Alex Kava - A Perfect Evil

He skidded onto Michelle Tanner’s street just as the radio announcer was explaining that Mayor Rutledge was canceling Halloween because of the snow, which was expected to keep falling throughout the day.

“Lucky bastard.” Nick smiled and shook his head.

He pulled into the Tanner driveway, almost sliding into the back of a van. It wasn’t until he was at the front door that he noticed the KRAP News Radio sign, partially hidden by plastered snow. Panic chewed at his insides. It was awfully early for a simple “how are things going?” interview. He knocked on the screen door. When no one came, he opened it and pounded on the inside door.

Almost immediately it opened. A small, gray-haired woman motioned for him to come into the living room. Then she scurried back into the room and took her seat beside Michelle Tanner on the sofa. A tall, balding man with a tape recorder sat across from them. In the doorway to the kitchen towered a barrel-chested man with a crew cut and thick forearms. He looked familiar, and with a quick glance around the house, Nick realized he must be the ex-husband, Matthew’s father. There were still several framed photos with the three of them-taken in happier times.

Nick heard voices and the banging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee mixed with the scent of melting wax. A row of candles burned on the fireplace mantel next to a large photo of Matthew and a small crucifix.

“Is it true?” Michelle Tanner looked up at Nick with red, puffy eyes. “Did you find a body last night?”

All eyes stared at him, waiting. Jesus, it was hot in the house. He reached up and loosened his tie.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Does it fucking matter?” Matthew’s father wanted to know.

“Douglas, please,” the old woman reprimanded him. “Mr. Melzer, here, from the radio said it was in the Omaha Journal this morning.”

Melzer held up the paper. Second Body Found was emblazoned across the front. Nick didn’t need to see the byline. There was no time for anger. The panic backed up into his throat, leaving an acidy taste in his mouth and a lump obstructing his air. Christine had done it to him again.

“Yes, it’s true,” he managed to say. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“You’re always just a few steps behind, aren’t you, Sheriff?”

“Douglas,” the old woman repeated.

“Is it him?” Michelle looked up at Nick, pleading, hoping.

He thought it had been obvious. But she needed the words. He hated this. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets and forced himself to look into her eyes.

“Yes. It’s Matthew.”

He expected the wail and yet wasn’t prepared for it. Michelle fell into the old woman’s arms, and they rocked back and forth. Two women appeared from the kitchen. When they saw Michelle, they broke down into tears and hugged each other. Melzer watched, glanced at Nick, then gathered up his equipment and quietly left. Nick wanted to follow him out. He wasn’t sure what to do. Douglas Tanner stared at him, leaning against the wall, his anger red on his face and clenched in his fists.

Then suddenly, in three steps, the man came at him. Nick didn’t see the left hook until it slammed into his jaw, knocking him backward into a bookcase. Books flew from the shelves, crashing into him and onto the floor. Before he regained his balance, Douglas Tanner came at him again, pounding a fist into his stomach. Nick gasped for breath and stumbled, slipping to his knees. The old woman was yelling at Douglas. The commotion silenced the painful cries, while the women watched, wide-eyed.

Nick shook his head and started to crawl back to his feet when he saw the blur of another fist coming at him. He grabbed Tanner’s arm, but instead of swinging back, Nick simply shoved the man away. He probably deserved this beating.

Then he caught a glimpse of the shiny metal. In one quick burst, Tanner came at him again, and this time stabbed at his side. Nick jumped out of the way, grabbing for his gun and ripping it from its holster. Tanner froze, a hunting knife gripped expertly in his left hand, and a look in his eyes that said he had every intention of using it.

The old woman got up from the sofa and quietly walked over to Douglas Tanner. She pulled the knife out of his fist. Then she surprised all of them and slapped him across the face.

“Damn it, Mom. What the fuck?” But Tanner now stood perfectly still, red-faced and hands silent at his side.

“I’m sick and tired of you beating on people. I’ve sat back and watched for too long. You just can’t treat people like this-not your family or strangers. Now, apologize to Sheriff Morrelli, Douglas.”

“No fucking way. If he had done his job maybe Matthew would still be alive.”

Nick rubbed his eyes, but the blur stayed. He realized his lip was bleeding, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. He put his gun away but leaned against the bookcase, hoping the ringing in his head would stop.

“Douglas, apologize. Do you want to get arrested for assaulting a law officer?”

“He doesn’t need to apologize,” Nick interrupted. He waited for the room to stop spinning and for his feet to hold him up. “Mrs. Tanner,” he said, leaving the safety of the bookcase and finding Michelle’s eyes, grateful for finding only one pair in the blur. “I’m very sorry for your loss. And I apologize for waiting until this morning to tell you. I really didn’t mean any disrespect. I just thought it would be better to tell you when you were surrounded by family and friends than pounding on your door in the middle of the night. I promise you, we’ll find the man who did this to Matthew.”

“I’m sure you will, Sheriff,” Douglas Tanner said from behind him. “But how many more boys will he murder before you get a clue?”

No one had to tell him. Timmy just knew. Matthew was dead, just like Danny Alverez. That’s why Uncle Nick and Agent O’Dell left all of a sudden last night. Why his mom sent him to bed early. Why she stayed up almost all night writing for the newspaper on her new laptop computer.

He climbed out of bed early to listen to the school closings on the radio. There had to be at least a half foot of snow, and it was still coming down. It would be excellent tubing snow, though his mom forbade him to use anything but his boring plastic sled. It was bright orange and stuck out like some kind of emergency vehicle in the snow.

He found her asleep on the sofa, curled up in a tight ball and tangled in Grandma Morrelli’s afghan. Her hands were balled up in fists and tucked under her chin. She looked totally wiped, and he tiptoed into the kitchen, leaving her to sleep.

He tuned the radio to the news station, away from the sappy elevator music his mom listened to. She called it “soft rock.” Sometimes she acted so old. The announcer was already in the middle of the school announcements, and he turned the radio up loud enough to hear over his breakfast fumblings.

Instead of dragging a chair to the counter, he used the bottom two drawers to reach a bowl from the cupboard. He was tired of being short. He was smaller than all the boys in his class and even some of the girls. Uncle Nick told him he’d probably have a growth spurt and pass them all up, but Timmy didn’t see it coming anytime soon.

He was surprised to find an unopened box of Cap’n Crunch between the Cheerios and the Grape-Nuts. Either it had been on sale, or his mom hadn’t realized what she had bought. She never let him have the good stuff. He grabbed it and opened it before she discovered her mistake, pouring until the bowl overflowed. He munched the excess, making room for milk. As he poured, the radio announcer said, “Platte City Elementary and High School will be closed today.”