The Night Monster

CHAPTER 19

He sat in the stands with the rest of the fathers and rooted for our daughters’ team. I don’t know if cheering yourself hoarse ever accomplished anything, but if felt good, and let me forget about my problems for a while.

With two minutes left in the game, the Lady Seminoles went on a scoring blitz, and I stomped my feet and yelled at the top of my lungs until the final buzzer went off. The team had won a game no one thought they would win, and they assembled in the center of the floor, hugging one another and shedding tears.

I filed out of the stands with everyone else. By the time I’d reached the lobby, I’d lost Long. I’d wanted to talk to him more, and remind him that the things I’d told him were in confidence, and not to be repeated. The last thing anyone needed was for a reporter like Chip Wells to hear that the FBI was conducting an investigation far different from the one the police were conducting.

I rescued Buster from my car, and took him for a walk. He needed some quality time, and I let him pee on anything that wasn’t moving.

Back in my car, I called Jessie. During the game she’d made eye contact with me from the floor, and I’d seen an expression of grief that told me how much she was hurting. Getting voice mail, I left a message. She called right back.

“Hey, Daddy,” she said.

“Great game,” I said.

“Thanks. It was a tough one.”

“Those are the ones that count the most.”

“Did you make any progress looking for Sara? I saw Karl Long sitting next to you in the stands. He almost looked happy.”

My daughter had inherited my instincts for reading people. She’d once told me that she was thinking of a career in law enforcement, and I’d tried to talk her out of it. Two cops in the family was one too many.

“We’ve got some promising leads,” I said.

“Tyrone didn’t abduct Sara, did he?”

Whatever I told Jessie was going to be passed among her teammates, and from there, the information could go just about anywhere. I wanted to tell Jessie what I’d learned, but in the end, it might only end up hurting Sara’s chances.

“That’s not what the police think,” I said.

“I guess you don’t want to talk about it, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“I understand. The bus is leaving for the motel. I need to go.”

“When do you head back to Tallahassee?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“Have a safe trip. Call me when you get there.”

“I will. By the way, did you call Mom? You said you would.”

“Not yet. But I will.”

“Daddy, you promised.”

I heard a click on the line that indicated I had an incoming call.

“I need to run. Love you,” I said.

“I love you, too, Daddy.”

Jessie hung up. I punched the call button on the phone.

“Carpenter here.”

“This is Karl Long. Where are you?”

Long’s voice had a mean edge, and did not sound like the man I’d just sat with at the game. He definitely had a Jekyll and Hyde personality.

“I’m still in the parking lot,” I said.

“So am I. Flash your brights so I can see you. We need to talk.”

Long made the words sound like an order. He was the general and I was the lowly foot soldier. But I wanted to hear what was on his mind, and I hit my brights until an expensive Italian sports car pulled up alongside me. In south Florida, you were judged by what you drove, and Karl’s wheels said that he was at the top of the food chain. I made Buster get in the backseat, and Long climbed in.

“What’s with the mutt?” Long asked. “I don’t like dogs.”

“Feel free to get out of the car.”

Long clenched his jaw and stared through the windshield.

“You don’t mince words, do you?” he asked.

“Why should I?” I replied.

The parking lot had emptied out, the halogen lights beginning to dim. Long let a long moment pass, then spoke without making eye contact with me.

“I just got off the phone with the head of the goddamn detective agency I hired to find Sara,” he said. “I asked him for a progress report, and he fed me a line of bullshit about the police arresting Tyrone Biggs, and that it was only a matter of time before Biggs confessed, and told them where he’d put Sara. I played along, and made him think I believed him. Then, I asked him if he’d talked to the FBI. Do you know what he said?”

I shook my head.

“He said ‘What for? This is out of their jurisdiction.’ That’s when I realized that all the guy was doing was feeding me the police reports on my daughter’s case. He’s done nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“There’s a reason they call them dicks,” I said.

Long turned in his seat. “I fired the son-of-a-bitch.”

“That’s a good start.”

“I want to hire you. You know more about what’s going on than anyone else. Say yes, and the job’s yours.”

I had already committed myself to finding Sara. I had to find out what had happened to her, and also what had happened to Naomi Dunn. In a way, the job was already mine. Long was offering to pay me for it.

“I’m game,” I said.

Long visibly relaxed. He was the kind of man that needed to move the needle. He removed a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket, and passed it to me. I was not proud, and held the check up to the faint light coming through my window. It was a personal check made out to me for the sum of $50,000.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

“Karl Long is always serious,” he said. “That’s the amount I advanced to the detective agency, and you deserve the same. If you find Sara, I’ll double it. She’s the only family I have. She’s worth everything to me.”

I folded the check and slipped it into my shirt pocket. My wife had a favorite expression: Everything happens for a reason. I shook Long’s hand, sealing the deal.

“I want regular updates on your progress,” he said. “Even if the news is bad, I want you to call me.”

“You’ll be the first to know. You have my word.”

The car fell silent. I sensed that Long wanted to continue the conversation, only there wasn’t much left to say. He glanced into the backseat at Buster.

“What kind of dog is that?”

“He’s an Australian Shepherd, but he’s got a nose like a bloodhound,” I said.

“Is the breed really from Australia?”

“Northern California. They were originally bred for herding sheep and cattle. He’s a champ at finding things, especially people.”

“So he’s your partner.”

“I guess you could call him that.”

Long bravely stuck his hand beneath my dog’s snout, and to my surprise, got his fingers licked in return. “Sara’s mother and I divorced when Sara was two,” he said. “I didn’t see Sara much when she was growing up, too busy building shopping centers and strip malls. When Sara was fourteen, my ex-wife got killed in a car wreck, and I suddenly became a parent. I struggle with it.”

“We all do,” I said.

“My situation is different. You have a good relationship with your daughter. I could tell by the way she looked at you during the game. I don’t have a good relationship with Sara. She hates me, thinks I’m an egotistical blowhard. I started coming to her games hoping to break the ice, but it hasn’t worked. The only time we speak is when she needs money for schoolbooks or to pay the rent on her apartment. I want to change that. I’m committed to changing that. I just need a second chance. Please find her for me, Jack.”

Making promises to clients was a curse in my line of work, but I was going to make an exception for Long. Maybe it was the blunt honesty in his words. That counted for something in my book.

“I’ll do everything I can,” I said.

“Thank you.”

I watched Long peel across the lot in his fancy sports car, ignoring the lane markings and stop signs. I took the check out of my pocket, and stared at the sum, just to be sure it was real. Whoever had said that money didn’t buy happiness had never been broke. Buster poked his head between the seats, his cold nose pressed against my arm.

“We’re eating steak tonight,” I told him.