Sarah Armstrong: Singularity Part 19

"This guys not dumb. By now all the press has alerted him. Hes not going to deliver himself into your hands. He enjoys what hes doing. He doesnt intend to stop."

"Then whats your suggestion?" he said. "Give me an alternative."

"Its time to go public," I said, seeing his face immediately harden. "This works twofold. We get people all over the state, all over the country, looking for this guy. Plus, we alert people to lock their doors and windows, to protect themselves."

"You understand the circ.u.mstances. Were under a gag order. We cant."

"Yes, we can," I said. "We just dont link him to the Lucas case, the only one involved in Judge McLamores ruling. We say Gabriels sought for questioning only on the Gonzales and Neal murders."

The captain hesitated, considering my proposal.

"I havent told you, but Ive agreed for a long time that we need to warn people about the danger, but the call isnt mine. This case has become a boondoggle at headquarters. Too many of the people at the top have an interest in how it turns out. Seems like the contingent that wants to see Priscilla Lucas guilty has been running the show," he admitted. "That said, I like your idea, and Ill run it past the bosses in Austin. In the meantime, I need a.s.surance from you that whatever they decide youll adhere to it. That you wont go public on your own."

When I didnt answer, he cautioned, "Sarah, so far you havent mortally wounded your career. You do this without permission, and thats the result. Everything youve worked for, gone."

That afternoon, I turned over my files on the case to Lieutenant d.i.c.k Ferguson, explaining everything I knew so far. He seemed reluctant to take them. Ferguson, one of my favorite rangers, an old-timer whod been with the department for nearly thirty years, understood that I felt as if I was handing over a part of myself, the part that made me feel valuable.

"Well get this guy," he said.

"Do it quick, before he kills again," I said. "Because he will."

I also gave him my "To Do" list, parts of the investigation that Id been too busy to follow up on. Number one on the list were bank statements and financiis on the whole lot, including all the victims and their immediate families. We had them on Priscilla Lucas, but Scroggins and Nelson had never requested them for the rest, even though theyd a.s.sured me they would. Since the money motive-the Lucas/Knowles murders being a paid hit-still hadnt been entirely put to rest, Id wanted to know everything I could about everyones bank accounts. All wed discovered in the past two weeks made me even more certain Priscilla Lucas wasnt involved. If this operation fell apart and we never found Gabriel, I wanted to do everything we could to make sure that she wasnt unjustly prosecuted.

My desk cleared, I was almost out the door when the phone rang. Laurie Thomas, from the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, wanted to fill me in on the status of the investigation into Bens death.

"The DNAs a match, and the Centerville police arrested the moms boyfriend this morning," she said. "He confessed to the killing. He beat the boy with a pipe for wetting his pants. Get this. He says he didnt mean to hurt him. He disposed of the body outside Houston because he thought in a big city no one would spend much time investigating."

"Thanks, Laurie. You dont know how much I needed good news today."

"Glad I could accommodate," she said. "Hope whatevers gone wrong goes right."

Id almost hung up the phone when I had a thought. "Laurie, can you age progress from a sketch-you know, a drawing?"

"Its not easy, harder than dealing with a photograph, but weve done it once or twice," she said.

"If your staff can predict what a child will look like as a teenager, can you take a sketch of a man, like a composite drawing from a criminal investigation, and regress it, reconstruct what the person probably looked like as, say, an adolescent?"

"I dont know why not," she said. "What do you have in mind?"

Twenty-seven.

Mom didnt press when I walked in the door. She never asked why I was home unexpectedly for dinner. Guess she could tell it wasnt good news. Maggie and Strings were at his house doing homework, so the place was quiet. The aroma of roasting chicken hung in the air, and I tried to convince myself it wasnt the worst thing in the world to be free from the case. It was a hard sell.

At dinner, Maggie buzzed about plans for the next afternoon. Mom had promised to take her to the University of Houston to meet with Dr. Norton Mayer, an astronomy professor. Mrs. Hansen had made the arrangements, including an early dismissal to allow her to get there by two.

"Im hoping he has some more ideas for me," Maggie said, very grown up. "Hes going to show me the observatory, the telescope, and everything. Bet it makes my little telescope look like a stick."

"Thats great, honey," I said, only half-listening.

"Mrs. Hansen says that Dr. Mayer was really impressed with Maggies interest in singularity," said Mom proudly.

