Robert Walker - Final Edge

Outside the clinic, they watched soon-to-be-disappointed dog and cat owners parking and coming toward the veterinary with pets in hand and on leashes. Lucas and Meredyth took a moment to speak with a few of Belkvin's customers and to pet their animals. They got the same reluctance as Jones had exhibited from the regulars when confronted with the likeness between Belkvin and the artist's sketch.

"Good God, man! He's a coach in the Pee-Wee League, damn good one," complained one man who voiced his fear that they could ruin Arthur's reputation with such lies and innuendo.

Another pet owner, a woman, said, "Dr. Arthur saved my Coochee's life! He's a saint."

"No way he's capable of what you're implying," screeched a blue-haired parakeet-toting matron. "This persecuting of Dr. Arthur ought to be against the law. Have you a permit to picket his clinic in this fashion?"

It was time to leave the clinic altogether. At the car, Harry Jorganson had stood watching and listening. "I take it you found nothing," he said to Lucas.

"But we will. I called in Chang's people. They'll find proof."

"And this Dr. Belkvin? Who's going to find him?"

"We'll get him, Harry, and we'll find the missing operating table too."

"Missing operating table?" Harry asked, his features pinched in confusion.

"Ask Chang about it," Lucas called out as he and Meredyth pulled out of the lot. As they did so, they waved to Chang's CSI unit van as it arrived, followed by Steve Perelli's car. In his rearview, Lucas saw the D.A. going for Chang as the Chinese M.E. leaped from the passenger side of the van. Lynn Nielsen climbed from the rear.

"If anyone can find evidence of Mira Lourdes ever having been here," said Lucas, allowing the thought to float on the air.

"Funny," replied Meredyth.

"What's that?"

"The depth of Mother Elizabeth's naivete toward Lauralie has been matched!"

"By our Ms. Jones?"

"And her sheer gullibility toward her boss, yes."

Disappointed at Jana North's news, and the fact the two raids had not revealed the whereabouts of either Belkvin or Lauralie Blodgett, Lucas and Meredyth wound up at a Greek restaurant called Plato's. They were enjoying a full-course meal and a bottle of Greek wine when Lucas's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He asked Meredyth for her forbearance, taking the call that originated from the precinct house.

Lucas found himself talking to Stan Kelton, who wanted to know his whereabouts, adding that he had an antsy lady claiming to have rented a farmhouse out to a young couple fitting the description of Arthur Belkvin and Lauralie Blodgett.

"Hold onto her, Stan."

"Easier said than done. She's hinky."

"If you have to sit on her, hold onto her. We're on our way." He hung up and slapped cash onto the table, sipped a final bit of wine, grabbed Meredyth by the wrist, and said, "Come on. We may have a break in die case. Jane Q. Public, claiming to have had dealings with Belkvin and Blodgett."

Lucas reestablished contact with Stan over the car radio as they drove for the 31st Precinct. "How reliable is this woman, Stan?"

"Lucas, her story sounds credible. She's a realtor and she freaked when she saw the images we posted of the fugitives. In the meantime, there's been a call for you from an inspector in the Mounted Police in Manitoba, Canada. Wants a call back, something to do with an APB you posted on the web for a Lyle Eaton, once of Houston and Seattle? They have good news for you. Seems he's doing time there as a sex offender of some sort, but his sentence is up in six months."

"That's damn good news, Stan! I want the prick on murder one."

"Closing down a Cold Case, are you, Lieutenant?" Stan asked. "Congrats. I ran into Remo when he was here, and he gave up some of the particulars. Bet you didn't know Muarice was my TO when I rookied here in '79."

Lucas imagined getting departmental funds to fly up to Manitoba with Maurice Remo, and the two of them laying out their case before this creep Eaton in his cell. The opportunity to sit across a table from the bastard who killed Yolanda Sims, to unnerve him and watch him come apart, to see him fold under the preponderance of evidence they would bring to bear… taking him through every step, every bruising blow, every soldering-iron burn, and finally the rape and murder would convince Eaton that he had no choice but to plead out in the case of a little girl whose ghost had pursued him all these fifty-odd years. Even if they could not get the death penalty for Eaton, they could nail him for a life sentence.

"You're likely to face extradition problems with Canada if you're bringing him back for execution," Meredyth said, hearing the news.

"No problem, so long as we promise Canadian officials we won't be seeking the death penalty against the creep. At his advanced age, life in prison'll suit Yolanda Sims, Remo, and me just fine. Eaton's got to be in his mid to upper sixties."

"A letter of assurance from Harry Jorganson that the State of Texas will not seek the death penalty, Lucas, would go a long way to assure your seeing him tuned over to Texas authorities."

"It'll culminate in a deal that'll please everyone except Eaton."

"Canada will rid herself of him," she added.

"We'll have closed a Cold Case, Remo will've been vindicated, and Yolanda Sims will finally rest in peace." Lucas smiled at the prospect.

Stan Kelton shouted over the radio, "Hey! Anyone there? Stonecoat?"

"Yeah, go ahead, Stan."

"It's the witness in your current case, Lieutenant."

"Did you tell her we're on our way?"

"Sure, I did, but somehow Frank Patterson got wind of her and then took her off."

"Off? Off where, damn him?"

"Interrogation room."

"Who the hell does he think he is?"

"He wasn't alone. Two FBI with him. They're questioning her now."

"Damn it all. What do we know about her, Stan?"

"She's with Lone Star Realtors, says she may have leased out a place to this vet guy, using an alias, only days before Mira Lourdes went missing."

"How shaky is our witness, Stan?"

"She's extremely sure, Lucas. I think we have to listen to her."

"Where's the rental at, Stan? Do we have an address?"

"It's in the sticks, north of the city, out some ways, Lucas."

"Remote?"

"Well…what's remote? It's all relative, isn't it?" Kelton's voice came over the radio loudly and evenly. "I suspect it's a drive, but I also suspect it may wed be the kill site, Lucas."

Two great scores in a matter of minutes. It sounded too good to be true, but the fly in the ointment was Frank and his G-men friends. "Stan, is she cooperating with Frank and his FBI buddies so far?"

"Not going well from the look of it. She's asked for a lawyer."

"Assholes! They've frightened hell out of her, no doubt with unnecessary threats."

Lucas placed the siren atop his unmarked police car, and they raced to close the distance between themselves and the new credible witness now refusing to cooperate. What had Frank and his pals done to turn an ady into an enemy? "Call Jana on that thing," he said to Meredyth, pointing to the radio. "Get her and her team back to HQ. If there's anything to this, we're going to need to assemble a small army whether the FBI is involved or not."

Meredyth did as asked. Jana was already on her way back to the 31st. Meredyth had to suddenly grab onto her door handle as they took the final turn into the lot.

When they entered, Kelton directed them to the witness claiming to have rented a property out to a guy fitting the description in the artist sketch.

"Her name's Robeson. She's right here," Kelton said as they worked past busy people in the squad room and to a glassed-in waiting room popularly called the Fish Bowl. "Why've you got her in with the degenerates?" Lucas asked.