The Perfect Prey js-2 Page 4

  Now he wondered if Helen wasn’t seeing how much good she could do in the world if she got out. She had single-handedly saved Maria, and the kids seemed pretty well adjusted to her presence.

  Helen said, “It’s a weird situation.”

  “Weird how?”

  “It’s like I took your place. The kids look to me for day-to-day decisions, and Maria counts on me to keep her on track. I don’t think I’m helping the chances of you and her getting back together.”

  “As long as you aren’t sleeping with her it’s not too weird.”

  Helen gave him a flat stare. “I’m serious. I don’t want to screw up my little brother’s life.”

  “I did that on my own. You’re just helping out until Maria and I can set things right.”

  Helen smiled. She was a nice woman, and as her brother, Stallings never really noticed how attractive she was. What had caused her to withdraw from the world so completely? He’d never known her to even have a date. Maybe it was a family trait, because, in a way, he had withdrawn too. He just called it working hard, but even he had to admit it had given him a reason to stay separate from people, especially his family. The hell of it was that he had no idea how to correct it. Sure, he was around the house more, but had he really connected with anyone under this roof? Maria wasn’t speaking to him, Jeanie had left, he barely got a grunt out of Lauren anymore, and Charlie liked to see him because he would play soccer with the boy until they both dropped.

  Helen said, “Look, John, you can’t just fix things overnight. You have time. I like it here. Let’s see what happens.”

  He heard the lock on the front door turn. Lauren stepped in on high heels. He hadn’t seen them when she left to supposedly study.

  “Where have you been?”

  “Out?”

  “Past eleven on a school night?”

  “Mom said it was okay.”

  He hesitated because he hated overriding Maria, but sometimes she agreed to things she shouldn’t.

  Lauren didn’t finish the discussion; instead she stomped up the stairs.

  Allie watched the scenery rush by as she felt the effects of the drug wash through her. This was all a big adventure to her, and she didn’t want to miss one thing. Jacksonville had seemed like a giant city to her, and it was hard to believe even after ten minutes on this road, that they were still in Jacksonville. The was nothing but fields with the thick underbrush and tightly packed pine trees interrupted by the entrance to some fancy housing development every half mile or so. She was excited. And scared. She talked a good game, but in reality she really didn’t know much about sex. Her first boyfriend, Tommy, knew less about sex than she did, so she didn’t feel self-conscious. The best experience she’d had was in the Volvo parked in her parent’s driveway. But that had serious drawbacks, like the bruise the gearshift had left on her thigh, and she’d never been able to relax fully with her family only a few yards away inside the house. This was different.

  In a way she’d put the pressure on herself to go through with it. She told herself that meeting a guy and having sex in a distant city was part of the spring break experience. She had to be honest and admit she’d turned this into a more romantic adventure than it really was. She attributed some of that to just being a kid and scared of something new. It’d be fine. It wasn’t like she was a virgin. But it still scared her.

  She looked over at him, so confident and handsome behind the wheel of his Jeep. He turned and smiled back at her. He was so good looking it almost seemed fake, like a mask. His muscular arms and handsome face would have been right at home on the big screen. But even in that nice package she wasn’t sure she felt enough emotionally to justify having sex with him. She thought about what she’d tell the girls when she got back to the hotel and decided she couldn’t back out now.

  Allie took a deep breath, trying to relax. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him and that this was something that she’d decided to do. Allie reached across and placed her hand on the back of his head, running her fingers through his short, neat hair.

  This would be her fling for the week. Maybe for the whole semester. And she’d be able to look at the other girls on the ride back to Hattiesburg and tell them how romantic and exciting the whole encounter was.

  She hoped she wouldn’t be lying, but if she had to she would.

  His heart beat with a rhythm only felt when he had his prey. These were the moments he lived for. The sex was incidental; he could have sex any time he wanted. It was the power he needed. He needed it to live as much as air or water. That was why he was so careful. He’d taken great care to learn about Allie’s companions and not let them see him with her. He also had talked with Allie about what she’d told them about him. She had shared the Ecstasy hit with her chubby little friend but never said exactly who had supplied it. He’d spent a small fortune buying the quality homemade Ecstasy that couldn’t be traced. And it packed a wallop.

  He relaxed and enjoyed the feeling as it consumed him here in the wide-open field near a small private airport east of downtown. The clouds over the moon had made the night a deep black void. But this was a tactile experience. Her bare, muscular back rubbed against his chest as he dropped his hands to play with her swaying breasts. He felt her breathing increase. She had a shitload of Ecstasy in her. She’d taken one hit from someone else; he had given her one more and then slipped another into a bottle of water. This girl was on fire. A chemical fire that burned inside her as he pushed her farther and farther, ramming deeper and deeper inside her.

  The first set of screams were of encouragement, even if they were enhanced by the drug. Then, as he picked up the pace and more of the drugs worked their way into her bloodstream, the screams changed in tone. Now, as he pounded harder, the screaming and squirming were not sexual. At least not on Allie’s part. The X had raised her body temperature to the point that now her skin was soaked with sweat and was hot to the touch. He straightened up and let just the cheeks of her shapely butt touch his pelvis.

