Final Edge

CHAPTER 16

Detective Jana North had the door knocked in by SWAT team operatives, and instantly Dr. Arthur Belkvin's private little world became public.

The men who stormed in and locked down each area, room by room, shouted out their findings. "Clear!"

"Clear in the kitchen!"

"Bedroom's secure."

"No one here!"

"Basement, all clear."

"Garage, all clear."

Jana began combing the rooms for any sign of Mira Lourdes ever having been here. She found instead a tidy, well-kept little apartment home with a garage out back, neighbors at each elbow, their windows close enough to spit into. She found plaques, certificates, licenses, awards, blue ribbons for first prize in area and state championship dog shows, and proud postings of the champions, a pair of greyhounds. In fact, animal photos adorned every wall and passageway. Whoever Arthur was, he proved a fanatical dog lover and a competitive one.

Evidence of several missing dogs, she mentally noted from food dishes with flies in them to photos of Belkvin with a large Dalmatian and two greyhounds, all caught in play, each photo pinned to the fridge by tiny dog-bone magnets. Turning the most prominent Dalmatian photo in her hand, she saw the block printing on the back read, Pongo and me, 1997. "Wonder where ol' Pongo must be now," she said, handing the photo over to Merrick.

Merrick's thin face pinched as he studied the photo. "Likely pounded someplace nearby. Maybe at Belkvin's practice. Looks like he loves the mutt, don't it. Guy looks as harmless as my brother-in-law."

She lifted another photo with Belkvin crouched between two greyhounds. The inscription on the back read, Petie and Fritz, Fall 2001.

Search as she might, she could find not a single item in the house that could be of the least importance to their case.

"All right, take this place apart!" she ordered her detectives. "I don't want a single unturned matchbook."

"Don't look to be a smoker to me," replied Phil Merrick, the warrant folded beneath the two dog pictures he'd laid over it now. "You guys got a bum steer. Look at this place. Guy has at least two, maybe three dogs, and it looks like the house that Mr. Clean built. My place, my kids have a hamster, but the house looks like a tornado ripped through."

"All the same, we're going to search thoroughly. I'm checking the back bedroom." She entered Belkvin's bedroom and angrily tore out bureau drawers, throwing clothing in the air. She came across sexually explicit magazines, X-rated videos, massaging vibrators, plugs, and assorted adult toys.

"Can't prosecute a guy for being horny, Detective," said Merrick from behind her.

She paid no heed to the junior D.A., going to the bed and tearing away the neat, tidy afghan and blanket to reveal soiled sheets.

Ahh-ha! Finally, evidence this jag-off actually ever spent time and bodily fluids here," taunted Merrick.

"Shut up or step outside, will you, Mr. Merrick. If Mira Lourdes was held here against her will, tied to this bed-"

"Was she sexually molested?"

"No way to know for certain with only her head to examine and none of her lower genitalia. Mouth was free of any discharges. That's all Chang could tell us."

"Yeah…forgot…sorry."

"Could possibly be some of her DNA on these sheets." She called out to one of her people, "Get a CSI unit to scour the place with blue lights for blood spatters and finger-prints, and bag the sheet." She'd already folded the sheet in on itself with gloved hands to preserve any fibers, hairs, and fluid stains. Setting the bundle aside now, she next upended the mattress, revealing more pornography beneath, this special cache displaying women in horrible submission and bondage, the pictures arousing some deep inner sexual feelings better left unaroused, she silently warned herself. But she was drawn to the photos of women roped and wrapped, their eyes covered, mouths gagged, and was mesmerized until Merrick startled her, yanking the bondage book from her hands, gazing at it liberally himself. "Still, like I said, can't put this guy away for porn and horn."

Jana ordered her men to box it all up. She then shouted for help, and with another detective, she upended the box springs. Below the bed, she finally found a place in need of vacuuming, dust bunnies flying.

"Damn it. He hasn't been using the place, not for some time," she told Merrick and the others. "We'd have to view the tapes he kept to determine if there's anything what so-ever bearing on the Ripper case."

"Who knows, you might get lucky," said Merrick. "Maybe he taped the abduction, murder, and mutilation of Mira Lourdes and left the video here for you guys to discover."

Exasperated and angry, Jana gave a fleeting moment's thought to the excitement and expectation that had catapulted her from headquarters to here. She had come with a great hope, that they would find a mountain of evidence here to tie Belkvin to Lauralie Blodgett, and signs pointing a direct route to her whereabouts, and that this preponderance of evidentiary material would bury them both. Leaving with a box of videos, magazines, and dirty books, along with a couple of photos of a guy who might, in a pinch, pass for the man in the artist sketch, was a crushing blow.

She hated the thought of breaking the bad news to Lucas and Meredyth. She hated what this awful woman was doing to Meredyth, hurting Lucas in the bargain. She'd come to realize, watching how Lucas behaved around Meredyth, how very much he did love her, in a way she herself hoped one day to be loved. For this reason, it pained her greatly to see the two of them so victimized. She, like many on the task force, had made a personal vow to not sleep until the person responsible for the ungodly packaging up of human remains to traumatize good and caring people was caught and the assaults ended. And with the murder of Byron Priestly, the resolve had become even greater.

