“She’s coming around. What about her? Is it Stacey Hines?”
“Yeah, and she’s in shock.”
“I think it was a stun gun or Taser.”
Mazzetti joined him next to Patty and said, “I got her, Stall. Go get that son of a bitch.”
Stallings saw that the woman in the wheelchair was stirring, so he turned and headed toward the back of the house, his gun up, ready to kill the first person he saw. He was a little surprised Mazzetti would give up the chance to catch the Bag Man himself. Maybe he wasn’t the tool Stallings thought he was.
Patty Levine’s head started to clear. She’d thought Stallings was with her. A blanket covered her on the soft couch, and she saw Stacey Hines sitting up in a chair across the room with a blanket wrapped around her. Tony Mazzetti gently patted an elderly woman sitting in a wheelchair.
She cleared her throat and croaked, “Tony.”
He turned, then rushed to her side. He held her hand and smiled at her before she knew it. It felt natural. Mazzetti said, “Help is on the way.”
“I’m okay. How’s Stacey?”
“She’s scared but all right. I think he didn’t have time to hit her with the stun gun as long as you.”
“Where is he? Tony, that’s the Bag Man. Did you get him?” She felt her words rush out as her brain tried to catch up.
“Stall is after him.”
“You need to go with him.”
He smiled, patted her hand, and said, “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”
Forty-eight
William Dremmel was starting to calm down and think clearly as he drove the Honda Accord he had stolen two streets north of his house. He came out from between two houses and saw the Accord with the engine running and door open, then just jumped in. He needed to get away from the cops kicking in his door and then he’d decide where to go.
How had they found him? He hadn’t even seen anything about Detective Levine on the TV yet. Somehow he’d left a clue pointing in his direction. It was maddening to think some flunky cop had figured out who he was and where he lived.
He fumbled with the radio dial but heard only music this time of night, no news. Traffic was light as he cruised the streets of Jacksonville keeping an eye out for police cars. He made an assessment of what resources he had with him. He had credit cards in his wallet, but using them would mean he could be traced. That left him with just over ninety dollars in cash. He might risk a stop at the ATM later, maybe throwing a misdirection at the cops by getting cash from a ATM machine south of the city, then driving north.
When he saw the sign for Denny’s, the idea of some food and coffee to perk him up overwhelmed any instinct to just run blindly. The fact that the parking lot was empty and it might give him a chance to see the lovely little Maggie Gilson once more aided his decision.
As he walked into the restaurant, Maggie greeted him with a smile as he took one of the empty stools at the counter. There were no other customers.
Maggie smiled. “Hey there, where you been?”
“Just crazy at work. How are you Maggie?”
“Good.” She studied him. “You okay? You look tired.”
He thought about the question for a second and said, “A pipe broke in my house, so I have to spend the night out and see about it tomorrow.”
“Hungry?”
“I am.”
Maggie smiled and said, “Let’s feed you, then we’ll find a place for you to stay.”
William Dremmel managed to smile at the young woman’s perky attitude.
John Stallings felt his body sag as the events of the last few days caught up with him. William Dremmel’s home was a beehive of activity as more cops arrived and neighbors came out on the street of the quiet neighborhood.
Patty Levine had insisted on staying while both Stacey Hines and Dremmel’s mother were transported to the hospital. Patty wore her own clothes they’d found in the closet of the little dungeon. They were probably evidence, but at this point no one cared and it made Patty smile.
Outside the house, Lieutenant Rita Hester was already talking to a few reporters to get out the word about the man they were looking for and warn anyone else out there to steer clear of William Dremmel. The TV stations were going to flash both his driver’s license photo and one found here at the house.
Stallings joined Patty and Mazzetti as the paramedics prepared to move her.
Mazzetti said, “Anything?”
He shook his head. “A kid a few blocks over reported a stolen Honda. It’s out over the radio. Every cop in the city is looking to be a hero tonight.” He turned to Patty. “How’r you feeling?”
“Like a truck hit me.” Her smile told him all he needed to know about her chances for recovery.
Stallings said, “You’re a real hero. Stacey is telling a great story.”
She shook her head. “If you guys hadn’t arrived…”
“You got out of his dungeon and made enough noise that we found you. You did great.” He smiled.
She took his hand and gave him that motherly look she sometimes had. “Have you been at home enough? I know how important they are to you.”
He looked down at the floor.
“John, I hope you didn’t let this case distract you from the kids and Maria.”
He shrugged, too embarrassed to answer. “Don’t worry about it. You’re safe now.” Then he said, “It’s almost over.” He looked at Mazzetti. “C’mon, Tony, let’s hit the street and see if we can find this creep.”
A paramedic raised the gurney with Patty on it.
Mazzetti looked at Stallings. “No, I’m going to the hospital with Patty.”
Stallings smiled and slapped Mazzetti on the back. “Good for you, Tony.” He also felt a pang of guilt for not choosing Maria over the case.
Mazzetti said, “Be careful, Stall. Catch him, but don’t do anything stupid.”
Patty backed up that statement with a hard glare.
Maggie Gilson knew her manager didn’t like any of the employees watching the little TV in the tiny rear office, but the manager wasn’t here at eleven at night. No one was. That was why Maggie had Cesar, the night cook, watching the counter while she sat in the swivel chair in the rear room of the Denny’s watching the twenty-inch TV.
She liked the Friends episode that always ran from ten-thirty to eleven, then sometimes she switched over to Scrubs for a few minutes. Tonight, right at eleven o’clock she started changing the channels and stopped at the local news when she saw a big banner in red letters that said, “Breaking News.” Usually she cared little about what went on around her, but this caught her attention when she saw a photo on the screen. She thought she knew the man in the photo as the announcer said, “William Dremmel is the focus of a man-hunt for questioning in the Bag Man serial killer investigation.”
Maggie studied the photo and realized it was the guy who had been in the restaurant earlier in the evening and said a pipe broke in his house. That was bullshit. She’d told him about the J-Ville Inn.
She hurried to the employee lockers and grabbed her small Vera Bradley purse, then dug in it until she found her cell phone. Maggie scrolled through the numbers until she found the one person she knew she could trust. Cops could be tough, stupid, arrogant, and, occasionally helpful. But this guy understood people, and he’d know exactly what to do.
She dialed the phone and waited until after the third ring she heard a familiar voice say, “This is John Stallings.”
Maggie knew he’d fix everything, just like he always did.
William Dremmel lay back on the hard bed in room 6 of the J-Ville Inn. The small hotel off U.S. 1 had twelve rooms with the office in the middle. Six rooms went off in one direction and six in the other. Dremmel had paid the scruffy clerk fifty bucks for the room on the end without paperwork or fuss. Dremmel promised to be out by six when the owner showed up.