I called Johnny, Louis and Frances and explained to each that there was a house on Wytton Street in Tustin that needed checking out. Johnny said a house listed by a woman — then unlisted — was not a priority in any way he could see. I told him to lean on the listing agent for Loach’s phone number, but I could tell he wasn’t going to put it on the fast track. I could tell he was barely hearing this new request, because he was still burdened by my last one. I’d overstepped the bounds of friendship with him, and I knew it. Louis treated me like a senile relative. Frances hung up.
I got an idea and called Sam Welborn in Wichita Falls. He had gone home already, but I talked to a desk sergeant. I told him I was working a case with Welborn and needed the married names, addresses and phone numbers of Wanda Grantley’s sisters and daughters. He said he couldn’t help me just this second. He said every reporter in the state of Texas needed something about the guy out in Hopkin that fed Mary Lou Kidder to his python. I asked him how he knew it was a python and he said a big snake’s a big snake. “Everybody’s got their knickers in a twist,” he said slowly. He took down the information, said he’d give it to Welborn, and that was that.
Half an hour later the press conference started, featuring Jim Wade and Jordan Ishmael, with supporting roles for Frances and Louis. Wade went on first, covering the basics of the search for The Horridus, the department’s frustrations, the almost celestial good fortune for everyone that this “cunning monster” had chosen to “torment” his young victims rather than commit even “greater evil” upon them. He was matter-of-fact, as Jim Wade always was. He was credible because he was calm. He’d done conferences like this a hundred times, and he knew his lines. He was also old and tired. Tired enough to have been fooled by one of his own underlings. I could tell from the expression and posture of Ishmael, sitting to Wade’s right, that he believed he had been chosen. Ish now considered himself the elect. I was certain, too, that he’d be the insiders’ candidate to become the next sheriff-coroner of Orange County.
Yes, there he was, Ishmael, large and feline and relaxed and anointed. When he took the podium to say his piece, I couldn’t help but admit what a presence he had on camera, the way his handsome, green-eyed face so easily commanded: trust me, obey me, join me. He had the allure of a star, the ego of a celebrity and the charisma of a politician. I felt small and venal compared to him. One thing about the Irish, though: we never quit. I pictured Jordan Ishmael going through the photo albums in Ardith’s study. I pictured him surfing through the porn network, searching out a supplier, a purveyor, and finally, a creator. Landing on I. R. Shroud. Question: did Ish know who he was dealing with? I didn’t want to believe it. In spite of my disgust for him, I didn’t want to believe a cop would knowingly use The Horridus to frame up another cop. I would have to ruin him, however. I wouldn’t rest until I ruined him. I knew it, and Ishmael must have known it, too. I needed a record of his log-ons and IRC receptors — his real-time chat destinations. I needed Johnny to come through.
I wondered if there was another way to get what I needed: might Melinda be willing to help me?
What a joke, I thought.
What a sad, bad joke. So funny I’d laughed out loud about it in the café with Johnny. Maybe it was my growing sense of urgency that made it seem at least possible.
“Lieutenant Jordan Ishmael,” he intoned on-screen, “Sheriff-Coroner Department, Orange County. We’ve had a break in our investigation of a suspect calling himself The Horridus. As you just heard from Sheriff Wade, he is wanted for the abduction of three juvenile females in the last two months. We believe that he is partaking in what we call an escalating fantasy and that he will graduate to more serious acts that could logically end in homicide. We are prepared to do anything within our power to see that this does not occur. We understand the fears and anxieties in our communities. We are part of those communities and we share these concerns. This man is preying on young children. Our children are our most precious members, and our future. This is why, beginning two years ago, the Orange County Sheriff Department created a new Crimes Against Youth unit, dedicated to protecting our minors. Some of our best people joined that unit. Since the first Horridus abduction, CAY has been dedicated to apprehending this individual. CAY has been joined by other personnel from other sections of the force. As head of the unit, I can assure you that we are doing everything we can to find this monster and bring him to justice.”
Ishmael turned away from the camera and took a sip of water.
Some of our best people. Head of the unit.
He’d even taken my job.
I felt that kind of blind anger you can’t do anything about. At least nothing immediately. I had to sit there, along with two and a half million other countyans, and take it on the chin from Ishmael, head of CAY, by his own admission one of the department’s best and brightest crimebusters.
“Now, modern law enforcement has two methods of apprehending suspects. The traditional method is to gather evidence, locate the subject and proceed to interview and perhaps arrest. The other method, which has been gaining favor lately in more sophisticated departments, is one of proaction. In proaction, you take steps that will increase your chances of finding a suspect before he commits another crime. Proaction can be seen as a drawing out of the suspect. Neighborhood policing, neighborhood watch, fugitive publicity and even the holding of press conferences such as this, can all be parts of an effective, proactive campaign. To this end, we now present a composite drawing of the unidentified white male subject who calls himself The Horridus. Louis?”
Condescending prick, I thought.
The screen filled with a poster enlargement of Amanda Aguilar’s drawing. It looked much more human than the photocopy I had smuggled out of my work station, because I was seeing it in color for the first time. The Horridus looked back at me, with his slender face and tall forehead, his short white hair up like the bristles of a brush, his unrevealing eyes, his thin, unhappy mouth. He didn’t look evil. He didn’t even look suspicious. He looked “above average,” whatever that is — intelligent, kempt, unthreatening. Which is one of the reasons he had been able to do what he had done.
I could hear Ishmael’s voice-over: “... white male, late twenties to early thirties, average height and weight, slender build. Brown eyes. Clean shaven. The suspect was last seen wearing a dark blue sport coat and tan trousers. The suspect drives a late-model white van. The suspect has a pronounced case of halitosis. We should also add that the subject has been known to wear facial hair at times, and to change the appearance and style of his hair. If you see someone who answers this description we want you to call the dedicated Sheriff-CAY-Horridus number, one-eight hundred, six-four-seven-S-A-V-E. We ask you not to use nine-one-one. Now, in conjunction with the release of this drawing, we...”
Ishmael went on to describe the new billboards that were being set up along Interstate 5, the 405, the 91, the 57 and on eight heavy-use surface streets in the county. He said the Sheriff Department number would be visible on each, just beneath the drawing.