Scent of Murder (8 page)

After he built the pen for Randall the raccoon, the school had been amazingly tolerant when Josh wanted a cat and a bunny. Then came Wally the wood stork, with a broken wing. Once Josh's face lit up at the sight of the odd-looking bird, Hallett knew he was a permanent addition to the growing menagerie. Then a teacher at the school, Leah Martin, had asked if Hallett could house a boa constrictor. The beautiful teacher was about his age with a nine-year-old son, and her smile made it difficult to refuse any request. Over the following months he'd added the alpaca he'd found on the side of the highway. Josh had immediately named him Albert, and Hallett had quickly learned alpacas were not terribly pleasant, although he had grown to admire the undying defiance of this distant cousin to a camel. There was something about his cadre of animal friends that made him feel at home even though the trailer on the edge of the woods behind the giant Christian school was as far from his middle-class upbringing as anything he could imagine.

Hallett liked to keep a regular sleeping schedule no matter what shift he worked. The special unit worked a variety of shifts but rarely midnights, when not enough happened to justify three hypertrained dogs. He wanted to always be available for the days when he could see Josh. Having the boy every other weekend was just not enough. He'd worked it out with Crystal to take Josh a couple of days a week, then drop him off at her mother's house in the afternoon when he went on shift. Sometimes the schedule wore him down, but it was well worth it to see that perfect smile and those twinkling brown eyes. He also had to share the boy with his own mother, whose only goal in life was to populate the state with her grandchildren.

Another reason he'd always tried to maintain regular sleeping hours was for his health. Too many cops experienced problems later in life from screwed-up working hours—one reason why retired cops live an average of nine years less than the general public. Civilians always thought of bullets or knives as being the biggest threat in a policeman's life. Once again, TV had skewed people's view of the profession. The fact was that more cops were injured by years of carrying heavy-duty belts than by bullets. He didn't know a single patrol deputy over forty without serious back problems. That was one of the few reasons he missed working in the detective bureau.

At ten o'clock, he sat on the edge of his bed. “What do you want to watch?” he asked Rocky.

The dog trotted up with a DVD in his mouth. A line of slobber ran down the case.

Hallett pulled it free and groaned. “C'mon, Rocky. Really?
Marley and Me
again? Can't we try something else for a change?”

The dog sat motionless, staring at Hallett.

“Owen Wilson is a whiner who doesn't deserve Jennifer Aniston.”

Rocky wagged his tail.

“The book is great. The guy who wrote it lived right here in Palm Beach County.”

Rocky bowed down and let out a slight whimper.

That did it. Hallett sighed and popped the DVD into the player, then settled back onto the bed to be bored into sleep by the sappy movie he had watched more than fifty times. The first few were great. Up till the time he knew the dialogue by heart, he still enjoyed the film. But now it was like a bad dream and he couldn't wake up.

After a few minutes, he sensed Rocky stir on the rug next to the bed. The dog rarely moved during his favorite movie. A moment later, he caught just a flash of a headlight as a vehicle came onto to the school grounds. He automatically looked across the room at the locked metal box that contained his .40 caliber Glock model 22 duty pistol.

*   *   *

Junior sat in the La-Z-Boy his father had given him years ago. The blue fabric that covered the chair was stained and had a dingy odor, but he had never felt more comfortable. That's what he needed to get through this night. Comfort. He couldn't believe how badly things had gone and how unlucky he had been. Of course he should've remembered Katie Ziegler's father was connected to a motorcycle gang. He had been their drug dealer.

They had effectively cut off that avenue of respite from his urge. He had to do something and do it soon.

He might not have finished what he had started with Katie Ziegler, but it wasn't a total loss. His interaction with the girls was only one of his needs. He had plucked Katie from a list of potential candidates, learned everything there was to know about her, including her schedule, then grabbed her at will. If that wasn't God-like behavior, he didn't know what was.