A little corner of her brain also told her she could be misconstrued as being close to Meredyth Sanger-a girlfriend! She could be killed next because of a wrongful perception, the victim of Lauralie Blodgett's semi-random, somewhat predictable violence. But then so could Lucas; in fact, Lucas presented a large and looming target. She wondered if he'd given any thought to the threat hovering over him, that he, more than anyone else in the Ripper's viewfinder, represented Meredyth's present and future happiness and pleasure.

Jana secretly loved Lucas and would willingly die for him; she wondered if he'd take her seriously if she offered to stand bodyguard over him. Not likely. Not likely he would allow it. The macho shit-head.

"What now?" asked one of her men as they were exiting the house with the single box of confiscated pornography.

Neighbors on each side of the apartment and from across the street had gathered, watching and wondering. Jana North pointed to the small gathering of housewives and retired folk and said to her man, "You and the others, fan out, and let's start interviewing. You know what to ask about. We got his vehicle info from papers found inside, and we've got his personal phone book. What we need are eyewitnesses to her comings and goings here."

Jana gave a fleeting thought to Lucas's tying her up like one of the women in Belkvin's bondage book. How she would enjoy being at the Cherokee's complete mercy.

"Damm it, North, get a grip," she muttered.

"What's that, Detective?" asked Merrick.

"Nothing…not a thing."

"I really am sorry nothing useful was found; despite my cynicism, I truly wanted this to go your way. From what I've read and seen of reports on this case, and what I've learned from my sources in police circles and forensics, this is one sick mother fucking little momma you guys are chasing."

"You know, Merrick, you aren't a half-bad-looking guy when you're not being so damn cynical."

"Really? Perhaps I ought to lighten up a bit, if it makes me more attractive to someone as attractive as you."

This got her attention, and she looked more closely at his eyes-good, strong, clear, moist icy-blue eyes. "Why, thank you, Merrick."

"Why don't you call me by my first name."

"I will if you will."

Across town, Lucas and Meredyth took the warrant from Harry Jorganson's outstretched hand as if it were a baton in a footrace. Jorganson held back, wishing them good luck as they entered the Bright Day Animal Clinic. Dr. Arthur D. Belkvin's name was emblazoned on the sign below the clinic's name. Lucas and Meredyth held high but tempered expectations of finding evidence to prove this was the location of Mira Lourdes's murder.

Earlier, as they raced to the location, Lucas had confided, "Where else would he do her but at the site where the tools are readily available, his own cozy operating room in his own clinic? Where else would he feel safe to perform his deadly operations than in surroundings so familiar?'

"Perform is the right word, if he did it for Lauralie."

Inside, they found a blocky small building reminiscent of someone's basement, a small waiting room area scrunched against the reception desk, and a door leading to the rear, where two separate rooms for examinations and operations stood like barriers to the kennel in the rear.

"You hear that?" asked Lucas as they looked around, flashing their badges for Ms. Jones.

"What? I don't hear nothing," said MariLouise Jones.

"That's just it, a silent kennel."

"Oh, well…no, we haven't been operating so well since Dr. B's been gone."

A quick scan of the place revealed a storage room off the kennels, where the metal cages stood empty of occupants. It was a crowded little area, hardly worthy of the name kennel-a holding place for sick animals. The odors pinched Lucas's nerves.

However, the place was neat, tidy, and clean-too well cleaned, Lucas thought. If they were going to find evidence, it would be masked, he thought. Then he realized there was a gaping space in one of the examination rooms where once a steel table most assuredly had stood bolted to the concrete floor. "What's not in this room?" he asked Ms. Jones.

Ms. MariLouise Jones, a slender black woman with a pompadour hairdo and manicured nails painted red, stiffened at the question before answering. "Dr. Belkvin…he had to cut back on his practice sharply in the last few weeks, and he…he tol' me he had da sell one of his operating tables."

"Anything else sold recently?" pressed Lucas.

"I noticed some of his older surgical tools gone one day."

"Recently?" asked Meredyth.

"Yeah, recently."

"Would those tools include a scalpel and a rotary bone saw?" asked Lucas.

"Am I in some kinna trouble here?" she asked where she stood between the two strangers interrogating her. "Do I need a lawyer?"

Lucas bit his lower lip and instantly pulled out his cell phone, moving back toward the front of the clinic. Stepping just outside, out of earshot of Ms. Jones, he dialed. His call was to Leonard Chang's crime lab. Kelton, standing by here with a handful of other uniformed cops, had assured him that Chang was on standby alert.

In a moment, Chang came on. "Leonard, it's me. Get a team and a photographer over here pronto, preferably Steve Perelli. We may have something here."

'Terrific, then you like this guy for the mutilation murder, Lucas?"

"I like him mightily for it, yeah."

"The bastard chopped her up at his clinic, didn't he?"