  She panted, “Please, stop.” She gulped some air. “I need a break.”

  He reached around and placed his palm on her chest. Her heart hammered at almost two hundred beats a minute.

  Her legs gave out, and he let his weight fall on top of her, still thrusting.

  Allie raised her head once more to breathe or scream, but she just let out a groan and collapsed.

  He kept pumping, feeling her entire body go limp. The feeling of excitement and power flooded over him, making him come so hard he was afraid he’d shoot the condom off right into her.

  He fell on top of her sizzling hot body, panting himself and his limbs weak. He wanted to absorb her dissipating energy. She made no movement beneath him. No breathing, not a flutter from what had to be an exploded heart, not even a settling of gases. So much better than the slow choking he used a few nights earlier. This would be the easiest death to hide yet.

  He rolled off the quiet, lifeless Allie Marsh and admired his handiwork. He moved her onto the grass and started to pull on her clothes. He still had a little work to do.

  Eight

  Patty Levine peered across the squad bay at John Stallings behind his bare old wooden desk, crammed over next to the unused holding cell. They had both been moved into this squad bay for a big-deal homicide a few months ago and had decided they liked being in close with crimes/persons, which included any violent crimes, homicides, and robberies. Most of the other detectives that had been brought over for the Bag Man case had gone back to their own offices in auto theft, fraud, and computer crimes. A few, like Luis Martinez and Rod Morris, stayed. No one mentioned that the squad was now four detectives bigger; it just sort of happened like a slow, unstoppable evolution. That’s the way a lot things happen around police departments. No real orders are cut, just one day you look around and there are new people or you’re in a new office.

  Patty wasn’t worried things might change with a new sergeant on the way. Everyone had heard rumors about Y
vonne Zuni, but Patty knew how rumors about women in public service tended to be overblown. She thought it was cool to have a female sergeant and lieutenant. It was the only unit in the SO like that. Maybe one of the only police units in Florida.

  Patty crossed the cramped room and settled into the hard, wooden, straight-back chair next to Stallings’s desk.

  He looked up from some notes but didn’t say anything. Typical.

  “What’re you working on?”

  “Jason Ferrell. We’re gonna find that guy today.”

  “You make him sound like a fugitive. He’s not even wanted.”

  “Except by his mother.”

  “He’s thirty years old.”

  “Tell that to a parent missing her child.” He sighed. “She called me first thing this morning, anxious for any news. I told her we’d do everything we could to find him.” He looked around the room. “There’s nothing else cooking. I’ve screwed up too many promises lately to let down this lady.”

  Patty smiled at her partner. The guy didn’t have a fault as far as she was concerned. “I’m with you. What’s the game plan?”

  “If the landlord says other guys are looking for him we might want to sit on the apartment and see if they show up. If we know what he was into, we might figure out where he’s laying up.” He looked through some notes, then back to Patty. “Did you drop off the yellow liquid we found at the lab?”

  “Yeah, but it’ll be a little while. They don’t see the urgency we do.”

  “Let’s save our battles for when we know who we’re fighting.”

  She was about to suggest checking the local surveillance video feeds in stores and other places Ferrell might have frequented, when the lieutenant stepped in through the rear door and said, “Listen up, people. I want to introduce you to your new boss.”

  Patty stared as Yvonne Zuni stepped up next to Rita Hester.

  John Stallings heard someone behind him mutter, “Holy shit, I don’t remember her looking like that.” Stallings wasn’t sure he had ever met the woman standing by the door, but he’d seen her around. He felt a pang of guilt that he had assumed she was an analyst or maybe someone’s executive assistant. It was a chauvinistic prejudice that he hadn’t thought he held. But Stallings had to look at this beautiful woman with tropical dark skin and bright green eyes and wonder, How on earth did you ever get the name Yvonne the Terrible?

  She stepped up next to the lieutenant and said in a clear voice, “First I’d like to see each set of partners privately in the conference room to get a handle on what you’re working on. Second, I want a written summary of each case on a single sheet of paper on my desk by noon. And finally, I’m glad to be here.” Without another word she turned and stepped into the conference room. Within twenty seconds she called out, “Well, who’s gonna be first?”

  Stallings and Patty exchanged glances; then both stood at the same time. He knew putting off something unpleasant didn’t make it any more tolerable. They marched together into the conference room.

  “I’m John Stallings.”

  “I’m Patty Levine.”

  Yvonne the Terrible stood up. She held out a delicate hand and shook his hand firmly. “I know both of you. Patty, we worked the snatch-and-run bandits a couple of years ago.”

  “Good memory.”

  The sergeant said, “I was just a detective then.”

  Patty nodded. “But you ran that case.”

  Yvonne Zuni looked toward Stallings. “And everyone knows you, John.” She motioned them to sit down. “You guys are our missing persons team, right?”

