The Night Monster

CHAPTER 51

I dropped the file into the trunk, and slammed it shut.

The dismembered townspeople of Chatham were staring at Linderman and me. They were in their late forties to late fifties, white, and decently dressed. Many of the women wore expensive jewelry, and several men sported fancy wristwatches. Not a single one of them looked poor.

“Have a nice night,” a man in the crowd said.

The words had an ugly ring to them. A number of men in the crowd were resting their hands on the guns concealed behind their shirts. It felt like a posse. I had been in hostile environments before, but nothing like this.

Linderman and I climbed into my Legend. Buster had tuned into the bad vibes and was standing up on the backseat, growling at the crowd. As I pulled away, he started barking. I didn’t slow down until the town was in my mirror.

“Pull off the road and kill your lights,” Linderman said.

I pulled down a darkened side street, and turned off my headlights. Moments later, a car filled with men cruised past.

“Think they’re looking for us?” I asked.

“Probably want to make sure we leave town,” Linderman said.

I drew my Colt from my pocket, and stuck it between my legs.

“Did you see the hostess?” I asked.

“Just in passing. Why?”

“Her name’s Victoria Seppi. She was Lonnie and Mouse’s fourth victim.”

“Are you sure?”

I retrieved the file from the trunk, and got back into the car. I removed Seppi’s missing person report from the file, and passed it to him.

Linderman read the report with a flashlight so as not to illuminate my car’s interior. He clicked off the light when he was done.

“We need to nab her and find out what’s going on,” Linderman said. “Her case is still open. She’s committed a crime by not contacting the police. I have every right to detain her.”

His voice was strained, and I could tell he wanted to get to the truth as much as I did.

I called information, and got The Sweet Lowdown’s number. Then I called the restaurant. Victoria Seppi picked up, and I asked her how late they stayed open.

“Kitchen stops serving at eleven o’clock,” Seppi said.

I thanked her and hung up. We had several hours to kill.

Driving to the outskirts of town, I parked behind an abandoned factory that had once manufactured cardboard boxes, and let Buster run loose. I leaned against my car, and tried to calm down. Knowing that Sara Long was somewhere nearby did not help my mood. Nor did the fact that Chatham was filled with people who might try to kill us if we tried. If we didn’t handle this right, it was going to blow up in our faces.

At a few minutes before eleven we drove back to Chatham. The town’s streets had cleared out, the restaurants and bars closing up for the night. I parked two blocks away from The Sweet Lowdown, and killed my headlights.

We watched the restaurant’s employees leave through the front door, then saw the neon sign go off. Finally, two figures emerged. Gabe, the owner, and Seppi. Gabe locked the front door and went to his car, while Seppi walked around the building.

Linderman reach into his coat, and removed his wallet. He took out his FBI badge and pinned it to his windbreaker. “Follow her,” he said.

I turned on my headlights and drove down the street toward the restaurant. Gabe drove past me, his eyes half shut. I punched the gas once his vehicle was out of sight.

“Hurry,” Linderman said. “I don’t want Seppi getting into her car.”

I took the corner with a squeal of rubber, my headlights catching Seppi as she entered the metered parking lot behind the restaurant. She turned instinctively, and looked directly at us. Fear shone in her eyes. She fumbled with her purse, and its contents spewed out onto the ground. She cursed and began to run.

I pulled up alongside her, and Linderman rolled down his window.

“Victoria Seppi. I’m with the FBI. I order you to stop,” Linderman said.

Seppi looked sideways at us. The fear in her eyes had turned to desperation. Instead of slowing down, she kicked off her shoes, and tried to outrun us.

“Hit your brakes,” Linderman said.

I did as told. Linderman jumped out of the car, and gave chase. Seppi was fast, but Linderman was faster. He quickly caught up, and grabbed Seppi from behind by the waist. They both went down to the ground.

I pulled the car up alongside them. Buster was standing up in the backseat, barking furiously. I calmed him down and jumped out.

Linderman and Seppi were still on the ground. Seppi struggled helplessly beneath Linderman’s weight. Not a sound came out of her mouth. I had seen that with victims of abductions before. The screaming was only on the inside.

“Do you want me to handcuff you?” Linderman asked.

“No,” Seppi said through clenched teeth.

“Then cut the nonsense. We just want to talk with you.”

“They’re going to kill me,” Seppi said. “Do you understand that? They’re going to kill me, and my mother, and then they’ll kill both of you.”

“Not if we have anything to say about it,” I said.

Seppi looked up at me for the first time. She must have seen something in my face that told her I was one of the good guys. She stopped struggling, and almost at once began to cry. Linderman climbed off of her.

“Here. Let me help you,” I said.

I pulled Seppi to her feet. Her hostess uniform was covered with dirt, as were her face and hands. She looked terribly vulnerable, and I felt sorry for her. She glanced up and down the street, and I saw something resembling anger flash across her face.

“Don’t tell me you came here by yourselves,” Seppi said.

I nodded, and so did Linderman.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she said.