"I'd bet my eyeteeth on it. Get this, not only has he wiped the place clean, he's ripped out one of two operating tables from the clinic and has stashed a lot of his tools, hopefully being unearthed at his house by now." Lucas gave a thought to Jana North's progress across town.

"Unreal. Don't worry, Lucas, my boys and girls, we'll find the nails to drive into these vampires' coffins. What a monster these two are together. We've got to get them off the streets."

"I have every confidence in us doing just that, Leonard."

"Wish everybody else did."

Lucas wondered how much flack Chang was being bombarded with. "FBI making a move on us, Leonard?"

"They're in Lincoln's office as we speak."

"Then you'd best be-"

"On our way."

Lucas returned to where Meredyth had continued to get a feel for Arthur Belkvin from his receptionist/secretary.

"Have you any pictures of Dr. Belkvin?" Meredyth was asking Jones when Lucas came alongside her.

"There's a lotta photos on the wall in here." Jones guided them to another operating room, one door littered with photos of Dr. Belkvin standing, crouching, leaning in various poses with dogs, cats, birds, ferrets, rabbits, even a monkey or two, sometimes with the owners, their arms thrown over Dr. Belkvin's shoulder.

"Doesn't look at all like your typical flip-out killer, Mere. All these people to interact with in positive ways. Holding down two good jobs-careers actually. No profiler would put this guy together with this crime."

"Agreed, but he's our man just the same, whether he fits or not." Meredyth found the best facial shot available and said, "We'll need this one, Ms. Jones, in our search for your boss."

'^To find him or to shoot him down? I called Missing Persons 'cause he's missing, but you come in here turning him into some kind of bloodthirsty murderer-askin' don't I think he looks like the man on the news and on the front pages."

"Ms. Jones, we want to find him and question him, as much for his safety as that of others," Meredyth assured her.

Losing patience, Lucas bluntly asked, "Was he acting strangely, other than selling off his table and tools, that is?"

"He seemed agitated, yes…like he was in some kinna trouble. But, you see, he's a reformed gambler and, well…"

"Goes to the Gulf for the action there?" asked Lucas.

"Used to go to the Gulf casinos down below Galveston, and he played the horses a lot, but I was thinking he'd gotten past all that since he got into so much financial quick-sand the last gambling binge. But now, however, now you mention it, I'm thinking maybe he fell back into his old ways…maybe."

"Meredyth had earlier held up the artist sketch of Mr. X, and while Jones had flinched, she'd denied it was him. "Dr. B, he can't be your Ripper man, no way."

"Why's that?" Meredyth had asked.

"He's got a mole, but it's not on his right cheek. It's on his left."

Meredyth now pointed this oversight in the sketch out to Lucas. "They've got the damn mole on the wrong side of the face."

"All the same, the general appearance, it's him, isn't it?" said Lucas.

When Jones simply glared at Lucas, refusing to answer, Meredyth softly asked, "MariLouise…can I call you MariLouise?"

"Ms. Jones will do just fine."

"Okay, Ms. Jones, what about the eyebrows? They look dark brown or black in the photo, and he has blond hair, right?"

"More like sandy brown than blond."

"And the eyebrows?"

"There's no way Dr. B's going to be a killer. He's just too gentle with the animals." She said this as if there could be no argument. "He couldn't've done no abduction and murdering. I know him too well. Nobody that knows the man will ever be convinced he coulda done what they- what you all're trying to tell me that Dr. B's done, never. And maybe you can send him to prison for it, or even to the death row, and the gas chamber, but I'll still know he's wrongfully accused."

"You don't think he'd kill, say, to pay off a bet, say thousands upon thousands lost to a mob loan shark?" asked Lucas somewhat facetiously.

"No…not even then could you convince me that this man kilt somebody. He's a gentle, caring man, Dr. B is."

"What about for his girlfriend, Ms. Jones? Do you think he would kill for her?"

She hesitated answering for a moment. "His girlfriend?" she asked. "He didn't have no girlfriend."

Meredyth flashed Lauralie's picture. "You ever see this young woman here at the office?"

"Yeah…yeah, but she wasn't his girlfriend."

"What was she to him then, if not his girl?"

"His student." Her tone and the bobbing and weaving head and rolling eyes left no doubt she thought Lucas and Meredyth a pair of simpleminded fools. "He said she had great promise…said he expected her to change the face of veterinary medicine someday. They laughed about it, but I swear I never saw anything going on between them, not like you're thinking. Course you being cops…but me, I don't own a nasty mind and don't particularly ever want to."

"How often did you see her here?"

'Twice, maybe three times."

"Ever leave at closing with the two of them still here?"

"Well…yes…once, maybe twice."

"But you never thought anything unusual was going on between Dr. Belkvin and Lauralie?"

"Never crossed my mind. He was old enough to be her father, and so far as I ever saw, Dr. B, he just never was interested in sex whatsoever."

"Let me get this straight if I can," Lucas said to her. "Lauralie shows up, hangs out here, does some interning with the doctor, no hanky-panky as you see it, but one morning after you leave them here together at night, you come in to find a whole damned operating table and a slew of cutting instruments gone-disappeared overnight-but you don't think anything unusual is going on between Belkvin and Blodgett, because you attribute his strange behavior to his old gambling habit. Is that right, about the gist of it?"

