Chapter 6 #2
“He says six years, but I think it’s more like three.”
“I believe him.”
Brian laughed. “What the hell am I going to do with a vacation?”
“Oh, I don’t know, relax maybe? Read a book? Get laid?”
“Christ, Dad,” Brian huffed. “Is that necessary?”
“Absolutely necessary to your health and well-being.”
“All right, this conversation is over. I’m calling my mother who would never dream of saying such a thing to me.”
Laughing, Michael said, “You need to get yourself a life outside of that office.”
“I tried that—twice, in fact—and as you well know, I discovered I’m a much better workaholic than I am a husband.”
Michael grimaced. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
“Don’t go all serious on me, Dad. I like you better when you’re busting my balls, even if it’s embarrassing.”
A knock on the back door brought Michael to his feet. “It’s open,” he called. To Brian, he said, “Congratulations again. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Give your mother a call.”
“Will do.”
“Talk to you soon.”
He ended the call as his deputy chief, Matt Collins, came into the kitchen still in uniform.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Matt said. “I brought those files you called about.”
“No interruption. Thanks for the files.” Michael added them to his pile on the table. “That was Brian. Did you hear he won?”
“It’s already on the radio. You must be thrilled.”
“I’m thrilled and relieved,” Michael admitted. “Beer?”
“Sure, I’m off duty.”
Michael opened two bottles and handed one to Matt. “Back in the swing after your vacation?”
“Give me another day, and I will be.”
“How’s everyone in Milwaukee?”
“Good. My parents are enjoying the hell out of retirement, and my sister’s kids are getting big. It was nice to be home.”
“Glad you had a good time.”
“So big win for Brian, huh?”
“Yeah. He sounded really happy just now.”
“With good reason.” Matt followed Michael to the living room. “That was quite a trial. He’ll be in hot demand after a win like that.”
“He gets recruited all the time, but he loves what he’s doing in New York. Plus he works for a decent guy who gives him a lot of leeway. He’s got a good thing going there.”
“I’m glad to hear he’s happy and doing well. He surely deserves it.”
“You know it.” Michael took a drink from his bottle. He had never forgotten the gentle care this man had shown his son at the darkest moment of Brian’s young life. Matt Collins was much more than a colleague to Michael. “Anything going on?”
“Not here. Quiet shift.” Matt set his bottle on the coffee table. “But we got word an hour ago there’s been another rape. This time in Smithfield.”
“Son of a bitch,” Michael hissed. “Another kid?”
“Sixteen.”
“Same M.O.?”
Matt nodded. “Tied her up and left her stark naked in the woods. She was there all night.” His expression was grim when he added, “He did some nasty shit to her. Another clean job, though. Not a trace of DNA.”
“Let me guess—a popular cheerleader type?”
“You got it.”
Michael rubbed a weary hand over his face. “One here, one in Smithfield, one in Cranston. Without the DNA, though, all we have is the M.O. to tie them together.”
“It’s got to be the same guy.”
“We’ve got a serial sex offender on our hands here. Tomorrow I’ll get with the other chiefs to form a task force.”
“I’ll take the lead on behalf of Granville, if you want,” Matt offered.
“I’d appreciate that.”
“I did some digging around on the computer earlier. I put a few parameters into the unsolved statewide files and got an interesting hit. Remember the young couple in Pawtucket that was murdered about five years ago?”
“Carjacking?”
“That’s the one.”
“What about it?”
“Both were tied up and raped. No DNA. Not a hair, not a fiber, nada.”
“How old were the victims?”
“She was nineteen, and he was twenty-one. I called up the coverage that was in the Providence Journal. Before she graduated, she was the captain of the cheerleading squad at Shea High School.”
“Jesus,” Michael whispered.
“There might be others. Do you want me to keep digging?”
“Yeah, but keep it quiet. We don’t want to set off a panic until we know more.”
“I agree. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“I don’t like the feel of this.”
