That made her think about her uncomfortable and painful conversation with one of the fraternity members about two years ago. She had run into the young man by accident and he’d already been drinking, but once she’d sat down and really listened to what he had to say, it had changed her profoundly. He’d explained in great detail the horrific event and who had been involved and how it had gotten out of control.
The entire conversation had left her considering the options still available. Should she go to the police? The young man had said no one would talk, including him. Should she tell her parents? They would be devastated and there was nothing they could do about it. The problem ate at her for days until she saw a news story about a University of North Florida student who had committed suicide on campus by hanging himself in a communal bathroom. The young man who had committed suicide was the same young man who had explained to her the details and secrets that were tearing the fraternity apart.
As she watched fellow students come on camera and claim surprise while reciting an almost scripted version of what a great kid he was, Lynn realized something odd. She felt a hint of happiness. Maybe relief was a better word. Whatever the case, the young man’s death had eased her misery. And ultimately set her on the path she now followed.
Tonight she found herself sitting in a bar she didn’t like, watching young men she didn’t want to watch and trying to figure out which one was Bobby Hollis. She also looked around the room, noticing some surveillance cameras in the corners of the ceiling. This would not be a good place to meet her next victim. Too easy to identify her. She’d seen a news story earlier in the year about a bartender here at the Wildside who had killed a couple of spring breakers after meeting them here in the bar. It was creepy to think she could buy a drink from a bartender who had much more in mind. Then she considered her own situation and mission and wondered how different she was from the sinister bartender.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and heard a man’s voice say, “Fancy meeting you here.”
Lynn turned quickly at the bar and was shocked to see Leon smiling as he sat on the stool next to her.
Stallings had Brother Ellis by the collar of his nice, button-down shirt. He purposely held the shirt tightly in both hands to keep himself occupied. Stallings was afraid if he released the man’s collar, one of his fists would make contact with the pastor’s face. He had no control. More than one suspect had been knocked unconscious without Stallings’s knowledge of his own actions. A dark and ugly rage boiled up inside him. Something he hadn’t felt since the days following Jeanie’s disappearance. The basis of many of his anger issues. Right now he couldn’t think of any coping mechanisms the counseling psychologist had given him after he and the family had visited to help them understand what had happened to Jeanie. He remembered one of the things he was supposed to do was count, but he couldn’t remember if it was to count forward or backwards. All he saw was red and the terrified face of the most popular pastor in Jacksonville.
Brother Ellis stammered, “John, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” He was breathing so hard it was difficult to understand him.
Stallings said, “You’re right. You misunderstood how much bullshit I would put up with. I should’ve done this after your cheap shot at the fellowship hall putting my partner between Maria and me.”
“What?”
Stallings wasn’t interested in a debate. It was time to feel bone and teeth disintegrate behind the force of his knuckles. He gave the pastor a slight shove as he released his grip, but it was only to put him at the optimal range for a devastating right cross.
Brother Ellis took two hard steps back and didn’t even raise his hands. He looked relieved that he had been released and had no idea what was about to follow.
Lynn didn’t mean to sound quite so annoyed when she barked at Leon, “What’re you doing here? Are you following me?”
The lean, older man nodded his head and said, “A little bit.”
“Why?”
“I already told you that I could help you with whatever you’re doing.”
“You don’t even know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t care. I just miss the excitement. I miss having something important to do. I don’t mind washing a few cars at Thomas Brothers and I don’t want to go back to prison, but if I don’t do something a little different once in a while I’ll go crazy.” He placed his hand on Lynn’s arm and said, “Please let me help you if for no other reason than to show respect for your father.”
Lynn thought about his offer for a moment. “There is something I could use some help on.”
“Anything. Anything at all.”
“Could you find someone for me?”
“Easy. Especially if he was in the business. What’s his name?”
“Zach Halston.”
THIRTY-FOUR
Stallings lined up his punch like a professional billiards player lined up a championship shot. But a split second before he balled his fist and threw the punch a woman with curly blond hair wandered in from the living room and said, “Who’s at the door, dear?”
Stallings used the distraction to take in the scene. He gave no indication of what his next action might be.
Brother Ellis composed himself quickly, turning to the woman and saying, “This is Maria’s husband, John.” He gave Stallings a look that said, Be cool. “John, this is my wife, Denise. We were just visiting with Maria. She ran upstairs to grab a photo album and will be down in a minute. I’m sure she’d love to have you join us.”
Stallings managed a weak smile as he nodded to the pretty blond lady and stepped into the house on unsteady legs. The whole situation freaked him out a little bit.
Tony Mazzetti lingered in his car as Sparky stepped out of the Crown Vic, waiting for his partner to join him. Mazzetti hated talking to families of dead people. Whether it was an auto accident or a homicide, talking to a family after a case was closed either raised hopes or suspicions. Every parent saw conspiracy in the dead child. No one wanted to admit to the fact that random chance played a vital role in everyone’s lives. No one ever wanted to admit the death could be the victim’s fault. They wanted answers and scapegoats. They wanted a reason to not feel so desolate. Mazzetti didn’t want to do that to someone who’d already grieved over the loss of a loved one and now he had nine files waiting for him to do just that. Nine families whose old wounds would be reopened just by talking to the police.
Add to that the fact that his old partner, Christina Hogrebe, was still teaching at the police academy and he felt real despair. Christina or “Hoagie,” as she liked to be called, could talk to anyone about anything and make them feel good. It wasn’t just the fact that she was an intelligent, beautiful girl; it was some unquantifiable quality she had that allowed her to deal with people in an easy manner. Patty Levine had a similar quality. The only person in the detective bureau with less ability to speak to someone easily than himself was his new partner, Sparky Taylor. For all his brains and sharp insight, Sparky talked to people like a robot and appeared to have no ability to feel any empathy. That didn’t mean he wasn’t compassionate. He cared about how people felt; he just had no ability to understand emotions. Now Mazzetti had to interview a family who lost a son two years ago. What a way to start the holiday season.
Mazzetti knocked on the front door of the nice suburban house. He noticed the Star of David over the door. Mazzetti identified himself with his open credentials as soon as the nice-looking, middle-aged woman opened the door. Without hearing anything but his name, just seeing the JSO credentials, the woman started to cry uncontrollably.
Once inside the house and sitting on a couch, the woman composed herself. When she’d stopped crying and only sniffled, she managed to say, “Have you found something new about Robert’s death?”