The Perfect Scream (15 page)

Using a still photo from the video Mazzetti had checked with all of his informants downtown and eventually found one of the three men. He had explained that they were looking for parts to restore a 1967 Mustang. Sparky and Mazzetti had visited the young man’s apartment and seen the car, but more important, Mazzetti could tell the young man was not a thug.

He watched the soundless video once more over his desktop computer. The grainy images produced decent shots of each customer’s face as long as they happened to glance up towards the camera. Right now he looked at the young woman he had never identified and noticed her look across the aisle at the manager, though she never appeared to speak to him. If it had been a male in the same circumstances Mazzetti would be killing himself to identify the man as a suspect.

 

 

 

Stallings had been anxious to get back to his canvass of businesses on University Boulevard. Patty was following up on information they got from the nerd at the University of Florida fraternity. Stallings had tried to hide his interest in returning to the seemingly mundane job of canvassing businesses for a missing person, but the trip to Gainesville had frustrated him greatly. He had lost an entire day. The drive over and back, as well as Patty’s interest in showing him around the campus where she had spent four years on the gymnastics team, had killed any chance he had to talk to business owners the day before.

His mood yesterday had not been helped by the way Maria systematically ignored him when he’d come over to visit the kids. But today he had managed to squeeze in nine stores; unfortunately all of them but one were under new management and had no idea about who had worked there previously.

In the midafternoon Stallings found a vintage clothing store just on the south side of the river close to the University of North Florida. He took a moment to look in the windows noticing the expensive price tags on what he considered used clothing. When he was a kid they’d called them hand-me-downs. A bell tinkled as he stepped through the front door and a large woman with what appeared to be a tent covering her form glanced up from a copy of
In Touch
magazine.

Without looking up at Stallings, she said, “I already gave to the police athletic league and I don’t give two shits about the Police Benevolent Association.”

Stallings said, “I’m looking for someone.”

“Who?”

Stallings laid down the photograph he’d taken from Zach Halston’s apartment.

The woman glanced down at it, then said, “You’re looking for Kelly?”

S
parky Taylor had used his connections in Atlanta to get the details on the death of UF student and Tau Upsilon member Paul Smiley, which had occurred in the city a little over a year ago. It was death by fire, which in Sparky’s mind was the worst way to go. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked this assignment in homicide. They didn’t seem to be as interested in following policy as he was. All his partner, Tony Mazzetti, ever thought about was ensuring his clearance rate on homicides was the best in the state. Mazzetti was a good detective, but he didn’t always dig deep enough into the circumstances of a death. Sparky didn’t think that was how the public expected a police department to work.

That was one of the reasons he had volunteered to track down any possible information on the death of a Tau Upsilon fraternity member who had graduated from the University of Florida the year before.

Sparky’s call had been taken by one of his buddies who had attended Georgia Tech with him, and he was now speaking to a sergeant in narcotics. Sparky said, “Why aren’t I speaking to someone in homicide?”

The gruff sergeant, who obviously wasn’t happy about wasting time talking to some detective in a hick town like Jacksonville, said, “Homicide doesn’t necessarily believe that death was anything but an accident. You know how they are about their clearance rates.”

“I do know that.”

“Anyway, the victim had two kilos of marijuana in his apartment and toxicology shows that he was stoned and had ketamine in his system. He was asphyxiated before he even realized there was a fire.”

“Do you have a big ketamine problem in Atlanta?”

“Kids use it if they can get it. A few veterinarians have been burglarized and lost some, but it’s not too bad.”

“Is there any evidence or anything left to go through on the death?”

“There are few things in boxes in evidence, but it’s just the bricks of marijuana and maybe some ID. I’m pretty sure the landlord never rented the apartment and there may be something over there. If you need more details or to come up here to look at the case I’ll have to hand you off to one of the homicide guys.”

Sparky scribbled a few notes while the sergeant read off the address and any other information he had on the case. Then the sergeant said, “Why would you guys be interested in something like this?”

“Because, like your police department, our homicide unit is more interested in clearance than in finding murderers. It’s my job to make sure we do both.”

The sergeant said, “You sound like a guy who could work for me any day of the week.”

Yvonne Zuni sat in her office signing off to close cases regarding accidental or justifiable homicides. She had been very impressed with the work of several of the new detectives who had been brought on board in the last year. The one case she pulled out of the pile was Connor Tate, the overdose victim from the University of North Florida. In an effort to keep the inquiry into the Tau Upsilon fraternity quiet, the sergeant had opted not to tell the detective on the Tate case what was going on. As a result, Detective Luis Martinez had done his usual thorough job and turned in the case file with everything necessary to close it out permanently.

Right now the only ones who knew the cases could be related were the four detectives working the case and her lieutenant, Rita Hester. She expected the lieutenant at any time and had been cleaning up the files to get her signature on the closings. The lieutenant had not spent much time with the crimes/persons squad in the last six months while she helped convert the evidence computer system as well as work on the re-accreditation of the sheriff’s office. On one hand it was a compliment to Sergeant Zuni and her abilities that no one interfered with how she ran the squad. On the other hand, it was a lot more work.