"That's how I see it still, and why not? Why would he lie to me?"

"He told you he had to sell the table and tools to pay old debts, Ms. Jones, and that was a lie."

"Please, Lucas." Meredyth backed him off, making a show of scolding him. She returned to MariLouise, apologizing for her partner's rudeness. 'Tell me, Ms. Jones, how soon after meeting Lauralie did Dr. Belkvin begin to exhibit this stress level you mentioned?"

Ms. MariLouise Jones gave this time to sink in. "I see…I see what you're driving at. You're right. He started this…this crackup behavior soon after he introduced me to Lauralie."

She thanked the young receptionist and retuned to Lucas. "Why get rid of the operating table unless it's to get rid of incriminating evidence, but with his access to various chemical baths and acid cleaners, he could just as well have left the table and thoroughly cleaned it. Ripping it out of here…I don't get the logic, unless…unless…"

"Unless he transported the table elsewhere-possibly her idea-to be used at another location, along with the tools."

"Like the house. We need to know what's happening there."

"This damned mystery screams for an answer."

Meredyth asked, "Ms. Jones, did you see who hauled off the operating table?"

"No, your partner's right 'bout that much. It disappeared overnight one night, 'bout two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago? Are you sure, absolutely sure of the timing?" asked Lucas.

"Thursdays I get off early, every Thursday. I remember coming in on Friday and almost tripping out seeing that room all empty! The whole surgical table just gone! Dr. B swore he had to sell it off. Said he had plans of getting a new one with coaster wheels and an overhead hose and lights attached, you know."

A phone call came through for Lucas on his cell. He took it, responding to Jana North at the other end, his face showing his disappointment. "All right…all right, Jana. No, not a whole lot here either. Disappointing overall, but we'll find this guy. Only a matter of time now that we know both their names, and we know the type vehicle and a license plate thanks to your snooping there. Cars, plates, and people don't just disappear into thin air. Yes…yes, do that update on the APB-BOLO. I agree, go ahead and upgrade the search. No, already done… planes, trains, and buses. Dogs… three dogs? No, none this location, no."

Lucas hung up, exchanging a look with Meredyth, his shake of the head telling her nothing useful had come of the search of Belkvin's home. No tools, no table, no deadly workbench drenched in blood. "They're trying to locate his dogs at a nearby kennel, but no one there has seen the doctor or the dogs."

"Pongo?" asked Ms. Jones. "Pongo's with me. Dr. B asked me if I could take him for a while."

"When was this?"

"A couple weeks ago."

"That same Thursday night?"

"Right."

Lucas took a deep breath. Interrogating MariLouise might have been easier with a lawyer present, he thought, exasperated. "Other than his home and the school where he teaches, Ms. Jones, do you have any idea where he might have disappeared to and why he didn't take Pongo?"

"He took his other two dogs with him, Desperado Pete- Petie, and Lupe Fritz, his two old, retired greyhounds."

"Weird dog names," commented Meredyth.

"They were one-time racers, you know, on a track in Abilene, I think. They had names to bet on, you know, like racehorse names, Sea biscuit, Xtra Heet, What Up…all that."

"Two other dogs he took with him?" pressed Lucas.

"They were all three here at the kennel for a time. Said he was having his place fumigated. Next thing I know, he's asking if I could take Pongo for a week while he took the other two."

"But you have no idea where he was going?"

"I thought he was going home."

"But he disappeared instead…with two dogs in tow."

Meredyth asked, "Where do you think he is now, Ms. Jones? I mean if you wanted to find him, where would you start?"

She at first hesitated answering, considering, as if she thought it a trick question. Then MariLouise's eyes widened and she dropped her right shoulder, followed by her left. "I'd put in calls to the casinos in the Gulf…try the race tracks-horses and dogs."

Outside the clinic, they watched soon-to-be-disappointed dog and cat owners parking and coming toward the veterinary with pets in hand and on leashes. Lucas and Meredyth took a moment to speak with a few of Belkvin's customers and to pet their animals. They got the same reluctance as Jones had exhibited from the regulars when confronted with the likeness between Belkvin and the artist's sketch.

"Good God, man! He's a coach in the Pee-Wee League, damn good one," complained one man who voiced his fear that they could ruin Arthur's reputation with such lies and innuendo.

Another pet owner, a woman, said, "Dr. Arthur saved my Coochee's life! He's a saint."

"No way he's capable of what you're implying," screeched a blue-haired parakeet-toting matron. "This persecuting of Dr. Arthur ought to be against the law. Have you a permit to picket his clinic in this fashion?"

It was time to leave the clinic altogether. At the car, Harry Jorganson had stood watching and listening. "I take it you found nothing," he said to Lucas.

"But we will. I called in Chang's people. They'll find proof."

"And this Dr. Belkvin? Who's going to find him?"

"We'll get him, Harry, and we'll find the missing operating table too."

"Missing operating table?" Harry asked, his features pinched in confusion.

