The Perfect Prey

Three

John Stallings squinted through the water-spotted windshield to make sure he’d read the right address on the clean older apartment building off Roosevelt in the trendy Avondale section of the city. The address was the same as the lead sheet the crimes/persons analyst had given him. This missing persons case was a little different from the usual missing college kid who turned up drunk in New Orleans or in the slammer in Savannah. This guy, Jason Ferrell, was thirty and professional. Some kind of engineer over at one of the supporting companies for Maxwell House. He knew the building near the Police Memorial Building, or PMB. Ferrell’s mother in Chicago hadn’t heard from him, and he’d missed work the last few days. This one might be a real mystery. Something to sink his teeth into. He needed the distraction about now. Even though it was his concentration on police work in the first place that put him in this position.

Patty made a few notes on the pad in her battered metal case and said, “Looks like the place.”

He nodded.

Patty said, “If he’s here I’m gonna smack him for scaring his mom like that.”

“I’d think he was avoiding her except he hasn’t been to work.”

Patty nodded, looking closely at him. “Are you sleeping any, John?”

“Some?”

“I’m not trying to pry, but what’s your status with Maria?”

“I talk to her a couple times a week. She’s usually scarce when I visit the kids and help them with homework in the evenings.”

“You seeing them enough?”

“Every day. Charlie seems to be adjusting because we still play games and I coach his soccer team. Lauren is harder to gauge. She’s got that moody teenage thing and she’s so mature. She’s been spending a few evenings with some girls from school.” He turned to her and said, “Older girls.”

“Don’t worry too much-older girls could be a good thing. Older smart girls are the best.”

“All I see are older pretty girls.”

Patty snickered. “All fathers are the same.”

Stallings considered his own childhood and thought, I wish that were true.

Patty Levine let her partner knock on the doors of the neighbors on either side of Ferrell’s apartment. Stallings had no idea the effect he had on most women. They’d take one look at that curly dark hair and kind eyes and tell him anything he wanted to know. That whole ruggedly handsome, intelligent look was hot right now, but she figured it was timeless and Stallings had always been charming.

Instead, Patty waited on the first floor. She needed a moment alone to pop one of her Xanax and swallow it dry. She’d been starting to control her prescription drug use until she’d gotten caught up in the massive Bag Man case, and the trauma she’d suffered at the end of it hadn’t help wean her from her regular regimen of Xanax for her anxiety, Vicodin for joint and back pain, then Ambien to sleep at night. Dating Tony Mazzetti had affected her use a little. She had to plan things better and sometimes lay awake at night with her head on his shoulder, staring blankly up at the ceiling instead of downing twice the recommended dosage of the sleep aid. Even Tony had no idea that she used the drugs. No one did and no one would. Unless disaster struck. No single doctor realized she was taking any prescription other than what he had prescribed.

Patty knocked on the building manager’s door. Then knocked again. Finally, as she was about to leave her card on the door, she heard someone inside say, “Hang on, hang on.”

The door opened and a man about fifty stood looking down at her. Instantly she made a cop’s assessment: This is an annoyed redneck who had one too many beers at lunch. The red face, sloppy comb-over, gut sticking out of his Dickies plaid shirt, and dirty jeans led her to this conclusion. When he said, “What’s the po-po want?” before she even showed ID, she added ex-con to her assessment.

Patty stayed professional and took the time to show her credentials, badge first. “I’m trying to find one of your residents.”

“Jason Ferrell?”

“How’d you know?”

“'Cause some other ol’ boys were by here yesterday and a couple of really big colored boys were looking for him the day before.”

“Really?”

“Do I look like I wanna waste time jawing with a cop when Jerry Springer is on and I got the couch just the way I like it?”

“Do I look like I want to smell your stale beer breath?”

The guy smiled. “I like cute, feisty cops.”

“Then we better get this over with because the next cop you’ll see isn’t nearly as friendly. What do you know about Ferrell?”

“Just a nerdy college boy. He pays on time and never has no problems. Smells funny in there once in a while, but he said it was just some project he was working on. The two that was just looking for him weren’t from around here. They were from one of the western counties, I could tell.”

“How could you tell?”

“John Deere caps, work boots. These were country boys. They wanted in his apartment, but I wouldn’t let ‘em. Even with the fifty bucks they offered.”

“Got a key?”

“Ain’t supposed to use it unless I think it’s an emergency.”

She looked at him. “What’d you do time for?”

He was about to ask how she knew, but it was obvious. “Beat up my ex-wife pretty good.”

“How long you do?”

“Two years.”

“And what else?”

“Five years federal time for off-loading coke back in the eighties.”

“So you don’t think me asking nice is enough to borrow the key?”

“Like I said, it has to be an emergency.”

“Is a broken arm an emergency?”

“Not really. What makes you think Ferrell is in there with a broken arm?”

“Not his, yours.”

Allie Marsh woke up to the sun slicing through the narrow opening of the motel drapes. She turned on her side and found her little Timex Ironman runner’s watch. Ten-fifteen. That was something new for her. At home, if she slept past eight she had her mom yelling for her to get moving. This trip was turning into an adventure.

She heard Susan say, “Hey, Allie.”

They were the only two in the room for the night. When Susan started feeling ill she asked Allie to come back to the room with her. What kind of friend would’ve let her leave alone? The other girls said they had rides and kept dancing with the cute young men from Holland. Allie was a little sorry to leave the guy she’d seen two nights in a row, but she’d see him again. She had pretended to take the little speckled pill he gave her, but had stuffed it into her jeans pocket instead. The slight headache from the rumrunner was a small price for her to pay for partying until midnight.

Allie stretched in bed, then leaned up and stood, pulling her long T-shirt down as she did. She opened the curtains slowly, letting the sunshine fill the room. This was the first day since they had arrived that the clouds had broken. In the other queen bed Susan still lay under the covers. Allie knew she was sensitive about her shape-wide hips and pretty but tiny boobs. Her face had a cute quality like a chipmunk’s, but so far the boys they’d met preferred the lithe bodies of Cici and Karen to a cute smile and wide hips.

Susan said, “I’m sorry I ruined your fun last night.”

Allie smiled. “Sweetie, you didn’t ruin anything. I’m out of Mississippi for a few days, and not one club has caught my fake ID. I’m having a wonderful time.” She crossed the room and sat at the edge of Susan’s bed. “Are you feeling okay today?”

“Yeah, but I want to get wild too. Cici and Karen are still with their dates, and I don’t want to be bored.”

Allie thought hard how she might be able to cheer her friend up. Then she remembered the pill. Without a word she popped up and found her jeans draped over a chair. She dug into her front pocket and found the small, funny-looking pill. She held it up. “We could try splitting this and see what happens.”

Susan’s smile gave her the answer.