Robert Walker - Final Edge

"Is Eaton in the system? Does he have a record?"

"Petty stuff, but yeah, prints, mug shot, all of it. But he seems to have disappeared in the great void out there. Likely somebody killed him or he died of an overdose or a dirty needle someplace and is buried in a potter's field God knows where. Like I said, his trail went dead in Seattle. A blind alley."

"Seattle's a big seaport. You ever think he may've joined the merchant marines? Shipped out for Singapore or Malaysia?"

"I considered it. Tough in those days to nail a man working a seaman's job. No cooperation, I can tell you. He could've gone that route, sure. But he never surfaced again."

"I'll put it in the system we're interested in talking to the guy. See what I can find out," said Lucas.

'Targeting Seattle?"

"The system is nationwide now, Detective. I can simultaneously request a cross-reference and a download on any information on a Lyle Eaton anywhere in the States, Europe with Interpol, Britain's Scotland Yard, Japan, New Zealand, Australia, Canada, even Russia nowadays."

"Imagine that. Russia and us cooperating on police matters."

"But of course."

"Just remarkable how far police science and communications have come. My hat's off to you."

"Let's see if we can get lucky." With a few key strokes, Lucas put the request into VICAP-the FBI's violent- criminal-apprehension program, and the WCW-the World Crime Watch program. "We'll let these requests percolate. See what comes of 'em."

"Amazing. Still, it's a hell of a long shot."

"Least we can do for Yolanda Sims after all these years is to take the shot."

"Right you are." Maurice Remo smiled at this, nodding. "Good show. Detective Stonecoat. Keep me posted on any results. Sure would like to go to my grave knowing what became of that scum…."

They shook hands and were about to part when the old man looked around the newly refurbished Cold Room with a calculating eye at its many computers and lack of hard files and boxes. Walls had been knocked out, space utilization improved along with the heating and cooling system; along with newly installed lighting, a bathroom had been installed, and the confining stacks of metal shelving once creating tight dark aisles were all gone.

"Sure is a changed place, Stonecoat. Not the dust-bucket I used to work in. Count yourself lucky."

'Trust me, I know. All the changes came after my arrival. It was a damned dusty dungeon."

Remo turned to leave, but turned back and asked, "Why does this girl's case interest you so much, Detective? She's long in her grave, family has all died off for the most part or moved away. Most likely her killer is dead, so what purpose does it serve you to spend time on her case?"

"I suppose for the same reason as you pursued her case so many years ago. I suppose because of her eyes, the way they look out at you, the way they speak to you."

He shook Lucas's hand again, his eyes holding Lucas in place. Lucas said, "I want to thank you for coming down here and helping me out, Detective."

"Been a long time since anyone's called me Detective, son. I miss that."

The phone rang, and Lucas begged off, taking a call from an unfamiliar cop named Frank who told him a garbled story about Meredyth Sanger's being held in the back of his squad car for brandishing a gun down at the courthouse.

"Is she all right? Is she there with you now, Officer?" Lucas asked, shaken.

"Right here behind the cage, yes. We just took off the cuffs, but we'll hold onto the gun until we can release her into your custody, Detective, as a courtesy, cop to cop."

"Thanks. Frank is it?"

"Frank Lupo with the Two-five."

"Put her on, will you, Frank?"

'Tony, he wants to talk to her, okay?" Lucas heard the cop ask his partner. After a bit of rattling to get the receiver back to Meredyth, she came on.

Lucas, it's me."

"Mere, what the hell's going on?"

"Shut up and listen to me. She was there, Lucas, at the courthouse, in the archives, shadowing me."

"Are you all right? Were you hurt?"

"I'm fine, just shaken up… emotionally."

"Are you sure it was Lauralie Blodgett?"

"Yes, I saw her in the crowd afterwards, when they arrested me. She was enjoying every second of my humiliation, Lucas, every second of it. I tell you, it was her. She must've been stalking me the whole time."

"Did she follow you there from here?"

"How should I know? But Lucas, Byron was there at the courthouse too. He'd run me down and-"

"Byron Priestly?"

"— and maybe she's been following him! If that's true, then we've got an obligation to warn Byron."

"Calm down. How far away are you?"

"What about Byron?"

"Fuck Byron! How far are you?"

"Five, six minutes."

"Have Lupo and Tony pull into the underground lot, and I'll meet you there."

Lucas hung up, and Maurice Remo still stood beside him, listening in. "I sure miss the action," the old man said. 'Trust me, young man, never retire. Get yourself killed in the line of duty before you end up a sad old bastard like me with nothing to do all day but watch CNN, reruns, and soap operas. A hundred and thirty-two channels with nothing on…a channel devoted to flower arrangements, you believe that?"

"Maurice, Detective Remo, I'll keep you apprised of any new developments in the Sims case, I promise you, but I gotta rush right now."

"And what about this weird-ass case I read about in the papers, about this killer posting body parts in the mail to a detective and a shrink here at the Three-one? You know any-thing about that? Sounds like a case to sink your teeth into."

"It does indeed. Anything you want to know about it, I'd be happy to share with you what little I know, but right now I have to meet someone. Thanks again for coming down, and please leave your murder book on Yolanda right there on my desk, okay?"

"Sure… sure."

Lucas rushed out for the parking garage. Behind him, he heard the old man shout, "If ever you need to confer on another case, if ever you want forty-six years experience on the job as a murder policeman, you don't hesitate to call, Stonecoat, you hear?"

"Will do!" he shouted back down the corridor before disappearing from the old man's sight. Something about Remo reminded Lucas of his grandfather. He liked Maurice, and he trusted the old man's experience and tried and true instincts.

He raced for the parking garage.

In the parking garage the two officers, Tony and Frank, turned over the.38 Police Special along with a grateful 31st Precinct forensic psychiatrist. Both Meredyth and Lucas thanked them for their discretion and help. With the officers waved off, Meredyth threw her arms around Lucas. He held her, disregarding the comings and goings of other police personnel and HPD civilian support staff in the garage. "Come on down to my office," he told her, walking her to the Cold Room. "I've got coffee. We can talk."

"First, I hafta warn Byron." She got on her cell phone as they walked. Byron didn't pick up his cell. She left a cryptic message, saying, "Call me on my cell. It's a matter of life and death-possibly yours!"

Once in the Cold Room, he got her a cup of hot coffee and asked her to tell him every detail of what had happened at the courthouse.

Between sips of the steaming coffee, she imparted the entire story.

When she'd finished, she handed Lucas the document she had gone after at the courthouse, the one Lauralie had cranked from the machine for her. Lucas took in a deep breath of air. "Had she wanted to, it sounds as if she could have killed you then and there, when you had your back to her."

"Don't you think I've thought of that?"

"So her purpose is not to kill you, Mere, merely to destroy your peace of mind, your emotional well-being."