The_Amazing_Mr._Howard (9 page)

“I could have killed him,” Killgood whispered.

“You may still get your chance.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Think nothing of it.”

Killgood massaged his jaw. “What am I going to do?” I can’t let him hurt Reann.”

“No, that is a given.” Mr. Howard looked to the west. A thin band of golden light stretched across the top of the mountains. “What do you know about this Ryan?”

“He works at a tire store near the college.”

“What is the name of the store?”

“Jackson’s Discount Tires.”

Mr. Howard nodded. “I have never given them my business, but I am familiar with the establishment. What is Ryan’s last name?”

“Logan.”

“I am certain you have already checked his criminal background.”

Killgood smiled in the faint light. “That’s the first thing I do with all of Reann’s boyfriends.”

“I take it he is clean or their relationship would never have gone so far.”

“Actually, he was arrested several years ago for PI and criminal mischief.”

“PI?”

“Public intoxication.”

He placed a hand on Killgood’s shoulder and squeezed. “Do not worry, my friend. Reann still has her wits I believe”

After Killgood returned to his house, Mr. Howard sat in his car for a long time, staring at Reann’s silhouette in a bedroom window. Ryan would kill her. It was only a matter of time.

Mr. Howard labored through his Monday class, his mind on Reann and the FBI profiler Willard intended to bring into the investigation. He had dealt with FBI profilers in the past. Robert Janssen grilled him for hours at Quantico about statements he’d provided Baltimore homicide detectives. Not that it did him any good. Janssen had nothing to determine offender characteristics. The only crime scene evidence was bones. Autopsy reports proved inconclusive in every case except one, and all they discovered was the cause of death. Victim profiles told Janssen the girls were either prostitutes or runaways, which placed them at high risk. There were no witnesses. Police reports offered bare facts that led nowhere.

Janssen went crazy trying to classify the murderer. He must be an organized killer, Janssen announced, since he left little or no forensic evidence or clues and appeared to plan his crimes in advance. With the lack of evidence, Janssen’s behavioral sequence of the crimes proved useless. The only thing he gleaned from the location of the girls’ bodies was the killer moved about easily without drawing attention. Mr. Howard laughed whenever he heard a television show touting the crime-solving skills of the FBI profilers. In the real world, none of them were Will Graham. A profiler could only use what a criminal left behind. A smart killer could keep a profiler up at night for the rest of their lives trying to figure out their
modus operandi
.

He contemplated a dozen solutions for Reann’s problem, but found none of them satisfactory. Something needed to be done about this Ryan and soon.

When class ended, Mr. Howard stood at the window, hands locked behind him, lost in memory. He recalled riding into the woods, daughter Heidi in front of him, braided pigtails bobbing as the horse trotted. Her high-pitched squeal carried through the shadowed valleys. Her tiny hand merged with his as they walked the river’s edge and discussed the yellow butterflies that melted over wildflowers like warm butter. His hands tingled at the thought of holding her. She had been gone over three hundred years and he still missed his little girl.

I would have done anything to keep her safe. Now I have become a wolf that steals the joy from others. I am a cancer to the world.

“You must have a lot on your mind.”

He whirled toward the voice. Leslie stood nearby, entrancing in a pale green dress that brushed her knees. “I apologize for not hearing you come into the room. My thoughts are as distant as the stars.”

She pattered over and leaned into him as a cat seeks affection. “It’s nice out tonight.”

“Indeed.”

“I was wondering,” she said, her left breast rubbing against his arm, “if you’d like to go for a walk?”

“A walk?”

“Down by the river.”

He’d miss his excursions with Leslie. Who else would sit on a blanket with him in a frost-covered field during a cold autumn night to watch the Leonid meteor shower? Who else would make love to him as the heavens wheeled and the ancient light of the stars bathed them in a soft glow? The essence of him that remained alive slowly died at the prospect of her leaving.

“The river, yes, we could do that.”

“Can you drive?”

