The Perfect Scream

by James Andrus

  He twisted the dead bolts and opened the door and was surprised to see Lisa Kurtz standing there with her arms folded and her red hair in a ponytail flipped over her shoulder and running down to her chest. She had on an all-weather coat that went all the way to her knees, almost like a trench coat. She was tapping her right foot impatiently.

  Mazzetti stared at her silently for a moment, then said, “Ah, Lisa, um, everything okay?”

  “Are you trying to avoid me?”

  He thought about his policy of not lying to people and decided silence was the best choice in this case.

  Lisa didn’t wait for an answer anyway. “Do you like me?”

  “Of course I like you.”

  “Are you certain you like me?”

  He wasn’t lying. He did like her. He just wasn’t sure he liked being around her. But he didn’t feel like getting into this right now. Not before an afternoon football game. He said, “I think you’re terrific.”

  A broad smile spread across her face. She opened her coat to reveal nothing but some very sheer lingerie, silk stockings, and lacy garters. Before Mazzetti could say anything or react, she stepped inside and enveloped him so quickly with her arms and legs that it felt like she was an octopus and he was the octopus’s next meal, but somehow he didn’t mind one bit.

  One of the first things Stallings learned in the police academy was never give up your gun. No matter what. He looked up the barrel of a shotgun and tried to assess the young man behind it. This was no stoner. This was a businessman protecting his merchandise.

  Stallings did his best to keep calm and said, “Don’t get worked up, son. I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

  “You’re on private property, which is completely surrounded by a six-foot-high fence, and you just walked through a million bucks of marijuana. I think you are here to cause trouble and I can’t let that happen.”

  “I guess this is the wrong time to mention I’m a cop, huh?”

  This caught the man by surprise and he took a second to swivel his head in each direction to make sure Stallings was alone. “You got a warrant, cop?”

  “I don’t need a warrant. I’m not here to arrest you or disrupt your business in any way. I just want to ask you about a young man who’s missing in Jacksonville.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Come on, you’re not an idiot. Why would I make something like that up? Of everything I’ve just said, what sounds like a lie? I just want to talk.”

  “Who’s the boy you’re looking for?” Stallings could see the young man’s finger slip off the trigger slightly.

  “Zach Halston.” The effect on the man was immediate. He knew Zach.

  “What made you come here to ask about Zach?”

  “His cell phone records showed he made a call here not long before he disappeared. I figured out the number he called belonged to J. L. Winter. Can I assume you’re J.L.?”

  The man stepped away from Stallings and motioned with the shotgun for him to step out into the open driveway. “Raise both of your hands and if I see either drop to your waist, I pull this trigger and all the buckshot rounds will pass right through you. Understand?”

  “Like God himself were explaining it to me.” He stepped out of the corn and into the driveway.

  The man said, “Over towards the F-150.”

  Stallings wasn’t in the mood to push the surly man with a shotgun. He started to walk quickly toward the new pickup truck with his hands up and out so there would be no mistake he was listening to commands.

  He paused at the pickup truck and the man barked, “Walk up to the trailer.”

  Stallings complied and paused at the foot of the stairs leading to the clean double-wide, professionally set up on four-foot-high supports.

  The young man shouted, “J.L., I found someone trespassing. He wants to talk to you.”

  Stallings watched as a curtain moved at the front window. A few moments later the door to the trailer opened and a woman about thirty, in jeans that accentuated her perfect curves and a low top that showed off her other assets, stepped onto the wooden stairs. She had a beautiful face with long, straight black hair. Her dark eyes looked from Stallings to the man with the shotgun.

  The woman said, “Who are you?”

  Stallings was so stunned all he could say was, “Are you J. L. Winter?”

  “I am. And if you don’t tell me your name I’m going to have Junior here blow your motherfucking balls off.”

  He couldn’t say it fast enough. “John Stallings. Nice to meet you.”

