21st Birthday by Patterson, James (ebook reader screen .TXT) 📕

I wrapped the table with my knuckles twice in agreement.

Hallows said, “I just look at the tape.”

“Yeah, right,” said Conklin.

Next to Clapper, Hallows was the best CSI around. We were all eager to hear his take.

Hallows said, “There’s Misty getting back into her car, turns on her lights, backs up, and turns the car so she’s facing the exit. Too bad the light nearly blinds the camera. Looks like she’d just put the car in gear when the back door opens and this character gets in. Just slides into the back seat and closes the door. He’s sitting behind her when he attacks. The evidence bears that out.

“A few seconds pass,” said Hallows. “If I get to make up the script, she’s telling him to get out of the car. I see shadowy movement inside that I can’t make out. Looks like she’s pulling away from him, but she doesn’t get the door open.”

Alvarez looked at me and I looked back at her. We really didn’t want to see this.

Hallows said, “Now look. Headlights go out. I’m thinking the guy who just slashed her throat has reached over and turned off the engine.”

“He’s good,” said Brady.

Clapper spoke. “For sure, this guy is organized and practiced. Cocky. And he’s done this before.”

Alvarez said, “It’s only been a few minutes since he got in the car and now the back door is opening.”

Hallows said, “Yeah. There he goes, using the tree shadow for cover, walking out of view. The rest of the video is a snooze. I fast-forwarded and watched until the security guard discovered Misty’s body in the early hours of the morning and cops came quick after that. Not to mention the press.

“And that’s all I’ve got.”

We stayed in the room for another half hour, theorizing, asking questions across the table.

“To review,” I said, “Burke has an out-of-town alibi and looks different from Misty’s killer. So, he probably isn’t Wendy’s killer, either. Misty and Wendy had similar wounds on their bodies. Which means that there is potentially another killer who could have attacked Tara.”

Michaels said, “Wang and I will go interview the head of school, also the guard who found the body. Interview as many students as we can. Two night shift guys from Northern want to work this with us. Burton and Krebs. Okay?”

Clapper said, “Okay. Good. Yuki, tell Red Dog we still can’t hold Burke. He’s been put on leave from his teaching position. We’ll keep eyes on him round the clock.”

“You got it,” Yuki said.

Clapper said, “Hallows, I need the best still shot of this killer for distribution. Thanks all for your thoughts and hard work. There will be no holidays or weekends off for this task force until further notice.”

He looked around the table, turned, and walked out the door.

CHAPTER 45

IT WAS CLAIRE’S BRILLIANT idea to meet at Susie’s.

Since Wednesday morning when Lorrie Burke washed up on Baker Beach, I’d been torn up and heartsick, and that went for all four of us.

We needed to be together. We needed to hash it all out.

Maybe between us, we’d hone in on that little girl’s killer.

Claire, Yuki, and I got there just after five, giving us a head start on the after-work crowd. The steel band and the barflies hadn’t yet arrived and Lorraine said we could sit anywhere at all. I called Joe and told him that I was out with the girls and would be home around eight.

It was unanimous. We marched along the kitchen pass-through window and into the smaller back room, slid into banquettes flanking the table. Before shutting off my phone, as was our general rule at Susie’s, I called Cindy, again.

“On my way,” she said. “Order for me. Whatever’s today’s special.”

“Ham hocks over saffron rice?”

“Sounds yum. I’m in the car.”

“Hurry. Safely. Going dark now,” I said and turned off my phone.

Claire ordered beer for the table, and then got right into it. No small talk or jokes. Her first week back at work had been gruesome and unrelenting.

She said, “This killer is a precision blade man. No hesitation marks, no wasted motion on the slash through the neck, and then while blood is spurting like a fire hose and draining the body, he makes these random gashes on the upper breasts.”

“What do you make of those marks? Don’t overthink,” Yuki said. “What comes to mind?”

Claire didn’t get to answer right away, however, since Lorraine came over and took our orders. We ordered two chopped salads, one fish taco entrée with beans, ham hocks on rice for Cindy, and chips for everyone.

When Lorraine moved on, Claire said, “What do I think? It’s some weird signature, though if we’re trying to connect the cases, there were no such marks on Lorrie’s body, and Wendy Franks was naked while Misty’s body was clothed. He’s way too good at this. It’s not sexual. This is a professional-grade killer who’s pleased with himself. He likes to butcher.”

Cindy came through the passageway and took the empty seat next to me. I wanted to interrogate her — what do you know that I don’t know? — but I didn’t have to. She got comfortable, greeted all of us with blown kisses and fist bumps, then held up her glass for Claire to fill ’er up.

After a couple of gulps, she said, “I’m devastated about Misty. I really liked her. My story this morning generated a lot of mail, but no one took credit, or coughed up a suspect, or called the dead girl a bitch. It was just people saying they’re mad and scared.”

“Forward the mail to me?” I said.

“Sure, but curb your expectations,” she said. “I posted about a hundred of them on my blog. I’ll send you the rest.”

“Thanks, and if you don’t know, your story brought Burke into our house.”

“What do you mean?”

“He drove in from Carmel with a death grip on your front page and came directly to the Hall.”

“He