by Beverly Long
He felt his soul rip for the youth she’d lost. “You so deserve it,” he said.
She rubbed the back of her hand across his cheek. “I know. It’s amazing. I know it now. You helped me see it.”
He wished he didn’t have to go. But now that they had a lead on the serial killer, everybody would work all night if necessary. He stood up and put his coat on. “I’m sorry, but I really do have to go. I’m needed back at work. I want to talk to you about something but now isn’t the right time. I just can’t do it right now.”
“I understand,” she said and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pulled his face toward her and soundly kissed him.
And he let himself drink in all the goodness that was Carmen Jimenez.
When they stopped kissing, he rested his forehead against hers. “Now I really wish I didn’t have to go to work.”
“We could go out in the hallway and make out again,” she said, humor in her tone.
“Don’t tempt me,” he said. He lifted his head. “I don’t want to put a damper on things but you know, we still don’t know who messed with your brakes. You and Raoul need to continue to be vigilant about your safety.”
“We will. We aren’t going anywhere tonight. No need to worry about us. Mrs. Minelli is taking Raoul to school. I’ll catch a cab to work.”
He kissed her again. “Okay. Good night.”
* * *
BY THE TIME Robert caught up with Sawyer, he’d interviewed Barry Taylor and two other staff members who lived in the same general vicinity. “What do you think?” Robert asked.
“I think Mr. Willow was right,” Sawyer said. “Barry Taylor is an odd duck. Well, he was more right than you might imagine.”
“I don’t get it.”
“We got his permission to look around his house, and I think maybe the only thing he takes vengeance on is ducks. He carves them, paints them, mosaic-tiles them, you get the picture. Every room of his house, there are ducks. The artwork in his house, all ducks.”
“So maybe that’s why he didn’t play well with the other instructors? They were human?”
Sawyer smiled. “It’s a possibility. I have to admit, when I saw the carving tools, I got a little excited, given that our guy likes to take home body parts for trophies. That’s why I asked permission to search. The guy didn’t even hesitate.”
“Could he be doing the killing somewhere else?”
“Of course. But here’s the kicker. He doesn’t have a car. He said he didn’t, that he didn’t even have a driver’s license. I was able to verify that with the State. I also took the time to talk to a few of his neighbors after I left, and they have never seen him in a car. He rides his bike everywhere.”
“Our guy has a car or use of a car,” Robert said, shaking his head. “He’s spreading bodies out all over the city. Not doing that on a bike.”
“I think we can scratch odd guy number one off the list. Anyway, the other two staff members that I spoke to seemed pretty normal. One has a teenage boy and I could tell the killings had been especially upsetting for him. The other had been traveling recently and was happy to show us his passport, which verified that he wasn’t even in the country when the killings started. What was interesting was that when I asked both of them if there was somebody on staff who had stood out as odd or different, they both said Douglass Sparrow. That he was a real loner.”
“Maybe he was afraid that Barry Taylor was going to start carving him. You know, ducks today, sparrows tomorrow,” Robert suggested.
Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Keep your day job,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go. It’s going to be a long night.”
* * *
DOUGLASS SPARROW LIVED three blocks from where victim number three had been found. That didn’t necessarily mean anything since all the other victims had been found miles away.
They knocked on the door of the small brick home and waited. They both had flashlights out and on. It had been dark for hours, and Sparrow evidently didn’t believe in porch lights. The temperature had once again dropped and was now hovering around zero.
“I’m going to go check the back,” Robert said. He walked between the houses, which had been built so damn close together that if neighbors both leaned out their windows, they could pass the proverbial cup of sugar.
The back door was locked. Robert pounded on the door and waited a couple minutes. The night was quiet otherwise and he didn’t hear or see anything that gave him any indication that somebody was home.
Maybe Sparrow was at the grocery store or a movie?
Or maybe he was scouting for his next victim?
Robert circled back to Sawyer. “Let’s talk to some neighbors.”
The neighbor on the right was a woman in her sixties. In her living room, there was an ironing board and a treadmill, both set up in front of the flat-screen television. She was obviously a multitasker.
They did introductions. Olivia Borsk was her name, and she was a widow.
When they asked about Douglass Sparrow, she looked satisfied. It wasn’t the reaction they’d expected.
“It’s about time you got here,” she said.
“Time?” Robert asked.
“I’ve called three times. That’s twice more than I should have needed to.”
“What did you call about, Mrs. Borsk?” Sawyer asked.
“His sidewalk, for goodness’ sake. He never shovels it. Only house between here and the grocery store that doesn’t do what he’s supposed to. Forces me to walk out into the street and that’s wrong.”
Robert and Sawyer shared a look. “Have you ever spoken to Mr. Sparrow about your concerns?”
The woman huffed. “Two ss and two rs.”
“What?” Sawyer asked.
“Douglass Sparrow. Two ss and two rs. When he introduces himself, that’s what he says to everybody. Pompous ass.”
