The Night Stalker_ A Novel Of Suspense Part 9

"Any idea who did?" I asked.

Lowman violently shook his head.

"You didn't talk to him, and give him tips?" I said.

"No!"

"You don't expect us to believe that, do you?"

"Look. I did a bad thing a few years ago in Seattle," Lowman said. "But I did my time and paid my debt to society. I've changed. What I told Vonell and the other members of the Conspiracy Club were idle ramblings, nothing more."

s.e.xual predators didn't didn't change. They could be scared straight or sent into hiding, but you couldn't change them. Lowman was lying. change. They could be scared straight or sent into hiding, but you couldn't change them. Lowman was lying.

"You called Sampson's abduction a game," I said. "What did you mean by that?"

Lowman took off his gla.s.ses and shoved them into his s.h.i.+rt pocket. It was a bad move, for it showed how scared he was. "The boy was persuaded to leave his bedroom during the night, and to climb through a slit screen. He wasn't taken. He was removed."

"Meaning what?" I asked.

"Sampson was playing a game with his abductor," Lowman said.

"Do you think it might have been one of Sampson's parents?" I asked.

"No. Parents enforce the law. This game was an act of defiance. That was where the cut in the screen came in."

I glanced at Cheeks out of the corner of my eye. He had gone white.

"But it was someone who knew Sampson," I said.

"Knew him well," Lowman said.

"You told Vonell that Milk Duds were involved in Sampson's abduction," I said. "How did you know that?"

Lowman looked furtively at the floor. I heard the uptick in his breathing, the air moving rapidly through his nostrils and pouring from his mouth. He almost sounded like he was running.

"I just guessed," he said.

I grabbed the arms of his chair and shook it. Lowman's head snapped up.

"Quit lying," I said.

"I'm not lying," he protested.

"Yes, you are. Keep it up, and Detective Cheeks will arrest you."

Many criminals scoff at being arrested. s.e.xual predators do not. Going to jail is often the equivalent of a death sentence, and they will do anything to avoid it.

"Milk Duds are a favorite enticement among child abductors," he said quietly. "Children like them, and they're larger than most candy."

"So?"

"A child can't yell for help with a Milk Dud in his mouth. He has to spit it out first. That gives the abductor time to clamp his hand around the child's mouth, and subdue him. It's an old trick."

"Did you tell Sampson Grimes's abductor that?" I asked.

"I told you, I don't know who abducted the Grimes boy."

"How about Ray Hicks?"

Lowman jerked up in his chair.

"You know Ray?" he squeaked.

"We met yesterday," I said.

The blood drained from Lowman's face. Before my eyes, a metamorphosis took place, and the respectable citizen that Lowman was pretending to be disappeared, while the monster lurking below surfaced. His pretty eyes shrunk into slits, and his nostrils flared. A guttural sound came out of his throat that reminded me of a dog choking on a bone. He shoved me, and spun around in his chair.

A laptop computer sat next to the console. Lowman began to type a command into the laptop's keyboard, his fingers a blur.

"No, you don't," I said.

I came around Lowman's chair, and tried to pin his arms to his sides. He wrestled with me while cursing under his breath. I looked to Cheeks for help.

"You want to partic.i.p.ate?" I asked.

Cheeks was moving in slow motion, looking like he was going to be sick. I thought I knew what was wrong. His theory about the Grimes abduction had just gone up in flames, and he didn't know what to do.

"Come on," I urged him.

Cheeks drew his gun from his shoulder harness, and pointed it at Lowman.

"You're under arrest," he said.

Lowman's fingers continued to pound the keyboard. I dragged him out of his chair, and shoved him into the wall.

"Calm down," I said.

Finally, Lowman settled down. I made him put his hands against the wall, and frisked him. He was clean, and I looked at Cheeks.

"I want to see what's on his computer," I said. "You need to watch him."

"Okay," Cheeks said.

I sat in Lowman's chair. His laptop computer was plugged into the console, and I clicked the mouse and accessed his e-mail. He'd sent over a hundred e-mails out today. I clicked on one, expecting the worst.

A film of a young girl losing her bathing suit in the swimming pool appeared on the laptop's screen. It was set to raunchy music, the film slowing down as her suit came off. Lowman was editing surveillance tapes, then e-mailing them to other perverts. The children he was supposed to be protecting, he was instead exploiting.

I stood. "There's enough evidence on this computer to put you in jail for the rest of your life. Do you want that?"

Slumped against the console, Lowman shook his head.

"Then help us find Sampson Grimes," I said.

"What will I get in return?"

"We'll tell the judge you cooperated."

