Tim Hallett enjoyed the casual morning at his mom’s house. It was almost like he was a kid again, sleeping in the same house as his brother, in his old room with Josh on the other single bed and Rocky sprawled on the carpet between them. He had awakened to the smell of his mother’s famous pancakes and bacon.
After breakfast, while he worked on his mother’s shutters, Josh and Rocky played in the front yard. Bobby joined them after a while and fulfilled the stereotype of the stoner who could throw a Frisbee five hundred different ways. At least he’d cleaned up enough that Rocky wasn’t alerting on his every move, and his spectacular Frisbee skills were a challenge for Rocky.
Hallett had changed into his spare uniform he kept in the Tahoe, then managed to drop off Josh a few minutes early to Crystal, who gave no hint about her feelings toward the kiss the night before. Women were one of the puzzles he would never figure out. But he enjoyed trying. He was glad his mother got to spend the evening with Josh and even happy that his brother got to see the boy for a while.
He realized this quick respite was the quiet before the storm. Everyone involved in the kidnapping case knew they now had to find this creep before he struck again. Any hope that he had gotten bored and moved on was gone. Tina Tictin fit the profile of the victims perfectly. Theoretically, there were no specific suspects, and the effort to go down the list of usual suspects continued, but for Hallett there was only one target: Arnold Ludner.
Now Hallett was parked down the street from the odd residence of Arnold Ludner’s sons. It was more of a compound, with a lot of land between it and any neighbors, and two separate houses on the lot, both two-bedroom, two-bath, with one house in front and one sitting way back on the two-acre lot. The county tax records showed one person owned both houses. His address was listed as the rear house. The common assumption was that the boys were renting the house in the front.
Rocky fidgeted in his rear compartment in case Hallett needed to hit his emergency button and open the rear door. He had no real plan, but he knew that both of the sons had extensive criminal histories. Between them, they’d been arrested sixteen times for everything from a marijuana possession to aggravated assault. One of the narcotics agents in the office had told him they were smart enough to fly under the radar, and they were tough. They cut off the ring finger of a pot distributor who owed them money. The laid-back marijuana dealers weren’t used to that kind of violence. One of them had told a deputy, “If I wanted to get my ass kicked, I’d sell crack.”
Hallett had a criminal intelligence analyst looking for a contact number for the owner of the houses, but so far it had proven difficult. His general idea was to find a way to hook up the two brothers on dope charges and use that as a way to loosen Arnold Ludner. No father, no matter how depraved he was, wanted to see his kids in trouble. At the very least, the third son, the attorney, might agree to let his father be interviewed so that Fusco could eliminate him as a suspect and focus his interest on other people.
Rocky sat in the back patiently as Hallett scanned the large piece of land with two houses through a set of Tasco binoculars. In the last hour he’d seen both of the Ludners as they came from the house to the Toyota Highlander parked next to it. One of the brothers was lanky, over six feet tall with long hair. The other was short and beefier. Even though there was only a year and a half’s difference in their ages, the chubby one looked much older, with thinning hair. Hallett had to check twice to make sure he wasn’t looking at Arnold Ludner Senior.
The taller brother carried something from the house and opened the rear door to the SUV. Hallett couldn’t see clearly but it looked like he placed something in the back seat of the vehicle. Then both men got into the gold Highlander, and it slowly backed down the driveway.
Hallett said out loud, “It’s show time.”
* * *
Claire Perkins had been helping interview girlfriends and schoolmates of Tina Tictin. It was not an assignment that required her K-9 handling abilities or gave Smarty the chance to do something spectacular, but it was different from her normal days of patrol. John Fusco had recognized her ability to talk with Katie Ziegler and thought she might have a better chance of gaining information from one of these younger girls. The handsome detective had been an advocate for her to the sergeant and higher-ups. She hoped it was because of her ability and not due to their burgeoning personal relationship. She put the idea out of her mind as she interviewed girl after girl, desperate to find a shred of information that might tie the case together. So far no one had any idea who could have kidnapped and murdered Tina Tictin.
She knew the crime scene people were still out by the canal where Brutus had found the body, which they had somehow already identified. Claire was just glad she wasn’t sitting out there doing nothing.
A break in the interviews gave her a chance to sit and think about the evening she spent with John Fusco. It was nothing serious, yet it had pointed out how lonely she had been. Did she really want to be one of the cops who had nothing but work in her life? She’d have to consider this more closely when she had more time, or when work wasn’t dominating her life.
Claire didn’t like leaving Smarty in the Tahoe. He was her partner, but she didn’t want to scare the girls at this technical school not far from Tina’s house. Smarty appeared relieved to rest quietly in the air-conditioned vehicle. Claire ignored her “no public affection” policy and leaned in to kiss Smarty on the head and pat him. He gave her a rare wag of his tail, sighing as if ready to sleep.
