The fucking case had started to eat him alive, and the video of Stacey Hines had only exacerbated his anxiety. He had barely been home while anyone was awake, skipped meals, forgot about any kind of exercise, and now found himself only thinking about leads and clues in the case.
He jumped every time his phone rang, fearing it was someone telling him they had found Stacey Hines in a suitcase somewhere. The entire situation was too similar to Jeanie’s disappearance, and he knew that it had to be affecting Maria, but he wasn’t home to support her. The story playing out on TV was gut-wrenching from Stacey’s parents’ arrival from Ohio to the volunteers searching aimlessly for her.
His experience told him that someone like the Bag Man wouldn’t be caught by well-intentioned volunteers. Even if they found a decent lead, they probably wouldn’t recognize its significance.
A detective like him was the best shot that girl had to live, and he wouldn’t screw up any chances he found. It felt personal and direct since he had first seen Lee Ann Moffit’s face. Now the desire to stop this guy burned even brighter inside him
He had a bullet with the Bag Man’s name on it, and he needed to find him before it was too late. For Stacey Hines and his own family.
Thirty-five
William Dremmel felt as if he might be a little paranoid when he saw a man in a black Impala give his van a good long look as he pulled away from the intersection. But there was no reason to believe anyone suspected him of any crime. Even with the news stories and volunteers, no one was looking in Grove Park or anywhere close by.
His stomach growled as he headed for the pharmacy. He rarely ate as well as he wanted while at home feeding two separate but disabled women. His mother had been quiet the last few days, and he was pleased with Stacey’s health too. She’d settled into the long periods of rest and didn’t seem to be having any immediate health issues. His notes reflected that she had maintained her weight and had regular bowel movements, and her attitude, while still defiant, signified that she was not suffering strong psychological effects of the drugs.
He’d been very careful allowing her to move around since the night when she attacked him. He let her see the stun gun and once had even hit the trigger to see her flinch at the dreadful electronic chatter. Fear was a wonderful motivator.
He pulled into a Denny’s for some good old-fashioned protein and fat. This Denny’s generally serviced the string of independent hotels along U.S. 1 and out to the Interstate. He stopped, because all Denny’s food was the same and there were no cars in the parking lot.
He hurried inside, sat at the counter, and was ready to order from memory when he was surprised by the pretty waitress who gave him a bright smile. She had clear, healthy skin and dark eyes that showed an open innocence that completely disarmed Dremmel.
“Hi, want some coffee?” She kept her perfect smile.
He eased onto the stool and shook his head. “Grand Slam, scrambled with O.J.” He didn’t take his eyes off her. She made him forget his worries about Lori, his issues with his mom, and even his status with Stacey.
The waitress said, “Need anything else?”
He glanced to each side of the empty counter and noticed the cook was busy on the far side of the kitchen.
Dremmel gave her his own smile. “Could you answer a question?”
“Sure, what’s that?”
“How tall are you?”
Her smile stayed firm as she said, “Five feet even.”
William Dremmel’s mind started to race.
Patty Levine had been swept up in the concern for the missing girl like everyone on the task force. The main difference was that she didn’t want to waste time on leads or investigative activities with little chance of success. She watched as other detectives rushed out the door to question random street people, surfers who might have been at the beach, even a sampling of sexual predators who lived on the east side of the county. These were all long shots to find the missing young woman. Patty intended to follow a deliberate investigative plan to catch the Bag Man. That way she would make her best effort to find Stacey Hines while she tried to identify the killer.
Today she had started a comprehensive canvass of pharmacies to see if any had been missing Oxy and if there were any insights pharmacists could give her. It was a duplicate of a quick check completed the first week of the investigation, but now the lieutenant wanted detectives checking out the whole pharmacy from employees to records. She had the southwest section of the city, and three other detectives were handling the other sections.
As she entered the fifth store of the day, feeling confident as a cop and as a woman for the first time in quite a while, she noted the traffic in the store. It looked like they catered to the free clinic and Medicare clients.
She’d already developed a shorthand for which pharmacies ran a tight ship and which ones didn’t care what inventory looked like. If the manager was also the pharmacist and had to watch the cashiers up front too, the drug records were shitty. If the store hired a separate manager and had the pharmacist only worried about running the pharmacy section, then things were usually in order. The chain stores had a handle on things like this. It was the family-run stores that scared her.
Now she was in a family-run store that had several locations.
She identified herself and spoke to a cute thirty-year-old pharmacist who tried to make it clear this little store was just a blip on his career path.
He invited her back behind the counter, then into a small room with a TV, and scooted two chairs so they faced each other.
She eased into one chair as he plopped into another directly across from her. “When I graduated from UF, I had a lot of offers with the big chemical firms, but I wanted some experience in a neighborhood pharmacy like this.”
Patty went right into her questions: Missing any Oxy? Ever hear anyone talk about mixing drugs? Ever overhear a customer talk about a source for Oxy outside the pharmacy? All the usual stuff.
The young pharmacist offered some professional advice. “From what you’ve explained to me and the type of drugs used by the killer, I’d say the Bag Man has a professional knowledge of drug interactions. He’d have to be someone trained in the area or else some kind of genius who can learn things on the fly.”
Patty took notes furiously until the pharmacist said, “I bet you have some kind of big, badass cop husband.” He smiled to show he was only half serious.
Patty shook her head. “No, I have a big badass cop boyfriend.”
“And he could probably beat the shit out of me.”
Patty let out a little laugh and said, “Honey, I could beat the shit out of you.”
Twenty minutes later Patty was looking over records in the rear of the pharmacy amid discarded magazines and other trash.
She made a few notes; there didn’t appear to be any problems with the inventory. The Florida Department of Business Regulation had been inside doing an audit in the last two months, but she didn’t want that pharmacist to think she was just breezing through asking a few superficial questions.
Her metal notebook case sat on a stack of diaper boxes in the corner as she looked over the volume of inventory reports. She’d been on the move so much she had already left it at one pharmacy and had to return for it.