  TWELVE

  It was early afternoon when Lynn sat down to Thanksgiving dinner with her entire family, including her father’s two brothers, who were in business with him, and their five children. It was quite a crowd, but her mother’s silent toil over two gigantic turkeys kept her from feeling too festive.

  Before dinner she noticed her father calling her cousins by the wrong names and forgetting where he had placed his scotch and water. Considering the high-pressure business he had spent a lifetime building, it was hard to imagine that he had become absentminded. Lynn had been so concerned that she and her older brother had taken him to a neurologist. The diagnosis was simply stress and exhaustion. There wasn’t even a hint of Alzheimer’s or some other neurological disease. As soon as she heard the young doctor explain it was stress and exhaustion, Lynn understood exactly how it could happen.

  Her mother had taken another track. She was not nearly as expressive and vivacious as she had been Lynn’s whole life. Her mom had been the den mother for Cub Scouts, the team mom for soccer, and the organizer for Lynn’s twirling team, as well as being involved in the Chamber of Commerce and City Council. Now she seemed to read a lot and cook extravagant meals that she and Lynn’s father just picked at.

  Her father’s lack of drive had caused the business to suffer greatly. She suspected that was one of the reasons her uncles had come to Thanksgiving dinner. Neither of them had her father’s international vision or genius for transportation, but they had supported two families riding on his coattails.

  Of her own siblings only her younger brother Josh had shown any interest at all in her father’s business. And he didn’t have the contacts to complete the transportation needs if her father could no longer do it. Josh was a salesman. He didn’t think globally, he only thought locally. He liked being close to Mom. He’d even gone to the University of North Florida so that he could still be within arm’s reach of Mom.

  Even thinking about Josh focused her attention on the task ahead of her. Tomorrow afternoon she’d leave for Orlando.

  Stallings sat on the nice leather couch next to the beautiful J. L. Winter in the double-wide trailer that felt more like a luxury suite at the Four Seasons on the inside. A big-screen TV with a dozen speakers placed around the room sat at one end and a wet bar stocked with every imaginable high-end alcohol sat at the other. He noticed two safes bolted to the floor next to the wet bar. He wondered why someone would go to the trouble of securing expensive, heavy safes to the floor of a building that could be driven away. A loveseat was tipped backwards and designed to sit over the safes, hiding them from view. Stallings wondered if J.L. had tried to stash something in the safes when he walked up. It didn’t matter now. The moron with the shotgun had been sent away and he still had his gun and badge. If they were going to pull any shit, they would’ve pulled it by now.

  Junior popped his head in the door and asked in his heavy, North Florida twang, “This old man behaving himself, J.L.?”

  J.L. let a sly smile slide across her face. Her teeth, jawline, and cheekbones were flawless. She had a twinkle in her brown eyes as she slowly turned her head to her associate and said, “No man who looks like this would harm a woman who looks like me.”

  It wasn’t a boast. Not the way she said it. Or the way she looked. It was a fact. The only word Stallings could come up with was stunning. He had a million questions about how she’d ended up running a marijuana farm in the middle of fucking now
here. They were obviously turning a profit and she wasn’t ashamed of her occupation.

  J.L. turned and looked him directly in the eye, leaned in close, placed a hand on his knee, and said, “Your eyes tell me you really are looking for someone. I can see the truth in people’s eyes. That’s my gift. It’s one of the reasons I’m successful in a business like this.” She let her hand linger. Finally she said, “How can I help you, John?”

  Stallings tried to act casual as he reached into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt and pulled out one of the photographs of Jeanie and Zach Halston. He handed it to J.L., who took her time examining the photo. She looked back at him and said, “Are you looking for Zach or the girl?”

  Just the way she said it cut through Stallings like a knife. She was damn near psychic. He cleared his throat and said, “Both.”

