Safe at Home (15 page)

I stopped the car so suddenly it stalled. I looked where Joe was pointing, over behind the brick changing house by the skating rink in the middle of the park. No wonder I’d missed him the first time around. T.C. was talking and tossing a ball in the air and catching it over and over. He seemed relaxed. Dickie was leaning against the wall of the building with his arms crossed.

“It doesn’t look that dangerous to me,” Sandy said.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” I said, opening the car door. “But I don’t think I am.”

“No, Kate, don’t get out here,” said Joe. “If you’re right, we don’t want to come busting in there and scare him. Let’s just park the car and walk over there, casual like.”

He was right. I started the engine again and went up and parked around the corner on Hogarth.

Then the three of us got out and crossed the street into the park.

“I’ll wait here in case the cops come,” Sandy said.

“Good idea.”

Talking calmly, but with every nerve-end tingling, Joe and I strolled over the hill. As we got close, Dickie saw us. He waved and spoke to T.C., who turned around. His face lit up when he saw Joe. We crossed the intervening lawn as quickly as we could while still seeming casual.

“Hi, Kate. Hi, Joe,” T.C. said. He looked a bit dozy. There was a Coke can on the grass. Had he been drugged?

“You are in big trouble, kiddo,” I said, smiling as best I could. “You were supposed to be home at three-thirty, and your mum’s looking for you. So I’d better get you home right now.”

“Aw, Kate, we’re just waiting for the photographer. It will just take a minute, won’t it, Mr. Greaves?”

“Hi, Kate,” said my colleague. “Sorry about this, but what’s the sweat? The pictures I took on Saturday were no good, so we have to reshoot. Bill Spencer was supposed to be here half an hour ago. He probably got lost or had to go shoot a fire or something.”

“That’s your problem, I’m afraid,” I said, lightly. “T.C.’s problem is that he has to call his mum.”

“I did call, honest. Didn’t you get my message?”

“I know, T.C. That’s how I knew where to find you,” I said, and began to edge towards them, keeping my eyes locked with Greaves’s.

“And I got your message, too, Dickie. The one from last night. I only picked it up just now.”

“What message?”

He looked nervous enough to remove any doubt from my mind. I kept looking into his eyes. For what? Madness? Murderous rage? I saw nothing but his usual bland boyishness, but kept moving slowly towards T.C., who looked confused.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

That was a mistake. Dickie suddenly grabbed T.C. and pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket. He held it to the boy’s throat.

“No, Dickie, don’t,” I said, trying to stay calm. “You don’t want to hurt anyone else. We can get you help.”

“Don’t call me Dickie!” he shouted.

“I’m sorry, Richard,” I said. “I didn’t know it bothered you.”

“Well, it does,” he said, quietly, smiling. Now I could see the madness. He began to back away, pulling T.C. with him.

“Don’t,” I said. “Please. Don’t hurt T.C. Please let him go.” I tried to ignore the tears sliding down my cheeks.

“If I let him go, you’ll sic your big friend on me,” Dickie said. “I wouldn’t have a chance.”

“You want a hostage? Take me instead. Let him go.”

Joe put his hand on my arm, as if to restrain me, and gave it a squeeze of warning. Then I saw Sandy, coming slowly around the corner of the changing house, behind Dickie and to his right. I immediately looked back at Dickie so he wouldn’t be suspicious. At the same time, I heard sirens on Logan. Dickie looked to his left, towards the street. At that moment Sandy jumped him, knocked T.C. to the ground and grabbed the knife.

Dickie took off across the park towards Carlaw. Joe ran after him and caught up to him at the soccer field, in the middle of a group of children. He tackled him. They wrestled on the ground while the children watched. Dickie never had a chance.

I knelt next to T.C., who was shaking, and held him tight. Suddenly there were uniforms wherever I looked.

“All right, it’s over now. You’re safe,” I said.

I hugged him, then we sat on the grass and watched half a dozen policemen escort Dickie, none too gently, to a cruiser. As they were shoving him into the back seat, he looked over the shoulder of one of the cops and shouted to me.

