DEAD BY WEDNESDAY (14 page)

“Band camp?” Robert asked. “What’s that?”

“It’s the citywide camp at Grant Park. It’s huge. Gabe went with me a couple days. He hung out in the park while I was practicing. I remember I came back from lunch one day and I caught him sitting behind my drums pretending that they were his. I told him to get lost.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I told him that a lot.”

Maury patted his daughter’s leg again.

Robert pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Blaze.
See if either of the victims attended the citywide band camp at Grant Park last summer.

“Do you recall anything unusual happening at band camp?” Robert asked, hating that he had to push the girl. “Did Gabe get to know any of the other attendees when he was hanging around?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s just a bunch of kids and you get paired up with people that you don’t even know. The teachers are usually okay. Most of them are music teachers from either middle school or high school. There was one guy that was sort of a dork and he may have talked to Gabe. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s fine,” Robert assured her. “You’ve been extraordinarily helpful. Really.”

They left the Monroes and immediately headed toward Henry Wright’s house. They knocked and when Judy answered, Robert was relieved to see a cup of coffee in her hand. He introduced Sawyer, and they sat.

“We’ll only take a minute of your time. I know you told me that your son played the cornet. Do you recall if he attended band camp last summer at Grant Park? The citywide camp?”

She nodded. “Of course. That was his third year. I told you. He was very talented.”

“Of course. Did he ever talk about anybody that he met at camp?”

She shook her head. “Not that I recall. I used to pick him up and there were kids everywhere.”

* * *

W
ITHIN
THE
HOUR
, Blaze had confirmed that both Johnnie Whitmore and Ben Johanson had attended the citywide band camp. The air in the station fairly hummed with energy. It was the first solid link among all four victims.

They’d discovered that while it was generally referred to as a citywide band camp, it was really hosted by a corporation out of Dallas, Texas, that put on similar events across the country. Schools helped distribute the information to students, payment was made directly to the company, and it subsequently secured space and staff to run the program. The company employed very few staff members on a full-time basis. Most were simply contracted locally for the three weeks that the camp lasted. It was good extra money for teachers who didn’t work in the summers.

When they’d spoken to the senior administrator whose office was in Dallas, he’d assured them they would drop everything to prepare a list of attendees, teachers and all other staff.

“Come on, come on.” Robert drummed his fingers on the desk and waited for Blaze to tell them that the list had come in her email.

It was two o’clock before they had anything of substance. The first list had over four hundred kids’ names. The second list had the names of sixteen teachers. The detectives set aside the first list. The person who had contacted Henry Wright had posed as a representative of Stalwart Academy. He had to have appeared to be an adult or it wouldn’t have been believable. There were ten men and six women on the list.

They didn’t worry about the women.

These crimes had been brutal and would have required some strength to move the bodies. There were women who had that kind of strength but when time was short, you played the odds. Plus Judy Franconi Wright had said that her son referred to the recruitment representative as
he.

“You and Sawyer take these five,” Blaze said, handing Robert a list. “Wasimole and I’ll take the rest.”

The list had included the home address. They probably had that for tax forms. That was helpful. However, it did not have the school where the teacher worked.

Robert drove to the first address, that of a Mr. Burt Willow, while Sawyer worked the phone, trying to get all the information he could about the people on the list.

Everyone was working as fast as they could. Robert only hoped it would be fast enough.

Chapter Sixteen

“Hey look, it’s Limpy.”

Raoul didn’t turn around. Damn. All he wanted was to get to band practice. One more hallway and he’d have been safe.

He was sick of these jerks. And he wasn’t taking it anymore. Plus, he wanted some answers about Carmen’s car.

He veered to his left, pushed hard on the crash bar of the exterior door, and was outside. He didn’t stop to put his coat on. Instead, he carried it, stuffed under his arm. He had his backpack slung over that same shoulder and he carried his trombone case in his other hand.

The sidewalks were empty. He started walking faster. Footsteps, harsh against the concrete sidewalk, chased him. He smiled. These guys were in for the surprise of their lives.

He turned, holding his trombone in front of him.

“We been looking for you,” JJ said.

“You’re not avoiding us, are you?” Beau asked.

Raoul shook his head.

“How’s your trumpet?”

“It’s a trombone,” Raoul said. “There’s a difference. But you guys are probably too stupid to know that.”

“Trombone. Ooh, la la.” JJ pushed him on the shoulder and he fell back a couple steps.

“Stop it,” he said.

JJ pushed again. And again. And Raoul let himself get propelled into the long alley that separated the block.

