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“Eddie Skanky is a local thug who’s been sent up twice by Detective Marilyn Honniger. She got him again on a parole violation and he’s promised to put his nose to the grindstone if she doesn’t toss him back in jail. Seems he knew Slater and Dempsey, both in prison and out. We’re waiting for him to give up a name.”
“A name would be a good start,” Dix said, “but we have to be sure he’s not pulling a name out of the newspaper to stay out of prison.”
“Some of the people who were close to the victims are prominent, respected people,” Ruth explained. “Let’s hope he brings in something solid, or they’ll laugh at us.”
“I understand,” Detective Morales said. “I hear everything, and I know some of those people are relatives of yours, Sheriff. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes on this one.”
Dix sighed deeply, muttered under his breath, and said, meeting Morales’s eyes, “Yes, it could get real messy. I pray no one in the family is involved, mostly for the boys’ sake. I wouldn’t want to have to tell them something like that. But we’ll deal with whatever comes.”
They left a short time later, dragging Rob and Rafe, who didn’t want to detach themselves from Officer Craig. Dix unlocked the Range Rover to a hysterically barking Brewster, and everyone settled in. Ruth waited until the boys were plugged into a computer game before she said quietly, “I like Detective Morales. I’m glad we stopped here to meet him. It makes a difference when you know the other person. He’s a straight-up guy. He’ll come up with a name for us. I just don’t know if it will be in time.” At his raised eyebrow, she said smoothly, “By Tuesday.”
Dix grinned as he checked the boys in the rearview mirror, and murmured, “They’re still dealing with losing their mother. I hope we’re wrong about Gordon.”
“Hey, Dad, did I tell you how Officer Craig took us to booking? Showed us their fancy new fingerprinting machine? It’s newer than yours.”
Rafe said, “He showed me how to look like a real rough character in the lineup booth, how to slouch and turn my sneakers up on the edges.”
“The lineup, huh? Maybe next time Officer Craig can dump you in a holding cell, lock you up for a couple of hours so you can keep company with some of the city’s more upstanding citizens.”
The boys hooted and settled back into their game. If a wild cacophony of gunshots and car crashes counted as settling in, Ruth thought.
Dix passed an old truck, nodded to the farmer who waved him ahead, and eased the Range Rover around him.
CHAPTER 35
WASHINGTON, D.C.
SUNDAY NIGHT
SAVICH AND SHERLOCK sat in the Volvo in their driveway, the engine idling, heater running. Savich stared at his laptop. MAX was in satellite communication with the communications center in the Hoover Building. A large-scale map of the Washington, D.C., area appeared on the screen.
Sherlock said, “It’s ironic, isn’t it? Our neighbors to the north had Malcolm Gilliam in custody for nine years. If they’d only kept him incarcerated none of this would have happened.”
“I wish he’d been in prison rather than in a mental hospital,” Savich said. “It’s a pity the Canadian Supreme Court ruling in 1991 changed their criminal code. They made it easier to escape criminal culpability by claiming insanity.”
“But still,” Sherlock said, “he brutally kills two people in Quebec and they let him out in nine years?”
Savich rolled his shoulders and stretched. “Once his lawyers managed to convince a jury he wasn’t criminally responsible because he was hallucinating and delusional at the time of the crimes, it wasn’t lawful for them to hold him in custody any longer. Something about cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Unless,” Sherlock said, “they could prove he still posed a risk to the public. He must have learned the rules really well.” She looked at MAX’s screen for a moment and panned the map westward. “So, Dillon, if they deemed Moses was no longer a danger to the public, the Institut Philippe Pinel couldn’t monitor him after he was released?”
“He was scheduled to see his multidisciplinary support group weekly, but he was legally free to leave. So he hacked off his locator bracelet, skipped out, and came back to the United States two years ago. Then we lose track of him until he picks up Claudia and beats that homeless man to death eight months ago in Birmingham.”
