“Detective Thomlinson, get your ass back here now!” Driscoll hung up without another word.
As he drove back toward the precinct, Cedric pondered his fate. He was far too good a detective not to know the girl was in danger. For the second time in his life, his mistake had put another human being in harm’s way. He retrieved the Lotto tickets from his shirt pocket, ripped them in half, and tossed them out the window. There would be no warm winter back home, no early resignation, and no escape from his fellow officers’ looks of disdain.
He saw the sign for KELLY’S BAR up ahead. Veering the car toward the curb, he pulled into a spot out front. Stepping out of the car, he opened the wide oak door and slipped inside. Wordlessly, Detective Second Grade Cedric Thomlinson stepped out of the light and into the shadows that were his past.
Chapter 63
Twice that night, Driscoll’s sleep was shattered by the whine of distant sirens. Each time he had dashed to the window, only to stare at a deserted shoreline. Sleep starved, he pondered what Margaret had reported to him concerning the DA’s daughter. She had interviewed Doctors Astin, Galina, and Pierce, along with the ICU nurse, Susan Dupree. What Driscoll found curious was that Nurse Dupree had indicated that Doctor Pierce, a radiologist, had tried repeatedly to revive Clarissa using defibrillator paddles. Now what was a radiologist doing in a pediatric ICU with defibrillator paddles? Margaret further reported that all three doctors were at the girl’s side when she suffered a massive heart attack and died, despite the extreme measures exercised to bring her back. Had the cardiac arrest been a result of the injuries she had sustained? None of the physicians believed so. Her autopsy indicated no link as well. So why the heart failure? And what about the conversation she had had with Godsend over the Internet? Where did that fit in?
Driscoll had dozed off with the TV on, tuned to New York 1, an all-news channel. His eyes became fixed to the screen as Aaron Miesner announced breaking news: “This morning, at 4:32 A.M., security officers at Pinelawn Cemetery reported that a mausoleum had been desecrated, and a body interred in its white marble chamber had been mutilated. The butchered remains have been identified as those of Clarissa Parsons, the daughter of Manhattan’s District Attorney, Jack Parsons-”
The telephone rang. Driscoll answered it. The DA’s voice roared in his ear.
“Jesus Christ, John. If you can’t defend the dead, what am I paying you for?”
A beep interrupted the verbal assault.
“Jack, that’s call-waiting. It’s gotta be someone from the squad. I gotta put you on hold.”
“Don’t you-”
Driscoll cut off Parsons and depressed the “talk” button. It was Thomlinson.
“The motherfucker mutilated the girl’s body, and now Parsons is on the warpath. He went up one side of me and down the other. Called me an incompetent drunk! Said I was the reason for the fuckup. And now he’s after you. I tried to head him off, but he’s bearing teeth.”
“I know. I got him frothing at the bit on the other line.”
“There’s more. The son of a bitch has got Moira! We just got word by e-mail.”
“Read it to me!”
Centurions in Blue,
Hail to you all with the thankless task of apprehending us lower demons. Your sweet lamb is now in the wolf’s den. I relish the thought of the nearing orgy. Such fresh flesh, inviting canine claws. Such unblemished skin soon to be lacerated by bestial talons. Such delicate bones holding such moist meat. Moira is her name.
Adieu
Chapter 64
When Moira came to, her palms and ankles were nailed to a pine chair. The slightest stir delivered infinite suffering. Perfect stillness temporarily kept the agony at bay. The nails had lacerated cartilage and tendons, perforated muscle tissue, and pulverized her bones. She had ceased screaming long ago. Now, no sounds could escape her mouth, sealed as it was with plumbing tape. No tears could secrete from her eyelids-they were clamped together with globs of Krazy Glue.
“I knew you’d come,” the voice lumbered. “The certainty never wavered. Curiosity is such a stimulating elixir, don’t you think? I also knew you’d be naive. It’s quite amazing how both traits coexist so comfortably within one’s mind.”
He had an educated voice. The realization struck Moira as odd.
Someone moved what she thought to be a metal chair. She imagined her torturer shifting his weight as he sat there, watching her.
“I knew you had to be young. And my guess was right. Only a youthful mind would waste its precious resources trying to catch a demon like me. That’s because the young believe in Satan and all his minions and the power of the magician’s wand. Therein lies my realm, dear one. My element. It’s funny. But, somehow I knew sooner or later a heroine dressed in Buster Browns and a double A bra, barely past the onset of menstruation, would come traipsing into my lair. Yes, curiosity is a dreadful yet divine commodity, don’t you think? I had a hunch it was you when I saw you approach that group of detectives. I was at a safe distance, watching your every move through my field glasses. And such a legion of policemen they had brought with them. My, oh my! Of course, I wasn’t playing by the rules. Not being there in aisle three wasn’t quite fair, but sometimes we demons lie. But then, so did you. Your Donny was a fraud. Remember?”
She heard the creaking sound. He had moved again.
“At first, I thought your makeup a bit excessive for your seraphic face. I wondered about that. And that brown suede miniskirt? ‘Heavens,’ I cried. ‘That’s how she’s dressed for our date?’ In case you were wondering, my plan was a simple one. I simply followed as the policemen took you home. They left. You eventually came out. And now you’re here.”
The chair creaked again. She heard the sound of his footsteps.
Chapter 65
The decoy police sedan worked very well, parked beside the row of hedges lining the shoulder of the Palisades Interstate Parkway. Inspector Tom Mueller at Highway Patrol 17 may have been short staffed, but he believed it was senseless to let an extra police vehicle sit dormant in the precinct’s garage. He ordered the marked cruiser to be situated at a strategic location along the Parkway. It was unmanned, but a speeding motorist wouldn’t be able to tell; the motorist would slow down at the first sighting of the highly visible dark blue vehicle with its colorful array of emergency lights.
It was nearing 10:00 P.M., time to retrieve the decoy, when Highway Patrol Officer Bill Simmon’s patrol car #643 pulled in behind the parked cruiser. Officer John Masterson, his partner, stepped out onto the shoulder of the road. Three steps from the decoy’s door, he unfastened the safety on his 9-mm automatic. He had realized the vehicle was occupied.
A girl’s body leaned against the passenger door. The smell of regurgitation and human excrement singed Officer Masterson’s sinuses. His flashlight illuminated blotches of dried blood staining the girl’s blouse and miniskirt.
“You’d better forget the card game, partner,” he grumbled. “We’re gonna have one helluva night.”
Chapter 66
Colm had never boned dead virginal flesh before. The audacity of the feat intoxicated him. To celebrate Clarissa’s desecration, he visited his wine cellar and lingered before the bins. He finally selected a 1975 Chateau Latour.
Whispers of adulation, murmurs of delight oozed through the concrete flooring. Soon he would join the cheering party gathered beneath him with his prize. He would rattle Clarissa in the face of his parents. How dare they think she would have gotten away? But for now, he would savor his trophy in seclusion.
When he had had his fill of the wine, he descended to the lower level to meet with his tenants. At first, they could not contain their exaltation. But at the sight of the new skeleton, the assembly became silent, resenting that their cramped quarters would be shared by yet another.