Midnight Rambler_ A Novel Of Suspense Part 27

Her face turned ice cold. "Jack, I'm in charge here, remember?"

"Didn't I just drop everything I was doing, run over here from Tampa, and save your a.s.s?"

"Jack, what's come over you?"

"Didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

"I just want to question them without some G.o.dd.a.m.n lawyers in the room or some cops reading them their rights."

"You going to beat them up?"

She had struck a nerve, and I nearly told her to go to h.e.l.l.

"They've done this before," I said instead. "Look at the preparation they went through, dressing the boys in red and white clothing so they could make Shannon fit in by dressing her in blue. I'm convinced this couple used the same trick to s.n.a.t.c.h a little girl out of a park in Fort Lauderdale. Let me talk with them, Sally."

Sally chewed on a fingernail and considered my request.

"You sure about this, Jack?"

I had no proof of what I'd just said, just what my gut told me.

"Yes," I said emphatically.

She closed the phone and slipped it into her pocket. "I'll give you one hour with them, but you have to promise me you won't lay a finger on either one."

"I won't touch them."

"Is that a promise?"

I again suppressed the urge to curse her. I'd pushed her but tons plenty of times when she'd worked for me, and now she was pushing mine.

"Yes, it's a promise."

"Okay, they're yours."

We got into a golf cart, and Sally drove down a winding concrete path that led to the security building. Halfway there, we came upon another golf cart that contained three security guards and Dad. Dad was handcuffed and riding shotgun, with two guards sitting behind him while the third guard drove. The cart wasn't moving too fast, and Sally beeped her electric horn.

"Everything okay?" she called out.

The driver slowed even more and turned to look at us.

"Just a little problem with the brakes," he said.

"Need some help?"

"No, we'll be fine."

"Nice job back there," Sally said.

"Thank you, Ms. McDermitt," the driver replied.

As the cart pulled away, Dad jerked his head around and looked our way. His face was flushed, and he was sweating as if he were going to the electric chair. Our eyes locked, and I sensed he was trying to place me. For the h.e.l.l of it, I removed the mouse ears. Cold hard fear spread across his face.

"Jesus," Sally said. "He knows you."

"Yes, I believe he does," I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.

In my next life, I want to be a dog. Not just any dog, but my dog. Pulling into the security parking area, I checked on Buster and found him lying on the backseat of the Legend cutting zzzs, his hind legs running in place as he chased an imaginary car.

Sally took me to the bas.e.m.e.nt interrogation room. On the other side of the one-way mirror I saw Mom sitting in a plastic chair. She was talking out loud, threatening to sue the park for false arrest, her true character on full display.

Still handcuffed, Dad was dragged into the room and made to sit in another chair. His shirt and pants were covered in dirt, and his face was dripping with sweat. The guards left and shut the door behind them.

A standard procedure in interrogating suspects was to put them together and listen to them talk. Most of the time, nothing of value was gained. But every once in a while, a pearl of information slipped out of someone's mouth.

We watched Mom and Dad for several minutes but didn't learn much. There was a knock on the door. A guard entered our viewing room and handed Sally the couple's driver's licenses. Sally read them both, then pa.s.sed them to me.

Their names were Cecil Cooper and Bonnie Sizemore. Cecil lived in Jacksonville on the east coast, while Bonnie resided in Lakeland, a sleepy town about thirty minutes away. Sally addressed the guard.

"Either one of them say anything during the drive over?"

"The woman cussed up a storm," the guard said. "The guy demanded that we let him call some hotshot lawyer in Miami."

My head snapped. "You sure it was Miami?"

"Positive," the guard said.

"Did he give you the lawyer's name?"

"Yes, sir. I've got it written down in the other room."

"Was it Leonard Snook?"

The guard acted startled. "Why yeah, I think it was."

"Would you mind checking?"

The guard went to find the lawyer's name, and returned holding a slip of paper in his hand. "Leonard Snook it is," he said.

I thanked him, and the guard left. Sally practically jumped out of her chair.

"Jack, how did you know that?"

