeat myself again. One, timing is everything. Two, the girl is already dead and there won’t be much to do until he drops her, which he will do soon,” Thorne said, concentrating on his chessboard.