  J.L. nodded and said, “Of course I know Zach. You know I know Zach. But I’ve never seen this girl. We always met Zach up around Blanding Boulevard and handed off a couple of pounds of product at a time. He was just a small-time distributor for us, but he didn’t argue or steal, so we kept a pleasant arrangement with him for about two years.” Now she leaned back, crossed her legs, and said, “You didn’t think I would be this open and honest, did you?”

  “Not on my drive down. Once I met you I knew that you were a model citizen who wouldn’t try and hide things from the police.”

  She smiled at his deadpan comment. “Will my honesty keep you from informing the local cops about my little business venture?”

  “You give me something that helps me find Zach Halston and I’ll forget I ever came south of Flagler Beach.”

  “What if I gave you something you might enjoy more than information?”

  “I doubt my wife would enjoy me enjoying anything other than information.”

  J.L. let out a chuckle and said, “A married cop who doesn’t wear a wedding ring. Your eyes tell me there’s more going on in your marriage than you care to admit.”

  “Then why would I admit it?”

  “Well played.”

  “Do you have any idea where Zach might be?”

  “He called Junior a few weeks ago and said he was in trouble with some other dealers. We’re purely a production facility and don’t know anything about disputes between distributors or street justice. Junior told him it had nothing to do with us. We haven’t heard anything else from any of our distributors about a problem. But Zach hasn’t called us back. He hasn’t been answering his phone either. If he was in that much trouble with another dealer someone would’ve heard about it and told us. That’s why we never took him seriously. We just figured it was amateur jitters. These kids like the extra money, but they get paranoid about other dealers and cops.”

  Stallings wrote down a few quick notes.

  J.L. leaned forward again and said, “Do you think he’s all right?”

  “To tell you the truth, I don’t know. But I’m trying as hard as I can to find someone who knows what happened to him.”

  “I’m surprised a cop is out working on Thanksgiving.”

  “You guys are working on Thanksgiving.”

  “The pot business never takes a break.”

  “Neither does crime.”

  J.L. started to laugh. When she had finished and wiped her eyes with her French manicured fingertips she said, “Zach used a couple of his fraternity brothers to help him. I met two of them when I delivered some product. One was his roommate named Connor. The other kid was younger and very thin as I recall. His name was Kyle something and he was from Orlando. He was cute as a button and very preppy. Did you talk to him yet?”

  Stallings shook his head as he scribbled down the name and description. He decided not to mention Connor’s unfortunate overdose. He looked up to see J.L. staring at him. Stallings said, “I appreciate the help. Can I call you if I need more information?”

  “You can call me for any reason at all, sweetheart.”

  John Stallings had rifled his desk like he was on a search warrant until he found a printout he and Patty had compiled of all of the Tau Upsilon fraternity brothers. He had to put on his reading glasses to follow the names as he placed his index finger at the top of the page and worked his way down. Finally he found an entry with the first name of Kyle. It was Kyle Lee and his cell phone number had a 407 area code. Jackpot. That was Orlando. Stallings even considered calling the boy right now but had to wonder about the wisdom of asking someone about unlawful marijuana sales and meeting other pot dealers over the phone. There was also the issue of the photograph. When all was said and done, Stallings was anxious to talk to this boy about the photograph of Jeanie, not about the missing, pot-dealing, fraternity brother.

  Then another thought entered Stallings’s mind. It was really the first time he had thought about it on this case. What if Zach Halston was dead? Aside from the fact that it would be a homicide, it would, more important, be a dead end to Stallings’s inquiry about the photograph of Jeanie. He didn’t know what he’d do if that happened. It was the main reason he hadn’t even seriously considered telling Maria about the photograph.

  The more Stallings pondered Zach Halston’s missing persons case, the more he had to believe the young man was dead. Often a missing young person would not contact his family, but he would call friends. Sometimes a person goes missing on purpose to avoid an uncomfortable relationship or business dealings. That was still possible with Zach, but the fact that he had not called anyone in three weeks made it seem more likely that he was unable to call anyone.

