Behold the Child (11 page)

"
What?
"

"Yeah, our landlord. Just tell them this is a weird old guy who hardly ever comes to town. Doc and I are going to his place right now. If he did this, I don't want him to have time to cover up anything."

Laura said: "Sam, I'm worried. Don't go alone."

Kenzie laughed reassuringly. "Like I said, don't worry. He's just a crazy old man, and there are two of us. Doc is with me. Now make that call, honey. I'll call you back in an hour or so."

Kenzie broke the connection. Doc spat again. "Nice of you to volunteer my ass without asking me first."

"I don't have time to run you back to town," Kenzie said. "Sorry. You can wait in the car if you want to."

Doc hugged himself against the cold. "You carry a shotgun, right?"

"On the dash."

"Well then you can keep that there popgun. I'll carry the shotgun and back you up. How's that sound?"

"Just fine," Kenzie said dryly. "That's what every cop wants to hear from his partner. 'Don't worry, I'll be right behind you every step of the way.'" They shared a bitter laugh. Kenzie packed up his camera and the evidence he had collected. A few moments passed. Doc cleared his throat.

"Sheriff? I'm scared shitless."

"That's a reasonable posture," Kenzie said. "Me too."

Kenzie paused to look down at Timmy.
I'm sorry I have to leave you here,
he thought
. You were a brave little boy. I will get this bastard, I promise.
The boy stared back as if asking a question of tremendous importance. Kenzie swallowed.
No, I don't know why the world allowed this to happen. I wish I did.

In the car, Kenzie said: "Now tell me about any other missing children from around this part of the state, Doc. This is damned important. Don't leave anything out." He drove slowly, carefully. This old road was poor anyway, and tonight it was covered with slick ice and patches of snow.

"Hell, only other time I heard of was maybe eight, nine months ago," Doc said, "and it wasn't here, but over the mountain in Dry Wells. A couple lived there name of Johnson went to get their little boy one morning and he was missing. Everybody searched up and down the valley, but they never found a body. Sheriff Harris helped them out. He was getting on in years by then, and it upset him no end. Some folks figured the kid got caught by a mountain lion. Maybe ten days later, some migrant workers passing through lost their little boy. Same deal. Search parties, flyers, shit we even had some local television coverage that time. Nada."

A grinding, hissing noise: Kenzie felt the cruiser sliding to the right. He gunned the powerful engine and twisted the wheel until he had regained control of the vehicle. He kept his speed down, trying to be as quiet as possible. He searched for the ancient bridge while he listened.

"They went nowhere with the investigation," Doc said softly. "Then a couple of weeks later they caught this drunken tramp down by the railway, and he had some stuff on him belonged to the Johnson boy. Can't recall what exactly, maybe a sweater and a pocketknife or something. It seems that tramp had been living around Twin Forks for years, comin' out at night to scavenge for food in trashcans. Man, he was some paranoid, pissed-off guy. He broke the nose of the sheriff of Dry Wells when they went to arrest him. Kept on babbling about dead children and ice cubes, something like that. Said he probably had killed 'em."

"Probably? Sounds like a paranoid schizophrenic," Kenzie said. "Crazy as a loon without medication. Will the state give him the needle anyway?"

Doc chuckled without humor. "We're talking a couple of kids, here, Sheriff. Missing and presumed dead. Guy was screwed, blued and tattooed in a heartbeat. You get my drift?"

"I get it. They were happy to have nailed somebody," Kenzie said. "Too happy to think things through properly. And old Sheriff Harris got to retire with honor."

"It bothered me some when I read about it," Doc admitted. "But still, he could have done it. Some schizophrenics are dangerous, right? That's how I rationalized, it anyway. I think everybody wanted it to be over with, even though it was in the next county. And for the last few months it was."

"Until tonight."

"I guess so."

Kenzie saw the bridge. He shut off the lights and rolled the police cruiser onto the battered wood and steel platform. He winced at the racket the tires made going over the splintered planks. Kenzie reflexively lowered his voice to a whisper.

"So maybe this is our killer, maybe not. What do you know about old Klaus Wachner, Doc?"