Sergeant Zuni recognized that Rita Hester had her eyes set on a position much higher up the ladder. Not only was she a good cop but she didn’t shy away from the political angle of her job either. The sergeant recognized that Lieutenant Hester and John Stallings had been partners on the road years before and remained very close friends. She didn’t think Stallings would ever go over her head to the lieutenant, but it was an important relationship to consider when dealing with politically sensitive cases.

She did recognize that although Stallings didn’t go over her head, occasionally the lieutenant would use Stallings for her own needs. The lieutenant would allow Stallings to conduct investigations outside the lines of the normal policy with the subtle understanding that if he got in trouble no one would be there to help him. Sergeant Zuni considered this taking advantage of Stallings’s natural tendency to fixate on a case and push to solve it no matter what the cost. That was why she would probably remain a sergeant for the rest of her career.

The lieutenant appeared at her door without a sound, like a genie. She gave a curt hello and immediately stepped around the desk to start signing off on the cases. After the lieutenant had completed the paperwork, as she stood up and stretched her large frame, she paused and reached down to pick up the photograph Sergeant Zuni had taken from John Stallings’s desk.

The lieutenant asked, “Where did you get this?”

“From John Stallings. That’s the missing fraternity boy he’s looking for.”

The lieutenant nodded but kept the photograph. She said, “Where’s Stallings now?”

“Canvassing businesses on University Boulevard where someone had seen the young man before he disappeared.”

The sergeant was surprised that all she got back from the lieutenant was a brief nod as she rushed out of the office with the photograph still in her hand.

 

 

 

It took John Stallings a moment to catch his breath, then say to the woman, “You know Kelly?”

The woman took her glasses off and allowed them to hang down around her neck by a rhinestone-studded strap. “Yes, she worked here for a couple of months a few years ago.”

Stallings tried to keep his voice calm and even. “Have you been in touch with her since she left?”

“Why, has she done something wrong?”

“No. She’s missing and her family is very, very concerned.”

The woman looked at the photograph again and said, “I think the boy looks familiar too. I know she dated someone briefly while she worked here. It might have been him. I only met him one time.”

“His name is Zach Halston.”

“Yeah, that’s him. There was something about him that Kelly didn’t like. But I haven’t talked to either of them since she quit.”

Stallings pulled out his notebook ready to grill this woman until he had as much information as he could get on his missing daughter and Zach Halston.

T
ony Mazzetti felt like a genius. After listening to his partner explain the conversation he’d had with the cop in Atlanta, Mazzetti came up with an idea that would solve two problems at once.

He looked at Sparky and said, “Why don’t you take a ride up to Atlanta and look over the evidence yourself just to make sure everything’s in order?”

“I don’t know, Tony. That’s a long ride up there and a long ride back. I wonder if talking to the medical examiner might not be more efficient.”

“No, no, we’re cops and we talk to other cops. Take a look at what they have and maybe we can conclude that it really was an accident and we’re chasing shadows here.”

“The victim isn’t even from Jacksonville.”

“Right now he’s just an unlucky kid from Gainesville. But if we let people build this into a huge conspiracy they would consider him part of some kind of crazy cult or victim of a serial killer. He died in a fire that may or may not be suspicious. You look and see if there are any ties to Jacksonville or something that makes you think there’s more to it.”

Sparky Taylor nodded his head slowly, chewing his lip as he thought. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get the sergeant’s approval and spend the night up there. If this turns out to be more than bad luck it’s something we have to do anyway.”

Mazzetti patted him on the shoulder and said, “That’s the way to look at it, Sparky.”

 

 

 

Lynn was down in the parking lot of the Thomas Brothers supply company inspecting the grille of the Suburban she’d borrowed and used to run down Alan Cole. It had obviously been damaged and the grille repaired, and the entire truck had been cleaned thoroughly. When she had checked before she returned it, she’d only noticed a scrap of clothing, which she had pulled off the grille. Now she was concerned that Dale wasn’t quite the blowhard or moron he pretended to be.

A tall man with sandy brown hair was washing one of the main delivery trucks when he noticed her and set down his hose. He stood out because he was the only non-Hispanic maintenance man and always seemed to be in a foul mood. Lynn didn’t know his name even though she’d seen him around the facility over the past three months.

Dale drove up in the golf cart he used to shuttle from the loading dock to the far reaches of the lot. Before he even slowed down, he yelled at the man, “Leon, get your ass back to work. This ain’t no charity.” Then the big man softened and looked at Patty as he stopped the cart. “Look at you. You’re as fine as the day is long.” He was about to say something when his cell phone chirped. He looked down at the message and punched the gas on the cart. “Gotta go, beautiful.” Without turning around, he called back to Leon, “Finish up and get to the loading dock.”

