The Girls He Adored

29

“This is Special Agent Pender. Let me speak to- Yes, I am well aware that everybody and his grandmother has been looking for me. Who's around from the Casey task force?… Okay, lemme speak to Special Agent Walters… Walters, this is Pender… Yeah, I know-I'll get it handled. Listen, you have a BOLO out for Casey, right? Okay, he's probably driving a green Volvo station wagon with California plates. I don't have the plate or VIN numbers, but if the DMV shows a Volvo registered to either Aletha Winkle, W I N K L E, or Terry Jervis, that's the vehicle he's in. Also, his hair color has changed-he's blond now… Yeah, I'll wait while you put it out.”

If the system worked the way it was supposed to, within minutes every law enforcement official in California would have access to the BOLO; it would actually appear on the screens of the onboard computers in the CHP cruisers.

“Yeah, I'm still here. Here's the next thing: you still have the ERT down here?” Evidence Response Team. “Who's the criminalist? She any good?

“Because I'm on the scene of a double homicide, that's why. Jervis was Casey's arresting officer-looks like he took out both her and her roommate Winkle… Yeah… No, I'm alone at the crime scene. It's extra-virgin-I thought we might like to get our people here first for a change… Don't worry about the jurisdiction… Look, do you want it or not…? Good choice. But for shit's sake keep this off the air or we'll have every Barney Fife in the county trampling over our nice fresh scene… Yeah, I'll be here. Wild horses couldn't drag me.”

After giving Agent Walters the address, Pender hit the kill switch, then a programmed number-Steve McDougal's directdial extension at FBI headquarters-and reached McDougal's fierce and faithful secretary.

“Hi, Cynthia. This is Ed. Steve around? Yes, extremely urgent…. Hey, Steve, it's Ed. Can you get everybody off my back? I want to stick with this case… Don't laugh, I'm dead serious. I've got two more corpses here-the arresting officer and her, uh, significant other. Sex torture. He's killing cops and their families now-we have to get this guy off the street…

“Yeah, well, Pastor's an asshole. I know it's my responsibilitythat's why I want to work this one. Besides, from what I've seen of this guy, he'd have gotten out of there sooner or later-he had a handcuff key-and the jail was a fucking sieve. They were supposed to close it down years ago…

“Steve… Steve… Steve, I-Yes, but-Okay, are you done now? Excellent. Now listen to me: I will work this case. I give you my word it'll be my last one-I'll send you an undated letter of resignation, you can fill in the date yourself when it's over. But in the meantime, I'm calling in all my chips-and I do mean all, including the fact that we sat on this Casey investigation all those goddamn years without even trying to warn the public about-The hell I wouldn't…

“Blackmail's an ugly word, Steve. And you know I'd never intentionally do anything to cause embarrassment to you or the bureau. Unless of course my back was to the wall… I'm sorry you see it that way. But that should give you some idea just how goddamn serious I am. Now, can you get Pastor off my back, and cover my ass with OPR this one last time? I should say, will you-I already know you can.

“Excellent. Steven P. McDougal, you're a prince among men. I'll keep you informed.”

Pender folded his flip phone and slipped it back into his pocket. Having spent an hour inside the house, he had some idea of what the women had gone through before they died. Casey had had himself quite a party. A costume party: intimate apparel, lingerie in both women's sizes, negligees, bras, panties, much of it stained with blood and/or semen, strewn all over the bedroom.

Judging by the various ligature marks on Terry's wrists and ankles, she'd been tied, cuffed, strapped, and bound a number of times, in a number of positions. Aletha hadn't been-from the lack of ligature marks, the amount of blood in the kitchen, and the severity of the wound to the back of Aletha's skull, Pender doubted she'd even been conscious.

Not that that had spared her Casey's attentions-as best as Pender could tell without disturbing the bodies, he'd molested both women repeatedly, growing more and more frenzied, at times using their own sex toys, some of which were also scattered around the bedroom.

Nor had they been spared one final indignity, the tableau in which Casey left the bodies to be discovered. The two were propped up in bed naked, side by side, the sheet pulled up to their waists. They were posed leaning against each other, each with an arm draped companionably across the other's shoulder, their faces turned sideways to each other as if for one last, never-ending kiss.

It hadn't been enough for him to torment them while they lived, thought Pender angrily-he had to humiliate them after they were dead.

I'll get him for this, gals, Pender said to himself as he heard the first Bu-cars pulling up outside the house. I swear by everything that's holy I'll get him.