Everywhere That Tommy Goes (14 page)

I’ve got to start thinking like Troyer because the dude’s always one step ahead of me. The only way to beat this guy is to think what he’s thinking about what I’m thinking—before I start thinking about it. That sounds fucked-up, but if you think about it, it makes perfect sense.

Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I slam on the brakes, pull another U-turn, and head back to the motel, hoping I get there in time.

I pull into the lot, jump out of the car, and race inside the office. There’s no one at the counter, so I ring the bell and call out. “Hello.”

No one answers.

I call out again. Same shit.

I walk over to the door that leads to the back, and turn the handle. It’s unlocked, so I push the door open and walk in. “Hello—is anyone back here? I need some help.”

I keep walking until I reach an office. I look in.

Holy shit—I can’t believe what I’m seeing. I shake my head and rub my eyes, but she’s still there. The front desk girl is stretched out on the floor, her body lifeless and dead as can be.

Troyer, the fuck. He did it to me again.

CHAPTER 33

Tanner and Sung were greeted by Charise Ray, the senior technician at the modest crime lab used by all the local townships around Seaview. It was not a facility accustomed to the pressure brought on by the serious nature of the crime, but, “Cherry”—aptly nicknamed by her coworkers—was up to the task. Seasoned, capable, and possessed of the darkest skin imaginable, she always wore high-gloss red lipstick and too-tight tops that incited whispers, though no on one had the nerve to publicly raise an issue.

“Okay, Cherry,” Tanner began, “what do you have for us?”

Despite her appearance, Cherry was all business. “Well, first of all, that knife has quite a few stories to tell. There are at least four different human blood samples and one canine.”

“But the blade looked clean,” Sung said.

“As a matter of fact, it was cleaned—very thoroughly. But where the handle meets the blade, blood was caked up underneath, and preserved.”

“Any DNA matches?” Tanner asked.

“Yes, there were. This knife was definitely used to stab both the bartender from New York and our girl from the motel. No matches on the other two blood samples, though. I ran them through the system, and neither one came up. As to the canine——well, you can just forget that one.”

“So the same perp killed both girls?” Tanner asked.

“Likely, but not one hundred percent,” Cherry said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“The handle tells a different tale. We found a few different prints, and we even extracted some DNA from what appears to be perspiration. There’s also dirt and grease imbedded in the sheath. It’s pretty clear that a number of people handled that knife recently.”

“Great,” Tanner said, deflated. “A good attorney will eat that up.”

“No doubt,” Cherry agreed.

“Well, did you at least match anything to Sullivan?”

“No match on the DNA. And we only have a partial on the prints so we’re still looking, but that’ll take a while.”

Tanner mulled that over. “I dunno, Sammy—I still like Sullivan for this, but the evidence isn’t what I expected.”

“Well, boss, you know one of the first things I learned at the academy was to follow the evidence.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know: fact before fiction.” Tanner looked at Cherry. “Okay, what can you tell us about the dirt and grease?”

“All I can say is that there are trace elements of used motor oil, metal filings, and sawdust.”

“Best guess?”

“Hard to say—maybe from an auto repair shop.”

“Huh? That makes no sense. Can’t you do any better than that?”

“Give me some more time. I’ll keep digging. In the meantime, we have to wait for the prints to run through AFIS.”

CHAPTER 34

The continuing search at Gilgo Beach now involved more than a dozen investigators, some with dogs and some with metal detectors. A helicopter was making measured passes over the area, as well.

Detectives Reese and Morgan stepped off the porch of Victor Constantine’s beach house. Moving quickly down the long gravel walk, they pushed their way through the tall stalks of overgrown weed grass until they reached the paved road that led back to Ocean Parkway. Morgan stopped as he caught the reflection of something bright on the ground. He bent down, eyeing a piece of jewelry stuck between the stalks.

“What ya got there?” Reese asked.

“Check this out,” Morgan said, sliding a pen through a silver bracelet. “I think this one’s identical to the bracelet found near the blood and the drag marks back at the Gilgo Beach scene.”

“You have to be kidding. How in the world would that get all the way over here?”

“Not a clue, but the implications are huge.”

“No shit,” said Reese, gazing back at the tiny bungalow-style house set behind the weed grass.

