The Night Monster (13 page)

“What’s that?”

“Is Ralph gone?”

“Yeah. I took him to the airport an hour ago. What’s the favor?”

“Can I sleep in my room tonight? I haven’t had time to find a place to stay, and I’m low on funds. Just for a couple of days until I find a new place.”

A long moment passed. Sonny had a comment for just about everything, and finally I pulled the phone away from my face, and looked at the screen.

The line was dead.

I pulled into the Bank Atlantic Center and killed several minutes looking for a parking place. Buster was not happy at my leaving, and crawled into my lap. I scratched his ears until I saw his tiny tail wag, then got out.

I approached the Center’s main entrance. A small mob of people congregated by the doors, chatting away while puffing on cigarettes. I called to them to find out what the score was.

“Florida State is down by six at the half,” a woman called back.

“How are they playing?” I asked.

“They’re holding their own,” the woman said.

I went inside. It was only natural that the Lady Seminoles would play poorly, considering the circumstances. Hearing that they were toughing it out made me proud of them.

I spotted one of the other player’s dads. He was a podiatrist named Robin Schwartz, and his daughter was the team’s star center. Schwartz carried a flimsy cardboard tray holding several cups of beer.

“Need some help?” I asked.

“Hey Jack, we were starting to worry about you,” Schwartz said.

I took three of the cups out of the tray, and held them between my fingers.

“Sounds like the game is close,” I said.

“The girls are playing great,” Schwartz said. “Your daughter is the top scorer.”

“Yay,” I said.

We headed toward the arena’s entrance. The sound of angry male voices carried from the other side of the lobby. People were hurrying away from the voices, which sounded ready to escalate into a fight.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“Karl Long is being interviewed by one of the TV stations,” Schwartz replied.

“What’s he yelling about?”

“The TV stations heard about Sara’s sex tapes. A reporter tried to ask him some questions in the stands. I thought Long was going to take the guy’s head off.”

I stood on my toes, and spotted Long talking to a TV newsman named Chip Wells. Chip was one of the reasons I was no longer a cop. He had done a series of unflattering pieces after I’d beaten up a suspect, calling me “a stain on the conscience of the community.” It hadn’t mattered that the suspect had murdered eight women, and would have killed more had I not stopped him. I’d stepped over the line, and Wells had made me pay for it. I handed Schwartz the beers.

“I need to talk to Karl,” I said.

“Be careful,” Schwartz said.

I sifted my way through the crowd. Long was shaking his fist in Chip Wells’s face, and looked ready to punch his lights out. Wells was the picture of calm, and kept politely nodding his head.

Something didn’t feel right. Maybe it was the smug look on Wells’s face that bothered me. Or maybe it was Wells’s cameraman, a smarmy guy with a limp ponytail. The cameraman had his camera down by his side, and appeared not to be filming. Only the red light on the camera was blinking. I hurried toward him.

“Excuse me,” I said.

The cameraman looked my way. “What’s up?”

“Got a light?”

“Don’t smoke.”

I pretended to trip and fell forward. The cameraman let out a startled yelp, and we went down together in a heap. His camera banged on the floor. I grabbed it, and stood up. “Sorry about that,” I said.

The cameraman got up, and dusted himself off.

“Give me my camera,” he said.

I feinted giving the camera back, then opened up the back, and pulled out the film.

“You can’t do that,” the cameraman said angrily.

I shredded the film in front of his disbelieving eyes. Then I looked at Long. He was staring at Chip Wells, and the murderous look in his eyes told me that he understood what had happened.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” Long swore.

“Now wait just a minute,” Wells said.

Long smacked Chip Wells in the head. It was a glancing blow, but I sensed that he was going to unleash all his rage on the newsman if I didn’t stop him. I grabbed Long by the arms, and steered him toward the men’s room.

“Let go of me,” Long said angrily.

“We need to talk,” I said.

“I’m going to rip that shit stain’s head off.”

“Come on. It’s about Sara.”

Long snapped out of his rage and looked me in the eye.

“You know something?” Long asked.

“Yes, but I don’t want them hearing it.”

The anger left his body almost instantly.

“Of course,” Long said.

During the drive over, it had occurred to me that Long needed to hear the things that I knew about Sara’s abduction. He was a rich man with powerful connections, and that power might prove useful down the road. I didn’t like the guy, but that wasn’t going to stop me from using him any way I could.

We stood in front of the sinks, and Long crossed his arms.

“Tell me what you know,” he said.

I glanced beneath the stalls to make sure they were empty. I tended to be overly cautious, and I turned on the water in the sink before I spoke.

“Despite what the police are saying, Tyrone Biggs did not abduct your daughter last night.”

Karl’s mouth dropped open. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely. The real culprits are a pair of serial abductors. They’ve been following Sara around the state, and chose to strike last night. I was able to obtain a film of one of them from the Hard Rock Casino. The film is now in the hands of the FBI. They’re going to use it to try and catch them before they leave the area with your daughter.”

“Is Sara … alive?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“What proof do you have?”

“These two men stole your daughter because she fits a profile. Abductors who do that rarely kill their victims.”

“What kind of profile?”

“Tall, blond, and athletic.”

“What do they want with her?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“You’ve dealt with men like this before?”

“Yes. Many times.”

Long suddenly stopped speaking. It was like he’d run into a wall, and the pain had just hit him. He covered his face with his hands and let out a muffled cry. I ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and handed it to him. Long dried his eyes and tossed the towel into the trash.

