James Andrus: The Perfect Scream

Patty often used the imposing Stallings to get someone’s attention, then handled the details. The young men were obviously nervous around her stern-looking partner.

Patty stepped forward and said, “What’s your name?”

The boy paused.

Stallings stared at him.

“Bobby Hollis.” He couldn’t say it fast enough.

Patty calmed him with a smile. “Well, Bobby”-she held up a photograph she slipped out of her metal case-“he here with you?”

The young man took the photo and said, “Zach Halston?”

“That’s right.”

“No, I thought he was home visiting his parents. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“We stopped at your apartment complex. No one was around.” The apartments acted as the fraternity houses for all the small, local universities.

“Everyone either went home for a few days or came out here.”

“Why vacation so close to J-Ville?”

Bobby gave Patty a sly smile. “We grab these rooms cheap, then make up stories about being graduate students from Stanford or Harvard. The local chicks eat that shit up.”

Patty just nodded. She knew all the scams guys put on to meet women. This was just a tad more shallow than most. She said, “Got any idea where he might be or anyone who’s close to him?”

“Why? Is he in trouble?”

Now Stallings stepped forward. “Does it matter? We need to find him. Is there anything about that you don’t understand?”

“No, sir.”

“We’re gonna look around. Which rooms do you have?”

The young man pointed to the open door and the room next to it.

Patty said, “Just two for all of you?”

He smiled at her and stepped closer. “We’re struggling college students. This was all we could afford.”

The detectives each took a room. There were sleeping bags piled on the floor and the bed, separated so the box spring and mattress could each hold bodies. After peeking in the empty bathroom, Stallings headed back out to the crowd on the railing. Before he reached the door, he heard a crash. As he stepped outside, a shirtless, muscle-bound young man flopped out into the hallway. Patty stepped out behind him.

“Problem?” asked Stallings, already knowing what had happened.

Patty smiled. “I just had to show him that you don’t make cracks to the police.”

“What’d he say?”

She looked down at the dazed young man and nudged him with her petite foot. “Go ahead, tell him.”

The young man shook out the ringing in his ears and mumbled. “I didn’t know who she was. I asked her if it was true that lots of fun came in small packages.”

Stallings shook his head and said, “Dumbass.” He turned back to Bobby Hollis, knowing that Patty’s little demonstration would’ve loosened some tongues. “Tell me who could help us find Zach.”

Bobby’s eyes shifted up from his friend on the cement walkway. He didn’t hesitate. “Connor Tate. He was left at the house to keep an eye on things, plus he’s trying to save some cash, so he didn’t come over here with us. He shares an apartment with Zach some of the time.”

“What do you mean ‘some of the time’?”

“Zach has an apartment away from the apartment complex that houses the fraternity. It’s closer to Arlington.” The boy sketched out a map to the apartment at Stallings’s urging.

“He has a place at the fraternity complex too, right?”

The boy nodded. “That’s the one with Connor.”

Patty asked, “Why two places?”

The kid shrugged. “You’d have to ask Zach.”

Now Stallings said, “Give me Connor’s number.”

Patty understood Stallings’s personality after a couple years of working with him. He had lost the ability to ask for information a long time ago. It was faster to just tell people to give him information.

Bobby blurted out a cell phone number.

“Where was Connor when we went by the frat house?”

The boy shrugged. “You know how it is. We got time off, we party. He’s a hard sleeper.”

Stallings threw a glare over the scared young men. Patty had to smile. He had gotten his point across without saying a word. If they had to talk to these boys again they’d be too scared to hold anything back. It was like bringing a big, mean dog with you on interviews. She wanted to reach over and pat him on the head.

Lynn waited, her eyes glued to the front of the bank, considering her actions. She knew there were consequences to everything someone did in life. That’s what drove her. It wasn’t like this would be the first time. She hated to admit the satisfaction she’d gotten from the fire she’d set in Atlanta. The Internet really did have the answers to everything.

Movement caught her eye and she sat up straight in the seat of the big SUV. Someone was at the front door to the bank. It was him. Lynn didn’t know why she was so certain it was him. He paused at the door, looking back inside. His face was not visible, but she knew exactly who was stepping out of the crappy little bank a block off International Speedway. She’d already scoped out his BMW parked across the street in the parking lot that served the strip mall as well as the businesses grouped near the bank.

She felt a wave of excitement at the prospect of what she was about to do. This was going to be sweet.

Alan Cole paused for a moment as he was about to burst through the front door of the bank and into the bright, beautiful sunshine of Central Florida. It was two o’clock and he wasn’t going to close any more loans or open any more investment accounts today. It was time to hit the beach and put in some time on his board. But he had to stop and turn to make eye contact with the hot little Puerto Rican chick working behind the far end of the counter today. She had a wild-ass look in her eye that matched the outrageous fake boobs she liked to show off. He’d love to roll into the next big fraternity party and show the young punks what an alumnus like him could find if he trolled the right waters.

He waited at the front door just long enough for her to give him a flash of those dark eyes with just a tad too much makeup around them. Somehow in just that casual glance she said to him, “Come for me whenever you’re ready.” At least that’s how he chose to interpret the look. He probably wasn’t wrong. She had seen him race up in his tight 320i and noticed the tailored suits and the way his arms popped in them, because of all the time he put in at the gym.

He took a final, quick glance around the lobby and noted only one decent-looking MILF waiting in line for the next teller. He wouldn’t mind moving to a branch farther east and picking up more customers with bodies made for the beach. But at least out here he had a chance to show off his ability at writing loans and hooking investment clients.

The humidity wasn’t as bad as it usually was when he cleared the door and stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk. He barely looked as he stepped into the street. Why should he? Even though they were near the Daytona Speedway no one ever drove above twenty on this twisting side street.

Then he saw it. A big blue Chevy Suburban. It seemed like it was right on top of him and moving fast down the middle of the street. He thought about sprinting forward but then turned on the ball of his Bruno Magli shoes instead.

That was his mistake.

The massive SUV didn’t swing wide to miss him as he thought it would. It rolled directly toward him like a shark about to hit a helpless swimmer in the open sea.

He caught a flash of the driver’s smiling face. Could it be? No shit. He knew her. But in that second of recognition he could not recall exactly where he knew her from. He had a clear idea it was not a positive connotation as the steel bumper of the Suburban struck him just above his right knee and the grille swept him up like the teeth of a shark. For a moment he had the sensation of flying as he tumbled through the air toward the uncut grass swale in front of the bank. He lost sight of the truck as the ground filled his field of vision and rushed up to meet his face.