James Andrus - The Perfect Death

John Stallings never liked to think of himself as the brooding type, but as he sat at his desk in the Land That Time Forgot he did feel down and maybe even depressed. The whole day had worn on him from his awkward and uncomfortable encounter with Maria to some unknown anxiety that had been creeping up on him for several days. A least the guy who gave him a lead at Darryl Paluk’s house had been encouraging. Not encouraging in a way that meant Leah Tischler might still be alive, but any information, anything he could use at all, was helpful.

He’d made dozens of phone calls to missing persons detectives he knew across the Southeast from Atlanta to Daytona. Each of the detectives knew him well from three years of inquiries about Jeanie. Usually he was careful to make contact with them off-duty so no one would ever accuse him of searching for his own daughter-a case that was not even assigned to him-while he was on duty at the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office. He had an official reason to call them today. Leah Tischler’s disappearance was assigned to him and Patty. He didn’t think anyone would care if he happened to mention Jeanie while was talking about Leah Tischler.

He often limited his initial search for a missing person to Atlanta in the north to Daytona in the south. It was amazing how people from the Jacksonville area didn’t drift much farther than either of those two cities. Atlanta had a certain mystique and held an allure to people hoping to get rich. Whether it was large corporations that seemed to always be hiring or the lucrative drug market, young people from Jacksonville often thought their fortune lay in Atlanta. On the flipside, Daytona had a reputation as being a laid-back surfer community where young people thought they could draw caricatures of the tourists or some other fun activity to make a few bucks while they lived a relaxed lifestyle.

Stallings didn’t know which image of the cities was more incorrect. Atlanta was a sprawling urban metropolis with a horrendous crime rate. A young woman without any skills or family could likely find herself in the stable of an industrious and vicious pimp. While Daytona was smaller, the opportunities for legitimate employment were grim.

Stallings made it a point to stay on close terms with detectives from each of the cities, as well as the other points of interest as far west as Tampa, and definitely to include Orlando. Oddly, it was the tourist capital of Florida that offered the best opportunity for people fleeing their lives in Jacksonville. There really were a number of legitimate job opportunities at the incredible number of hotels and restaurants in the landlocked tourist haven.

Stallings called the detectives he knew best, then a contact at the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children in Washington, D.C., a public and privately funded agency that grew from the efforts of John Walsh, the father of a young boy who was kidnapped and murdered in South Florida in 1981. Most people knew John Walsh as the host of America’s Most Wanted , but he was one TV commentator who had earned his credibility the hard way. He’d been relentless and utterly honest about all aspects of his son’s disappearance and what it did to his family. He had turned his own anguish into a national crusade, and as a result thousands of children had been reunited with their families.

The analysts and supervisors at NCMEC always gave Stallings their utmost attention and followed up on every request. He was that rare hybrid of mourning parent and devoted cop. One thing the people at NCMEC appreciated was a hard-charging missing persons detective. They recognized that there were other assignments cops often preferred, including homicide or narcotics. So they cherished a cop who put his entire efforts into finding missing children. They didn’t care what the cop’s motivation was. They understood that it was a special breed of cop who had the determination of Stallings. This was forged through personal desire and loss. Some detectives just understood the issue and the mind-set of other cops. It was hard to convince an old-time road patrolman that a runaway was anything more than a spoiled kid looking to get out of punishment. And the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children was always there to help.

Today Stallings checked to see if they had any new information developed from what he’d provided about Leah Tischler. It didn’t hurt to throw in a quick query on Jeanie.

At least now he felt like he was accomplishing something and, for whatever reason, just the ritual of talking to the same people and going through the same tasks made him feel much better

He was enjoying himself sitting on the balcony of the seafood restaurant on the second floor of Jacksonville Landing. The Landing was Jacksonville’s desperate effort to provide a convenient, clean, safe tourist area. Like most restaurants and big commercial facilities, it was sort of bland and geared toward general tastes. But he enjoyed a moderate breeze and watching Mary try to eat an oyster in a ladylike manner. He soaked in every detail of her pretty face and perfect smile. Although his recent spate of activity had left him tired, he was revitalized knowing he could honor someone like Mary for all eternity.

She did most of the talking, telling him all about her cruise and how she was a little nervous about her flight to Fort Lauderdale to board the ship. She showed him her bottle of Xanax she claimed would keep her calm during the fifty-minute flight.

He said, “What time do you have to be at the airport?”

“My flight’s at nine fifteen, so I’ll get to the airport about eight o’clock.” Mary looked at him and said, “Did you say your apartment is in this part of the city?”

“Yeah, not too far from here. About ten minutes from the airport.”

“Maybe I won’t have as far to ride in the morning as I usually would.” She gave him a sly smile and a wink.

He was surprised by her aggressiveness and couldn’t think of anything witty to say in reply. He was also disappointed she’d be so obvious on their first date. On the bright side, it sounded like it wouldn’t be difficult for him to get her over to his apartment.

“I’d love to show you one of the pieces of art I made through blowing glass. I keep it in my apartment above my workshop.”

She gave him the smile her employer should use as an advertisement and said, “I’m dying to see it.”

Although Patty liked to think of herself as a tough, educated, experienced cop, right at this moment, on a Friday evening, checking herself in the mirror of the ladies’ bathroom next to the Land That Time Forgot, she felt more like a schoolgirl. After the wild week and her increasing pain in her back and lack of sleep, she was really looking forward to an honest-to-goodness date with her boyfriend, Tony Mazzetti. She’d gone so far as to look at the restaurant’s website and dream about sipping good pinot noir and eating clams ore-ganata. She wished she could talk about her date to other people in the squad, but that seemed minor compared to the date itself. She felt confident things would work out and she and Tony could talk about the relationship openly. It might be a good time for her to move forward with her plans to take the sergeant’s exam. If she left the unit as a sergeant, she’d not only be advancing her career, she’d be opening herself to a serious, normal relationship. But before she could think about anything like that she had to make sure her prescription-drug habit was under control. At least under better control than it was now. The Xanax she’d taken earlier in the afternoon still had her on an even keel as she got ready to meet Tony down in Deerwood Creek.

Sergeant Zuni’s voice surprised her, “What are you doing here so late? I thought you and Stall were in pretty good shape on your leads.”