  Stallings had to assume Kyle Lee had gone home for Thanksgiving, but he would check the fraternity house first. He was about to bring up a map of Florida on his computer and see how long a quick ride to Orlando would take when he took the page with Kyle Lee’s phone number and tucked it into his shirt pocket. He felt something in his pocket. His phone. He normally didn’t wear heavy, flannel shirts with pockets in odd places, so he had forgotten about his phone altogether. When he flipped it open he saw there were six messages waiting for him. What the hell?

  Then he noticed the time on the face of the phone. It was 3:30. He felt sick to his stomach for just a moment. Where had the time gone? He was an hour and a half late for Thanksgiving dinner with his entire family.

  THIRTEEN

  Stallings entered his mother’s house without knocking. He’d made it from downtown at the Police Memorial Building in just under eleven minutes at great risk to his and other people’s lives. He thought it was best to face his family in person rather than call and give them a chance to build up their aggravation with him.

  As soon as he entered the living room he caught a quick look at Maria’s murderous glare. His mother was much more direct when she said, “Look what the cat dragged in. Where the hell have you been?”

  But it was the sight of his sister, Helen, chatting with his father at the edge of the living room sofa that shocked him. He stood there, ignoring Maria and his mother, staring at his sister. How could this be? Helen had always credited their father with driving her out of the house at fourteen. She’d run away and been missing for two years. When she came back she was never the same Helen. In fact, she had never moved out of the house again, aside from a brief stint living with Maria and the kids. She still lived with their mother. And she worried about every possible aspect of life. One of her biggest concerns was that somehow her running away had affected Jeanie’s disappearance. Almost like it was in their genetic code to flee their families.

  Helen had disliked their father so much and for so long that when she found out he was still in their mother’s life, she would leave the house every time he came over. Now, his attractive, older sister sat in a church-style dress with her back straight and hands in her lap, talking earnestly with the father who had been gone for almost twenty years.

  Stallings’s mother walked up and gave him a hug, whispering into his ear, “I know how you feel. I’m just as amazed as you are. It really is a miracle.”

  Stallin
gs just nodded. He didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. Instead, he turned just in time to catch Charlie as he barreled into him for a hug. He looked over the boy’s shoulder for Lauren and saw her in the dining room, reading a book at the already set dining table.

  When Charlie wandered back over toward the TV, Maria stepped up to him and said, “What were you doing that was so important you kept us all waiting almost two hours?”

  Stallings hated to lie, so he had to say, “Something came up at work.” He knew how she felt about him putting work first. This would be a prime example that she could talk over with Brother Frank Ellis about how inconsistent Stallings was with his promises.

  Maria said, “Were you working with Patty?”

  “No. She’s in Ocala at her parents’ house. I was on my own today.” As soon as he finished saying the words he realized the implications of what Maria was saying. She really was jealous of Patty. But if he said anything too strongly now it would look suspicious. He reached into his pocket and felt the photograph of Jeanie and Zach Halston. He wanted to show her so badly. He wanted to change the focus of her rage. It’d be the easy way to get out of the situation he found himself in right now. It might change her entire opinion about him.

  Or it might break her all to pieces.

  He removed his hand from his pocket and left the photograph.

  This was going to be one long Thanksgiving dinner.

  FOURTEEN

  The Friday after Thanksgiving had always been somewhat of a letdown for John Stallings. When he was a child he looked forward to Thanksgiving as a chance to spend time with his mother’s family, who would drive down from South Carolina to visit for the long weekend. He felt like a grown-up, watching football with the men in the living room, either waiting for or recovering from a giant meal. But by the next day, he was relegated to entertaining his younger cousins and once again ignored by his father. In the past few years it had been an empty holiday, giving him more time to think about his missing daughter and less time to work on finding her or other kids. This year, being separated from his wife and living in a lonely house over in Lakewood, Stallings had no intention of spending the day at home, alone and brooding.