bloodstains?’
‘Hell.’ Preston grinned, tucking both thumbs into his belt loops and sticking out his belly in mock salute to his good-ol’-boy heritage. ‘Booze is booze. I’ll take it in any shade you like.’
Still grinning, Preston turned to look at the floor behind the cash register. The spilled rum had diluted the victim’s blood and formed a crimson pool. It was dotted with lethal shards of glass that reflected the store’s fluorescent lights.
Preston turned serious. ‘You expecting him to die?’
Hogan shook his head. ‘This guy’s got a skull like a bull moose. They took him to Martha’s for an X-ray, but he was already bitching about lost trade in the ambulance.’
‘So I ask again. Why are we here?’
Hogan grinned. ‘Follow me.’
Hogan led his partner into a back room piled with crates of wines and spirits. The room led off into a small office stuffed with overflowing boxes of paper receipts, a toilet that could inspire a
Trainspotting
sequel, and an even smaller closet that housed three VCRs and three thirteen-inch, black and white monitors.
With his partner leaning over his shoulder, Hogan hit the Play buttons on all three VCRs. As the robbery and assault progressed from different angles, Hogan hit the Pause and Zoom button on the middle machine. Sam’s face filled the screen. His eyes, narrowed in anger, stared directly into the camera.
‘Well, dip me in clover and invite the cattle over for tea,’ Preston muttered. ‘What the heck is he doing robbing a liquor store? Didn’t I tell you there was something flaky about him?’
‘It gets flakier. According to the vic, White claimed his family had been kidnapped and he had to steal the booze to get them back.’
‘Bleepin’ actors,’ Preston grumbled. ‘They all go off the deep end sometime.’
‘Maybe so,’ Hogan agreed. ‘But that could offer an explanation for his erratic behaviour.’
‘It’s bull,’ Preston said gruffly. ‘Kidnappers don’t blow the crap out of your house, and they sure as shit don’t leave extra bodies behind when they leave.’
‘So what’s your theory?’ Hogan asked.
‘He’s a whack job. Plain and simple. He decided to kill his wife and take off with his daughter back to L.A. To cover his tracks, he switched his daughter for some other kid before blowing up the house.’
‘So we should be looking into missing black kids?’
‘Or disturbed graves,’ Preston said. ‘No reason to use a live one when you’re planning to burn ’em.’
‘Christ! You’ve got some warped imagination.’
Preston shrugged. ‘Show me a cop who doesn’t and I’ll show you his lobotomy scars.’
36
In the motel room, Sam sat on the bed and stared at the two liquor bottles perched on the table. Twin sentinels of oblivion and they sang out his name.
A similar song called from his vest pocket where a tiny Ziploc bag still contained a half-dozen blue pills. He knew the combination could send him to a place where problems didn’t exist, but, for the sake of his family, he fought the urge.
Alone with his thoughts, Zack having walked to a deli around the corner, Sam wondered just what he had started and if he would ever be able to justify his actions to his family and to himself when it was over.
Zack stood outside the deli with the cellphone pressed to his ear.
‘The guy in the liquor store recognized him. Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ said the altered voice. ‘Maybe he saw his commercial on TV.’
‘Bullshit. I want to know what game—’
‘Careful, Dr Parker. You don’t want me angry. Jasmine wouldn’t like it. Now, the important question is, does Sam remember
you
?’
‘No. And there’s no reason he should. We never spoke back then.’
‘Keep it that way.’
The cellphone rang and Sam snatched it up.
‘A job well done, Mr White,’ said the digitally altered voice. ‘A touch messier than I expected from an upstanding citizen, but you’ve always had that dark side, haven’t you?
‘Hell.’ Preston grinned, tucking both thumbs into his belt loops and sticking out his belly in mock salute to his good-ol’-boy heritage. ‘Booze is booze. I’ll take it in any shade you like.’
Still grinning, Preston turned to look at the floor behind the cash register. The spilled rum had diluted the victim’s blood and formed a crimson pool. It was dotted with lethal shards of glass that reflected the store’s fluorescent lights.
Preston turned serious. ‘You expecting him to die?’
Hogan shook his head. ‘This guy’s got a skull like a bull moose. They took him to Martha’s for an X-ray, but he was already bitching about lost trade in the ambulance.’
‘So I ask again. Why are we here?’
Hogan grinned. ‘Follow me.’
Hogan led his partner into a back room piled with crates of wines and spirits. The room led off into a small office stuffed with overflowing boxes of paper receipts, a toilet that could inspire a
Trainspotting
sequel, and an even smaller closet that housed three VCRs and three thirteen-inch, black and white monitors.
With his partner leaning over his shoulder, Hogan hit the Play buttons on all three VCRs. As the robbery and assault progressed from different angles, Hogan hit the Pause and Zoom button on the middle machine. Sam’s face filled the screen. His eyes, narrowed in anger, stared directly into the camera.
‘Well, dip me in clover and invite the cattle over for tea,’ Preston muttered. ‘What the heck is he doing robbing a liquor store? Didn’t I tell you there was something flaky about him?’
‘It gets flakier. According to the vic, White claimed his family had been kidnapped and he had to steal the booze to get them back.’
‘Bleepin’ actors,’ Preston grumbled. ‘They all go off the deep end sometime.’
‘Maybe so,’ Hogan agreed. ‘But that could offer an explanation for his erratic behaviour.’
‘It’s bull,’ Preston said gruffly. ‘Kidnappers don’t blow the crap out of your house, and they sure as shit don’t leave extra bodies behind when they leave.’
‘So what’s your theory?’ Hogan asked.
‘He’s a whack job. Plain and simple. He decided to kill his wife and take off with his daughter back to L.A. To cover his tracks, he switched his daughter for some other kid before blowing up the house.’
‘So we should be looking into missing black kids?’
‘Or disturbed graves,’ Preston said. ‘No reason to use a live one when you’re planning to burn ’em.’
‘Christ! You’ve got some warped imagination.’
Preston shrugged. ‘Show me a cop who doesn’t and I’ll show you his lobotomy scars.’
36
In the motel room, Sam sat on the bed and stared at the two liquor bottles perched on the table. Twin sentinels of oblivion and they sang out his name.
A similar song called from his vest pocket where a tiny Ziploc bag still contained a half-dozen blue pills. He knew the combination could send him to a place where problems didn’t exist, but, for the sake of his family, he fought the urge.
Alone with his thoughts, Zack having walked to a deli around the corner, Sam wondered just what he had started and if he would ever be able to justify his actions to his family and to himself when it was over.
Zack stood outside the deli with the cellphone pressed to his ear.
‘The guy in the liquor store recognized him. Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ said the altered voice. ‘Maybe he saw his commercial on TV.’
‘Bullshit. I want to know what game—’
‘Careful, Dr Parker. You don’t want me angry. Jasmine wouldn’t like it. Now, the important question is, does Sam remember
you
?’
‘No. And there’s no reason he should. We never spoke back then.’
‘Keep it that way.’
The cellphone rang and Sam snatched it up.
‘A job well done, Mr White,’ said the digitally altered voice. ‘A touch messier than I expected from an upstanding citizen, but you’ve always had that dark side, haven’t you?
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