“Front page, Kate! Above the fold!”

I shuddered and held T.C. a bit closer. Andy found us a few minutes later. He stood a few feet away with his coat open, hands on his hips. I couldn’t read his expression.

“What the hell took you so long?” I said, my voice shaking with either relief or anger.

“We were out looking for Greaves,” he said. “The police chief in Timmins told me that he had been a suspect in the killings there.”

“You were almost too late,” I said.

“No thanks to you,” he replied.

“No thanks to me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that you and your goddamned meddling almost got T.C. killed.”

“I’m going to ignore that last remark,” I said, speaking very carefully. “I think we had better get T.C. to the hospital in case he was drugged. Did you drink out of that Coke can, T.C.?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But I don’t get it. Do you really think he’s the Daylight Stalker?”

“It looks that way,” I said.

“But he seemed like a really nice guy,” T.C. said, stifling a yawn.

Joe and Sandy joined us.

“Are you all right, T.C.?” Joe asked. “Kate?”

We stood up.

“We’re fine, Preacher,” I said. “That was some tackle.”

“Just call me Bo Jackson. I’m a two-sport man now.”

“Sandy, what you did took guts.”

He put one hand on his hip in a camp gesture.

“I may be gay, honey, but I’m no sissy,” he said.

Laughter was a relief. He continued in a more serious tone.

“When I saw him pull the knife, I figured I had to risk sneaking up behind him, try to take him by surprise.”

“Can you get T.C. to the hospital?” Andy asked. “I’ll come over and interview him later.”

“Fine.” I said, calmly.

“No problem,” Joe said. “We’ll drive you.”

“I’ll send a constable along,” Andy said. “That way you won’t have to wait at Emergency.”

He motioned to one of the uniformed cops, who ran over.

“There’s no need for you guys to come, really,” I said. “Take the key to my place and I’ll join you there as soon as I can.”

“What, and miss out on this part of the adventure? Forget it,” Sandy said. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to have a police escort.”

Our two-car convoy, with flashing lights and a siren, sped across the viaduct and down Sherbourne. I rode in the back of the cruiser with T.C., who was groggy but babbling with excitement. I wasn’t listening. I was thinking about Andy’s anger.

Once we got to the Wellesley Hospital, T.C. was taken immediately to an examining room. Sandy, Joe, and I stayed in the waiting room, surrounded by the walking wounded in various states of pain or boredom. We weren’t lonely. Other patients recognized Joe and he was kept busy signing autographs. The whole scene became quite surreal. We were half in shock, I guess. I tried to reach Sally, but there was no answer at the gallery.

T.C. wasn’t long. He came out looking more alert, but faintly green.

“They made me puke,” he said. “Yuck.”

The nurse handed a bag to the constable. He looked at it dubiously.

“You’ll want to have it analyzed,” she explained.

The young cop took it.

“Make sure you don’t get it confused with your lunch,” Sandy said. The forced humour was just what was needed. It made me laugh, anyway, and T.C. looked appropriately grossed out.

“Can we go now, Kate?” he asked.

“Sure, if that’s all right with you, officer.”

“I’ll escort you back,” he said.

“There’s no need,” I said.

“Kate, come on! I want the sirens again,” said T.C.

“Don’t be a goof. The man has evidence to deliver.”

“Sure, you wouldn’t want to hold up the puke patrol,” said Sandy.

“The retch run,” I said.

“The barf battalion,” chimed in T.C., giggling.

“You guys are making me sick,” Joe said.

As we headed out of the hospital, T.C. asked where his mother was.

“She’s at a meeting. I couldn’t reach her. We’ll see her at home. I don’t know how I’m going to explain this one. Some babysitter I am!”

“Well, you did save his life,” Joe said.

“Thanks to you guys,” I said.

“Kate?”

“Yes T.C.”

“What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”

Joe and I exchanged looks over the kid’s head. I shrugged.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I asked T.C. We were in the back of Joe’s Honda, on the way home.

