The Perfect Prey

Fifty-seven

John Stallings and Patty Levine drove slowly down Cleveland Street in the area where the young stoner said he’d dropped off Larry Kinard. The sheriff’s office’s marine unit had divers in the water at the park where the kid claimed to have shoved a car in the water.

Patty said, “You think this kid is full of shit?”

“He seems sincere, but how many of these crazy-assed tips do we get when we go public on a case? I can’t believe the sarge got the marine unit to dive for the car already. But before we call out the cavalry, we need to do our homework.”

“Hoagie says they’ve identified at least five dead girls from the collage. Kathleen Harding and Allie Marsh, plus two from Daytona and one from Panama City. Looks like you found another serial killer.”

“I believe you were with me the whole time, and we haven’t found anyone yet.”

“I know you’re beating yourself up about Gary Lauer. But think about all the good we’re doing by stopping a creep like Larry Kinard.”

Stallings nodded, looking down the streets as they drove slowly. “I’ve got the analyst running utilities and searching tax records in the area, but I doubt we’ll find anything that matches Kinard. He had to have a friend or maybe even a family member over here.”

Patty said, “We know he doesn’t have a car and he left his wallet at the apartment. He may do something desperate and stupid.”

Stallings pulled up to a corner with a small strip mall and a row of houses behind it. This was where the young man had dropped him off. There were too many variables. Was it really Larry Kinard? Was the kid too stoned to know exactly where he dropped him off? Was the story even true?

Patty rolled down the window and said, “I’m waiting on a call from the sarge to see if there’s anything new. Otherwise, I’d say let’s go to the park and see if there really is a car in the water.”

Stallings opened his window too, figuring it was a nice day and there were worse things than watching divers jump in the water while they waited for some clue as to Larry Kinard’s whereabouts.

Larry Kinard froze in the kitchen doorway as his sister slowly turned her head and said, “That was you. They’re looking for you in connection to a murder. Is that true?”

“I didn’t murder anyone.”

“Then we can explain it to the police. And you won’t have to leave.”

“I don’t think that would work very well.”

His sister stared at him silently, slowly stood, and called out for her son. A couple of seconds later, Justin came hustling in from his bedroom. “C’mon, sweetheart, we need to get out for a few minutes.”

Kinard said, “Where are you going?”

“We need food. And Justin needs to get out. Is that okay with you?” Her tone had turned confrontational.

He’d seen his sister’s attitude with other men, but never had it directed at him. He took a breath and said, “No, it’s not a good idea to leave right now.”

“You can’t tell me what to do in my own house.” As she started to walk past, he grabbed her by the arm. Instinctively she jerked away. This time she screamed, “Keep your fucking hands off me!”

He wondered if the neighbors were used to her screeching, but he couldn’t have her draw attention to them right now. He snatched her arm again and jerked her into the kitchen away from Justin.

Before he could say a word she started to wail. A combination of curse words and screams.

He raised his voice enough for her to hear him, shouting, “Stop it! Keep your voice down and we’ll discuss it.” But she kept screaming, wiggled her arm free, and swung at him with a closed fist.

Without thinking he ducked the fist and snatched a long butcher’s knife from a stand on the counter. When she swung again he ducked the punch, spun her away from him, and plunged the knife deep into her back just to the left of her spine. As he felt the knife skip off a rib, he realized what he had done.

Without another sound, she stumbled forward, grabbing at the refrigerator handle, then tumbled flat on the kitchen’s hard floor. She tried to say something as blood quickly pooled under her body. She lay perfectly still.

Kinard stared at her, knowing he’d lost all control. He heard a sound behind him and turned to face his nephew. He had to think clearly now and figure out what steps to take.

Across the street from Stallings’s Impala, the garbage truck lifted a wide, battered green Dumpster and tilted it upside down into the back of the truck, causing a series of thunderous crashes. Stallings had started to roll up his window when between the crashes he heard something else. He paused and listened carefully and realized it was a very loud, agitated woman’s voice. Then all he could hear was the Dumpster again. Before he could figure out if he had actually heard it, Patty turned to him and said, “Stall, that was a scream.”

This was close enough to their experience the night before that they couldn’t hesitate now. Stallings still dwelled on the fact that if he had been a little quicker, Kinard would be in custody or dead right now. They both popped out of the car quickly, trying to get a fix on the direction of the scream. Behind him Cleveland Street had light traffic. The few businesses in the strip mall didn’t attract any crowds, so he was pretty sure the scream had come from the residential neighborhood in front of them. He walked to the hedge that separated the parking lot from the first house. Patty ran faster and turned toward the first house, cut through the yard, and started checking each house from the backyards. They started to move at the same pace with Patty behind the houses and Stallings along the cracked and warped sidewalk.

The first house had all of its windows closed and he doubted they would’ve heard a sound so clearly coming from inside. He wondered if it’d been a loud TV. The second house had a beat-up Pontiac in the driveway and all the windows open in the front. A short, covered porch ran the length of the house. He turned onto the walkway and slowly climbed the three steps to the porch, still listening. He paused, motionless for almost a full minute. He took another few steps, feeling the wooden deck bend and creak. Still nothing. He stood silently, listening.

Then his phone rang.

Kinard eased through the small living room. He turned around once and put his fingers to his lips to make sure his nephew didn’t make any noise. He’d already motioned for the boy to stay put in the family room and not to go into the kitchen. Kinard still didn’t know how he was going to explain this mess to the boy.

He held the bloody knife in his right hand next to his face. He could see a shadow on the porch, but he wasn’t sure if it was a person or a tree in the front yard. Kinard paused by the open jalousies that let in the cool breeze but didn’t allow anyone to see in or out. Some diffused light broke through the glass.

Just as he was about to convince himself no one was on the porch he heard a cell phone and it was close.

Now he had to take action