"Ask Chang about it," Lucas called out as he and Meredyth pulled out of the lot. As they did so, they waved to Chang's CSI unit van as it arrived, followed by Steve Perelli's car. In his rearview, Lucas saw the D.A. going for Chang as the Chinese M.E. leaped from the passenger side of the van. Lynn Nielsen climbed from the rear.

"If anyone can find evidence of Mira Lourdes ever having been here," said Lucas, allowing the thought to float on the air.

"Funny," replied Meredyth.

"What's that?"

"The depth of Mother Elizabeth's naivete toward Lauralie has been matched!"

"By our Ms. Jones?"

"And her sheer gullibility toward her boss, yes."

Disappointed at Jana North's news, and the fact the two raids had not revealed the whereabouts of either Belkvin or Lauralie Blodgett, Lucas and Meredyth wound up at a Greek restaurant called Plato's. They were enjoying a full-course meal and a bottle of Greek wine when Lucas's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He asked Meredyth for her forbearance, taking the call that originated from the precinct house.

Lucas found himself talking to Stan Kelton, who wanted to know his whereabouts, adding that he had an antsy lady claiming to have rented a farmhouse out to a young couple fitting the description of Arthur Belkvin and Lauralie Blodgett.

"Hold onto her, Stan."

"Easier said than done. She's hinky."

"If you have to sit on her, hold onto her. We're on our way." He hung up and slapped cash onto the table, sipped a final bit of wine, grabbed Meredyth by the wrist, and said, "Come on. We may have a break in die case. Jane Q. Public, claiming to have had dealings with Belkvin and Blodgett."

Lucas reestablished contact with Stan over the car radio as they drove for the 31st Precinct. "How reliable is this woman, Stan?"

"Lucas, her story sounds credible. She's a realtor and she freaked when she saw the images we posted of the fugitives. In the meantime, there's been a call for you from an inspector in the Mounted Police in Manitoba, Canada. Wants a call back, something to do with an APB you posted on the web for a Lyle Eaton, once of Houston and Seattle? They have good news for you. Seems he's doing time there as a sex offender of some sort, but his sentence is up in six months."

"That's damn good news, Stan! I want the prick on murder one."

"Closing down a Cold Case, are you, Lieutenant?" Stan asked. "Congrats. I ran into Remo when he was here, and he gave up some of the particulars. Bet you didn't know Muarice was my TO when I rookied here in '79."

Lucas imagined getting departmental funds to fly up to Manitoba with Maurice Remo, and the two of them laying out their case before this creep Eaton in his cell. The opportunity to sit across a table from the bastard who killed Yolanda Sims, to unnerve him and watch him come apart, to see him fold under the preponderance of evidence they would bring to bear… taking him through every step, every bruising blow, every soldering-iron burn, and finally the rape and murder would convince Eaton that he had no choice but to plead out in the case of a little girl whose ghost had pursued him all these fifty-odd years. Even if they could not get the death penalty for Eaton, they could nail him for a life sentence.

"You're likely to face extradition problems with Canada if you're bringing him back for execution," Meredyth said, hearing the news.

"No problem, so long as we promise Canadian officials we won't be seeking the death penalty against the creep. At his advanced age, life in prison'll suit Yolanda Sims, Remo, and me just fine. Eaton's got to be in his mid to upper sixties."

"A letter of assurance from Harry Jorganson that the State of Texas will not seek the death penalty, Lucas, would go a long way to assure your seeing him tuned over to Texas authorities."

"It'll culminate in a deal that'll please everyone except Eaton."

"Canada will rid herself of him," she added.

"We'll have closed a Cold Case, Remo will've been vindicated, and Yolanda Sims will finally rest in peace." Lucas smiled at the prospect.

Stan Kelton shouted over the radio, "Hey! Anyone there? Stonecoat?"

"Yeah, go ahead, Stan."

"It's the witness in your current case, Lieutenant."

"Did you tell her we're on our way?"

"Sure, I did, but somehow Frank Patterson got wind of her and then took her off."

"Off? Off where, damn him?"

"Interrogation room."

"Who the hell does he think he is?"

"He wasn't alone. Two FBI with him. They're questioning her now."

"Damn it all. What do we know about her, Stan?"

"She's with Lone Star Realtors, says she may have leased out a place to this vet guy, using an alias, only days before Mira Lourdes went missing."

"How shaky is our witness, Stan?"

"She's extremely sure, Lucas. I think we have to listen to her."

"Where's the rental at, Stan? Do we have an address?"

"It's in the sticks, north of the city, out some ways, Lucas."

"Remote?"

"Well…what's remote? It's all relative, isn't it?" Kelton's voice came over the radio loudly and evenly. "I suspect it's a drive, but I also suspect it may wed be the kill site, Lucas."

Two great scores in a matter of minutes. It sounded too good to be true, but the fly in the ointment was Frank and his G-men friends. "Stan, is she cooperating with Frank and his FBI buddies so far?"

"Not going well from the look of it. She's asked for a lawyer."

"Assholes! They've frightened hell out of her, no doubt with unnecessary threats."