Claire and a young burglary detective who had been assigned with her had just finished the final interview and decided they had learned nothing new about Tina Tictin. She seemed to be a pleasant girl with an extreme wild streak.
Her cell phone rang, and she pulled it from the pouch on her tactical vest.
Tim Hallett didn’t wait for her to speak. He just said, “Are you busy?”
“I just finished some interviews.”
“I’m going to try a vehicle stop over near Fruity Acres. Can you give me a hand?”
“I’m on my way.”
Tim Hallett added, “Let’s use the cell phones and keep it off the radio.”
Claire wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that.
* * *
Darren Mori kept to his policy of shutting up and listening whenever he got a chance. Sergeant Greene had asked him if he minded sitting in on a meeting with John Fusco. It had nothing to do with his abilities as a dog handler. They just wanted another body in the meeting. He was smart enough to recognize it was a way to use manpower from another unit that was paid for from a federal grant. But he didn’t mind the change of pace, and Brutus enjoyed the cool room and comfortable rug. He had curled up under the conference room table and had his head draped across Darren’s boot. Every once in a while Darren could catch the sound of him breathing deeply as he snoozed.
Darren understood there were some politics going into the investigation. He’d caught on that homicide considered this part of their case, but Fusco wasn’t going to give up that easy.
Fusco said, “I’ve been careful to cover myself in reports by mentioning Ludner’s name here and there, but I never gave it the star billing. I don’t want someone stealing our thunder.” He looked like one of Darren’s professors lecturing the class. “These sorts of games between the different squads go on all the time. You don’t get to be a detective without being at least a little devious. No one wants to have a case scooped out from under them. The media never catches on to these kinds of maneuvers, and in some police agencies, neither does command staff. We’re lucky at the sheriff’s office. Everyone on our command staff has worked investigations at one point in their career. They understand. If not, and if they looked into something like this and decided we were holding up a potential homicide case, I’d find myself pushing a green and white cruiser in western Boca Raton, writing tickets to residents for putting the trash out too early.”
Fusco had told Darren that by hosting the two probation officers in the sheriff’s office’s main conference room, he would have a home-field advantage. Fusco told Darren he was not finding his second encounter with probation officer Bill Slaton any more enjoyable than his first. In fact, it looked like being summoned into the sheriff’s office had pissed off the portly probation officer.
Darren quickly realized it was the other probation officer who provided a key to John Fusco’s investigation. The younger man was tall and dorky-looking and supervised one of Arnold Ludner’s sons, who was still on probation for aggravated assault. Technically, Bill Slaton had nothing to do with this, but he had come along with the younger officer anyway.
The younger officer looked from Darren to Fusco and said, “He lives in a house in Fruity Acres with his brother. He’s got about a year left on his sentence and hasn’t really caused any problems.”
Fusco asked, “How often do you go by the house?”
“I saw him out there about six months ago.”
“Have you checked on him since then?”
“He came by the office once or twice.”
“Are you telling me he’s on probation and you see him about as often as I see my dentist?”
Now Slaton cut in and said, “You got no idea what our caseloads are like and what we’re expected to do. You’d be better off if you worried about doing your job instead of worrying about us doing your job.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I told you that Arnold Ludner could be a good suspect in your kidnapping case. Now that you’re finally getting serious about him, you’re using us to harass his sons.”
“All I’m trying to do is use all the resources available to solve a major crime. You think you could drop the attitude and jump on board?”
The younger probation officer said, “What do you need us to do?”
“You’re allowed to search his house, aren’t you?”
“Under certain circumstances. Why?” He was nervous and glanced over at his older co-worker for guidance. “I need a reason.”
“Like PC?”
“No, probable cause isn’t the issue. By policy we need a reason to search a probationer’s house. I’d also need another probation officer with me and a police officer to stand by in case there’s trouble.”
Fusco raised his voice so much he ended up nearly shouting, “Screw policy. I got a dead girl on my hands and a killer who likes to kidnap young women.”
Bill Slaton kept calm and said, “We can help you, but we should wait a little while.”
“Wait for what?”
“Neither of the brothers are suspects, right?”
Fusco shook his head. “Our suspect is older than either of them.”
Slaton said, “Shouldn’t we wait to see if Arnold Ludner will talk?”
“Thanks to his prick of a son, we haven’t been able to talk to him. Christ, we haven’t even seen him in a week. The boys are just a way to get to the father. Give us a chance to speak to them. In reality, we have no specific strong suspect.”
Slaton seemed to take this all in and shook his head, saying, “Yeah, we’ll help. Maybe I can even talk to Ludner for you. I developed a decent rapport with him while he was on probation.”
It was these sorts of arguments that Darren still didn’t understand completely. He always thought that probation officers should be on the side of the police. This probation officer didn’t seem to care for the police at all. Or maybe it was just Fusco. Darren could understand that.