"Gram said she would bring me, because youre busy chasing that killer," Maggie said. I almost objected, since it appeared Id be free for a few days, when I realized how excited Mom was about the event. Besides, it saved me from having to explain the reason I was free. "Couldnt Dr. Mayer see her after school? So she wouldnt miss her last cla.s.s of the afternoon?"

"No. Thats the only time he could fit Maggie in," Mom explained.

"So this is someone Mrs. Hansen knows?" I asked. "Shes familiar with this man?"

"Shes the one who set it up," Mom said. "She says hes well known in his field."

"Hes a famous scientist and everything, Mom. I dont want to tell him I cant take off school to meet him. Besides, Mrs. Hansen says its okay. Shes even going to let Strings go with us," Maggie stressed. "I pulled some stuff up on the Internet about him. Dr. Mayer has published lots of articles on black holes."

"Very exciting," I said.

"I think Id like to be an astronomer," Maggie mused. "Just like Dr. Mayer and write about things that people know are there but cant see."

I marveled at my daughter, whod gone from accepting only what could be proven to exist to believing in heaven and celestial explosions that hadnt yet been doc.u.mented with the most powerful telescopes.

"Then thats what you will be, Magpie. Someday, youll be such a famous astronomer, Ill have to make an appointment to see you." Placing my fist next to my right ear, thumb and little finger extended, I said, in my best old-lady voice, "h.e.l.lo. Is my daughter the famous stargazer available? This is her mother. Does she have time to talk to me?"

Maggie giggled. "You can be totally dumb sometimes."

After dinner, I had a few things to clean up. I climbed the stairs to the workshop, where, as Id hoped, I had a fax waiting from Laurie Thomas. Though fuller and younger, the face was unmistakable, Gabriel as an adolescent. I scanned the new sketch into the computer and e-mailed it to Captain Williams at the office. On the cover sheet I typed: "since our guys so young and he may have been riding the rails for a while, I thought a sketch of him at a younger age might help. This might be more the way people remember him."

Later, in my bedroom, I peeled off the shirt and slacks Id worn all day and slipped on a robe. Down the hall a bathtub full of lavender-scented bubbles waited-Maggies Mothers Day present from the year before-when the phone rang.

"Im sorry, Sarah," David said. "I knew this was happening, but I really didnt believe it."

"Neither did I, right up until the moment the captain pulled me off the case I hoped he would back down. Guess not this time. Did you get anything interesting out of Quaker?"

David laughed.

"All that big, important information he had, the guy kept saying he didnt want to be a snitch, he had hardly anything," he said. "Figures, right?"

"Yeah, it does."

"He met Gabriel once. Says he looks like the guy in the sketch and that he scared the h.e.l.l out of him. He knows nothing about him. Not his real name, not where hes from, zip."

"Couldnt tell you anything about what the guys like?"

"Besides being scary, he said the guy has an accent."

"What kind?"

"A Southern drawl, like he grew up in Alabama or Mississippi."

"Thats something, but not much to go on."

"Yeah, tell me about it," he said with a rueful chuckle. "Another road to nowhere."

There was an uncomfortable distance between us that I sensed meant more than just my being taken off the case.

"Sarah, we never talked about the other night," David said. "I dont want you to think..."

"I dont think anything right now, David. Weve been caught in a whirlwind. I reached out for you, and I appreciate your being there for me," I said. "Beyond that, our lives are too chaotic right now to read any more into it."

"I guess youre right. But its important that you know that I do care about you and that Im there for you. Whenever you need me," he said. Then he laughed. "Just so you dont misinterpret, were not talking just physically here, although Im definitely there whenever you need a-"

"Thank you, David, thats comforting," I broke in, with a laugh. "Hey, you know, its late and Im exhausted. Maybe well talk tomorrow?"

"Sure," he said. "And maybe the tomorrow after that."

"Maybe," I agreed.

Moments after Id hung up, the phone rang again. This time it was the captain. The powers-that-be in Austin had sc.r.a.pped my suggestion. Thered be no public announcement.

"I dont agree with this decision, and I told them so," he said. "Im sorry, Sarah. I know how strongly you feel about warning people."

I thanked him, mentioned the e-mail with the new composite Id just sent, and then hung up.

After the captains call, I soaked for a while in the bubble bath, the water by then cooled, never really relaxing. Afterward, I couldnt concentrate on the television screen. Giving up, I clicked it off and went downstairs, where Mom had water heating on the stove. She pulled out a second cup and plopped in a bag of chamomile tea. As we let it steep, she talked about the high school girl shed hired to help with the horses after school, how she needed a few days off to visit colleges with her parents. Mom sounded sympathetic but worried about caring for the stock while she was gone. Then she talked about how one day Id be taking Maggie off to look at colleges, just like this girl and her parents. I was only half-listening. I didnt notice at first that Mom had stopped chattering and instead stared at me.

