Bad Thoughts

Chapter 34

Shannon felt someone nudging him. He opened an eye and saw DiGrazia sitting next to him, pushing him with an elbow.

“You were drifting off, buddy,” DiGrazia said.

“Thanks. How’d you know I’d be here?”

“A lucky guess. I wanted to let you know Susie’s okay. How’s your therapist doing?”

“She’s still alive. That’s all they’re telling me.”

DiGrazia lowered his voice. “How’d you know about it, Bill?”

“You’ve seen my statement?”

“Don’t give me that. How’d you know about it?”

“Just what was in my statement. I dreamed about him. He told me he was with her and he was going to kill her. When I called you I thought he was referring to Susie. Later, I realized it was Elaine. You’ve dreamt about him, too, haven’t you, Joe?”

DiGrazia stared at the wall across from him. Grudgingly, he nodded. “Once.”

“What did he look like?”

“I couldn’t tell you. I really didn’t see him, he was too close to me. He kind of stood off to the side of me whispering things.”

“But you smelled him?”

“Yeah, Jesus, I smelled him. When I woke up I just about crawled on my knees to the almighty porcelain goddess. And I gave one hell of a devout prayer.”

“He’s real, Joe. Elaine’s office had that same smell. A few days ago that smell was in her car. The sonofabitch was probably hiding in it waiting for her. When he saw me he must’ve jumped out. He must’ve been what we heard moving around in the Dumpster. Sonofabitch. What kinds of things did he whisper to you?”

“About how you were killing these women.”

Shannon nodded slowly, the muscles tightening along his jaw. “Yeah, what do you think?”

“I’ll tell you what our friends at the FBI think. That you set this up. An accomplice of yours attacked Elaine Horwitz to throw us off.”

“They really think that?”

“Your friend Swallow does.”

“And I just happen along and save her life?”

“We don’t know that yet. Anyway, it wouldn’t matter. If she lives and she doesn’t know the guy’s a friend of yours, how does it hurt you?”

A muscle along Shannon’s jaw began to twitch. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s what it looks like. Someone’s pulling a pretty masterful frame job on you.”

“You tell Susie this?”

“No. I want her afraid of you. This way she stays hidden and safe. I don’t want this psycho picking her next. I’m sure you don’t, either. And anyway,” DiGrazia paused and showed a thin smile, “I could be wrong.”

“I have to talk to her.”

“Sorry, pal. By the way, she’s staying out of work until I tell her it’s safe, so don’t waste your time bothering anyone at her office. If your therapist recovers we’ll get a description of the guy and that will be that. You got any ideas who’s doing this?”

Shannon shook his head. He knew DiGrazia was right. If Susie were home she’d be in danger. If he knew where she was the killer would probably end up knowing, too.

“No,” he said, “I keep thinking it’s Herbert Winters, that maybe I left him alive, but I checked with the California state police and he’s long dead. I can’t think of anyone I’ve ever put away who’d be up to this. How about you?”

DiGrazia sat silently for a moment, a darkness clouding his face. “All this is beyond me, pal. Especially this dream shit.”

They sat silently for a few minutes. Finally, DiGrazia suggested that Shannon go home and get some rest, that he would call him when there was news about Elaine Horwitz.

“You might as well,” DiGrazia added, “you’re not going to be allowed to see her.”

There were a pair of messages on his machine from a Phil Dornich. Both messages had Dornich stating he was a private detective hired by Shannon’s wife and that he had important information for him. Shannon replayed them and then searched through the yellow pages. He found Dornich’s ad, the one Susan had circled. When he tried calling the number, he got an answering service. Dornich had been out the past few days but was expected back any minute. Shannon left his name and number and hung up.

It was almost one o’clock. Shannon didn’t feel like resting. He didn’t feel like facing Winters, at least not yet. He got in his car and headed towards the Dornich Detective Agency.

The door to Dornich’s office was unlocked. When Shannon opened it and looked in, a wave of nausea rolled through him. With over a decade on a city police force he had seen his share of killings and mutilations, but he had never seen anything close to this. Gore and blood were splattered everywhere and what was laying on the floor was a perverse mockery of a human body. Shannon turned away for a moment, steadied himself, and then reentered the office.

The familiar rancid smell had mixed with smoke and the combination stung Shannon’s eyes. He noticed the trash can laying on its side and the charred ashes that had spilled out of it. He had to step carefully to avoid the pieces of flesh and gore that littered the floor. The corpse had literally been torn to pieces. It looked like both a knife and hands had been used. Maybe even teeth.

Shannon made his way to the trash can, sifted through the ashes, but didn’t find anything useful. He returned to the body and knelt over it. The corpse’s suit jacket had been ripped to shreds and was soaked through with blood. He found a blood-smeared and ripped plane ticket receipt in the jacket’s inside pocket. Shannon held it up to the light but couldn’t make out the printed destination. He checked the dead man’s pants pockets and came up with a set of car keys. As he stood up he noticed for the first time that all the fingertips had been bitten off the dead man’s hands.

After leaving Dornich’s office, Shannon found a men’s room down the hallway. Another corpse lay on the floor. The body was that of a man in his seventies. His head had been crushed and he had been stripped to his underwear. One of the sinks was filthy, streaked with a mixture of blood and dirt. A pile of soiled paper towels littered the floor next to it. Shannon moved to the sink at the end and washed his hands and then tried to remove the blood droplets from his shoes and clothing. He got most of the blood off his shoes but only smudged it into his pant legs and coat.

The FBI had followed him to Dornich’s office building. He peered out the front door and saw their car still parked outside, the agents in it both looking bored.

The back exit of the building led to an adjoining parking lot. After a few tries, Shannon found the car that matched Dornich’s keys. In the trunk was a suitcase with an airline baggage tag still attached. The tag read NC.

North Carolina… Mornsville, North Carolina.

Shannon had parked his car in front of Dornich’s office building. He left it there with the FBI agents. Instead, he cut through a back alley, and then another office building and another alley before hailing a cab.

He was able to get a three-ten flight to Raleigh-Durham. While airborne he dozed off several times. There were no intrusions by Winters. No death. No pain. Just blissful nothingness.

The plane landed a few minutes after five. It was past dinnertime before he drove into Mornsville.