The man shook his head. He looked at Lynn, apparently noticing the disgust on her face. The man said, “Not much for manners, is he?”

“Does he always treat you like that?”

The man just shrugged and mumbled, “I’ve had worse.”

Lynn gave him a weak smile.

Then the man said, “I know who you are.” His North Florida drawl was thicker than most of the other workers’. And that was saying something.

Lynn said, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“I’ve been by your parents’ house and saw you there.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you. How long ago were you there?”

“Since I just got out of prison three months ago it was probably about five years and three months since I’ve been over there.”

“You must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Your daddy’s name is Bill? And your uncle is Peter?”

Lynn immediately understood it was a business issue and she just shook her head. “My dad is retired now.”

“Good for him. He’s a fair man who treats people right. I owe him a lot.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Leon.”

Lynn took his hand. “I’m Lynn.”

“Lynn, you ever need anything, you let me know.” His eyes cut toward the loading dock where Dale was harassing one of the workers. “It’s the least I could do for your dad. No one ever deserved a happy retirement more than him.”

Lynn couldn’t have agreed more and that was one of the reasons she’d undertaken her mission.

 

 

 

John Stallings had gained a lot of information from the woman at the vintage clothing store. He had several leads to follow up, including an address where Jeanie lived while she worked at the store. He was running the house through county records now to see who owned it and if they owned it three years ago when she worked at the store. He realized he was breathing quickly with excitement and took a moment to calm down. The rest of the squad bay was relatively quiet as he gathered up a notebook and several copies of the photo of Jeanie and Zach.

As he was about to leave, Sergeant Zuni stepped out of her office and said, “Stall, I’m glad you’re here. The lieutenant wants to see us in her office right away.”

“Really? Right now? I’m right in the middle of running down some leads.”

The sergeant folded her arms and gave him a look. She’d been around too long to put up with a detective ignoring a direct order from the unit’s lieutenant.

Ten minutes later, Stallings found himself sitting in the large, decorated office that housed the lieutenant for the entire detective bureau. He had no idea what Rita Hester needed to talk to them about, but he trusted his old partner and was always interested in her ideas.

Stallings sat quietly next to the sergeant for more than a minute before the lieutenant marched in from the outer office and eased into her chair before she said, “Detective Stallings, I’m glad you could find time in your schedule to chat with me.”

Stallings immediately realized something was wrong from the tone of her voice and the fact that she’d addressed him by his title. Over the years he had realized that was her way of saying this was business and nothing but business. His personal friendship and longtime association with her was not a factor in whatever she wanted to discuss.

Lieutenant Hester said, “How is your search for the missing fraternity brother going?”

Stallings looked at Sergeant Zuni, then realized he was supposed to answer. “I’m following all leads that come my way, but so far we don’t have anything concrete.”

The lieutenant said, “I’m aware of the preliminary investigation into the deaths of three other members of the Tau Upsilon fraternity. I’m going to have to see more before I hit the panic button and draw attention to the city and especially the university. That’s why I think it’s so important that we find Zach Halston. Do you agree with that?”

Of course Stallings agreed, but he wasn’t sure why the lieutenant had to ask the question. A rumble of acid rolled to his stomach as he considered a number of possibilities, but he was still unsure where this conversation was going.

The lieutenant retrieved something from her middle desk drawer and leaned forward as she slid it across her immaculate desk. Sergeant Zuni leaned forward to look at the photo, but Stallings knew what it was immediately.

The lieutenant said, “Does this look familiar?”

Sergeant Zuni immediately said, “That’s the fraternity brother Stallings is looking for.”

Lieutenant said, “Do you recognize the girl?”

The sergeant shook her head.

“Do you want to fill her in, Stall, or should I?”

Stallings didn’t say anything.

The lieutenant waited a few moments, then said, “The young lady in the photo is Detective Stallings’s missing daughter, Jeanie. I knew Jeanie most of her life and recognized her immediately. I am also thrilled to see that there is evidence she’s alive. What does not thrill me is that Detective Stallings would abandon his assigned duties to investigate something to do with his own daughter instead of handing it off to the detectives responsible. It bothers me that he would intentionally mislead you or me about his activities or intentions.” Her voice rose ever so slightly with each sentence. “It bothers me that he would put the mission of your squad at risk for his own personal investigation. And it bothers me”—she looked directly at Stallings—“that you don’t think enough of me to tell me what’s going on.”

Stallings had no answer for any of her rational and legitimate concerns.

It was obvious Sergeant Zuni had been stunned into silence.

The lieutenant said, “As of this moment, Detective Stallings is no longer working on this missing persons case. I am getting tremendous pressure from above to find out what happened to Zach Halston. It would’ve been nice to have one of my senior detectives on that. But you are to stand down. I don’t care what you do. You can organize the pencils on your desk. But you will not be working this case.” She leveled her dark, intense eyes at Stallings. “Is this clearly understood?”

All Stallings could do was nod.