The White Angel Murder

63

Colby Lashowe sat in the surveillance vehicle and munched on pork rinds. It had been a hot day and his underarms had rings of sweat. Sweat had soaked through his undershirt and his chest and belly had dark splotches.

It was evening but the sun hadn’t gone down yet. The sky appeared that odd gray before nightfall and he watched the stars beginning to shine above him. His partner, Chad Eldridge, was asleep in the backseat. Chad was at least fifteen years his senior and was close to retirement. Surveillance to him was boring, painful work. He would always tell Colby that it makes his ass and his mind flat.

Colby pulled out a copy of the Times and flipped through until he found the crossword section. He neatly folded the paper into a rectangle and pressed it against the steering wheel. The first line asked for a five letter word that meant “hard to stir.”

A car engine started and Colby’s head jerked up. The subject was in his van and pulling out of the driveway and into the road.

“Shit! Wake up, Chad!”

Colby started the car as his partner jumped up in the backseat. He waited until the van had passed before pulling away from the curb and following him.

“He’s on the move.”

“Shit. Did you call it in?”

“No.”

Chad dialed a number on his phone and then reported to someone that the subject was on the move and they were following him northbound. The van drove under the speed limit and obeyed all the traffic laws. Almost to the point that Colby thought he may have had some law enforcement experience. He signaled for three seconds before changing lanes and didn’t stop the signal halfway through. He came to a complete stop at every stop sign and waited behind a school bus that was letting kids off at a stop instead of going around.

“Did you get a photo?” Chad asked.

“No I missed him. The fucker popped out of nowhere.”

The van got onto the 405 and Colby counted four cars before he hopped on and pursued him. He let another two cars in between them and then fell back about sixty feet. The van was going the speed limit, exactly the speed limit, in the far right lane.

Chad thought about climbing into the passenger seat but didn’t think he could make it with his gut. So he buckled his seat belt and looked for the bottle of Pepsi he’d been drinking. He found it on the floor underneath the driver seat and bent down to pick it up when Colby hit the brakes.

He slammed his head into the seat and said, “What the fuck?”

“Sorry,” Colby said. “He’s gettin’ off.”

They took the 28 exit and the van drove for another fifteen minutes before parking in a convenience store lot. Colby parked at a Mexican restaurant across the street as Chad got out the camera and began snapping photos.

The subject was huge. Colby guessed somewhere around 6’2 and maybe three hundred to three hundred and twenty pounds. His face was clean shaven except for a mustache and he wore glasses. A large belly hung over his belt and he glanced around before walking to the payphone.

*****

Stanton received a call from an unknown number at exactly 7:02. He waited three rings, wondering if there was any way he could’ve possibly ever heard Hunter’s voice. Hunter was a writer and shunned television and radio. But the possibility was still there and Stanton wasn’t quite sure what he would do if he was caught.

“Hello?”

There was silence on the line except for the sound of passing traffic in the background.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

“What do the police have?”

The voice made Stanton’s heart drop. Until now, he had been a shadow; a conglomeration of images and theories. Now he was a living, breathing person. And it hit Stanton that those images of Tami and Pamela that had burned themselves into him were caused by another human being.

“I have a copy of what they have. But I want something in exchange.”

“What?”

“An interview. Exclusive, which means you can’t give anyone else interviews if you ever get caught. I’m gonna have you sign a contract and if you ever give another interview they won’t be able to use any-”

“Fuck your interview. What do they have?”

“That’s the deal. A copy of the police file in exchange for one interview. Recorded.”

There was silence again and Stanton thought that perhaps he had pushed him too fast. He needed to feel in control and if he didn’t, he would run.

“Look,” Stanton said, “I’m risking my ass by giving you anything. It’s not fair if I don’t get a lot in return.”

“One interview. Tonight.”

“Where?”

“Your house.”

“No.”

“Take it or leave it.”

Stanton knew he had to stand his ground. Hunter would’ve never agreed to this. “Then I leave it. And you can go it on your own. I’ll find the next story of the week. See ya.”

“Wait. Where do you want to meet?”

“Somewhere public but not too public. Like a library or something.”

“Mission Hills Library. It’s on Washington Street.”

“It’ll take me half an hour to get there.”

“That’s where I want to do it.”

“Fine. How will I find you?” Stanton said.

“I’ll find you.”

*****

Colby watched as the man hung up the phone and then went inside the convenience store. He looked around for what seemed like a long time and then purchased a fountain drink and a package of donuts and got back into the van and started driving.

“Did you see the number he dialed?” Chad asked.

“What am I a fucking hawk?”

“You can see what numbers he dials from where his hand moves. It’s called police work kiddo.”

Colby shook his head. “Go back to sleep, Chad.”

They waited half a minute before getting on the road and starting to follow him again. The van drove slowly and it seemed like in a circle. It went down into a residential neighborhood, stopped near a liquor store, and then started again.

As it was passing a busy intersection the van began to slow, and then out of nowhere it sped through the intersection on a red light as a motorcyclist had to swerve and lay down his bike to avoid hitting him.

“Shit!”

Colby tried to follow but without his red and blues none of the cars stopped and a Dodge truck hammered into his right side. The impact swung his car around sideways and a Saturn slammed on his brakes and narrowly avoided smashing into them head-on.

Colby was dazed and realized he’d hit his head against the window, causing it to cut and bleed. He looked back to Chad who was holding his mouth, blood cascading down over his hand.

“Hang on.”

Colby called into dispatch and requested an ambulance. Then he called Tommy and told him they had lost the van.

“He’s heading east on Sandy Boulevard. Get a unit down there now.”

“How the fuck did you lose a van?” Tommy said.

Colby hung up and turned to his partner. He took his hand away from his mouth to look at the wound and saw that he had bitten into his tongue.

“They’re on their way.”

Chad wrapped his tie around the wound and pressed hard to stop the bleeding. “I ucking ate surweilance.”