The Night Stalker

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I stood with Burrell beneath a green canopy by the emergency entrance. A punishing rain had started to fall, and thunder rolled ominously in the distance.

“I want to ask you a question, and I want an honest answer,” Burrell said.

The tone of her voice told me I was in trouble again. I thrust my hands into the pockets of my cargo pants, and waited.

“Based upon what Tyra told us in the car, do you think Jed Grimes is responsible for these crimes?” Burrell asked.

“No,” I said.

“So Jed isn’t Big Daddy.”

I shook my head.

“But he’s the child’s father. Wouldn’t it make sense for him to call himself that?”

“It could be a family friend or someone who works in the neighborhood.”

“If I told you that we’d interviewed every single person who was around that child, including LeAnn Grimes’s neighbors, and Jed’s neighbors, and employees of every store, and they were clean, would you change your mind?”

“No,” I said.

“But everyone was clean.”

“You missed someone.”

Her frown grew. “No, we didn’t. We looked at everyone, and they all checked out. The only person who didn’t check out was Jed. That makes him our primary suspect.”

“So you’re buying Whitley’s savage spawn theory?”

“It’s the only one that works.”

Lightning crackled and flashed above our heads. Dozens of people died during thunderstorms in Florida every year, yet neither of us moved from our spots. Burrell had made up her mind, and she wasn’t backing down. I didn’t want to lose her as a friend, but I wasn’t going to retreat, either.

“Let me see if I’ve got this figured out,” I said. “You and Whitley are going to combine your investigations, since you’re convinced you’re looking for the same person. You were hoping that I would help you, and now you’re pissed.”

“I’m pissed because you’re going down one road, while everyone else is going down another,” Burrell said.

“Do you want me off the investigation?”

Burrell crossed her arms and stared at the ground.

“Is that a yes, or a no?” I asked.

I heard the unmistakable sound of a transformer being hit by a bolt of lightning. The lights in the parking lot flickered, then went off.

“I want you to reconsider,” she said quietly.

“There’s nothing to reconsider,” I said.

“Please, Jack.”

“You missed someone. Go back and interview everyone again.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

I couldn’t help myself, and held her shoulders, looking deep in her eyes.

“You’re making a terrible mistake.”

Burrell shoved me away. She started to say something, then bit her tongue. The door slid shut as she went inside.

I had stepped over the line. I should have felt bad, but instead I told myself she’d get over it. The rain was starting to ease up, and I ran to my car, having no idea how prophetic my words to her would become, or the nightmare I was about to enter.