P Tracy - Snow Blind

‘I see.’

Wow. All he got for that was two more words. Gino wasn’t going to believe this. ‘So a couple of points: First, Weinbeck may be a lot more dangerous than we thought, to anyone, not just his ex-wife.’

‘He’s probably killed at least once, Detective; he’s most certainly on the run, and he’s armed. We already thought he was pretty dangerous.’

Magozzi closed his eyes. Either he was duller than he thought, or she was sharper than Gino thought. ‘I know that. Just an extra take-care for your men.’

‘Thank you.’

‘The other thing is, we really want to talk to this guy about our snowmen, so if you get a handle on him, we’d appreciate a heads-up.’

‘Of course.’

Magozzi hunched over the phone and frowned. Now came the hard part. How the hell did you tactfully ask if she was doing all the things that any cop was supposed to do? ‘Uh… any luck finding Doyle’s car?’

A low chuckle came over the wires, and Magozzi’s frown deepened into a scowl. What was so funny about that?

‘I would have called you if we’d found Mr Doyle’s car, Detective Magozzi. We’ve called in all the shifts, and we’re covering the roads mile by mile, but we’ve got a lot of them, and it’s going to take some time. We also ran copies of Kurt Weinbeck’s mug shot and put them up on every vertical surface in the county – the local city p.d.’s are helping with that – plus we have four units doing continuous-circle patrols on the road around Bitterroot, and officers calling personally on all the adjacent landowners. Does that answer your question?’

‘I just asked if you found the car.’

‘That’s what you asked out loud. It isn’t why you called.’

He could hear the smile in her voice, and for some reason it pissed him off. It also made him feel like a jerk.

When Magozzi got home at nine o’clock, he found lasagna warming in the oven and some kind of elaborate salad in the refrigerator. He searched the house without pulling his gun, foolishly imagining that Grace would be hiding somewhere, hopefully dressed in her black flannel pajamas.

She answered her cell on the first ring. ‘Magozzi. It’s about time you got home.’

‘Where are you? You left me supper. I figured that meant you expected me to sleep with you.’

Grace never laughed out loud, but he could hear the smile in her voice. ‘We’ve been trying to reach you all day, finally called the office. McLaren told me you were on the road, and that you had another snowman. I figured you could use a bright spot in your day.’

‘This is the nicest thing you’ve ever done for me. Also very out of character.’

‘It’s just leftovers. We had it here for supper. Listen, Magozzi…’

‘Next thing I know, you’ll be waiting at the door holding a martini dressed in plastic wrap.’

‘Magozzi, listen. This is important. We may have something on the snowmen in the park.’

He set down his plate and got serious. ‘I’m listening.’

‘We pulled a thread from a chat room off the Web that said “Minneapolis snowmen, kill him while there’s still time. Put him in a snowman.” The thread was posted at least three hours before you found the bodies.’

‘Jesus.’ Magozzi pulled up a chair and sank into it. ‘Our killer might be at the end of that thread. Did you trace it?’

‘We can’t hack into it. The security is like nothing we’ve ever come across. We’ve been trying all day, and we’ll keep trying. We’re pulling an all-nighter over at Harley’s, and I’ve got to get back to it, but keep your cell on all night, all day tomorrow. I’ll call as soon as we have something.’

Magozzi had time for one bite of lasagna before Gino called.

‘I got a bedtime story for you, Leo,’ he said without preamble. ‘I just talked to McLaren. Pittsburgh’s got a body in a snowman just like ours.’

Magozzi finished chewing and swallowed. The lasagna was amazing, but it went down hard. ‘Damnit. What are they thinking?’

‘They’re guessing copycat. This was just a courtesy call because of all the news coverage on our boys.’

Magozzi told him about what the Monkeewrench crew had found on the Internet.

‘Goddamnit, Leo, I knew this was going to happen when the media climbed all over it. We’re going to have bodies in snowmen all over the country. Close your peepers, tomorrow’s going to be a nightmare.’

After he hung up with Magozzi, Gino leaned against the back of the sofa and let the silence of the sleeping house wrap itself around him like a protective cloak. The Christmas tree had been down for over a week, but Angela was still finding clusters of needles with the vacuum, and the fragrance of pine lingered.

Gino smiled when he heard the telltale creak of a stair riser, followed by the soft padding of his daughter’s feet as she crept downstairs. It was a ritual she’d started a couple years ago, just after the Accident, a.k.a. baby brother, had been born. Whenever long hours, a particularly troubling case, or just plain insomnia kept him up after the rest of the house finally went silent, Helen would sneak downstairs to steal time alone with him. In Gino’s book, that was just about as close to winning an Oscar for parenting as you could get – if your fifteen-year-old daughter still thought spending quality time with her old dad was worthwhile, then you’d probably done something right.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs, bundled up in her warm winter robe, and gave him a rosy-cheeked, two-dimple smile. ‘Hi, Daddy.’ She plopped down on the sofa next to him and pecked him on the cheek.

‘Hi, sweet pea. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight. When I got home, your mother said you were already sound asleep, snoring like a lumberjack.’

She gave him a playful slug on the arm. ‘I don’t snore. So, did you find the killer yet?’

Helen had never been one to waste time with transitional conversation, but her bluntness always took Gino by surprise. Of course, it shouldn’t have – she’d inherited her looks from her mother, fortunately, but her personality came from him, for better or for worse. ‘Not yet.’

‘Do you have any leads?’

‘We’re working on it.’

‘I’ll bet it’s a serial killer,’ she said with great certainty. ‘They pose their trophies, you know.’

Gino squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them. There was too much information loose in the world today, just laid out there on the TV or the Web for any kid to see, long before they had the good sense to be repelled by the real horror of it. He wished his daughter wasn’t so fascinated with his job, and he was terrified that someday she might want to follow in his footsteps.

‘So what did he use to tie them to the trail markers?’

‘How do you know about that?’

Helen gave him the eye-roll, the classic teenage admonition for being so dense. ‘Daddy, it was all over the TV.’

‘Fifteen-year-olds shouldn’t watch TV.’

She gave him a mischievous smile. ‘The entire school saw you and Uncle Leo on the news yesterday. Ashley thinks Uncle Leo is totally hot.’

Gino winced at the adjective. She was too young for that kind of thinking, wasn’t she?

‘You looked nice, too, Daddy.’

‘Gee, thanks. And tell Ashley Leo’s old enough to be her grandfather.’

‘He is not.’

‘Well, father, at least.’

Helen tipped her head and regarded him with one of those scary wise-woman smiles that he saw on her face more and more these days. ‘Young women our age are always attracted to older men, Daddy, don’t you know that?’

Oh, dear Lord, Gino thought as he stared at the strange, wonderful creature sitting next to him in her fuzzy red robe with white reindeer cavorting all over it. Kid’s robe, woman’s face. He couldn’t keep up.