"Just that he moved here recently," Doc said. "He was some kind of big shot with the Army. Way I heard it, back when he worked at one of those Area 51 places, all top secret stuff."

"A scientist?"

"A biologist, I think," Doc said. "Stuff that's way beyond me. He worked with new technologies and weapons-grade chemicals, something like that anyway. Never talked much about it. Likely wasn't allowed to."

Kenzie knew that many serial killers had seemingly normal lives. He chewed his lip as he drove slowly through the cold, oppressive night, then asked the question that was on his mind. "Any family?"

"Huh?"

"Klaus Wachner, does he have a family?"

"Did. Wife died in childbirth," Doc said. "And then his little girl suddenly got real sick and died, too. I heard that was maybe ten or twelve years back, when he worked for the government. Then not long ago he just moved here, picked up a couple of empty houses and up and bought his spread."

"So he moved here just before me?"

"That's true, he did. But before that he really fixed the place up. Wachner had crews digging holes, pouring concrete, adding on to the ranch house, installing livestock pens and a new power panel, all kinds of stuff. He did a hell of a lot of work on that ranch."

"And he lost a daughter," Kenzie mused. "Maybe that's the motivation for killing kids."

"How so?"

"Well, one of them 'killed' his wife by getting born, right? Hell, maybe he murdered his own little girl years ago for revenge, and then that's what started him off."

"I could see that making sense to a nut job."

"My instincts tell me he's wrong, Doc. And they never lie."

The tension was so palpable time seemed to warp back on itself. Kenzie felt like they had been driving for hours, but it had only been minutes. He knew they must be close to the right place.

"Where are we?"

Doc peered through the windshield, which had started to fog up from the warmth of their bodies. "Can't tell," he said, finally.

Kenzie risked flicking on the lights. They saw bright, feverish eyes in the roadway. He felt ice run up his spine and the short hairs on his neck jumped.

"Fuck me!"

The scrawny coyote lowered its head, sniffed and slithered off into the brush. Meanwhile, Kenzie caught a glimpse of a dilapidated cabin perhaps twenty yards away. He was surprised to see power lines running to it and that the dim porch light was on. He clicked the lights back off and unbuckled his seat belt. "Doesn't look like he worried too much about the exterior," Kenzie said. "It's a dump."

"You're stopping?"

"I figure we walk from here," Kenzie said. He unfastened the bands holding the shotgun tight against the dashboard. "There you go, Doc. Try not to blow my ass off, okay?"

After a moment, Doc said. "The devil's alternative."

It was pitch black. Sheriff Kenzie took several deep breaths to calm down and then turned towards Doc. "What did you say?"

In the blackness, Doc said: "The devil's alternative. I've got two crappy options. I stay out here alone, or walk into what might be a trap. Damned if I do, damned if I don't."

Kenzie grinned wickedly. "Then may as well 'do.'"

After a time, Doc sighed and unlocked the passenger door. "Suppose you're right at that," he said. "Better than doing nothing. I warn you, though. I may have to go somewhere and clean out my shorts after this."

Kenzie thought for a moment. "Me, too."

Doc eased his bulk out onto the dirt road. Kenzie's eyes began to adjust, and he watched Doc's massive form as he waddled forward with the shotgun cradled in his arms. "One thing I do not get," Doc said, softly.

"Why he called me and whispered where the body was."

"You got it."

"I suspect he wants to get caught," Kenzie replied quietly. Suddenly he thought of Oso, The Bear, whose mother burned him with a hot iron when he misbehaved:
I can't stand the pain any more, ese.
Kenzie shook the memory away and continued speaking. "Most likely part of him wants to get caught. It happens. Might have just gotten tired of waiting for justice and decided to give us a little hint."

"Like stepping in pig shit."

The air reeked of fecal matter. Kenzie became aware of a small choir, gently chuffing and squeaking. He realized they were passing an enclosure filled with large pigs. Nauseated, he wondered if Klaus Wachner had fed the missing children to the big animals once he was done abusing them. No bodies that way, for sure.

Jesus Christ, that conjured up some awful images.
Sooooie, pig pig.

Kenzie paused at the edge of the light streaming from the yellow porch bulb. He looked at Doc and swallowed. He dropped his voice to a hoarse croak. "You know how to use that thing, Doc?"