"Sarah, whats wrong?"

Thats when I told her everything. Some of it shed read in the newspapers: the letters, the accusations that Id been the leak in the investigation. None of that seemed to matter anymore. Id once asked Priscilla Luca.s.s father, Bobby Barker, if he understood the bottom line. Somewhere, that night, Id found my own bottom line, a point beyond which I couldnt be silent.

"I need to warn people, Mom," I said. "I cant live with myself if someone else dies, and Ive kept my mouth shut."

"Well," Mom said, as she walked over and held me in her arms. "Then thats precisely what you need to do. Remember what I used to tell you as a girl, Sarah? When you had trouble at school or with a friend?"

I honestly didnt remember, so I just shook my head.

"I told you to focus on whats really important," she said. "That if you put your mind to it, you will always find the right path."

"But sometimes things arent as simple as they were when I was a kid," I answered.

Mom put her hands on my shoulders and stepped back. She gave me one of those looks, a mixture of love and pride, I remembered from my youth. "That may be true," she said. "But youre a fine woman. Youll find your way."

With that, Mom picked up her teacup and left to watch her favorite program, Iron Chef on the Food Network. Shed heard the secret ingredient that night was clams. She was gone only a few moments when I grabbed the telephone and dialed information.

"I need the phone number for the Galveston County Daily News."

Twenty-eight.

The restaurant was a dive, a dilapidated twenty-four-hour coffee shop on the southbound feeder of the Gulf Freeway. At nine that evening, the parking s.p.a.ces were nearly all empty. The place smelled of mildew, and we were the only customers.

"So, whats the arrangement youre suggesting?" Matthews asked. "You want to go off the record?"

"No, you can quote me," I said, toying with my spoon in the cup of coffee the waitress had set before me. Like everything else in the place, the cloudy liquid in my cup appeared coated by a thin layer of grease.

The reporter pulled out a pack of cigarettes and looked at me. "Do you mind...?"

"Not if they dont," I said, motioning toward the waitress.

Matthews shook his head. "Its why I like this place. They could care less. As you can see, they need the business," he said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long draw. He puffed a cloud of smoke, and then retrieved a bit of something off his tongue to flick into his coffee cup saucer.

"Those things will kill you, you know," I said.

"Yeah, probably," he said. "So, whats the catch?"

"We dont talk about the Lucas murders," I said. Before he could object, I continued. "You can infer anything you like, but Im under a gag order, and Im not going there. I am willing to tell you about the serial killer Ive been chasing, the other murders hes suspected of, and the task force thats been searching the railroads the past two days."

"Go on."

"Then were agreed. You will not ask me any questions about the Lucas killings, and you will not suggest in the article that I commented on them in any way. If you mention the Galveston murders at all, you will include the fact that I respected the judges gag order and declined comment."

It was a loophole, one I hoped might save me from a stint in a jail cell for contempt of court and one that might, and this was a long shot, save my job.

Matthews hesitated, undoubtedly turning my offer over in his mind.

"Youve got a deal," he then said, reaching in his back pocket and pulling out a thin reporters notebook. "Lets get started."

Looking back, Im sure I rambled. I talked for more than an hour. Without divulging the type of evidence that could become an issue in a courtroom, I described in general terms the events of the previous two weeks. Meanwhile, Matthews scribbled notes, pausing to light a new cigarette just before he stubbed out the b.u.t.t of his last into the quickly overflowing ashtray. Occasionally hed ask a question, but mainly he listened. I talked about Louise Fontenot, Mary Gonzales, and Dr. Neal. I explained how wed used forensic evidence to tie Gabriel to the railroad, about the Freedom Fighters and the two-day search that had yielded little. When he asked, I verified that the INS connection was a ruse and that Gabriel was the target. I also detailed why I believed the search was doomed to failure.

"So, this Gabriel is a Resendiz copycat?" he asked.

"Yeah, in some ways he is, just smarter."

"s.h.i.t, Resendiz caused a near panic in this state," he said, tapping off an ash. "This is going to send people through the roof again, looking over their shoulders, afraid of their own shadows."

"I know," I said.

"They need to be warned though, so they can take precautions," he said, angry and I knew frustrated with all hed been through trying to report on the investigation. "Why the cover-up? They dont want to jeopardize their case against Priscilla Lucas?"