Lucas placed the siren atop his unmarked police car, and they raced to close the distance between themselves and the new credible witness now refusing to cooperate. What had Frank and his pals done to turn an ady into an enemy? "Call Jana on that thing," he said to Meredyth, pointing to the radio. "Get her and her team back to HQ. If there's anything to this, we're going to need to assemble a small army whether the FBI is involved or not."

Meredyth did as asked. Jana was already on her way back to the 31st. Meredyth had to suddenly grab onto her door handle as they took the final turn into the lot.

When they entered, Kelton directed them to the witness claiming to have rented a property out to a guy fitting the description in the artist sketch.

"Her name's Robeson. She's right here," Kelton said as they worked past busy people in the squad room and to a glassed-in waiting room popularly called the Fish Bowl. "Why've you got her in with the degenerates?" Lucas asked.

"It's where Frank left her. They're using it as a tactic to get her to talk to them before her lawyer arrives. He's on his way, someone she picked outta this." He tapped the phone book on his desk. "Feds told Frank they think she's just another one getting in line for the reward money I think they took a hike."

"Really? Then we have a shot at her, don't we. Bring her down to the conference room. We'll hide her there for now, and we'll talk to her."

A few moments later, Lucas and Meredyth greeted Mrs. Robeson as Stan spirited her into the far more private and secure area. They introduced themselves and apologized for her ill treatment at the hands of the Feds and Frank. "It's not even their case, Mrs. Robeson. You did the right thing by not talking to them as you did, and when your lawyer arrives, Officer Kelton will bring him or her here."

Officer Kelton assured her of it, and left to man the front and to keep Frank at bay.

Mrs. Robeson, a Betty Crocker look a like, sat demurely in her comfortable swivel chair.

Lucas and Meredyth sat across from her, Meredyth offering to get her a cup of coffee.

"Really, one more cup of coffee and I go floating away I came down here to make a statement in person, to be taken seriously I made several calls to your hot line and got nowhere. No one is listening. Then what happens? I come all this way only to be treated like my sole purpose is to rob the city of that reward! So I played that stupid game just to get back at them."

Lucas cocked his head to one side. "Stupid game, ma'am? What stupid game is that?"

"In my shoe, right here. I pointed and took it off, and I told them I was getting voices from inside telling me where the Ripper is hiding out. About then they went beyond the rudeness to a kind of dumbfounded ignorance, taking me literally. 'Bout then I told them I wanted a lawyer, and they started arguing among themselves, the three of 'em."

"What a waste of your time," said Meredyth.

"It's worse than any waste of my time, Dr. Sanger. Lives may be at stake here."

Lucas asked, "Did they show you a photo array and ask you to pick out the man you rented your property to?"

"We never got that far."

"Would you do that for us?" he asked, spreading out six photos, five of which were look a likes of Belkvin and one authentic. He did the same with six females, one being Lauralie Bloodgett. Sallie Robeson selected both accurately, which came as no surprise since she had seen their images in the media.

"Tell us what you know about this man," Lucas said, tapping his finger against Belkvin's photo.

She studied the photo, pulling it up close to her eyes. "Yes, well, he rented the property out on the creek under the name of John D. Croombs."

Meredyth exchanged a knowing look with Lucas. "Croombs. He used the alias Croombs?"

"Yes," she replied.

Meredyth smiled and breathed deeply. "We're definitely onto them."

"Then you don't think me some sort of thief interested in any old reward! How refreshing. Aside from your Sergeant Kelton, I have found no one here I can trust, until now."

Kelton arrived with her Yellow Pages lawyer, a young woman who looked fresh out of law school who introduced herself to her client as Karen Cahill, and she insisted on huddling in private with her client, but first she wanted to know the charges.

The situation explained, Lucas and the others allowed Robeson and Cahill to have the room. Outside, Lucas asked Kelton what had become of Frank and the Feds when they found Robeson gone.

"They came at me. I pleaded ignorance and suggested she walked out. They argued with one another and told Frank to call them when he had some credible information. Frank's busy filling out a complaint against me, regarding my carelessness in the matter."

"Excellent."

Attorney Cahill called them back inside. "My client wishes to cooperate with authorities in any way possible, but only if she can communicate through you two, Lieu-tenant, Doctor."

"Agreed."

"Quite acceptable."

Once all were again settled, Realtor Sallie Robeson began to relate her story in earnest. "I rented to him and the woman I took to be his young bride, and when I saw her likeness in the newspaper alongside his, I knew it was the same couple. Odd couple really."

"Odd being together, you mean, an odd fit as a couple?" asked Meredyth, anxious to understand every detail.

"She coulda been his daughter, and I worried for a moment what was going on, but she was giving all the orders, you know, making all the demands. She wanted this fixed, she wanted that redone, you know the type. For the price the old place was rented for, I told her to forget about a lot of upkeep on the part of the owners. I didn't think they'd take the place. Surprised me when they did. But him with those yelping dogs, and the big pens already on the premises, well, he was sold. But overriding all concerns, it seemed she had to be happy, or it was no good."