“Why not? He didn’t hurt me,” he said. “Wait until I tell the kids at school! I survived the Daylight Stalker!”

“That wasn’t a movie, T.C. It really happened. You were really in danger,” I said.

“I know,” he shrugged. “But I’m okay, so what’s the big deal?”

“You’re weird,” I said.

“I know,” he laughed.

I hugged him, to reassure myself as much as anything. T.C. was doing just fine. I knew the crash would come, but if he wanted to play it cool for the moment, who was I to argue?

Who indeed? Just someone who had sat next to a serial killer at work for the past two years. Just somebody who hadn’t noticed a thing strange about a man who could rape and murder little children. I shuddered.

Joe and Sandy were quiet in the front seat, taking their lead from me.

“I’d better call the paper,” I said as we pulled into the driveway.

“I’ll take care of the barbecue,” Joe said.

“And, if you don’t mind, I’ll open some wine,” Sandy said. “I think we all could use some.”

I called the sports department first. I thought I had better tell Jake that one of his staff had just been arrested. He wasn’t there. Rather than explain it all to the night editor, I tried Jake’s home number. No answer. I looked up the number of The Final Edition. Lenore found him for me.

“Oh, Jesus,” was all he said, when I told him.

“I don’t know what you want to do about it. Pull his story from tomorrow’s paper, for one thing. I haven’t told anyone upstairs yet. I thought you’d like to do that. If they haven’t got it off the police radio.”

“Oh, Jesus,” he said again.

“You’ll have to figure out what you want from me, if anything. Or maybe the city desk will. I’ll leave it to you. When it has sunk in, give me a call. I’m at home. Kelsey and his friend are here, too.”

“You’re sure T.C. is all right?”

“He’s fine,” I said. “Pretty excited, as a matter of fact. The nightmares will come later.”

“Mine have just begun. I’ll get upstairs now and figure out how the hell to handle this. I’ll call you back when I’ve figured it out. Dickie Greaves. Jesus.”

“I know. Talk to you later,” I said.

I tried Andy, but he couldn’t come to the phone. Just as well, probably. I didn’t much feel like dealing with his attitude. On the other hand, I could use some support, if he could stand offering it. Particularly when Sally got home.

I went down the back stairs to the garden. T.C. was helping Joe with the barbecue. Sandy was sitting at the picnic table. He had found the wine cooler and glasses, and was sipping thoughtfully while he watched his lover and the boy whose life they had saved. I sat down on the bench next to him. He poured me a glass of wine and handed it to me. Then he covered my hand with his and squeezed it.

“It’s all over,” he said.

It was strange, but we all behaved quite calmly, as if the terrifying scene in the park had been nothing more than a minor interruption of our dinner party, as if it had happened to someone else.

So it was quite a normal scene that greeted Sally when she came through the back door of her ground floor flat. Joe and T.C. were hosing out the barbecue, laughing and getting wet. Sandy and I were giving helpful advice from our dry spot.

“What a day,” Sally said, dropping into a deck chair. “I am pooped. And you, you little creep, you didn’t call me.”

“Let me pour you a glass of wine,” I said, quickly.

“Hey, you guys probably haven’t heard the good news,” Sally said. “I just heard a bulletin on the car radio. They think they’ve got the Stalker.”

Glances were exchanged, but no one said a word. My job, I guess. I handed her the glass and took a deep breath. Why did I feel guilty?

“We do know about it, as a matter of fact,” I began. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but we were there when they caught him.”

“You were
what
?”

“Now, don’t panic. Just listen.”

“They saved my life, Mum,” T.C. said. “Joe and Sandy. And Kate.”

“Why do I get the feeling I’m about to scream?” she asked. T.C. went and leaned against her chair.

“You’d have every right to,” I said, laughing nervously. “But you don’t have to. It’s over. Everything is all right. It’s just that . . .”

Christ, how to put it? Straight, I guess.

“It’s just that T.C. was next on his list.”

