Jim nodded and waited for Davey to continue.
“He went to the parents’ room first. I didn’t watch what he did to them, but I know he took stuff. I think he wanted you to think that he was there to take things instead of killing people. Then he went upstairs and killed Charlotte. I think he took her body somewhere, but I couldn’t see anything once that happened.”
“Why is that?” asked Jim.
“Her eyes were closed,” said Davey. “And plus she was dead,” he added. “But it did feel like she was moving. Sometimes I can’t see so well…” Davey trailed off.
As Davey slowed down, Jim redirected his attention in an attempt to keep the momentum going. “And then he went for the nurse?”
“Yeah,” Davey responded without looking up.
“How did he get to the nurse’s house?”
“He runs,” said Davey. “He runs everywhere—through the woods. That’s why he’s been going so slow lately. He has trouble finding ways to get where he needs to go.”
“What did you see?” asked Jim.
“I didn’t get a chance to see very much at all,” admitted Davey. “The nurse knew he was coming. She could feel him, so she got her sister and was going to try to get away. That’s all I know.”
“Why? Why is that all you know?” asked Jim.
“My mom woke me up,” said Davey. “She said I was making noise like I was having a bad dream.”
Jim set his pencil down and looked over to Sam. His next question was interrupted before he got a chance to ask it.
“Ms. Hunter is here,” the same young man poked his head in the door. “I asked her to wait, but she said no. She’s kicking up dust pretty good.”
“Send her in,” said Jim. He rose from his spot on the couch next to Davey and took his chair behind his desk. “Get Davey some more water, would you?” he pointed to Sam.
Melanie burst through the doorway and spotted her son on the couch. She rushed over and gathered him into a big hug, pressing her face against the top of his head. “Baby,” she said to him, “you scared me.” She pulled him close again.
“Ms. Hunter,” began Jim, “I’m Jim Wyckell. We were just talking to Davey about last night.”
“Last night?” said Melanie. “Wait, I’m confused. Davey was at home last night. He didn’t run away until this afternoon.”
“Your son has details about two active cases from last night. Do you know where he might have come across this information?” asked Jim.
“I’m sorry officer, but Davey was sound asleep last night. I even checked on him in the middle of the night, and I can assure you he has no details about active cases. Perhaps you’re the victim of the over-active imagination of an intelligent little boy who has been through a lot today?”
“I wish that were so,” said Jim. “But he just told us information about a case that we haven’t even announced to the press yet.”
Melanie cut him off—“You mean about that poor woman and her sister?”
Jim raised his eyebrows.
“Yeah, well maybe you haven’t announced any information, but that doesn’t stop people from talking. I heard about it three times on the radio on my way over here. Maybe when you take someone to the morgue in the same hospital building where they work, someone is going to recognize them. Not to mention, I picked up several details you may not have released on my way through your office out there.” She waved towards Jim’s door. “My son can read, do you think he might have read something on one of those big whiteboards out there?”
“Even so,” said Jim. “There was another death last night, and Davey described several key pieces of information. If you could just have a seat, maybe we can get to the bottom of this.”
“Davey?” Melanie turned to her son. “Did you tell them about another person hurt last night?”
Davey nodded.
“Did you hear about this thing from someone at camp?”
“Yes,” said Davey. “Shane’s sister heard it from Brittney.”
“Where did Brittney hear about it?” Melanie asked.
“Her dad’s a cop,” said Davey.
“There you go, officer,” Melanie said to Jim. “Case solved. Now I’m going to take my boy home.”
“Ma’am, I’d really like to get this straightened out a little more before you leave. Please just sit down for a second and we’ll make it…”
Melanie cut him off again—“I’m sorry, but we can’t. I’ve got my teenage daughter in the car, and a full day tomorrow. Don’t you think Davey has been through enough already today? Perhaps if you didn’t keep putting registered sex offenders back on the streets, parents wouldn’t have as much to worry about.”
Jim stood, taking offense to the implication and ready to assert his authority. “I’m afraid I really must insist.”
“That’s great,” Melanie pulled Davey to her and took a step towards the door, “but unless you plan to arrest me and my son, we’re going. And in case you’re wondering, there are roughly a dozen newspeople out front talking about all the murders. I’m sure they’d love a bulletin about a woman and her pre-teen son being held for questioning about crimes that took place an hour away while they were at home asleep.” As she spoke, Melanie pulled Davey closer to the door.
Sam stood behind her, blocking her way and holding a paper cup with a refill for Davey.
“No?” asked Melanie. “Okay then, thanks for everything.”
She and Davey pushed past Sam and made their way through the office.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Mike
“IT STILL DOESN’T WORK,” said Mike.
Bill guided the car through the gentle turns at speeds just slightly greater than his comfort level. He had been lucky so far. He kept expecting to come around the next turn and find a woman walking out to her mailbox, or a stunned deer crossing the road. Bill was beginning to get irritated at Mike’s inability to operate a paper map.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” ordered Bill.
Mike flipped back several pages and described his methodology—“I plotted the thing’s course in terms of how many boxes down it should move for every page it crosses. It’s only based on the first few miles of travel, but I think it should be enough.”
“So what’s the problem?” asked Bill.
“When I extrapolate over to the page with the kid’s house, the course is off by almost half a page,” explained Mike.
“How far is that?”
“About fifteen miles,” said Mike.
“That seems significant,” Bill said, now echoing Mike’s concern. “Are you sure you didn’t mess up when you transferred the line from page to page?”
“I checked it three times,” said Mike. “Hey, could this be a great circle problem?”
“Your scale is too small,” said Bill. “Maybe it’s not headed where we think?”
“Of course,” said Mike. “That’s got to be it. Maybe it has a stop to make first.” He flipped back through the pages, tracing their current trajectory versus the creature’s predicted path. “Wait a sec,” he paused. “Let me borrow your phone.”
While Bill handed over his cell, Mike pulled out his wallet and retrieved the scrawled number from the back of a business card.
“Who are you calling?” asked Bill.
Mike held up a single index finger in the glow of the map light. Bill drove on, focusing on the road with his eyes, and the conversation with his ears.
“Pick up, pick up,” Mike whisper-chanted to the phone.
“Hello?” Ken answered.
“Hey Ken, it’s me, Mike.”
“Jesus, Mike, you don’t answer your phone anymore?” asked Ken.
Bill glanced at his travel-companion, only hearing Mike’s side of the conversation. Mike covered the phone and whispered to Bill—“It’s the kid’s doctor.”