“Does Mr. Sparrow have much company?” Robert asked.
“No. But then again, he’s rarely here.”
“What do you mean?” Robert asked.
“What I mean is that the man is only here about half the time. I know because his car is old and loud and I have to turn up my television to hear the news when he pulls up. Maybe if he was here more often, he could do the sidewalk. Or maybe, if you people talked to him, he would do the sidewalk.”
You people. Robert could not look at Sawyer. Otherwise, he would bust a gut and the woman would have a whole other reason to be calling the police department.
“Yes, of course,” Robert said. “What kind of car does Mr. Sparrow drive?”
“Black and noisy. Two doors. Mildred and Ben, his folks, bought it for him when he was in high school.”
“Does Mr. Sparrow work out of town? Is that why he’s gone?” Sawyer asked.
The woman shook her head. “I don’t even think he works. He inherited this house from his parents last year. The Sparrows died in a car accident, poor things. At least they went together. Anyway, they were always saying that he was going to be a famous musician someday. I felt sorry for them. They couldn’t even see the fact that their son was as odd as a three-dollar bill.”
“You don’t think he’s been successful as a musician?”
The woman shrugged. “He was bagging groceries at the supermarket down the street up until his parents’ deaths. That doesn’t seem all that successful to me.”
Robert stood up. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
They were halfway out the door when Mrs. Borsk called after them. “What about the sidewalk?”
“If we see Mr. Sparrow, we’ll make sure we mention it,” said Robert.
Once they were back in the car, Sawyer rubbed his hands together. “I think this could be our guy. The music fits. And lots of times, something sets these idiots off. Maybe
that was his parents’ deaths? Maybe there wasn’t anybody left who believed in him? The only thing I don’t get is that he’s rarely home. Where the hell do you think he is?”
Robert shook his head as he pulled away from the curb. “That’s the weird part. Let’s figure out what he’s driving,” he said. He picked up his cell phone and when the call was answered, he gave them the pertinent details.
“I need information on a car owned by either Douglass Sparrow or Mildred or Ben Sparrow.” He rattled off the home address and hung up.
It didn’t take long for him to get a return call. Robert listened and nodded. “Okay, thanks. Put out a BOLO for that vehicle with instructions to not apprehend or approach. I just want to know where it is.”
Robert turned to Sawyer. “Black Mercury Cougar, 1995.”
Chapter Eighteen
They got a judge to order a search warrant for Douglass Sparrow’s home.
It didn’t take long to search. There was lots of old furniture that his parents had probably had for years. He had a few clothes in the closet and dresser drawers. Some toiletries in the bathroom and a jar each of mustard and pickle relish in his refrigerator.
“Sparrow must eat out all the time,” Robert said. He opened cupboards and found a few plates and two cups.
Sawyer stood in the middle of the kitchen with his hands on his hips. “It’s almost as if...”
“He doesn’t really live here,” Robert said, finishing the sentence. “Which matches what Mrs. Borsk said that he’s hardly ever around.”
“So why do you keep a house but you don’t live in it?” Sawyer asked.
“Because where you’re really living is a secret,” Robert said.
“Gay?” Sawyer asked.
Robert shook his head. “Parents both dead. No high-profile job. Little risk if the secret gets out.”
“Into something illegal?” was Sawyer’s next guess.
Robert met his partner’s eyes. “Like luring young boys to your place and then killing them?”
“Bingo,” Sawyer said.
Robert rubbed his hand across his face. They were running out of time. “We need this guy’s bank account. Maybe he’s writing out rent checks. And his IRS records, too. Maybe there are earnings from another employer.”
“It’s late,” Sawyer said.
“Looks as if we’re going to have to get a few people out of bed,” Robert answered, already pulling out his phone.
* * *
WHEN CARMEN GOT up on Wednesday morning, she carefully opened Raoul’s bedroom door. He was still asleep. Had pushed off his covers at some point and he lay sprawled in the single bed, dressed in an old T-shirt and sweats.
He looked very young and vulnerable.
And he’d threatened to kill two people yesterday.
The two images were so jarringly different that it still made her head hurt.
Thank God Robert had been there. In his calm way, he’d been able to intervene and he had saved lives. He’d certainly given Raoul his life back.
Robert had wanted to ask her something but had said that he’d wait for a better time. What the heck?
Maybe he wanted her to go away with him? That day after the movie they’d had that ridiculous conversation about tropical vacations. Aruba? Bermuda? The Cayman Islands?
If he asked, would she go?
Could she leave Raoul?
Two weeks ago, she’d have said no. But now, she’d had a taste of living, a taste of feeling whole as she shattered in a man’s arms.
She’d had a taste of loving Robert. So if he asked, she’d make sure that Raoul was in Liz and Sawyer’s capable hands and she’d go.
She opened a cupboard and pulled coffee out. Got a pot started and walked back to the bathroom for her shower. By the time she’d finished and dried her hair, she could hear Raoul moving around in the apartment.