Morgan’s eyes followed Reese’s. “You don’t think this guy is playing us, do you?”

“I don’t know. He seemed legit.”

“So how do you explain this bracelet?” asked Morgan.

“Logically, the girl who was wearing it had to have passed through here. Either on her own or aided by someone else.”

“Aided or against her will.”

“Yeah—or against her will,” agreed Reese. “But Constantine is way too old and weak to carry her all the way here. It’s over a quarter mile, and you saw the guy.”

“I know, but either way that means she could still be alive.”

“For better or worse.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened. “Did you have to say that?”

“Sorry, but I’ve seen too much on this job to sugarcoat it.”

“Enough said. But since we found the bracelet along the road, any house in this direction may hold the answer.”

CHAPTER 34

Leaving Sung at the station, Tanner sat alone in a booth inside the Pantry Diner, trying to gain some perspective. He studied the menu as if it were the first time he’d ever seen it, though it was as familiar to him as the scar that ran across the four knuckles of his left hand. Suddenly, his cell phone rang. He recognized the number immediately. “Give me something good, Cherry.”

“I don’t rate the info, Sergeant; I just report it.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. What have you found?”

“Well, I’ve got an ID on the print.”

“Great—who is it?”

“A guy named Charles Gantry. Lives right in Seaview, in fact.”

Tanner scratched the back of his neck. “Gantry—that name sounds familiar. What else can you tell me?”

“He’s a small-time offender, arrested for assault about seven years ago and pled it down.”

“That was before my time. And you say he lives in Seaview?”

“He does.”

“I need an address and a photo. Email it to Sammy at the station. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Will do.”

Tanner disconnected the call and dialed Sung. “I’m on my way back. Cherry has an ID on the fingerprints. Check your email.”

*   *   *

Sung had just finished reviewing the arrest record for Charles Gantry when Tanner walked in. “Hey, boss, you’re not going to believe this.” He handed the rap sheet to Tanner.

“What is it?”

“Look at the picture. That’s Chunky. Younger and a hundred pounds lighter, but it’s definitely him.”

CHAPTER 36

“We going to arrest him, boss?” Sung asked. “His prints were on the murder weapon. That’s probable cause.”

“It may be, but this just doesn’t make sense. I know this guy, and he doesn’t seem the killer type. I think we should search his place before we tip him off.”

“Well we do have enough for a warrant.”

“We do, so contact the county attorney and get the warrant.”

“On it, boss, but the warrant has to specify what we’re looking for?”

“Blood, Sammy. Come on: there was massive blood at the scene. If he was there, he would have brought some back with him. We check his clothes, his car, the tow truck . . .”

Sung nodded, continuing, “. . . his shoes, his garbage, his laundry . . .”

“Now you’re getting it. And then we bring him in and see what he has to say about the prints.”

“Makes sense.”

“Yeah, and after you call the county attorney, fire up that computer of yours and start searching for anything about Gantry. As much as I can’t believe this, we have to check this out completely.”

CHAPTER 37

My nightmare just got worse. And it feels like I’m reliving the scene outside of Club Radical. I’ve got another dead girl on my hands because of Troyer, and if I don’t hide her fast, I’m probably gonna get blamed. Without another thought, I pick her up and carry her out, feeling damn lucky that there’s no one around. Even better, there’s absolutely no blood, which means no evidence. With the body gone, the cops will have a tough time figuring out what happened to her.

I load her in the trunk and jump in the car, and get this: There’s fuckin’ Troyer sitting right in the passenger seat, wearing that stupid-ass, toothy grin of his.

“You fucked-up piece of shit!” I scream. “How could you do this again?” I get out and back away.

“I suggest you return to the car and start driving, mate. It won’t be long before someone comes around and sees you. Then you’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

I shake my head, turn, and scan across the motel from one end to the other, looking to see if anyone’s around who may be watching. All is quiet, but my heart’s pounding so loud my ears are vibrating.

Troyer shouts at me. “I said get in and let’s get out of here now, Tommy Boy! You’re starting to piss me off.” Then he starts laughing like that cartoon character Woody Woodpecker, “Ha-ha-ha-ha-HA, ha-ha-ha-ha-HA, wooo!”