"Little late to ask me, ain't it?"

"You've got a point. Now listen, you stay on my right once we get through the door. You cover from the right, I take the left. First rule is we don't shoot each other, okay? After that, damned near anything goes."

Doc cocked the shotgun. The snick of the slide was loud, ominous and nasty. "Last chance. You sure you don't want to wait for the State Police?"

Kenzie shrugged. "Shit yes, I want to. But there could be another kid in there, Doc. Or he could be getting rid of evidence while we're fucking around. Can't risk waiting another hour for them to get a car down here. Look, it's my town, my call."

"Then let's do it."

And they edged forward by starlight. Kenzie took the Glock from its holster and flicked off the safety. He edged up onto the wooden porch, heavy flashlight in one hand and pistol in the other. Doc stepped to the right of the doorway. The porch moaned under his weight. Kenzie steeled himself.

"Police!" He kicked at the door, kicked again. The wood shattered and flew inwards. Kenzie flicked on the flashlight and jumped into the room, moving to his left. He heard Doc stumble in behind him. Dust flew up and clouded the air. Kenzie sneezed and briskly searched the room. Nothing but tattered furniture and mounds of books. He jumped into the small kitchen. It was empty, too.

"Stay there, Doc."

Kenzie flattened himself against the wall and eased down to the only other doorway. He took a deep breath, released part of the air and tried the knob. It was unlocked. He pushed the door and stepped back out of the way, unconsciously waiting for a hail of bullets that didn't come. The door slammed against the wall with a loud
BANG
and he jumped.

More silence.

Kenzie played the flashlight through the bedroom. Dirty clothes were strewn everywhere, piled onto tattered furniture and lying at the foot of the bed. The smell was overpowering, but this time it was the stench of human body odor and pig droppings. There were stacks of books in the corners and on a shelf, most of them dog-eared and stuffed with markers and slices of post-its.

Arcane symbols had been scrawled on the walls with magic markers of every conceivable size and color. Most of them appeared to be mathematical in nature. The letters EMR appeared over and over again, in varying patterns and scripts.

"What the fuck does EMR mean?"

"Beats me."

"And speaking of paranoid schizophrenics," Doc said, "I think this guy has gone totally bat shit."

"Believe it," Kenzie said. "But where the hell is he?"

Doc found a light switch on the wall. One lone bulb flickered on; it dangled from a worn black wire right in the middle of the ceiling. The light cut in and out, giving everything a strobe-like flicker. Kenzie searched the room while Doc stood guard. His movement stirred the powder coating the books, bed and clothing. Soon the air was foul and cloudy with dust so thick it hurt to breathe. Kenzie sneezed a second time.

"My fucking allergies. My nose is running."

"Be glad of it," Doc replied. "This guy has need for some industrial strength deodorant."

Kenzie felt his stomach sink with disappointment. He'd found nothing to link Klaus Wachner to the dead boy except for the presence of pig excrement in the boot print. Hell, it was arguable he'd not even had probable cause to search the premises. For the first time in his long career, Kenzie's instincts appeared to have let him down.

Doc coughed and spat. "Are we seriously fucked here, Sheriff?"

Kenzie nodded reluctantly. "Looks like it," he said. "And I don't mind telling you I'm pissed about it. This guy is wrong, I can smell it."

Doc sniffed. "Me, too. Literally."

"I really like him for the murders, Doc. I think Klaus Wachner called me tonight and lured us here."

Doc seemed dubious. "And because he blamed his own kid for his wife's death in childbirth, he got pissed and poisoned her?"

"That kind of flies, doesn't it? Stay with me on this. Then let's say the guilt started to eat him up, so he had to kill other kids to justify what he did, then it goes on and on."

"Maybe."

"I had a case like this in LA. I probably told you about it somewhere along the way." Kenzie frowned. "But there's one other thing I don't get. Why didn't he leave us one last clue? Why bring us this far for nothing?"

"Beats me," Doc said. "But I know one thing, Sheriff. I could sure use a drink."

I'm sorry, kid
, Kenzie thought.
I don't know what to do next. I wish you could talk to me.
He holstered his weapon and took one last look around the bedroom.