“That’s the best news you could have told me,” he said. “After I lit into you earlier, I would have thought you would have given up looking for Sara.”

“I never give up,” I said.

“I realize that now. I’m sorry about what I said. Really.”

“You had to let your anger out. I was the closest target.”

“You’re not angry at me?”

I shook my head. Long gave me a good-natured whack on the arm. Despair brings out the true character in just about everyone. Beneath the arrogance was a loving father, and I knew that I’d made an ally.

“What can I do to help?” he asked.

“The FBI will call me if they learn anything,” I said. “I may need to contact you, and ask you to pull some strings. Rescues are never easy.”

“Of course.”

Long gave me his business card. His private cell number was printed on it. As he handed the card to me, Long asked for one of mine.

“I must have lost the one you gave me,” he said.

I gave Long another card, and he tucked it into his billfold.

“Let’s go watch the rest of the game,” I said.

e sat in the stands with the rest of the fathers and rooted for our daughters’ team. I don’t know if cheering yourself hoarse ever accomplished anything, but if felt good, and let me forget about my problems for a while.

With two minutes left in the game, the Lady Seminoles went on a scoring blitz, and I stomped my feet and yelled at the top of my lungs until the final buzzer went off. The team had won a game no one thought they would win, and they assembled in the center of the floor, hugging one another and shedding tears.

I filed out of the stands with everyone else. By the time I’d reached the lobby, I’d lost Long. I’d wanted to talk to him more, and remind him that the things I’d told him were in confidence, and not to be repeated. The last thing anyone needed was for a reporter like Chip Wells to hear that the FBI was conducting an investigation far different from the one the police were conducting.

I rescued Buster from my car, and took him for a walk. He needed some quality time, and I let him pee on anything that wasn’t moving.

Back in my car, I called Jessie. During the game she’d made eye contact with me from the floor, and I’d seen an expression of grief
that told me how much she was hurting. Getting voice mail, I left a message. She called right back.

“Hey, Daddy,” she said.

“Great game,” I said.

“Thanks. It was a tough one.”

“Those are the ones that count the most.”

“Did you make any progress looking for Sara? I saw Karl Long sitting next to you in the stands. He almost looked happy.”

My daughter had inherited my instincts for reading people. She’d once told me that she was thinking of a career in law enforcement, and I’d tried to talk her out of it. Two cops in the family was one too many.

“We’ve got some promising leads,” I said.

“Tyrone didn’t abduct Sara, did he?”

Whatever I told Jessie was going to be passed among her teammates, and from there, the information could go just about anywhere. I wanted to tell Jessie what I’d learned, but in the end, it might only end up hurting Sara’s chances.

“That’s not what the police think,” I said.

“I guess you don’t want to talk about it, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“I understand. The bus is leaving for the motel. I need to go.”

“When do you head back to Tallahassee?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“Have a safe trip. Call me when you get there.”

“I will. By the way, did you call Mom? You said you would.”

“Not yet. But I will.”

“Daddy, you promised.”

I heard a click on the line that indicated I had an incoming call.

“I need to run. Love you,” I said.

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

Jessie hung up. I punched the call button on the phone.

“Carpenter here.”

“This is Karl Long. Where are you?”

Long’s voice had a mean edge, and did not sound like the man I’d
just sat with at the game. He definitely had a Jekyll and Hyde personality.

“I’m still in the parking lot,” I said.

“So am I. Flash your brights so I can see you. We need to talk.”

Long made the words sound like an order. He was the general and I was the lowly foot soldier. But I wanted to hear what was on his mind, and I hit my brights until an expensive Italian sports car pulled up alongside me. In south Florida, you were judged by what you drove, and Karl’s wheels said that he was at the top of the food chain. I made Buster get in the backseat, and Long climbed in.

“What’s with the mutt?” Long asked. “I don’t like dogs.”

“Feel free to get out of the car.”

Long clenched his jaw and stared through the windshield.

“You don’t mince words, do you?” he asked.

“Why should I?” I replied.

The parking lot had emptied out, the halogen lights beginning to dim. Long let a long moment pass, then spoke without making eye contact with me.

“I just got off the phone with the head of the goddamn detective agency I hired to find Sara,” he said. “I asked him for a progress report, and he fed me a line of bullshit about the police arresting Tyrone Biggs, and that it was only a matter of time before Biggs confessed, and told them where he’d put Sara. I played along, and made him think I believed him. Then, I asked him if he’d talked to the FBI. Do you know what he said?”

I shook my head.

“He said ‘What for? This is out of their jurisdiction.’ That’s when I realized that all the guy was doing was feeding me the police reports on my daughter’s case. He’s done nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“There’s a reason they call them dicks,” I said.

Long turned in his seat. “I fired the son-of-a-bitch.”

“That’s a good start.”

“I want to hire you. You know more about what’s going on than anyone else. Say yes, and the job’s yours.”

I had already committed myself to finding Sara. I had to find out what had happened to her, and also what had happened to Naomi
Dunn. In a way, the job was already mine. Long was offering to pay me for it.

“I’m game,” I said.

Long visibly relaxed. He was the kind of man that needed to move the needle. He removed a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket, and passed it to me. I was not proud, and held the check up to the faint light coming through my window. It was a personal check made out to me for the sum of $50,000.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

“Karl Long is always serious,” he said. “That’s the amount I advanced to the detective agency, and you deserve the same. If you find Sara, I’ll double it. She’s the only family I have. She’s worth everything to me.”