“You know he must see Claudia as another Tammy.”
“Probably. Claudia is the same age as Tammy was. And now the two of them have gone on their own killing spree.”
“A name would be a good start,” Dix said, “but we have to be sure he’s not pulling a name out of the newspaper to stay out of prison.”
“Some of the people who were close to the victims are prominent, respected people,” Ruth explained. “Let’s hope he brings in something solid, or they’ll laugh at us.”
“I understand,” Detective Morales said. “I hear everything, and I know some of those people are relatives of yours, Sheriff. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes on this one.”
Dix sighed deeply, muttered under his breath, and said, meeting Morales’s eyes, “Yes, it could get real messy. I pray no one in the family is involved, mostly for the boys’ sake. I wouldn’t want to have to tell them something like that. But we’ll deal with whatever comes.”
They left a short time later, dragging Rob and Rafe, who didn’t want to detach themselves from Officer Craig. Dix unlocked the Range Rover to a hysterically barking Brewster, and everyone settled in. Ruth waited until the boys were plugged into a computer game before she said quietly, “I like Detective Morales. I’m glad we stopped here to meet him. It makes a difference when you know the other person. He’s a straight-up guy. He’ll come up with a name for us. I just don’t know if it will be in time.” At his raised eyebrow, she said smoothly, “By Tuesday.”
Dix grinned as he checked the boys in the rearview mirror, and murmured, “They’re still dealing with losing their mother. I hope we’re wrong about Gordon.”
“Hey, Dad, did I tell you how Officer Craig took us to booking? Showed us their fancy new fingerprinting machine? It’s newer than yours.”
Rafe said, “He showed me how to look like a real rough character in the lineup booth, how to slouch and turn my sneakers up on the edges.”
“The lineup, huh? Maybe next time Officer Craig can dump you in a holding cell, lock you up for a couple of hours so you can keep company with some of the city’s more upstanding citizens.”
The boys hooted and settled back into their game. If a wild cacophony of gunshots and car crashes counted as settling in, Ruth thought.
Dix passed an old truck, nodded to the farmer who waved him ahead, and eased the Range Rover around him.
CHAPTER 35
WASHINGTON, D.C.
SUNDAY NIGHT
SAVICH AND SHERLOCK sat in the Volvo in their driveway, the engine idling, heater running. Savich stared at his laptop. MAX was in satellite communication with the communications center in the Hoover Building. A large-scale map of the Washington, D.C., area appeared on the screen.
Sherlock said, “It’s ironic, isn’t it? Our neighbors to the north had Malcolm Gilliam in custody for nine years. If they’d only kept him incarcerated none of this would have happened.”
“I wish he’d been in prison rather than in a mental hospital,” Savich said. “It’s a pity the Canadian Supreme Court ruling in 1991 changed their criminal code. They made it easier to escape criminal culpability by claiming insanity.”
“But still,” Sherlock said, “he brutally kills two people in Quebec and they let him out in nine years?”
Savich rolled his shoulders and stretched. “Once his lawyers managed to convince a jury he wasn’t criminally responsible because he was hallucinating and delusional at the time of the crimes, it wasn’t lawful for them to hold him in custody any longer. Something about cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Unless,” Sherlock said, “they could prove he still posed a risk to the public. He must have learned the rules really well.” She looked at MAX’s screen for a moment and panned the map westward. “So, Dillon, if they deemed Moses was no longer a danger to the public, the Institut Philippe Pinel couldn’t monitor him after he was released?”
“He was scheduled to see his multidisciplinary support group weekly, but he was legally free to leave. So he hacked off his locator bracelet, skipped out, and came back to the United States two years ago. Then we lose track of him until he picks up Claudia and beats that homeless man to death eight months ago in Birmingham.”
“You know he must see Claudia as another Tammy.”
“Probably. Claudia is the same age as Tammy was. And now the two of them have gone on their own killing spree.”
