Джеффри Дивер: Nothing Good Happens After Midnight: A Suspense Magazine Anthology

Fairfax County Police Department

Fairfax, Virginia

Stalwart homicide detective Paul Bledsoe had just finished a call with the medical examiner when he noticed a shadow engulf his desk. He looked up to see James Kearney, about six foot five with an afro that was picked and puffed out, making him appear even taller. At five-eight, Bledsoe always felt like he was talking to Kearney’s collarbone.

“Sir, a question.”

“James, call me Paul. I know you’re a brand spanking new detective, but we’re colleagues.”

“Yes, sir. Paul.”

“Let me see your badge.”

“My—”

“Just let me see it.”

Kearney dug into his deep pants pocket and held up the metal.

“Whoa, buddy. That’s too friggin’ bright. You need to tarnish it a bit. People’ll think you just got it.”

“I did just get it.”

“You and I know that, but better if others don’t.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Yes, James. I’m joking. What’d you want?”

“Caught this case. Not sure what to make of it. I mean — I know what to make of it, but I think it sounds like a case Detective Argus handled.”

“And?”

“He’s retired, so I can’t ask him.”

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Well, we got a 911 call that a woman went missing. It’s only been a few hours, but the lieutenant said I should look into it instead of waiting the forty-eight hours.”

“I don’t deal with missing persons cases, so if that’s what the lew wants—”

“No, I mean I don’t think it’s just a missing persons case.”

“Argus didn’t work missing persons either. So you’re thinking this is a homicide? That the woman has been murdered?”

“Yeah.”

“Anything to back that up?”

“Nothing except, well, a feeling.”

Bledsoe nodded slowly. “Sometimes that’s all we’ve got.” Bledsoe’s neck was killing him from craning it back so far to see Kearney’s face. He gestured to the chair at the adjacent desk. “Grab that seat. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“So if I remember Argus’s case, it was that serial killer, Stephen Raye Vaughn.”

Bledsoe nodded. “I know a fair amount about that one.”

“I was told you were friends with Detective Argus.”

“Still am. But yeah, we tossed shit out about our cases all the time. Ran stuff off each other. Theories, that kind of thing. Like we’re doing now.”

Kearney scratched the back of his head. “So I’m thinking, what if this missing persons case is really a Vaughn case?”

“Vaughn is in a max security facility. Death Row. Ain’t him.”

“No, no. I realize it’s not him, but—”

“Let’s take a step back. Is there any proof at all that a murder’s been committed?”

“No. It’s just—”

“A feeling. Right. Okay, go on.” Bledsoe normally would have blown the guy off, told him he’s wishing too hard for a big case to cut his teeth on, that this is probably just a garden variety missing persons case — and the woman will show up in a couple of days. But he did not want to shake the new detective’s confidence.

He was not going to give him a free ride, either.

“Yeah, so the woman left her kid in their car and went to get some groceries at the SmartLots center in Bethesda.”

“SmartLots. That’s where Vaughn shopped for his vics. Uh — no pun intended.”

“Happened around the same time of day as Vaughn abducted his vics, too.”

Bledsoe squinted in thought. “Go on.”

“Woman was around the same age. I mean she’s brunette and most of Vaughn’s were blonde, but let’s put that aside for a moment.”

“Consider it on the side.”

Kearney hesitated, then realized Bledsoe was making a joke. “Right,” he said with a quick nod. “Okay, so that’s a lot of coincidence.”

Bledsoe waited, but Kearney sat there, then shrugged. “That’s it? Same age woman, goes missing from the same kind of parking lot—”

“No, the same SmartLots center that Vaughn got his second victim.”

“Same one?”

“Yes, sir. Paul.”

Bledsoe pursed his lips and bobbed his head left and right. “Could mean nothing. I already told you, can’t be Vaughn.”

“What if it’s a copycat?”

Bledsoe leaned forward in his creaky desk chair. “Can’t rule it out — except we don’t even know if anyone’s abducted her. She just went missing. Right?”

“Yeah, but... her kid was left in the car. Alone.”

“How old’s the kid?”

“Twelve.”

“Did they have a good relationship?”

“Just starting to work up the case, but according to Taylor, yeah. He said they were starting to argue a little more the last few months. But she’s a good mom. He’s a good student. Doesn’t do drugs. Not a problem kid.”

“So it doesn’t make sense she’d just disappear on him. Willingly.”

“My point.”

“What about other stresses in her life? Husband?”

“Deceased. Some kind of medical issue. Died suddenly. Unexpectedly.”

“Suspicious?”

“No, nothing like that. Something with his brain.”

“The mom. On medication? Psychiatric issues?”

“She’s young. Thirty-seven. Healthy. There’s no reason for her to walk off on her own and disappear.”

“That you know of.”

“Right. So far. It’s just that, in Vaughn’s case, he didn’t keep the women around very long before killing them.”

Bledsoe grunted. “Less than 24 hours.”

“Which is why I don’t want to wait.”

“You know how to work a homicide case?” Bledsoe held out a hand, stopping Kearney’s mouth half-opened. “That was rhetorical. Tell you what, let me talk with the lew, see if he’ll let me spend a few days on it with you, see where it takes us.”

“I’d like that.”

“Caught yourself a good first case, James.”

“Guess so.” He clapped his hands on his knees. “So now what?”

“You’re gonna try to get hold of all security footage in the area of that SmartLots parking lot. I’m gonna call someone who knows more about the Vaughn case than I do.”

“Detective Argus?”

“Nope. He’s on vacation in Greece. The FBI profiler who consulted on the case with him.”

Karen Vail was staring out the passenger window, thinking about Stephen Raye Vaughn, when her phone rang. Since she and her fiancé, Roberto Umberto Enrique Hernandez, were driving in her car, the Bluetooth speaker automatically took the call.

“Bledsoe. What’s up?”

“Missed your voice.”

“Oh yeah? You’re on speaker. Robby’s driving.”

“Hey big guy. How’s DEA treating you?”

“Treating me great. It’s the cartels I seem to have problems with.”

Bledsoe chuckled. “How’s your knee, Karen?”

“Healing. Itches. Pain’s almost gone, except when I run.”

“This soon after surgery? You’re allowed to run?”

“Of course not.”

“I guess I missed more than your voice. You crack me up.”

“She cracks herself up, too,” Robby said. “She’s a terrible patient, you know that.”

Bledsoe laughed. “Terrible profiler, terrible patient. Nothing surprises me.”

Vail frowned. “You realize I’m still on the call?”

“I do.”

“It was minor arthroscopic surgery to clean things up from my last operation. Scar tissue, some frayed cartilage. I’ll be fine.”

“Good. ’Cause I got a case here. Not mine, exactly. I’m helping out on it for a few days. Rookie detective caught the case. He’s convinced his missing woman is the victim of an abduction, possibly a copycat.”

“Who’s he copying?”

“Stephen Raye Vaughn.”