No one would be able to pin anything on him. He had watched the ten o'clock news, but there had been no mention of the incident near Belle Glade. In a way it was good that the public wasn't aware of his activities. But it hurt him as well. No one thought it was worthwhile enough to put on TV. That didn't seem particularly God-like.

Now he scanned page after page on the computer to find someone that fit the profile. Someone had to satisfy his urge.

He considered his father and wondered how he could possibly be sane. It didn't matter. He had to keep going.

Junior settled on three young women, all about the same age, any one of which would be suitable. This was the safest part, and it kept his interest, but it lacked the thrill of actual contact.

That would come.

*   *   *

Tim Hallett was out of his bed and Rocky at the door silently listening and sniffing the air. Hallett had not opened the lockbox containing his gun yet, but he'd put the combination into the small lock and was standing right next to it. The box ensured Josh could never get to the gun accidentally.

Anxiety got the best of him. He opened the box, pulling out his pistol and sliding it out of the holster. He slipped a T-shirt over his head and walked to the front door in just his sleeping shorts, T-shirt, and bare feet. Rocky hadn't made any sound, which was typical. The dog was the equivalent of a ninja. He loved to sneak up on people.

Hallett opened the door and peered through the crack. Whoever it was had parked directly in front of the trailer and wasn't trying to hide the fact that they were here. He and Rocky had managed to make several enemies since they had been on the CAT. They had broken up a drug-smuggling ring that used State Road 80 and U.S. Highway 27 as a corridor to transport hundreds of kilos of cocaine. Hallett had arrested three of the drivers, and Rocky had inadvertently bitten off the finger of one of them.

The local gangs were also pissed off, because just the sight of Rocky had cut into their drug sales and cast doubt on their courage. Few thugs could stand up in the face of a badass police dog. But Hallett doubted any of those morons would be brazen enough to pull up in front of his trailer and park.

He stuffed the pistol in his shorts and pulled his T-shirt over it but kept a tight hold on Rocky's collar. Then he saw the newly revised form of Helen Greene step out of the car and flash her brilliant smile at him.

Hallett smiled back as he stepped down the three stairs from his trailer. Rocky followed him step for step. The newly arrived poodles stirred from their padded bed and started to bark in short, shrill spurts.

Sergeant Greene said, “Those two are new. Where did you get them?”

Hallett hesitated, not wanting to tell a boss at the sheriff's office he had essentially stolen them, no matter how good his reasons. “I just picked them up. I'm looking for a home for them. You interested?”

She held up her hand. “Not since you talked me into taking the gecko for my son. I ended up buying dead crickets and feeding him.”

Hallett grinned and waited to hear why the sergeant had come by his house after ten o'clock.

After a moment, Sergeant Greene said, “I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to chat with you this afternoon. You and Rocky did a fabulous job finding the girl.” She held out her hand for Rocky to sniff, then, after his approval in the form of not biting her, she reached down and rubbed the clean, brushed fur on his head.

Hallett nodded and watched his partner display his warmth by letting the sergeant pet him. “It's hard to put a value on a happy ending. I was just lying in bed thinking what a good day it had been.”

“Ain't that the truth? Saving a girl like that can lift the spirits of the entire detective bureau. But I'm afraid we're gonna be back to reality tomorrow.”

He sensed the edge in her tone and said, “What's wrong?”

“This guy is almost certainly the same guy who grabbed two other girls over the past few years. And we might have a list of suspects.”

“Anyone special?”

She nodded.

“Is that what brings you out here to the wilderness this time of night?”

She was now leaning on the handrail to the stairs, letting Rocky smell her left hand. “Nothing ever gets by you. I really liked that in the D-bureau. I was so disappointed when you shipped out, but maybe it was the best for everyone involved.”

“So that's why you're all the way out here?”

“That, and I'm meeting someone.”

Sergeant Greene dug a photo out of a file and held it up so he could just see from the light coming through the open door. Hallett took the photo and stepped inside to get a better look. The round, splotchy face and thin comb-over made his stomach turn. He cut his eyes up to the sergeant and didn't say a word.