He steered her away from the classroom window. “Too fast for my own good, but yes.”

They drove to the river without speaking, the tires humming over the asphalt. Parking near the locked gate of a riding stable, he put up the top on his car. Leslie waited for him at the trunk. He helped her navigate the dirt trail down to the paved river walk. The river slipped past like a black road that led to the boundaries of imagination. Moonlight beamed along the riverbank, turning the shadows of gnarled trees into strange creatures of the night. There was magic here.

They strolled without speaking, serenaded by the tapping of their shoes and the soft rustling of leaves. He gestured toward an opening to the water. She nodded. Mr. Howard weaved around the trunks of fallen trees until coming near the river’s edge. Leslie eased onto one of the trunks, the wood creaking. He sat beside her. On the water’s surface, light and shadow merged and flowed under the direction of moon and passing clouds.

“How are things going with the police?” she asked.

“They have not tried to ply me with coffee and doughnuts yet.”

A muted laugh stayed in her throat. “Have you had any… visions?”

“About the girl?”

She nodded.

He hated her questions. Why couldn’t they discuss something more enjoyable such as the plainsong of the passing river? Why were people so fascinated by the action of Satan when angels held the curtain line? Criminals were such a bore. He would know.

“No, but I fear they are yet to come.”

She took hold of his hand and squeezed. “It must be terrible for you to see those things. I can’t imagine it.”

The memory of their faces floated through his mind like evening fog. Always young, so very young, some worn beyond their years from poverty and toil, all of them wide-eyed and frightened, clinging to their last moments of life, sending out silent prayers that went unheeded.

“It is a nightmare from which I can never awaken.”

They drifted into silent repose, the sounds of nature amplified in the absence of talking. The river gurgled around rocks and against the shore. The wind fluttered through the trees like the flute in Mahler’s
Das Lied von der Erde
. Wings stirred the air as an owl glided through the moonlight. He tilted his head and breathed through his nose. The musty smell of damp soil trapped in roots came back to him and the lavender scent of Leslie’s perfume. “I do think it is rude of you to take all this from me.”

“I was wondering when you were going to bring that up,” she said. “I must admit it hurt the other day when you seemed to dismiss my leaving so easily.”

“You caught me off guard.”

She draped an arm over his shoulders. “I will miss our adventures. I still think you should come to Florida with me.”

“Are there any universities in Jacksonville?”

She pulled back. “Are you serious?”

“It is a simple inquiry.”

“You wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t considering it.”

He bent to pick up a stone and tossed it into the river. “I consider many things without acting upon them. Besides, we could never live together.”

“Why? Good things happen when we’re together.”

“Trust me. I am not an easy man to live with.”

She twirled strands of hair around a finger. “There are several colleges in the area, Jacksonville University and the University of North Florida. Florida State has a campus downtown.”

“And do they offer night classes?”

“All colleges offer night classes these days, plus I happen to know the deans from those schools. I’d put in a good word for you.”

He tossed another stone. “I will have to think on it.” He turned toward her. “Why would you want me to move to Florida? You can do so much better than me. There must be a thousand young men with tan, muscular bodies running around on the beach who would love to rub sunscreen all over you.”

“Perhaps you’re right, but could they sit down with a glass of wine and debate why the Roman Empire fell?”

“The split into an eastern and western empire governed by separate emperors.”

She smiled and leaned into him. “You just proved my point.”

“All I proved is I am a ridiculous old man whose head is stuck in the past.”

“I’ve got a place you can stick your head.” She flattened a hand against his back and massaged his shoulders.

A quiet moan rose in his throat. “Aren’t they throwing you some kind of farewell party?”

She stopped massaging and looked straight into his eyes. “Didn’t you hear? They are having a surprise party for me Friday afternoon at the student center.”

“Let me guess, Van Adams is organizing the event.”

“As a matter of fact—”

“Damn him.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think he arranged to have it during the afternoon?”

She glanced at the river for a moment and back at him. “To make it more difficult for you to attend.”

