Jonathan Kellerman - Rage

“Civilian life,” said Milo.

Weisvogel said, “Ain’t it a party? No idea where Mr. and Mrs. Perv are off to?”

“Nope. She may not be a perv.”

“Whatever.” Weisvogel took out her pad. “Give me their names for a BOLO.”

Milo recited. “Drew Daney. He could also be traveling as Moore Daney Andruson.”

“Anderson e-n or o-n?”

He spelled it. “His wheels are a white Jeep. She drives a Toyota. C-H-E-R-I-S-H.”

“Some name. You don’t think they met up somewhere and split?”

“One of the kids said she was mad at him,” said Milo.

“ ’Cause she figured out what he was about?”

“Don’t know. The kids are aware of what’s been going on. They taunted two girls who were sexually active with him.”

“If missus did figure it out she sure took her sweet time about it, didn’t she?” said Weisvogel. “What do you think, Doctor, one of those see-no-evil pathological denial head cases?”

I said, “Could be.”

“I walked into that room, saw those girls, first thing came to mind was ‘harem.’ God only knows what we’re going to find when they get examined.”

“It sounds as if he was selective. Chose one or two girls who got special privileges. The girl I spoke to thinks she loves him.”

Weisvogel slapped her hands on her hips. Her wrists were as thick as a man’s. “So how long have you been looking at this fine citizen, Milo?”

“Been looking at him for murder for a week or so. The other stuff just came up.”

“The other stuff, ” said Weisvogel. “Well, it’s obviously gonna take a long time to unravel. Speaking of which, Doctor, any chance you could be available, therapy-wise? I don’t care how many girls he actually fooled with, they’re all going to be affected, right? The department psychologists are pretty much tied up doing personnel evaluations and we could use some help.”

“Sure,” I said.

She seemed surprised by my easy assent. “Okay, good, thanks. I’ll be in touch. Meanwhile, let’s keep each other posted, Milo.”

“Will do, Judy. Speaking of which, there’s a safe-deposit box on a desk in the bedroom. Cherish left it out in the open next to her instructions. Those instructions were set out on a piece of blotter paper- like a presentation. To me that says looky here, clear invitation to scrutinize.”

“Those instructions,” said Weisvogel, “reminded me of some stupid memo you’d get in the service. She abandons these kids and writes out a manual. Hubby rapes the kids but they need their medicine and their nutritious breakfasts. What a whack job.”

“Be interesting to see what’s in the box, Judy.”

She shook her head. “Before the warrant and the techies get here? Tsk tsk.”

“Daney’s a suspect in six murders, maybe seven. I can make a case for exigent circumstances.”

Weisvogel looked doubtful.

Milo said, “Judy, he took the girls off the property to molest them, so the house won’t be your primary crime scene, his Jeep will. We need to find him asap and there could be something in the box that gets us closer.”

“What, you think the whack job left a map?”

“There are all kinds of maps, Judy.”

“That’s pretty darn enigmatic, Milo. I’m not comfortable messing with the goodies prematurely. All I need is some defense attorney squawking about chain of evidence.”

“It’s in plain view, despite obvious opportunities to conceal,” said Milo. “Ain’t that an invitation to search?”

Weisvogel smiled. “You should’ve gone to law school. Beats honest labor.”

“I could’ve opened the box before you got here, Judy.”

“You certainly could’ve.” Weisvogel stared up at him. Her eyes were green, lighter than Milo ’s, almost khaki, with specks of blue scattered near the rims. Unwavering. “What if the box is locked?”

“I’ve got tools.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Milo smiled.

Weisvogel said, “Hell, what if it’s ticking- I know, you’ll bring in a robot. Seriously, it could cause evidentiary problems, Milo.”

“Problems can be solved. Let’s find the bastard before he does more damage, then sort out the details.”

Weisvogel looked over at the house. Clicked her teeth together. Ran her hand through her terrier hair. “So you’re ordering me, as my superior, to open this alleged box.”

“I’m asking you to be a little flexible- ”

“What I’m hearing is you pulling rank on me. Seeing as I’m merely a D-two and you’re brass.”

Weisvogel’s turn to smile. Tobacco teeth.

“I’m brass?” said Milo, as if he’d been diagnosed with a noxious disease.

“Sorry to drop it on you so suddenly,” said Weisvogel. “So am I getting this whole chain-of-command thing right?”

Still smiling.

Milo said, “Yeah, yeah. Someone bitches, it was all my idea.”

“Then I suppose I have no choice,” said Weisvogel, “Lieu ten ant.”

She joined her detectives in the cube and Milo told me, “Out to the car.”

“For what?”

“Tools.”

“Don’t have any.”

“You’ve got a crowbar. And I’ve got this.” Reaching into a jacket pocket, he brought out a small penlight and a ring of stainless-steel burglar picks.

“You carry those all the time?”

“Some of the time,” he said. “When I think important objects are gonna be left in plain sight.”

The house was tidy, just as it had been the first time, kitchen scrubbed, hallways vacuumed.

As we entered the master bedroom, I sighted down the hall at the windowless, converted laundry room where Rand had slept.

Milo went into the bedroom and I joined him. The desk sat to the left of the double bed. Plain and rickety, painted brown, a thrift-shop piece that barely managed to fit in Drew and Cherish Daney’s cramped sleeping chamber.

Milo gloved up and checked the closet.

“His duds are here, but hers aren’t. Looks like she packed up for the long haul.”

“And he didn’t.”

“Ain’t that thought-provoking.” He sidled over to the desk. The legs were wobbly and the top slanted downward. A jam glass held pens and pencils. The green blotter paper Cherish had used to frame her instructions was still there. One of its corners was held in place by the box.

Gunmetal safe-deposit box. Extra-large size, the kind banks offered preferred customers.

Milo examined the lock, lifted the box, and inspected the bottom.

“Columbia Savings stamp. They’ve been out of business for years.”

“Surplus, like the school lockers,” I said. “They’re parsimonious.”

He frowned. “All that county money and they’re living like this.”

“If Valerie’s right, there was a lot of conflict about money. Maybe because Drew was siphoning funds and stashing it away.”

“His secret cache. That coulda been bullshit he gave the kid to impress her.”

“I’d bet on reality. He had all the power right from the start with Valerie, didn’t need to prove himself.” I pointed to the box.

He set it down. Looked at the lock again. Examined his picks and selected one. Lifting the box, he hefted. “Kinda light. Maybe Cherish found the dough, took it, and split. The question is, Where’d he go with all his clothes still here?”

“He could’ve gotten to the money first. Picked up on Cherish’s suspicion, sensed the walls closing in and left.”

“With no clothes?”

“He travels light. I’m thinking Vegas because he told Valerie that Cherish wanted to go there.”

“The old projection game? Yeah, Vegas would fit his style, easy for a scumbag to blend in. Okay, enough conjecture. Gimme that.” Pocketing the burglar picks and reaching for the crowbar.