"They never put out all the details on anything. But I was there at the house. Edna called me after she found him. I got there ahead of MIU. There was one shot in the floor and one shot in the mouth. The official explanation was that the first shot was supposed to be him seeing if he could do it or something, like a practice. Gettin' the courage up. Then the second time was when he went ahead and did it. It didn't make sense. Not to me."
"Why not? What did you think the two shots were for?"
"I think the first one went in the mouth. The second one was for gunshot residue. The perp wrapped John's hand around the gun and fired it into the floor. John's hand gets GSR on it. The case goes suicide. End of story."
"But nobody agreed with you."
"Not until today. Not until you turn up with this Edgar Allan Poe thing. I went to Major Investigations to tell them what you've got. I reminded them of the problems with the suicide. My problems. They are going to reopen it and take another look. Tomorrow A.M. we've got a start-up meeting over at Eleven-Twenty-One. The MIU chief is going to get me detached and put on the squad."
"That's great."
I watched out the window and was silent for a while. I was excited. Things were falling into place. I now had the presumed self-inflicted deaths of two cops in two different cities being reinvestigated as possible murders and possibly connected. That was a story. A damn good one. And it was something I could use as a wedge in Washington to get into the foundation records and even the FBI. That is, if I got there first. If Chicago or Denver went to the bureau first, I'd likely be squeezed out because they wouldn't need me anymore.
"Why?" I said out loud.
"Why what?"
"Why is somebody doing this? What exactly are they doing?"
Washington didn't answer. He just drove through the cold night.
We had dinner in a booth in the back of the Slammer, a cop bar near Area Three. Both of us ordered the special, roast turkey and gravy, good cold-weather food. As we ate, Washington gave me a rundown on the MIU plan. He told me everything was off the record and that if I wanted to write anything, I had to get it from the lieutenant who would eventually head up the squad. I had no problem with that. The squad was going to exist because of me. The lieutenant would have to talk to me.
Washington kept both elbows on the table while he ate. It looked like he was guarding his food. He spoke with his mouth full at times but that was because he was excited. So was I. I was also wary of protecting my place in the investigation, in the story.
"We'll start off with Denver," Washington said. "We'll work together, get our ducks lined up and then see what happens. Hey, did you talk to Wexler? He was mad at you, boy."
"How come?"
"Why you think? You didn't tell him about Poe, Brooks, Chicago. I think you lost a source there, Jack."
"Maybe. They got anything new there?"
"Yeah, the ranger."
"What about him?"
"They did the hypnosis thing. Took him back to that day. He said your brother was wearing only one glove when he looked in the window of the car for the gun. Then that glove, with the GSR, somehow gets back on the hand. Wexler said they've got no doubts about it now."
I nodded more to myself than to Washington.
"You and Denver, you'll have to go to the FBI, won't you? You're talking about crimes connected across state lines."
"We'll see. You gotta remember the locals here never get much excited about working with the G. We go to them and we get bigfooted. Every time, right up the ass. But you're right, it's probably the only way. If this is what I think it is, and what you think it is, the bureau will eventually have to run the show."
I didn't tell Washington I was going to the FBI myself. I knew I had to get there first. I pushed my plate aside, looked at Washington and shook my head. This story was incredible.
"What's your feeling on this? What are we talking about?"
"Only a few possibilities," Washington said. "One, we're talking about one guy, somebody out there killing people, then doubling back and taking out the lead cop working the case."
I nodded. I was with him.
"Second, the first killings are unrelated and our doer just comes into town, waits for a case he likes or sees on the TV and goes after the cop who heads up the investigation."
"Yeah."
"And third is we have two killers. In both cities one does the first killing and the second comes in and does the second, takes out the cop. Of the three, I don't like this one. Too many questions. Do they know each other? Are they working together? It gets pretty far out there."
"They would have to know each other. How else would the second guy know where the first one has been?"
"Exactly. So we are concentrating on possibilities one and two. We haven't decided whether Denver is coming here and we'll send some people there but we've got to look at the boy and the college kid. Look for any connection and if we find one we go from there."
I nodded. I was thinking of the first possibility. One person, one killer doing all of this.
"If it is just one guy, who is the real target?" I asked, more to myself than Washington. "Is it the first victim or the cop?"
Washington put the V back in his brow.
"Maybe," I said, "we've got somebody who wants to kill cops. That's his objective, okay? So he uses the first killing-Smathers, Lofton-to draw out his prey. The cop."
I looked around the table. Saying it out loud, though I had been thinking it since I was on the plane, sent a chill through me.
"Spooky, huh?" Washington asked.
"Yeah. Real spooky."
"And you know why? Because if this is the case, there's got to be others. Every time a cop supposedly kills himself the investigation is quick and quiet. No department wants that kind of story. So they go through the motions quick and then that's it. So there's gotta be more of them out there. If the first possibility is the correct one, then this guy didn't begin with Brooks and end with your brother. There's more. I'd bet on it."
He pushed his plate away. He was finished.
A half hour later he dropped me at the front of the Hyatt. The wind off the lake was chilling. I didn't want to stand outside but Washington said he wasn't coming up to the room. He gave me a business card.
"I got my home and beeper on there. Call me."
"I will."
"Okay then, Jack." He put his hand out and I took it.
"And thanks, man."
"For what?"
"For making believers out of them. I owe you one for that. So does Jumpin' John."
13
Gladden stared at the bright blue screen for several seconds before starting. It was an exercise he routinely followed to help clear his mind of the pressures and the hatred. But this time it was hard. He was full of rage.
He shook it off and pulled the computer onto his lap. He cleared the screen and rolled the ball with his thumb until the arrow moved from window to window on the screen and stopped on the TERMINAL icon. He clicked the ENTER button and then chose the program he wanted. He clicked on DIAL and then waited while listening to the harsh screech of the computer's uplink. It was like birth, he thought, every time. The horrible screech of the newly born. After the connection was complete, the welcome template appeared on the screen.
____________________
WELCOME TO THE PTL CLUB
____________________
After a few seconds the screen moved up and there was a coded prompt for Gladden's first password. He entered the letters, waited while they were acknowledged, then entered the second password when he got the prompt. In a moment his entry was approved and the warning template appeared on the screen.
____________________
PRAISE THE LORD!
____________________
RULES OF THE ROAD
1. NEVER EVER USE A REAL NAME
2. NEVER PROVIDE SYSTEMS NUMBERS TO ACQUAINTANCES
3. NEVER AGREE TO MEET ANOTHER USER
4. BE AWARE THAT OTHER USERS MAY BE FOREIGN BODIES