"She called the shots," agreed Meredyth, nodding.

"So you people already have a bead on 'em, don't you?"

"We do."

"What got me…what really struck me was when I saw his mole on the tube. I was glued to it on the screen just like I had been in life. Didn't know where to look when talking to the man. Whole time I was dealing with the man, I kept thinking to myself, 'Mr. Croombs, why not at very least clip the damn hair from your mole, so it's not so damned distracting?' You know?"

"When exactly did you rent the property to Mr. Croombs?" asked Lucas.

"Two and a half, maybe three weeks ago."

"Can you pinpoint on a county map exactly where the property is located, Mrs. Robeson?" asked Lucas, guiding her to a wall where a number of state and county maps stared down on them.

"It's in the North Country area, Bridger Falls-you know, that development that fell through when the owners went belly-up?"

"I know the general area, yes," replied Lucas. "Go on."

"Well…the old farmhouse on Hazard Creek Road belonged to the Kenyon estate. Whole thing's now in probate, but the house was placed with us to sell or rent."

She pointed it out on the map, smack in the Navasota River Canyon area. From there, they went to a computer, and typing in the search window, Lucas fed it the address and die owner's name, Kenyon. The computer quickly identified the exact location, and the fact it bordered on Waller County.

Kelton had arrived again, this time escorting Jana North to their cozy hideaway, introducing her to Cahill and Robeson. Getting Sallie Robeson's okay to remain, Jana- having been coached by Kelton-thanked the realtor for indulging her. Seeing the jurisdictional overlap on the computer screen, she said, "We'd best notify and involve Sheriff Dennis Laird over there. He can bring his dogs to the party. Always bragging he's got the best police dogs in the state."

"All right. We can rendezvous with Laird at County Line and Canyon Road, here," Lucas said, pointing to the screen.

The Dragnet program Lucas used also pinpointed the location of every state, county, and dirt road leading in and out of the property, displaying a flashing red O around the perimeter of their destination and several bleeping red Xs at each site where a roadblock made sense. Finally, the program bleeped a blue line from the address of Precinct 31 to the farmstead, the shortest route. As with Meredyth, Jana North stared at the computer image of their target and converging lines of approach.

"Are there any barns or other structures on the property?" Lucas asked Sallie Robeson.

She plucked at something jammed tight in her Lone Star Realty purse. "Yes, a large barn and a tool shed, as well as a root cellar, used for hurricanes and tornadoes as much as for vegetables." She continued to struggle with the thing in her purse, finally tearing it free with a vial of lipstick, a half pack of Big Red gum, a wad of tissue, and a hair clip, all of which Stan Kelton rounded up from the floor.

She had pulled forth a folded Xerox map of overlapping pages held together by cellophane tape. A contented smile creasing her wrinkled face, she handed the map to Lucas. "I've got the locations of the shed and bam clearly marked, Lieutenant, case you asked, and you did."

Lucas smiled in return and asked, "Where's the root cellar?"

"Under the kitchen, a door going down from the kitchen."

Lucas nodded. "Did you ever see any improvements made to the house that Croombs or Mrs. Croombs made?"

"The pens the dogs're kept in were already there. Old chicken coops with high fencing, well maintained. Made a good run for the animals."

"I mean to the house…or perhaps to the barn? Any equipment brought in?"

"I'm not sure I follow you."

"We believe the couple meant to turn the property into a veterinary surgery," explained Meredyth, a bit of a lie to draw the woman out.

"Ahhh… explains a lot. I never knew that." Then Sallie sat biting her lip and staring off into space, her features a mask of uncertainty.

Lucas cautiously prompted her. "We're trying to locate a table, a stainless-steel table like you would see in a veterinary office. It's very important to our investigation."

"My, but I feel I'm inside a Nancy Drew mystery novel."

"Any medical materials or supplies at all that you saw?" pressed Lucas, a tinge of frustration filtering into his voice.

"'Fraid not, no. Saw their two dogs. Healthy, beautiful dogs. Greyhounds he said he saved from a gassing. He seemed a kind man."

Lucas keyed a few strokes and began printing a copy of the electronic map off the computer. "I've got them pinpointed," he said as the printer came to life.

"We'll need a SWAT team going in, hit the out- structures simultaneously, but first we have to brief everyone on the geography and layout while a warrant is being secured, unless Harry tells us the existing two warrants cover any rental property Belkvin entered into."

"Not likely," said Jana North, holding up the warrant she had used at the home. "This one's quite specific to the home, garage, any cars in his name on the premises. If you read the fine print on the one you used at his practice, it's likely also to be specific to that location only. They're just not interchangeable."

The realtor, Sallie, chimed in again. "The woman was in heat to get the electrical and the water up and running, but they never asked about the closest place to shop, which I thought odd."

Everyone strained to hear the words of the matronly realtor's tale as she had begun to whisper. "Said they had a lot more animals than those two dogs to care for, and that's why the need for plenty of space to run the animals, that sort of talk, but again, they didn't seem interested in knowing where the nearest feed store was, you know, for these phantom animals."

