"You're right." Hallock sat at the table and pushed the folders to one side.
Colin joined him.
"You been with Annie Winters tonight?" He smiled knowingly and sucked on his beer.
"Have you got me under surveillance?"
"Just a lucky guess. Nice lady. I like her."
"She likes you, too." He lit a cigarette.
"Thing is, I got thinking about what she said to me yesterday after the meeting. You know, about doing some investigating on my own. I mean, maybe the people have turned their backs on me, but I can't turn my back on them. It's still my town."
"Do you have something?" Colin asked, nodding toward the folders.
"Don't know. I thought maybe we could work on this together. That is, if you don't mind teaming up with the ex-chief of police."
"Come on."
"Well, it's a fact. Can't deny it. That's who I am. Ex-chief of police. Ex-chief of police separated from his wife."
"You're kidding."
"Fact."
"Why?" Colin was astonished. Everyone knew Fran and Waldo Hallock were crazy about each other. "It's not something to do with that Dorman woman, is it?"
"Fran was with her, Maguire. Sitting right there in the same row, listening to that gal cut me up one side, down the other. Claims she had no idea Julia was going to say that stuff."
"I don't think she did. I saw Fran's face when Dorman started talking against you. She was shocked."
"Maybe so, but she didn't do beans about it."
"What could she have done?"
"She could've got up and walked out. Or better yet, come sat with me. She did nothing. I bumped into Gildersleeve about an hour later, know what he said to me? Said, 'Well, Slats, guess you've really been pussy-whipped this time.' Nice, huh?"
"Yeah. Nice."
"And he didn't mean Julia Dorman either. Meant Fran. Ah, hell, Maguire, that's water under the bridge." He pulled the folders toward him.
Colin wondered whether to push the man to talk more about the situation with Fran. He suspected he'd said all he could. "Where're you staying?"
"Wood's Motel. Can't tell you how happy they were to get me. Place is almost empty. Liz Wood, the gal who owns the joint, said business's been off by two-thirds since these murders started. You heard them yesterday, Maguire. Everybody's hurting around here. We just got to get this bastard."
Colin made a quick decision. "I want to help, Waldo, but I have to tell you something first."
"Shoot."
"I want to tell you about my wife and children."
"Didn't know you had a wife and kids."
"I don't. They're dead. I want to tell you how they died."
It took about twenty minutes. Sweat ran down Colin's body, his voice shook, and his hands trembled. But he did it, and was glad.
"Shit, Maguire, losing your wife and kids. I don't know what I'd do if that happened to me." He took a swig of beer.
"There's something else," Colin went on. "Babe Parkinson found out and it looks like she's given the story to Newsline. When that breaks I'm going to be just as much persona non grata around here as you are. So maybe I'm not the guy you want to team up with."
"You kidding me or what? You think what you told me makes a difference? Hell, Maguire, what kind of schlemiel do you think I am?"
Colin shrugged, stubbed out his cigarette. "I just thought I should give you the out."
"Don't want it. I need a partner, somebody to bounce ideas off, get some input, too. Charlie Copin and me used to do it that way, but I can't jeopardize Charlie's career, ask him to openly work with me. He's got to work with Wonder Boy now. But Charlie's a good guy, he'll do what he can on the QT. He got me these," he said, pointing to the folders. "Xeroxed the originals. And he'll keep me informed much as he can."
"What are they?"
"The dossiers on the victims. I figure we've been going at this thing all wrong, Maguire. Looking for the killer before we know everything about the victims. I think the answer to who this bozo is is right here." He tapped the top folder with a long thin finger. "These people weren't picked at random. The bastard has some kind of plan. The marks, the choice of victim, the place he kills 'em, all of it. There's a design, like a blueprint, know what I mean?"
Colin told him what he'd learned about the latest symbol, and said he was going to research it further.
"See," Hallock said, "that's just what I mean. The fucker's practically telling us who he is, only we aren't picking it up."
"Do you think he wants to be caught?"
"Don't they all? These kind of killers?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think Ted Bundy, Albert DeSalvo, or Albert Fish wanted to be caught."
"Who's Albert Fish?"
"He killed a lot of kids, then ate them."
"Jesus Christ almighty." He polished off the beer. "Did they leave a lot of clues around, those guys?"
"Not really. Nothing like A's or swastikas or whatever that thing is."
"I think it's good you checking that stuff out at the library, so don't get me wrong when I say this. But my instincts tell me we got to figure out what the victims got in common, then we can think like the killer. I'm going to leave these with you, Maguire. I been over them, made my notes. I want you to do the same, we'll compare tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay, but what am I looking for?"
"Similarities. Anything you can find about these people they got in common. Don't worry about it being stupid. I mean, like maybe they all have an F in their names, which they don't, or none of them have an F in their names, which is true. What I'm saying, Maguire, is that nothing is too small or too stupid to consider."
"I've got you."
Hallock pushed back his chair. "What time you get up in the morning?"
"Pretty early." He'd thought about going to Annie's church, but his priority was to look over this material. He was too tired to do it tonight.
"I'll come by around ten, see what you got."
"Okay." He walked Hallock to the door. "You know, Chief, you could stay with me if you want to. I've got three bedrooms."
"Thanks, Maguire, but I wouldn't want to crimp your style or anything."
"What style's that?"
"Oh, I don't know." He smiled and nervously pulled on his long nose. "Anyway, I need to be alone. Got to think through some stuff, figure out what I'm gonna do with the rest of my life. Besides, Liz Wood needs my business. Least I can do."
They shook hands. Colin snapped on the porch light. Halfway to his car Hallock said, "Hey, Maguire, when are you gonna get rid of that mustache?"
He was surprised. "You don't like it?"
"Puts me in mind of the outlaws in the Westerns I saw as a boy."
Colin laughed. "I'll think about it." He waited until Hallock was in his car before he turned off the light.
Back in the kitchen he checked the time. Twelve-twenty. He wanted to call Annie and say goodnight again. Lifting the receiver from the wall phone, he hesitated. Maybe she was asleep and wouldn't appreciate being awakened at this hour. On the other hand, she might like it, be glad to know that he was thinking of her. He started to dial, then replaced the phone. She had to preach the next day, it wasn't fair to wake her. He couldn't believe it-he was hung up on a preacher, for God's sake! His hand slipped from the phone and he started to walk away when it rang.
"Colin," Annie said. "I didn't wake you, did I?"
He felt himself grow light, as if all his bones had vanished. "No, I'm awake. I was just thinking about calling you."
"Really?"
"Really."
"That's nice," she said. "I'm calling because… I wanted you to know that… I wish you were here with me."
Her words hit him in the pit of his stomach. "Annie," he said.
"I just wanted you to know that."
"I wish I could be there, too." He didn't say he'd come back, drive ninety miles an hour to get there. He knew nothing had changed. "I'm glad you told me."
"Me, too. Goodnight, Colin."
"Goodnight, Annie."
He waited to hang up until he heard her break the connection. God, he felt good! She cared. The phone rang again. He grabbed it. "Annie?" There was no answer. "Annie? Is that you?" Again there was silence, but he could tell the line was open. "Hello? Who is this?"