  Patty added, “And backup homicide.”

  “We’ll see. What are you working on?”

  Stallings and Patty took turns going through their cases. Stallings finished with a detailed view and plan on finding Jason Ferrell.

  Sergeant Zuni closed her notebook in which she had scribbled several comments, then looked up at Stallings. “Instead of finding this middle-aged loser, we have a new missing persons report on a student from Mississippi named Allison Marsh. I don’t want a big media drama over a missing student. Drop what you’re doing and track her down.”

  Stallings said, “I didn’t even see anything on it yet.”

  “I know. Consider this your assignment. The call came in upstairs.”

  “That’s a little odd. Usually…”

  The sergeant cut him off. “Usually there was no sergeant here. Usually hotshots like you and Tony Mazzetti did whatever you wanted to. Now, as of this minute, you better get out and find this girl.” She smiled, but somehow she’d gone from beautiful to scary. “Any questions?”

  Stallings didn’t have one.

  Nine

  John Stallings, like any seasoned cop, knew his strengths and weaknesses. He could read people and interview well. Some would say there was a large element of fear that made people talk to him, but he got results. He also was willing to work ungodly hours to find a missing kid or solve a homicide. His greatest weakness was not using all the available sources of information from computer databases and intelligence files. Patty understood the physics of such work and seemed to like it, so he let her run with it.

  An hour after Yvonne Zuni had ordered them to find the missing Allison Marsh, Patty had her metal notecase crammed with printouts, photographs, and information on the case. They were about to head over to Atlantic Beach to catch the travel mates of the missing girl. Allison Marsh’s mother had reached the girls and had started the chain of panic even though Allie hadn’t been missing long.

  As he pulled onto Edgewood Avenue, Patty said, “Where are you going?”

  “Just a quick run by Jason Ferrell’s apartment. See if anyone is around.”

  Patty started to sift through her notes.

  Stallings smiled and said, “Worried Yvonne the Terrible is gonna catch us veering off our assignment? Should we call her when we want to stop and get lunch?”

  “It’s not like you to ignore a missing girl, or to mock a boss. You usually follow orders.”

  “I am following orders and doing a little extra. Just because Jason Ferrell is a little older doesn’t mean his mother isn’t any less worried. I promise we’ll be talking to Allison Marsh’s friends within an hour.”

  As Stallings pulled his Impala to the curb right in front of the main door to the apartment complex, two men walked out and froze at the entrance.

  Stallings said to Patty, “Do those two look like the guys the manager described to you?”

  “Exactly how he described them.”

  Stallings knew to get out quickly. Something about these two made him lift his shirt to show his gun and badge on his hip. These weren’t city people; they’d come from the farther reaches of the south. Maybe South Georgia or the center of North Florida.

  The taller of the two men, in jeans, a dirty white T-shirt, and John Deere hat, said, “Oh shit, five-O.” He turned and started to walk quickly down the sidewalk with his pudgy, bald friend behind him.

  “Hang on, fellas,” called out Stallings.

  The men slowed.

  Patty stepped out, but used the car as cover. She saw the pair as a threat too.

  Stallings kept his voice loud and firm. “Turn around and walk back this way.”

  The big man turned. “Why?”

  “You said it before. Because we’re cops and we want to talk to you.”

  “I don’t think we have to consent to that demand.”

  Stallings turned to Patty. “Fucking Law and Order. “ Then he called out, “You do have to consent.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you make me come over to you boys, I’ll kick your asses.”

  The men exchanged glances and then, without warning, started to run hard down the sidewalk.

  The move surprised Stallings so much that he hesitated between jumping in his car or chasing them on foot. He and Patty slipped back into the unmarked police car and pulled from the curb in time to see a blue Ford F-150 rumble over a chain-link f
ence at the far end of the apartment’s side parking lot. They pulled onto the next block as Stallings hit the gas and cut through the lot. He pulled up short of following the raised truck over the crushed fence. The low clearance of his Impala would never make it over the fence.

  As the car squealed to a stop at the edge of the parking lot, Stallings slammed the steering wheel. “Shit.” He could see the truck speeding away. He had no reason to jump on the radio and call out a pursuit. He just wanted to talk to the men.

  He looked over at Patty. “What are you grinning about?”

  “I got the tag.”

  Less than thirty minutes after the rednecks had given them the slip, Patty Levine and John Stallings had crossed the wasteland between J-Ville and the beach towns. Patty liked to see how well her tough, street-smart partner could talk to young people. In his years assigned to missing persons, he had developed a reputation for being able to deal with Jacksonville’s large homeless population. One of the reasons, Patty could clearly tell, was because he treated everyone with respect until they didn’t deserve respect. He also had a good rapport with younger people.

  Now he sat on a couch next to Susan Meyers in the lobby of a little family-run motel off the ocean. The girl was worried about her missing friend and scared, but Stallings had a way of reassuring people without being condescending or fake.