Greg Iles - True Evil

"Hang on a sec." She heard voices but could not make out words. "Alex, I need to call you back."

She hung up and went back to her computer. It struck her then that she had not tried the simplest method of finding out whether Noel Traver was an alias or not. She typed the name into Google, then searched IMAGES. The computer hummed and clicked, and then a row of thumbnails began to load.

The first picture that popped up showed an African-American man wearing an army uniform, Captain Noel D. Traver. The second showed a high school kid with pimples. The third image showed a square-headed man with a gray beard and a full head of hair. The picture had been shot by a photographer for the Jackson Clarion-Ledger. The caption read BREEDER TREATS RESEARCH PUPS LIKE PETS. The picture was grainy, but Alex had no doubt: Noel D. Traver was not Eldon Tarver.

"What the hell?" she whispered.

Her cell phone rang again. She answered without looking at the screen. "John?"

"No, it's Will."

"Do you have something?"

"Maybe. Dr. Eldon Tarver owns a pathology lab here in Jackson."

"What?"

"Jackson Pathology Associates. They do the lab testing for a lot of local doctors. They're pretty successful, apparently. They do DNA analysis on-site."

"This guy is something."

"You want me to ride out there and check it out?"

"Yes. Poke around and see if anything seems out of whack."

Will chuckled. "I know the routine."

Alex's phone beeped, indicating an incoming call. Kaiser's cell. "Call me later, Will. Gotta go." She clicked over to Kaiser's phone. "Hello?"

"I'm sorry, Alex. I'm over at the Jackson field office, and things are kind of messy right now. The SAC found out about my little off duty surveillance club, and-"

"John, listen to me. I did an image search on Noel D. Traver, and I found a picture of him."

"Yeah?"

"It's not him. I mean, it's not Eldon Tarver."

"Really?"

"I don't get it. Two names that are perfect anagrams couldn't be coincidence-not if one name is found on the desk of the owner of the other."

"I agree. We're into something weird here. Changing subject, the SAC says that even if you're right, this is a homicide case and not under our jurisdiction."

"Webb Tyler sucks."

Kaiser laughed quietly. "Webb says I should turn over any evidence I have to the Jackson police department and go back to New Orleans. And you should find a new line of work."

"Screw him. I say we check out Noel Traver's dog-breeding facility."

"Tyler won't go for that. I already asked for a search warrant. No dice."

"Jesus, what's his problem?" snapped Alex.

"Mark Dodson is his problem. Tyler knows Dodson hates your guts, and he thinks Dodson is the new director's fair-haired boy. He also thinks Jack Moran is on his way out-early retirement. So, Tyler's not about to help me, since I'm a disciple of the wrong acolyte."

"I'm starting to think I'm well out of the Bureau."

"You know better than that. We'll get the warrant. We just have to keep piling up evidence."

"How, without any support? I don't guess Tyler will try for autopsies on the past victims, huh?"

Kaiser laughed out loud.

"Do you have any idea where Eldon Tarver is at this moment?"

"No. He lives alone, and he's not at home. He's not at the university or at his clinic, either. I'll let you know when we locate him."

Alex grunted in dissatisfaction. "So, exactly where is this dog-breeding facility?"

"Don't even think about it. Not without a warrant."

"I can find it on my own, you know."

"You're making it hard enough on me already. I've got to go. Call me if there's something I need to know."

Alex hung up and dialed Will Kilmer.

"Speak," Will said.

"Noel D. Traver owns a dog-breeding facility in south Jackson. I need you to find out where."

"I already know."

"I love you, old man. Give me the address."

Will read it out. "You planning on a visit?"

"I may ride by. I'm not going in. Kaiser would have my ass. I want you to do the same at the path lab, though."

"On my way. You stay in touch."

"I will."

Alex went to Chris's bed and knelt beside him. He was still shivering, but his eyes were closed now, and he was breathing regularly. She went back to the desk, packed her computer into its case, and left as quietly as she could.

Will Kilmer touched Alex's knee and said, "That building was a bakery when I was a boy. Hell, I think it was still one till about 1985."

Alex nodded and kept trying to get her computer to stay connected to the Internet. For some reason, the surveillance spot they had chosen was a cellular dead zone, as far as data was concerned. Will had parked his Explorer in the bay of a defunct auto repair shop, because it commanded a good view of the dog-breeding facility owned by "Noel D. Traver." Traver's building was an aged redbrick rectangle about the size of a Coca-Cola bottling plant, with an even bigger parking lot surrounding it. Glittering razor wire spiraled along the top of the fence. The only vehicle in the lot was a panel truck parked ass-end toward the wall of the building, which put its license plate out of sight. The building itself looked deserted. No one had been in or out since they'd arrived two hours ago, nor had any sound come from the building. The distance was close to a hundred yards, but still. Alex figured they would have heard barking or something.

"Yours again," said Will, in response to the chirping from the seat beside her.

"Kaiser," said Alex. "He keeps calling."

"Just answer it."

"If he knew I was here, he'd flip out."

Will sighed like man fed up with bullshit. He had already checked out Dr. Tarver's pathology lab, and on cursory inspection it had seemed legitimate. Now he was wasting the rest of his day here, probably for nothing.

The SIM card in Alex's notebook computer made a momentary connection to the Internet, then dropped it. She slammed her hand against the door in frustration. It was that or toss her computer out the window. She'd been trying to get online to do research, but now it was late enough for Jamie to be out of school, and he might be logged on to MSN.

"I'm worried about Jamie," she said. "I haven't talked to him for almost forty-eight hours."

"He's all right," Will said. "He's ten years old, and he has to go wherever his old man takes him."

"I'm worried about Chris, too." She felt terrible guilt at leaving him alone in the hotel room.

"How many times have you tried him?" Will didn't know, because he'd gotten out of the Explorer several times to take a leak or smoke a cigarette.

"Five or six. He hasn't answered in the past hour."

"Probably sleeping, huh?"

"I hope so."

"Almost all the victims have taken over a year to die," Will reminded her.

"Not Grace."

The old detective closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I think I should go back and take him to the emergency room," Alex said. "Will you help me get him down to the car?"

"Sure. You point. I'll march him."

Alex tilted her head and pointed at the tall Cyclone fence around the old bakery. "What do you think the razor wire's for? It sure isn't to keep dogs inside. The fence alone would do that."

Will shrugged. "Crime's pretty bad out this way."

Alex's cell was ringing. Kaiser again. She expelled a lungful of air in frustration, then pressed SEND. "Hello, John."

"Christ, Alex, I've been trying to get you for hours. Where are you?"

She grimaced, then recited her lie. "I'm at the hotel taking care of Chris. He's in bad shape. Have you found something?"

"Yes and no. Tyler has really dug in his heels. I think he's basically Mark Dodson's puppet right now. I'm calling in all the favors I can to run deep checks on Shane Lansing, Eldon Tarver, and our mysterious nonveterinarian. I'm also pushing hard for a search warrant on Tarver's residence."