Beau pointed to a Dumpster about twenty feet away. “Last time he crawled down the hall like a dog. And don’t dogs get their dinner out of the Dumpster?” He grabbed Raoul’s right arm.

Raoul let his coat fall to the ground but he kept his backpack on his shoulder.

JJ opened the lid and pulled out three white garbage sacks. He ripped open the top of all three, dumping the contents on the ground.

Raoul thought he might get sick just from smelling it. Dirty diapers and food and wet newspapers. All kinds of other stuff he couldn’t even identify.

Beau put both hands on Raoul’s shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. “Get down, dog. Eat your dinner.” Again he shoved Raoul, causing him to lose his balance. His shoulder hit the ground. Icy gravel surrounded the garbage container and it hurt.

The boys laughed, pushing each other around. “You know what my dog does?” said JJ. “He likes to roll around. Start rolling, doggy.” He kicked Raoul in the stomach so hard it took Raoul’s breath away.

Another kick. “Roll.”

Raoul rolled in the garbage. He rolled back. Over and over again. Until the boys tired of the game.

Beau grabbed the back of his collar and lifted him up. “Don’t make us come looking for you,” he said. “Now give us your money.”

“It’s in my backpack,” Raoul said.

“Then get it out. We don’t have all day.”

Raoul unzipped his backpack and pulled out the ten-dollar bill that Carmen had given to him that morning. “Here,” he said.

“That’s better,” JJ said. He put the money in his pocket and started to walk away. Beau fell into step next to him.

Raoul reached into his backpack again and pulled out his gun. He stood up. The boys paid no attention to him. After all, he was just a little kid.

He held his arms out, both hands around the gun, just as Apollo had taught him. “Hey,” he yelled.

Both boys turned, laughing. They stopped when they saw the gun.

“It’s never going to stop, is it?” Raoul said, walking toward them. Wet newspaper clung to his pants. His arms, cut by the sharp rocks, bled. He didn’t care.

“Come on, man. We were just having some fun. Put your gun away,” JJ said, edging back a step.

“You’re both just stupid jerks,” Raoul yelled, waving his gun from one to the other.

They didn’t move.

Raoul took another step toward them. His arms started to shake. They had to pay. The sons of bitches had to pay.

* * *

B
URT
W
ILLOW
LOOKED
about seventy. His apartment was at the end of a long, narrow hallway. He answered the door with the newspaper in his hand. He was probably five-two and a hundred and twenty pounds.

“May I help you?”

“Detectives Hanson and Montgomery,” Robert said. They showed him their badges. “We understand that you were an instructor at the citywide band camp last year.”

He smiled and his teeth were in better shape than the rest of his body. “For the past eight years. Ever since my wife died. Love those kids.”

Sawyer and Robert made eye contact. Willow wasn’t physically strong enough to be their guy. But maybe he could help.

“We’re trying to identify a couple people who were there,” Sawyer said.

The man shook his head. “There are hundreds of kids. It would be hard to remember a couple.”

“We’re more interested in the staff,” Sawyer clarified. “Did you know the other instructors?”

The man nodded. “Most of us had been teaching at the camp for years. Of course, every year there were a couple new folks. Most were real nice.”

“Most?” Robert asked.

The man appeared uncomfortable. “Well, I don’t like to talk bad about people. Never know when the good maker is going to call me up and I don’t want my last deed to be something like that.”

“Mr. Willow, this is important,” Robert said. He nodded toward the newspaper that the man had folded under this arm. “Have you been following the story of the suspected serial killer?”

He nodded. “Of course. Terrible thing.”

“We have reason to believe that all four of the victims were at last year’s citywide band camp. Three played instruments and one was there visiting his sister who played.”

He didn’t respond, but Robert could tell that the news startled him. Robert didn’t waste time. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the list of instructor names. “Can you take a look at this list and identify the individuals who were new?”

Mr. Willow studied it. He pointed to a name. “This guy.”

Barry Taylor.
Excellent. Robert rubbed his hands together. “Anybody else?”

Mr. Willow ran a long finger down the list, then he did it a second time. It took everything Robert had not to grab the list and run out the door.

Time wasn’t their friend.

It was already almost four.

“I think this was the other new guy.”

Douglass Sparrow
.

“You’d have thought the two of them might forge a friendship but they were both loners. Just odd ducks.”

They were almost back to their car when Robert’s cell phone rang. He saw the number and his heart did some kind of funny spin in his chest.

“Hi, Carmen,” he said.

“Are you busy?” she asked.