"Phantom animals?" asked Jana.

"They talked like they were going to fill the bam and the pastures with animals. Least he did. Talked on and on about it. Friendly in a nonstop talkative way," she said. "You think that's 'cause he might've been, you know, nervous?"

"Quite possibly," Meredyth said, nodding.

"You say you only saw the two dogs? Are these the two you saw?" asked Jana, holding up the photo of Belkvin and his greyhounds.

"That's them, the lovely things…so graceful and well behaved."

"They spoke of other animals on the way?" asked Meredyth.

"They…I mean he…Mr. Croombs, he made some remark that the animals were in transport from Amarillo. When I asked if it was horses, she changed the subject, asked me to walk off the property lines with her."

"And did you?" asked Lucas.

"Oh, no! Heavens. It'd have taken a day to walk those boundary lines, so I showed her how she and Mr. Croombs could step off the lines themselves. Left them a map I'd brought out with me, just like the one I made up for you."

"How many acres is the property?" asked Lucas.

"Fifty-nine, and some odd shape it is; follows along a creek that's one of those ghost streams, you know… comes and goes depending on the time of year. Folks around Navasota call it Old Hazard Creek… runs smack through the property, and some parts of the section they rented cross the creek, and some don't."

"Creek is running flush now, I bet," said Lucas, "given last month's rains from those two passing hurricanes."

"It's full over its banks, yes."

"Jana, you know Judge Henry Lowell fairly well, right?" asked Lucas.

"I'll get you your warrant, Lucas."

'Tell Lowell what we have, plenty of probable cause on the photo and sketch IDs alone. Here's the location." He handed her a copy of the electronic map. "And we need the warrant to extend to any garages, outbuildings, and vehicles owned or rented by the suspects using the names Lauralie and John Croombs, Lauralie Blodgett, or a Dr. Arthur Belkvin."

"Just tell him it's to do with the Post-it Ripper case and he'll want in," said Kelton. "It's coming on election time."

"We'll need to call out another SWAT unit. Hope they don't think we're running on empty again," said Lucas to Stan.

"I'm on top of it, Lucas."

As Jana North and Stan Kelton rushed for the nearby telephones, Lucas stepped away from Mrs. Robeson and Cahill, allowing them to confer. Meredyth followed Lucas. He'd gone back to the large wall map, and now he jabbed a pin into each location on the city and county map where Dr. Arthur Belkvin might be at this moment, including the old farmhouse. Lucas quietly said, "We've got multiple people now all claiming our sketch is of a man they encountered, one a John Croombs, the other a Dr. Arthur Belkvin."

"He's using her mother's name now?" asked Jana.

"Mere, I think you ought to hang back here…let the rest of us handle this out at Kenyon's."

"No way, Lucas. I've earned a right to be there. I want an end to this as much or more than anyone."

"It could be another dead end, you realize? For all we know, they've left the state, gone to Baja or Mexico City."

"No, not her. Him maybe, but not her."

"Okay, you can come along, but you're to hang back. I don't want to give this nutcase a shot at you," he told her.

"Me, what about you? She knows that I love you, and she knows that killing or maiming you would destroy me. You need to hang back as much as I do."

"You love me? That's something I thought I'd never hear after you let it slip that once." Their eyes met and they shared a smile. "All right, agreed. We let the SWAT team storm the place and take them down before we enter. We have Jana directing a separate team from relative safety against the barn, and Stan's earned a right to lead storm troopers against any additional outbuildings."

"We ought to bring Lincoln in on the raid too, Lucas."

"Yeah, Captain Lincoln's definitely going to want to be in on the capture. Election's coming up!" he quipped. "He's also going to want to know about Frank's blunderbuss attempt to make off with our witness and our case."

"I hear Gordon may be running for commissioner if Clarkson keeps his promise to the voters and bows out," Meredyth replied. "A collar like this could get Gordo elected."

"Call him at home," Lucas suggested.

Meredyth got on her cell phone and made the call, explaining to Lincoln the new developments. "Everything's on a snowball's course downhill now, Captain. We've got the bastards in our sights. We're seeing bear tracks."

"Bear tracks?"

"Lucas's word for good signs, good omen, sir."

"He teaching you Cherokee? Never mind. I just hope you two have better results from this information than you did with Belkvin's office and home."

"You've heard all about it then, I take it." She wondered how he had gotten the news, and from whom, and in what way it had been shaded. She also wondered if he had knowledge of Frank's bid to take over the interrogation of a witness with FBI in the room.

An awkward silence telegraphed his real message: I hope you and Lucas know what you 're doing this time.

"We've got them, I tell you," she insisted.

"I certainly hope so. I don't care to continue to look the fool, Doctor. You might want to convey this to Lieutenant Stonecoat. So where is ground zero?"

She easily read the frustration in his voice. She gave him the coordinates from the map, saying they were getting warrants and involving Waller County authorities.

"I've got my radio car. Keep me informed at all times. And Doctor, tell that damned Injun detective of mine I'll meet him at the Interstate along County Line Road out there in Waller County."

He hung up, giving her no chance to respond.