“That's right. One of the suspects is Arnold Ludner. I thought I should tell you before you found out somewhere else.”

“So the girl I found when I was a detective…”

“Would have been an early victim. If he's our man. He had a different style. There's no direct link. Our theory is he changed in his short time in jail. The timeline all fuses together.”

“But he's on your list for a reason.”

“Him and about forty others. He's known to do this kind of shit, and no girl was reported missing while he was in jail after you caught him.”

“He should have been in a lot longer.”

“And you shouldn't have been transferred, but things are what they are.”

“Any chance I'm gonna be able to help in this?”

“For obvious reasons we can't let it look like you're after revenge. But we could use Rocky to match scents from the rag we found in the field. We've still got a few things to check out. I just want you to get this straight in your head before we ask you for any help.”

“I'll have everything straight by the time I see him.”

The sergeant nailed him with her legendary terrifying look. “Tim, I'm not fooling around. If you screw this one up, getting transferred will be the least of your worries. You may be the first cop in history whose dog is in charge of his daily assignments.”

Hallett looked down at Rocky, who appeared to like the idea.

 

8

As soon as Tim Hallett pulled up in front of his former residence in the suburban town of Royal Palm Beach, his ex-girlfriend, Crystal Gibbs, appeared in the doorway of the modest, one-story home.

In the sunlight, wearing a form-fitting dress, she looked like a work of art, and he felt much less responsible for any of Josh's good looks. Having a child had not affected her lithe figure, and she always held herself very straight. He knew she was going to spend the morning with her grandmother at a nursing home near Lake Worth. Usually Crystal would take time to visit just about every other resident before she left for the day. Hallett knew this because he took Rocky there, too. The elderly people loved it. Josh was a big hit as well.

Neither of them ever acknowledged something nice like that. It was too much fun to be snarky to each other.

He left his personal Dodge Dakota King Cab running with Rocky comfortably sitting in the backseat. Knowing how the dog reacted to a potential threat, he didn't want to risk bringing him anywhere near Crystal.

Before Hallett had reached the front door, Crystal said, “I need four hundred and thirty dollars.”

“In cash?” He hoped his voice hadn't cracked like a kid going through puberty.

“As long as I get it by Friday, I don't care.”

Hallett didn't even ask what it was for. Despite the unceremonious way Crystal had dumped him, she was an excellent mother and didn't milk him for money she didn't need. He just nodded and took a moment to gawk at the statuesque black woman who, even at eight in the morning, brought her best game. Her dark complexion was flawless and her brown eyes clear. On the rare occasion she used her smile, it was stunning.

“Is Josh ready?”

“He's been bouncing off the walls waiting for you.” She didn't ask him inside as she turned her back and returned a moment later with Josh's Spider-Man backpack filled with snacks and a change of clothes. “Have him back at my mom's by eleven thirty.”

“What if I leave him at my mom's for a few hours?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She's a racist.”

“That's not fair. She doesn't hate all black people. Just you. In all honesty, don't you think she has the right?”

Crystal betrayed no emotion when she looked at him and said, “As an African American I don't trust the police, especially you.”

“That mean yes?”

A slight smile crept across her pouty mouth as she just nodded, never willing to admit defeat.

Josh came darting through the house like a guided missile and flew into his father's arms. His light brown hair was only a shade darker than his creamy complexion. He wrapped his tiny arms around Hallett's neck and squeezed, and suddenly nothing else mattered.

The boy kissed his mother good-bye and waved to a neighbor as he walked to the truck hand-in-hand with Hallett. Before he had even opened the door, Rocky was frantic in the rear seat, wagging his tail in anticipation of seeing Josh. The dog loved the boy as much as Hallett did.

Josh climbed into the car seat but first reached around and gave Rocky a hug.

The dog whimpered with excitement as he licked the boy and leaned his head on the boy's chest.