Page 109 of Water's Edge

I turn my attention on Larry. “I guess you could say I have an all-seeing eye myself, because I also saw a faded blue Chevy Caprice. It had Clallam County government tags.”

Larry’s face goes pale before I even finish. He starts to jump from his seat, but it has been a few years since he’s moved fast. Clay has already drawn the .45 from his shoulder holster and is pointing it at Larry.

“Sit,” Clay says.

Larry’s hand was going to his own gun, but he stops and sits back in the chair.

“I can explain that,” Larry says. Some of the color is coming back to his face as his confidence grows.

We all stare at him. Waiting.Go ahead and try, my look says. My .45 is in my hand. It hurt like hell to twist like that, but not enough to keep me from blowing Larry’s lungs out his back.

“You can’t prove shit,” Larry says. His voice has lost its playful Texas drawl. I hope he calls me “missy” again.

Clay says, “Move away, Ronnie.” She does. “Now get up slowly, Larry. You can try to grab your gun, or you can turn around and put your hands behind your back. Your choice.”

Larry looks from Clay’s gun to mine. He shakes his head, stands slowly with his hands up at shoulder level, and turns around. He hesitates and lowers his arms. I tighten the pressure on the trigger. I can’t miss at this range. Larry lets out a deep breath and puts his arms down, hands behind his back. Ronnie asked to handcuff him earlier but with a broken wrist it would have been awkward.

Clay places a handcuff on one of Larry’s wrists and tells Ronnie, “It’s all yours.”

Ronnie uses her good hand to secure the other handcuff. I’m sure she’ll always remember every click and ratcheting sound the steel made. It is her first arrest. She’s had a big part in all of this. In fact, if it weren’t for her being a target of these two killers, we’d never have caught Jimmy.

Or Larry, for that matter.

Clay takes Larry back to a holding cell and he isn’t gentle about it, but I will swear in court I never heard the man fall down. Twice.

Clay comes back and we all sit again. Larry’s yelling from the back that he wants an attorney. Clay gets up and shuts the door. “I didn’t take his belt or shoelaces. I’ll get them in a bit.”

I have to smile even though it hurts behind my eyes.

Fifty-Four

Larry was wrong about me not proving anything.

On our way to meet with the two detectives Ronnie remembered something she saw on the hospital video. I hadn’t noticed, and she most likely didn’t think it was too important, since we were looking for Captain Martin. In the view of the ER entrance she saw Larry standing outside the doors, talking to Jimmy. That was why Jimmy took the thumb drive at Ronnie’s when he shot me. We’ll have to go through the video again, but I am all but sure we’ll find Larry and Jimmy together on other dates. It will take a lot of Scotch and pizza to watch all that video, but Ronnie and I will soldier through.

Since the kidnapping of Ronnie and death of Jimmy happened in his county, Clay said he would get a court order to obtain DNA from Larry. There is no way Larry is going to cooperate. Or confess. Or kill himself. He loves himself too much for that.

It was Ronnie who had the idea of calling in the FBI. We had six murders involving kidnapping covering three counties. The Feds had the clout, the attorneys, and the reach to get extensive records on both Larry and Jimmy and trace Jimmy’s path across the country from Little Italy to Port Townsend, looking for other unsolved murders. Plus this was all very high-profile and news media were showing up from across the country. From other countries. Sheriff Gray said he’d neuter or spay anyone who gave the news people my or Ronnie’s address. When he said it, he was looking at Nan, who kept her back turned, but I knew she’d heard every word. The FBI were more than happy to get in front of the cameras and microphones. I like news people only when they tell me something I need to know.

There was only one other matter to clear up, and I wanted to do it. Ronnie got into county tax records. She found property owned by either Jimmy or Larry. Larry owned a house in Port Townsend that had belonged to his birth mother. Apparently he had tracked her down and she had not been heard from for the last ten to twelve years. Probably dead.

Sheriff Gray acknowledged that Larry was adopted as a baby but said he knew nothing about Larry’s real parents.

We got a search warrant and found the room where the two killers had kept their kidnapped victims. Deputies Davis and Copsey went through the house with a fine-tooth comb and found jewelry, purses, clothing, identification, and evidence of the horrific conditions the women had been kept in. There was a single bed with a steel frame. A chain was attached to the bottom rail and an ankle cuff attached to the other end of the chain. A set of bloody handcuffs was on the mattress. A leather dog leash was on the bathroom floor. The entire house was a hoarder’s dream.

DNA left at the scene was Marley’s dream.

We weren’t needed at the house anymore, so I took Ronnie to get her car. We agreed to wait until the next day to do any reports. The FBI had enough evidence to put Larry away forever. If he gets out, I’ll be waiting for him.

I follow Ronnie to make sure she gets home, then go to my own place. We are both beat. Physically. Inside, we have won.

I park in front of my house and sit for a minute. I’m not thinking about anything except how much it will hurt to get out. I have to pee. Code 3. I get out.

Inside, I drop my keys and purse on the table and head agonizingly slowly for the bathroom. It’s still mid-morning but I want something. Wine, maybe. The hospital gave me painkillers, but I pocketed them. I need a clear head. My stalker is still out there and seems to be keeping current on Megan Carpenter. I think Scotch will work better. I have nowhere to go and plenty of time to get there.

Before I leave the bathroom, I look at my face in the mirror. Blood spatters look like freckles, only redder. I run a brush through my hair, hoping it doesn’t come away with bits of Jimmy in the bristles. My blazer is marked with blood spatter and was taken by Crime Scene. They wanted my shirt as well, and my body armor. I drew the line at my pants. I was wearing a Washington State University T-shirt Clay loaned/gave me with my shoulder holster. They took my body armor, but Sheriff Gray gave me and Ronnie loaner .45s to keep until the shooting inquiry and ballistic tests were over. It wouldn’t be long. We’re both on administrative leave, but I plan to go to the office tomorrow if I can get out of bed. There’s a ton of forms to fill out.

Killing Jimmy will take less paperwork than arresting Larry. There’s a lesson in there somewhere.

---