My blood boiled. At the mirror I stared into the next room. Bonnie was slumped dejectedly in her chair, gazing at the floor. Her mascara had run from crying, giving her hideous racc.o.o.n eyes. In a stage whisper, Cecil was trying to coach her. I'd always been good at making snap decisions, and I made one right now. Cecil was the ringleader, Bonnie the p.a.w.n.

"Earth to Jack," Sally said.

"You sound just like my daughter."

"What in G.o.d's name is going on? How did you know his lawyer's name?"

I took a deep breath and continued looking through the gla.s.s. "Leonard Snook represents Simon Skell, the Midnight Rambler." "What?" "What?"

"Our friends in the next room are part of an organized group that's making people disappear. Think back to when you were a cop. How many WATs did we deal with each year?"

WATs, a police acronym for Without a Trace, stood for people who vanished without any significant clues being left behind.

"About four or five," Sally said.

"Ever think the cases might be connected?"

"It crossed my mind, sure."

"But because there weren't any solid leads, the police couldn't act on those suspicions, could we?"

"That's right."

I jabbed my finger at Bonnie and Cecil. "Well, now you can. I'll bet you everything I own that they've been s.n.a.t.c.hing kids here, and from other theme parks in Florida as well. I'll also bet you that these abductions are linked to the eight women the Midnight Rambler made disappear."

"Jack, look at me," Sally said.

I turned from the gla.s.s. Putting her hands on my shoulders, Sally gave me a no-nonsense stare. Her grip was as strong as any man's.

"Where's your proof?"

"The victims are proof."

"How so?"

"The part of the Midnight Rambler case that's so baffling is how did Skell identify his victims? How did he know which which women were easy prey and wouldn't be missed when they disappeared?" women were easy prey and wouldn't be missed when they disappeared?"

"Soft targets," Sally said.

"Exactly. Well, we have the same thing here. How did Bonnie and Cecil know that Shannon Dockery was a soft target?"

"Maybe they got lucky."

"Luck is the residue of design. Tram Dockery had a six-pack of beer for breakfast. He admitted it to me earlier. He's also very young and not very smart. He was the perfect perfect parent to s.n.a.t.c.h a kid from. Bonnie and Cecil knew that, and they followed the Dockerys around the Magic Kingdom. When the opportunity presented itself, they grabbed Shannon and disguised her to look like one of their own. Remember the little girl that disappeared at the theme park in Fort Lauderdale a few years ago? The parents were just like the Dockerys." parent to s.n.a.t.c.h a kid from. Bonnie and Cecil knew that, and they followed the Dockerys around the Magic Kingdom. When the opportunity presented itself, they grabbed Shannon and disguised her to look like one of their own. Remember the little girl that disappeared at the theme park in Fort Lauderdale a few years ago? The parents were just like the Dockerys."

Sally dropped her hands and thought about it.

"You're right, they were," she said.

Again I pointed into the next room. Bonnie had sunk farther into her chair, and was sadly shaking her head.

"Separate them, and let me have a crack at her," I said.

"What exactly are you going to do?"

"I'm going to put the fear of G.o.d into her and make her talk."

"Promise me you won't use any rough stuff."

"I already did."

"Promise again."

My face grew hot, and so did my emotions.

"What do you think I am, some kind of crazy vigilante?"

"No, just a man on a mission," she said, looking me straight in the eye.

I held her gaze. "All right. No rough stuff. That's a promise."

"Thank you."

"Do you have something I can record my interrogation with?"

"The room's already wired," Sally said.

Bonnie and Cecil were separated.

Before I went in to speak with Bonnie, I decided I needed to look like a Disney employee if my words were going to carry any weight. Sally tried to find a Disney shirt for me to wear, but nothing close to my size was available. I settled for a hastily constructed laminated badge with my name printed on it. To add to the picture, Sally gave me a copy of the internal newsletter that Disney's forty thousand employees received each week.

"Good luck," she said.

I entered the interrogation room with the newsletter tucked under my arm. Bonnie lifted her head but did not speak. I removed a pack of gum I'd bought from a hallway vending machine and offered her a stick. She refused with a shake of her head.

"Take one," I said. " It will make you feel better."

She changed her mind and took a stick.