She got dressed, pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and put on a little makeup. She’d just finished with mascara when her phone rang.
It was Robert. She smiled at herself in the mirror.
“Hi,” she said.
“Good morning,” he said. “I just wanted to check in and make sure everything was okay.”
She’d been taking care of herself and Raoul for a long time. Had been pretty proud of that fact. Was it wrong that it felt so good to finally have someone who cared about them, maybe even worried about them? “We’re fine,” she said. “Uneventful night. Mrs. Minelli should be here any minute.”
“Look, I wish I knew what the day was going to bring. Maybe we could catch a late dinner together?”
He sounded wistful. And tired. “Did you work late?” she asked.
“All night,” he admitted. “I caught a catnap this morning in my chair.”
“Oh, Robert.” If anyone thought police work was glamorous, they didn’t understand it.
“We’re getting close,” he said. “Can’t say much more than that but I think we’re on the right track.”
“Good luck,” she said.
“Just be careful today, Carmen. Frank Sage is a wild card. We can’t prove that he messed with your brakes but my gut tells me that he’s a bad guy. I’ve got somebody keeping an eye on him, and he’s already been to his coffee shop and he’s on his way to work. I think you’ll be okay.”
She felt very warm inside. Robert Hanson was watching out for her.
“Call me later,” she said. “Even if it’s really late.”
She heard his breath catch and it made her feel pretty powerful. “I will.”
By the time she got to the kitchen, Raoul was at the table with a bowl of cereal in front of him.
But he wasn’t eating. He was just staring at his hands, which were cupped around his bowl.
“Morning,” she said. She poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Morning,” he answered.
He looked tired, and she suspected that he hadn’t slept well. Was he worried about school? About the two boys who were no doubt going to be there that morning?
“I don’t think those boys will bother you,” she said. “Remember what Robert said?”
Raoul nodded. “I’m not worried about that.”
But he was clearly worried about something. She sat down at the table and sipped her coffee. After about two minutes, Raoul looked up from his cupped hands.
“I wasn’t honest with you last night,” he said. “You were great about everything and I couldn’t even tell you the truth.”
Her heart sped up. There was more?
“Then maybe you better take another stab at it,” she said, hoping that she sounded more confident than she was.
He looked her in the eyes. “I didn’t pay somebody twenty dollars for the gun,” he said. “Someone gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“This guy. He’s about your age, I guess. He says his name is Apollo. He was a friend of Hector’s.”
Hector’s. She felt her heart start to beat even faster. All of Hector’s friends had been bad news. She’d known many of them because he was just two years older. She’d never heard of anyone named Apollo.
“How long have you known this man?”
“Not long. He said that Hector had asked him to watch out for me. He wanted me to have Hector’s gun.”
Hector had had a gun. She’d seen it in the waistband of his shorts just days before he’d died. The people he hung with all had guns. But Hector’s had been recovered from his body, confiscated by the police.
Was it possible that he’d had another gun?
Perhaps. But after all these years for it to surface with some lame story about Hector asking for his baby brother to be watched over seemed preposterous.
No way.
�
��Apollo said that he met you a couple times. He knew your name.”
He was going to know more than her name by the time she got through with him. What kind of trash gave a gun to a fifteen-year-old?
“There’s something else,” he said. He looked even more miserable. “You’re going to be so mad at me.”
He was scaring her. “I may be angry,” she admitted. “But you need to tell me everything or I can’t help.”
“The other night, I used the gun to shoot out some windshields at a used car place. Speedy’s. I’m not exactly sure how many cars.”
Her heart sank. Shooting out car windows.
He’d committed a crime. Her brother was a criminal. “When? How?”
“On Sunday night. I snuck out while you and Alexa were busy in the kitchen. I met Apollo there. He wanted to teach me how to shoot.”
She was going to rip this guy’s head off.
“We’re going to have to tell the police,” she said. The idea of Raoul having a police record made her want to throw up, but they had to do what was right.
“I think they know,” Raoul said, tears in his eyes. “At least I think Robert does.”
What? How could that be? “Why would you think that?”
“He’s asked me about it a couple times.”
Robert had reason to believe that her brother had a gun and had used that gun to commit a crime and yet he’d said nothing. She felt sick and hollow and terribly betrayed.
He knew that Raoul was her life.
She was such an idiot. She’d gotten blinded by the attention and she’d lost track of what was important.
Raoul. He was important. And he’d gotten himself into a bunch of trouble.
And now he needed her help.
“Do you know how to contact Apollo?” she asked.
“I’m supposed to meet him at eight o’clock this morning, outside my school.”
“I’m going with you,” she said. She got up and carefully pushed her chair in. Her bones felt very brittle. “I don’t believe that he was a friend of Hector’s. He certainly wasn’t looking out for you when he gave you a gun so that you could vandalize someone’s property. What you did was wrong,” she said.
