Cold in July

13

“It doesn’t take a fucking mental giant to know he’s been here,” I said.

We were in the kitchen, at the table. The police had escorted Ann and Jordan home. Jordan was in the living room watching a Casper the Friendly Ghost videotape, and the uniform cops and detectives were going over the house like starving mice looking for crumbs. So far all they had was a torn shoe box and some. 38 shells he might have touched. But I doubted he’d been that stupid. The guy was a pro. You could tell that from the way he’d handled the locks and alarms.

“We know someone has been here,” Price said. “We don’t know it was Russel.”

Ann looked at Price. “Are you for real? I guess it was Goldilocks. There’s a bear and a bed involved and if you guys can find a broken chair and some spilled porridge, you can wrap this case right up.”

“Price,” I said, “you know as well as I do that it was Russel. He found that shoe box with the cartridges and the gun oil stain and he put two and two together. He tore that box up and put Jordan’s teddy bear on our bed as a threat. He was just showing us he can get in and get to Jordan anytime he wants.”

“You’re right, I think it’s Russel, but I can’t prove it. Since I do suspect him, we can have tabs put on him and we can watch your house. I can get official protection without any problem now. But he may be too clever for anything that obvious and we might be able to surprise him.”

“Are you suggesting something?”

“We could put some obvious protection around the house for a couple of days, then pretend to be satisfied that things are normal and withdraw it-or seem to. Your son would have to start back to school then, and you and Mrs. Dane would have to return to work. Then, when he makes his move, we’ll be waiting.”

I looked at Ann. She got up and went over to the kitchen sink and looked out the window. I followed and put my arm around her waist.

“What do we do, Ann?”

She continued to look out the window. Finally she said, “Let’s nail the bastard.”