Alex Kava - A Perfect Evil

He opened the door, and Timmy stood there like an apparition. Christine rubbed her eyes. Was she hallucinating again? Timmy hobbled toward her, and she could see the scratches and bruises, a cut on one cheek and a purple swollen lip. However, his face and hair were scrubbed clean, his clothes crisp and fresh. He even wore new tennis shoes. Had it all been a horrible, horrible nightmare?

“Hi, Mom,” he said as though it were any other morning. He crawled into the chair his grandmother held out for him, kneeling and making himself tall enough to look over the bed. She allowed the tears, had no choice, really. Was he real? She touched his shoulder, smoothed down his cowlick and caressed his cheek.

“Aw, Mom. Everybody’s watching,” he said, and she knew he was real.

Nick escaped before it got mushy, before his own eyes got blurry. It was all still a little hard to believe. He turned the corner and almost ran into his father, who stepped back, as though worried the coffee he carried would spill.

“Careful there, son. You’re gonna miss quite a bit being in such a hurry.”

Nick checked his father’s eyes and immediately saw the sarcastic criticism. He was in too good of a mood to let his father spoil it. So he smiled and started to walk around him.

“It’s not Eddie, you know,” his father called after him.

“Yeah?” Nick stopped and turned. “Well, this time that’ll be up to a court of law to decide and not Antonio Morrelli.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Nick took a step closer until he was standing eye to eye with his father.

“Did you help plant evidence against Jeffreys?”

“Watch your mouth, boy. I never planted a thing.”

“Then how did you explain the discrepancies?”

“As far as I was concerned, there were no discrepancies. I did what was necessary to convict that son of a bitch.”

“You ignored evidence.”

“I knew Jeffreys killed that little Wilson boy. You didn’t see that boy. You didn’t see what he made that boy go through. Jeffreys deserved to die.”

“Don’t you dare make your horrors superior to mine,” Nick said, hands clenched into fists but quiet and steady at his sides.

“I’ve seen enough this week to last me a lifetime. Maybe Jeffreys did deserve to die. But by pinning the other two murders on him, you let another murderer get away. You closed the investigation. You made a community feel safe again.”

“I did what I thought was necessary.”

“Don’t tell me. Tell that to Laura Alverez and Michelle Tanner. Tell them how you did what was necessary.”

Nick walked away, his knees feeling a bit spongy. There was little victory in telling Antonio Morrelli he had been wrong. Why had he expected there to be some feeling of celebration? But as his boot heels echoed down the quiet hall, he walked a bit taller.

He stopped by the nurses’ station and was startled by the unit secretary dressed in a black cape and witch’s hat. It took a minute before he noticed the orange and black crepe paper and pumpkin cutouts. Of course, today was Halloween. Even the sun had emerged, finally bright enough and warm enough to start melting some of the snow.

He waited patiently while the unit secretary recited ingredients of a recipe into the phone. Her eyes told him she’d only be a moment, but there was no urgency in her voice.

“Hi, Nick.” Sandy Kennedy came up behind him, scooted back behind the secretary and grabbed a clipboard.

“Sandy, you finally made it to the day shift.” He smiled at the shapely brunette, while thinking what a stupid thing to say. Why not “How are you” or “It’s been a long time”? Then he wondered if there was anyplace in this city he could go without running into a former lover or one-night stand.

“Sounds like Christine is doing better,” she said, ignoring his stupid comment.

He tried to remember why he had never pursued a relationship with Sandy. Just seeing her reminded him how bright and beautiful she was. But then, so were all the women he chose. However, not one of them could live up to Maggie O’Dell.

“Nick, are you okay? Can we do something for you?”

Both Sandy and the secretary stared at him.

“Can you tell me Agent O’Dell’s room number?”

“It’s 372,” the secretary said without looking it up. “At the end of the hall and to the right. Although she may be gone.”

“Gone? What do mean gone?”

“She checked out earlier and was just waiting for some clothes. Hers were pretty trashed when she came in last night,” she explained, but Nick already was halfway down the hall.

He burst through the door without knocking, startling Maggie, who turned quickly from the window, then positioned her back- and the open hospital gown-to the wall.

“Jesus, Morrelli, don’t you knock?”

“Sorry.” His heart settled down, almost to its regular rhythm. She looked wonderful. The short, dark hair was smooth and shiny again. Her creamy skin had some color. And her eyes-those luscious brown eyes-actually sparkled. “They said you might be gone.”

“I’m waiting for some clothes. One of the hospital volunteers offered to go shopping for me.” She paced, carefully using the wall to shield her back. “That was about two hours ago. I just hope she doesn’t come back with something pink.”

“The doctor said it’s okay for you to check out?” He tried to make it a simple question. Was there too much concern in his voice?

“He’s leaving it to my discretion.”

She caught him staring at her, and when their eyes met, he held her gaze. He didn’t care if she saw the concern. In fact, he wanted her to see it.

“How’s Christine?” she asked, breaking the trance.

“Surgery went well.”

“What about her leg?”

“The doctor seems certain there won’t be any permanent damage. I just took Timmy in to see her.”

For a minute she stopped pacing. Her eyes softened, though there was a faraway look in them.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d almost believe in happy endings,” she said.

Her eyes met his again, this time accompanied by a faint smile, a slight tug at the corners of her lips. Jesus, she was beautiful when she smiled. He wanted to tell her that. Opened his mouth, in fact, to do just that, then thought better of it. Did she have any idea how scared he was when he thought she’d left without so much as a goodbye? Could she even tell what effect she had on him? The hell with her husband, her marriage. He needed to take the risk, let the chips fall where they may. He needed to tell her he loved her.

Instead, he said, “We arrested Eddie Gillick this morning.” She sat on the edge of the bed and waited for more. “We brought in Ray Howard again for questioning. This time he admitted that sometimes he loaned the old blue pickup to Eddie.”

“The day Danny disappeared?”

“Howard conveniently couldn’t remember. But there’s more-lots more. Eddie came to work for the sheriff’s department the summer before the first killings. The Omaha Police Department had given him a letter of recommendation, but there were three separate reprimands in his file, all for unnecessary force while making arrests. Two of the cases were juveniles. He even broke one kid’s arm.”

“What about the last rites?”

“Eddie’s mom-a single mom, by the way-worked two jobs just to send him to Catholic school, all the way through high school.”

“I don’t know, Nick.”

She didn’t look convinced. It didn’t surprise him. He went on with the rest.

“He would have had access to the evidence in Jeffreys’ case and could easily have framed him. He’s also had access to the morgue. In fact, he was there yesterday afternoon picking up the autopsy photos. He could have easily snatched Matthew’s body when he realized the teeth marks in the photos might ID him. Plus, it would have been easy for him to make a few phone calls, use his badge number and get information on Albert Stucky.”