“Luther is a shrewd little bastard. A rat that hides behind walls, waiting to scurry out when no one watches and steal the cheese.”

She poked him in the chest. “Don’t worry. I’ll try to find a way to get the party moved to the evening. You really should come. The new dean will be there. Not that it matters if you’re serious about moving to Florida. You are serious, right?”

He hesitated in answering. His gut told him it might be time to relocate. His intuition had always been right in the past. Kill just enough to survive, that was his motto, but he could only kill so many before suspicion turned on him. Killgood never considered him a suspect because he didn’t want to believe it was possible. Willard, on the other hand, was suspicious from the beginning. He would exhaust all leads in an effort to understand his involvement in Stephanie Coldstone’s disappearance. Fortunately, those leads went nowhere.

Mr. Howard offered a patronizing smile. “Yes, of course I am serious.”

“Excellent.” She lifted off the tree trunk and looked both directions. “The water’s calm here.”

“Indeed.”

“We could skinny dip.”

“Are you going to do something about rescheduling your retirement party?”

“Yes, I promise.”

He stood and peeled off his jacket. “That is what I wanted to hear. Now let us remove our clothes and proceed with copulating.”

“Mr. Howard, you are such a romantic.”

Mr. Howard sat at the writing desk inside his dark bedroom, staring at the phone. Stephanie lounged at the foot of his bed, looking bored. Apparently the spirit world did not agree with her teenage sensibilities. Or perhaps she grew tired of Harvey exploding from the wall as he bustled past on his bicycle shouting, “See you in court, Mr. Howard!”

Under normal circumstances, he would wait at least three months before contacting the police with more information. Willard’s dogged investigation pushed up the timetable. He must give them something to deflect attention from him. But he wouldn’t contact Willard directly. Not yet. Instead, he would share his lies with Killgood. He had a history with Killgood that counted for something, but he hated to dump this on him given what he was going through with Reann’s boyfriend.

Killgood answered on the fourth ring. “Homicide, Killgood.”

“Chandler, Mr. Howard calling.”

There was a pause. “This is a surprise.”

He detected stress in the detective’s voice. “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“When is it ever a good time in Homicide?”

“Good point.” He switched on a table lamp and fanned open the book containing notes supplied by Stephanie. “I had a new vision.”

“Anything we can use?”

“Despite my many years assisting law enforcement officers, I am a rather poor judge when it comes to understanding what you can and cannot use for your investigations. I apologize for that.”

Killgood chuckled softly. In the background papers shuffled. “No need to apologize. Hold on a sec and I’ll grab a pen. All right, go ahead.”

Mr. Howard scanned through his notes. “These visions are like dreams, you see. Sometimes they feel quite real. Other times I cannot be sure.”

“I understand, just give me what you’ve got.”

“I fell into a trance-like state an hour ago after waking up. It was a very strange sensation, yes, most strange.”

“But you’ve experienced these trances before, right?”

“Yes, but it has been a long time since the last one, and I had forgotten how they affected me. Anyway, I was sitting in my room reading
The Iliad
. Have you ever read Homer?”

Killgood sighed. “Back in high school, I think.”

“So, Achilles was attacking the Trojans with rage and grief over the death of Patroclus, and had driven a great number into the River Skamandros—”

“Mr. Howard.”

“Oh, please forgive me, I find Homer’s work enthralling. Anyway, Achilles was killing the Trojans and the next thing I knew, it felt as if I left my body. Like those people who die and claim to see Jesus. I found myself watching a young girl. She was arguing with someone. At first I did not recognize her, until I realized it was the girl you are looking for.”

“Stephanie Coldstone?”

“Yes, Stephanie Coldstone.”

“What did the man in your vision look like? Was he a young man?”

“He was not the same man I saw driving with her in my previous vision. No, this man was older, more mature. Perhaps middle-aged.”

“Anything else?”

He paused for several seconds to make the detective believe he was thinking. “His hair was brown, not long, and he was thin in the face.”