He could hear the tension in her voice. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just got a call from Raoul’s school. He’s not at band practice. Their winter concert is Thursday night and if a kid misses this week, they don’t get to play in the concert. He’s first chair and the band director really wants him at the concert. I think that’s why he made the extra effort to call my cell phone.”

“And you know that he went to school today?”

“We left at the same time. And remember, he sent me a text telling me he’d arrived.”

“Okay. Are you still at work?”

“No. I was in a cab on my way back to the office when the call came in. I tried a couple times to reach Raoul on his cell phone. When that didn’t work, I couldn’t go back to the office. Plus, I was less than ten minutes from my house. I was so sure that he’d be here.”

“Were there any signs that he’d returned to the apartment at some point during the day?”

“No.”

“Kids skip school stuff all the time,” Robert said. “It’s probably not a big deal.”

There was a pause on the other line.

“Carmen?” he prompted.

“I searched his room. I found a box of bullets in his bottom drawer.”

Speedy’s Used Cars.
He was surer than ever that the kid had been lying. What the hell else had he been lying about? “He has a gun?”

“Not that I know about,” she said, her voice cracking. “It’s not in his room. It’s not in this apartment. I’ve looked everywhere.”

He could tell she was close to tears. “Okay, honey. Don’t worry. I’ll go find him,” Robert said.

“Just bring him home safe, Robert. That’s all I ask.”

Robert hung up, hoping like hell he wouldn’t have to disappoint her.

“What’s up?” Sawyer asked.

Robert explained the situation.

“Go,” said Sawyer. “I’ve got this. You should probably start looking near his school. On the way there, you can drop me off and I’ll grab my own car. I’ll go check out Barry Taylor. We’ll reconnect once you’ve found Raoul.”

“I’m going to find him, right?” Robert asked. He could show his friend the fear that he’d had to hide from Carmen.

“You will. You’re the best damn cop I know, Robert. If you can’t find him, nobody can.”

* * *

A
FTER
R
OBERT
DROPPED
off Sawyer, he sped toward Mahoney High. School had been out for about twenty minutes. If Raoul had decided to duck out of band practice, then he could be several blocks away. Of course, if he’d gotten on a bus, then all bets were off. He could be anywhere.

Robert debated whether he should broadcast Raoul’s description. Certainly more eyes looking for the kid was better, but the whole thing about Speedy’s Used Cars stopped him from doing that. He didn’t want any of his fellow cops looking too closely at Raoul right now.

He drove up and down the streets that would have been the logical ones for Raoul to have taken if he’d decided to walk home, all too aware that there was less than an hour of good daylight left. Once it got darker, it would be so much harder to find him.

Damn kid.

It was another ten minutes before he heard something come across the car radio that sparked his interest. He turned up the volume. Report of kids fighting in an alley. Between Parker Street and Venture Avenue.

Less than two blocks away.

Robert flipped on his lights but no siren.

When he got to the entrance of the alley, his heart almost stopped.

Raoul was standing in the middle of the icy alley and he had a gun pointed at two other boys who had their hands up and their backs against the alley wall.

If Raoul pulled the trigger, it would be cold-blooded murder.

Silently, Robert got out of his car. He was far enough away that nobody was paying him any attention. The boys with their hands in the air were staring at the gun. Raoul was staring at them.

“Come on, man. We were just kidding around.” That was from the tallest boy. The shorter boy said nothing. It looked like he was about to fall down.

“Shut up,” Raoul said. “Just shut the hell up.”

Damn. He couldn’t let Raoul shoot these other kids. His hand inched toward his own gun.

Carmen would hate him. She would never forgive him if he shot her brother.

He edged around his car and took a few steps into the alley. He had his hands in the air, his gun still in his side holster.

“Hey, Raoul,” he said softly. “It’s Robert. Put your gun down.”

Raoul’s head swirled toward Robert. “No,” he yelled. “I’ll kill you, too, if I have to.”

“You’re not going to kill anybody, Raoul.”

“Stay away,” Raoul yelled. “Don’t come near me.”

Robert stopped. “Fine. Just calm down. We can work this out.”

“They made me roll around in the garbage like a dog.”

Robert could see the boy’s shoulders heaving and knew that he was close to breaking down. “They’re the animals, then. Not you. Now put your gun away. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life paying for this moment, Raoul. It’s not worth it.”

“They’ll get away,” Raoul cried. “And tomorrow it will be worse.”

“They’re not going anywhere. There are about six cops right behind me. The lady who lives upstairs saw everything. She’s the one who called it in. Come on, Raoul, you’re a good kid. Don’t screw up your life.”