If I wasn’t sure before, I certainly am now: This dude has totally lost it. But at the same time, I feel like I don’t have a choice. I can’t run from the car and leave the body in the trunk;
Troyer’s still got Aurora, and I’m screwed. He’s totally got me by the balls. So I get back in the car and start driving, not knowing where on God’s green earth I’m going.

“Now you’re finally wising up, mate,” Troyer says, as he pushes my shoulder playfully. “And I know you know this area real well, so take us to a safe place to dump her.”

Even though I’m facing straight ahead, I still have one eye on the lunatic. I’m gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles turn white. I grit my teeth and pull my lips back, shaking my head from side to side. “What the fuck is up with you, Troyer? I mean, come on man: You didn’t need to kill that girl back there.”

“Tsk, tsk, Tommy Boy—you still haven’t learned, have you? The more you try to escape me, the closer we become. I know every move you make before you make it. And once again, you are mistaken. I didn’t kill this girl; you did. I barely had enough time to traverse the stairs when you came stumbling out of the room. So I hid in a storage closet and watched as you ran to the lobby. You came out a few minutes later, jumped into the car, and drove off. I then went inside, saw no one behind the front desk, searched the back, and found the clerk dead on the floor. I left; you arrived fifteen minutes later; and I climbed into the car and waited for you. Why you killed this girl is a mystery to me.”

“Get the fuck outta here. I didn’t kill this girl! You did.”

“Look, Tommy Boy: I’m beginning to grow weary of your fictional accounts of the events that have transpired over this past week. I truly wish to help you because I believe that deep down you’re a swell bloke, but until you take responsibility for what you have done, I won’t be able to assist you. Ahh, and then there’s Aurora—we mustn’t forget lovely Aurora. You
were foolish enough to bring her into all this, and now she knows too much, and she must be eliminated.”

My head’s spinning. I’m dizzy, and I can’t think straight.

Troyer opens the glove box, reaches in, and takes out my migraine medicine. He shakes the vial and hands it to me.

“You don’t look well, Tommy Boy. Perhaps these might help you to think more clearly.”

I take the vial from him, thinking exactly the same thing and wondering how he seems to know my thoughts before I do. Anyway, I shake out four pills and swallow them dry.

“Okay, Troyer,” I say, pretty much resigning myself to making my next mistake. “There’s a lake just a couple of miles through town. It’s secluded, so we’ll head over there and hide while we figure out what to do next.”

“Now you’re talking, Tommy Boy.”

“Talking is the last thing I want to do right now.”

“Aww, come on, mate. Get over it. Just stick with me and everything will work out fine.”

“Like I’m really supposed to believe that.”

“Yes, you must,” Troyer says, pointing. “Hey, check it out. Let’s stop and get something to eat.”

I look off to my right as I pass a fifty-year-old railroad car they turned into a diner called The Greasy Spoon. “Now? You must be insane.”

“Come on. I’m hungry.”

“Not a chance.” I say, as I accelerate past it. Suddenly, I’m flooded with old memories. I remember sneaking out of camp with the counselors some nights. We’d hang out, eating these
unbelievable desserts they had. Boston cream pie was always my favorite. Man, I wish we could just pull in right now and order up one of those sweet-tasting pies.

“I can see it in your eyes, mate. You want to go in there, so turn around. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Are you that crazy, Troyer? Or did you forget we have a dead girl in the trunk?” Then, out of nowhere, I start hearing a voice coming from the back. “Help! Let me out of here!”

I look over at Troyer. “You hear that?”

“Hear what? I don’t hear a thing, mate. What’s with you?”

“Help!”

“
That!
Did you hear it?”

“Come now, Tommy Boy. You’re imagining things. I heard nothing.”

“Well, I did, and I’m pulling over. Maybe that girl isn’t dead.”

“Listen, mate: Let’s just get some food and forget about what’s in the trunk. Then we can go someplace quiet, like that lake you were talking about.”

“But what if she’s still alive?”

“Then she will be when we get there, Tommy Boy.”

“Great, and then what do we do?”

“‘We,’ mate? You mean ‘you’ . . . what do
you
do? And the answer to that is quite clear.”