“Neither do I.”
Michael left the station at noon the next day.
After a brief stop at the florist, he drove on to the cemetery and parked his town-issued sedan at the foot of the hill.
Carrying a vase of pastel tulips, he started up the hill to the large granite stone bearing the name WESTBURY.
Engraved beneath were the words “Samuel Michael, April 5, 1978 – May 19, 1995, Beloved Son, Grandson, Brother & Friend.” Michael crouched to tug some weeds from around the stone and placed the tulips on the base.
Every time he came here, he was struck by the wrongness of it all.
People were right when they said parents shouldn’t have to bury their children.
It was unnatural, and the pain of it didn’t lessen with time the way those same people said it did.
Rather, you somehow learned to live with it and to accept that it was a permanent part of you now, something you carried like a heavy suitcase every moment of your life.
“Mom says hi,” he whispered, feeling somewhat foolish. He didn’t really believe Sam could hear him. With all his heart, he wanted to think it was possible, but the practical side of him didn’t buy it. However, since he had promised Mary Ann . . .
“She’s at the house in Florida, but she wanted me to tell you she loves you and she’s thinking of you—always, but this week in particular.
You would’ve liked the place in Florida, Sammy.
There’s a pool in the complex and a beach nearby.
We’ll probably move down there permanently if I ever decide to retire.
We’ll see. Brian won his big trial, and they interviewed him on TV last night.
It’s pretty amazing to turn on the tube and see your own boy talking with so much authority and expertise.
” He brushed at some dirt on the stone. “Well, I just wanted to come by and say hello, and to let you know . . .” His eyes filled. “I miss you every day, and I love you.”
Standing, he stared at the stone for a long time before he turned to leave. He was startled to find Jenny’s mother, Jean Randall, waiting for him.
She walked over to him. “I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You didn’t.” He kissed her cheek. “How are you, Jean?”
Her face lifted into a sad smile. “Oh, you know.”
“It’s always tougher this week.”
“Even after fifteen years.”
He nodded in agreement and gestured to the paper she held in her hand. “What’ve you got there?”
“Just some trash I found on Jenny’s grave. Honestly, I don’t know what makes people do the stuff they do in cemeteries.”
“Why? What is it?”
She held up the piece of paper with the words “CHEERLEADER WHORE” written in vivid red ink.
Michael’s breath got stuck in his throat, and he worked at keeping his expression neutral. “You found that on her grave?”
“Right at the base of the stone.”
“Do you mind if I take it? I’d like to have it worked up. We might be able to figure out where it came from.”
“I’d hate to start something over litter.”
“I’d hate for that to go unpunished.”
She handed the paper to him. “You’re right.”
He pinched his fingers around a corner and took it from her. “I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”
“How’s Mary Ann?”
“Good. She’s enjoying Florida.” Michael forced himself to make conversation when all he wanted was to get that piece of paper into an evidence bag and then scour the cemetery for anything else that might be waiting to be discovered.
“Do you get down at all?”
“Every couple of weeks for two or three days. Whenever I can.”
“Be sure to tell her I was asking for her.”
“I’ll do that. I haven’t seen Bob at the Lodge lately. I’ve been meaning to give him a call.”
“He’s been under the weather, so he’s sticking closer to home these days.”
“Nothing serious, I hope.”
“Just this time of year,” she said with a shrug. “I saw Brian on TV last night. He looks wonderful, all handsome and grown up. You must be so proud.”
“I am. He’s done okay for himself.”
She glanced at Sam’s grave and then quickly brought her eyes back to Michael. “I’m sure you need to get back to work.” Squeezing his arm, she added, “Take care of yourself, Mike.”
“You, too. Tell Bob to give me a ring if he’s up for a visit.”
“I will.”
He waited until she had walked down the hill and crossed the street to the town common before he reached for his cell phone. “Hey, Matt, it’s Michael. Can you meet me at the cemetery? Now?”