"Like you did with Vonell Cook this morning?" he asked.

The question caught me off guard.

"Who told you about Vonell?" I asked.

"His lawyer."

I looked at Cheeks and saw him shake his head. Lowman seized the moment, and stuck his hand beneath the console. There was a loud ripping sound. His hand reappeared clutching a dark object.

"Gun!" I shouted.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

I lunged across the trailer as Lowman fired his weapon. lunged across the trailer as Lowman fired his weapon.

The bullet whistled by my head, and ricocheted inside the trailer. More cops die from ricochets than by criminals shooting at them. I dove to the floor, as did Cheeks. Lowman kicked open the trailer door.

"Screw your deal!" he said, and ran out.

Cheeks was lying on top of me, and I had to shove him to get up. The trailer door had shut itself, and I stared at the monitors covering the wall. Instead of running toward the park's entrance, Lowman was running toward the rear. He'd had his escape route all planned out.

Cheeks was having a hard time getting up. I offered my hand and he refused it.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Get the b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he wheezed.

I ran outside. Lowman was tall, and easy to spot in the crowd. He had circled the swimming pool, and was now headed toward a gate with an "Employees Only" sign hanging on it. I wasn't going to catch him unless I did something drastic.

Cheeks staggered out of the trailer. I took out my Colt, and tossed it to him.

"Hold this," I said.

My sandals came off next, and I leaped into the pool. The water was highly chlorinated and stung my eyes. I swam compet.i.tively as a kid, and might have broken a couple of records had I not discovered girls. Flying across the water, I lifted my head. Lowman waited for me on the other side.

I dove straight down as he fired. A bullet whizzed silently past, and went right between a little boy's legs in the shallow end. Some people will tell you there is no G.o.d, but I've seen enough things like this to tell you there is.

My head broke the water's surface, and I swam to the pool's edge. Lowman had given up trying to kill me, and was running toward the gate. He was going to escape.

I stared into the faces of the crowd. Several guys my age were giving me curious looks. They knew something wasn't right; they just didn't know what. Cupping my hands over my mouth, I yelled, "Stop that guy! He molested my daughter!"

"Him?" a guy yelled back.

The guy was huge, and had two kids with him. He was standing a few feet from Lowman. I yelled, "Yes. Watch out, he's got a gun."

The guy let go of his kids, and brought his forearm down on Lowman's shoulder. Lowman's knees buckled, and his gun fell out of his hand.

"Pervert," the guy said.

Several other guys in the crowd began to pummel Lowman as well. Lowman twisted like an animal caught in a trap, but could not break free. Cops had a special name for when crowds got angry enough to tear someone apart. They called it a feeding frenzy.

I pushed my way through the mob with Cheeks behind me. In a loud voice, Cheeks announced that he was a cop, and Lowman's attackers backed away.

Lowman lay sprawled on the ground. His s.h.i.+rt was a memory and blood poured from his nose and mouth.

"Don't let them kill me," he begged.

I don't like being shot at. I dragged Lowman to the edge of the pool, and dunked his head into the water. The crowd erupted in cheers.

"Drown him!" someone yelled.

"I'll help you hold him down," another offered.

I waited a few moments before pulling Lowman's head out of the pool. He spit out a mouthful of water, and looked fearfully at me. "Tell me what you know about Sampson Grimes's kidnapping, or I'll let them have you," I said.

The words. .h.i.t Lowman harder than any punch. He grabbed my s.h.i.+rt with both his hands, and held me like he was never going to let go.

"I'll do whatever you want," he said.

Cheeks drove us to Lowman's house in his Suburban. I sat in the backseat beside Lowman and watched his hands, which were handcuffed behind his back. He had closed his eyes, and was breathing heavily. Lowman lived in a subdivision in Pembroke Pines on the curve of a cul-de-sac, an attractive one-story with a terra-cotta roof. As Cheeks parked in the driveway, I spied a hammock in the side yard moving back and forth in the wind.

At the front door Lowman offered up his house keys, which were resting in his pocket. Cheeks unlocked the front door, and we entered the chilly interior. The shades were drawn on every window, and the place felt like a tomb.

I flipped on the lights. The furnis.h.i.+ngs were spa.r.s.e. Hanging from the walls were blowups of young girls with their swimming suits falling off. They were everywhere I looked. Cheeks had Lowman sit in a leather chair in the living room.

"Do not move," Cheeks ordered.

I pulled Cheeks aside. He was breathing hard, and looked like h.e.l.l.

"Do you want me to search the place?" I asked.

"I'll do it," Cheeks said.