“And they made me puke at the hospital,” T.C. said. “I was practically killed.”

“Thanks, T.C., you’re a big help,” I said.

“Will somebody please tell me what happened,” Sally said, her voice very controlled.

So I did, giving her the basic facts as quickly as I could. She reached out and put her arms around T.C., her head against his chest, her face suddenly pale. When she looked up, tears stood in her eyes.

“Oh, God, thank you. Thank you all very, very much. Without my son, I don’t know . . .”

“Aw, Mum, don’t get all mushy,” T.C. said, breaking the tension. All the grownups were laughing and crying at the same time. Sally stood up and hugged me, then Joe.

“We haven’t met, yet,” she said to Sandy. “I’m Sally Parkes and I would like very much to hug you, too.”

He put his arms out, she stepped into them, and he held her close.

“All right,” she said finally, wiping tears from her eyes. “Now I want to hear all about it from you, T.C.”

“He came to the school at lunch hour. I was in the playground. He told me that the picture they took on Saturday didn’t turn out and I should meet him at the park at four. He told me not to tell any of the other kids, because they would be jealous.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think there was anything wrong. You let me go with him before, and he was a friend of Kate’s.”

Sally and I exchanged a look, part guilt, part horror.

“I called Kate and left a message on her machine after school,” T.C. continued, somewhat defensively.

“Which I forgot to check when I came in,” I explained. “I didn’t realize that there were any messages until you called.”

“So I went there, to the park,” T.C. continued. “He got there a little bit later and told me we had to wait for the photographer. He bought me a Coke.”

“Which will probably turn out to have been drugged,” I said.

“Which is why they made me puke at the hospital. Yuck.”

“What did he say?” Sally asked. “What did you talk about?”

“Just stuff. About baseball and about the other kids he’d written stories about. And about when he was a kid and nobody ever picked him for the team. Like me, until they found out I could pitch. He was really nice.”

“Weren’t you scared?”

“No, why should I be scared? We were just talking. I didn’t know what was happening until it was over.”

“Did he suggest you go anywhere else?”

“Well, he said that if the guy didn’t get there soon, he would give me a ride home in his van.”

The van, one of the things that should have tipped me off sooner. I interrupted and filled her in on my half of the story.

“After I talked to you, I checked my machine. T.C.’s wasn’t the only message. Dickie had left one, too, only I didn’t know it was Dickie. It was late last night and I didn’t bother to answer the phone. This morning I was late and hung over and forgot all about the call.

“It was like the one he left before. He was asking me to help him. Something just twigged. The way he spoke, I realized that he knew me. That he knew who he was talking to. And I thought I recognized the voice.”

“How could you be sure?” Sally asked.

“I couldn’t. But I couldn’t take a chance. There was something else, too. Andy told me this morning that this expert had told him about some similar murders in Timmins. I remembered that Dickie had worked in Timmins for a while. And I thought about the way he has been fascinated by the murders, and how he talked about the killer. He said he was smart. He said something about how he had almost been gentle. It all fit.”

I told the story of the chase around the neighbourhood, Sandy and Joe’s heroics, Dickie’s arrest, and the trip to the hospital.

“What happens now?” Sally asked.

“Andy said he would come and talk to us as soon as they got Dickie put away. I guess we will have to tell the story again.”

“Joe and I can get out of here, if you like, Kate,” Sandy said. “Would you three rather be alone?”

I looked at Sally, who shook her head.

“No. I’ll start dinner,” I said. “If you don’t mind a bit of confusion, you’re welcome to stay.”

“I’ll be glad to help,” Sandy said.

“We’re having shish kebabs. I can put them on as soon as the coals are ready. They won’t take long.”

“Maybe I’ll just put on a hot dog for T.C.,” Sally said. “It will be quicker.”

“I’ll go up and start getting the rest of it together,” I said.

“I’ll come with you,” Sandy said, “I am a master salad chef.”

“And T.C. and I will start the fire,” said Joe.

“After that, do you want to play catch?” T.C. asked.