Andrew Vachss - Blossom

"What is it?"

"Mrs. Swain?"

"No, I ain't her."

"Well, it's her I need to see. Is she around?"

" Ain't no Mrs. Swain, mister. Not around here."

"Look, it's important that I speak to her. Real important."

"Cain't help you none."

"You sure?" Holding some bills in one hand.

"Mister, Lord knows I'd like some of that money you showin', but I ain't never heard of no Swain people."

"You lived here long?"

Sparkless eyes held mine. "Three years. Three fucking years."

"Did you buy the house then?"

"Buy?" Her laugh was bile-laced mucus. "We rent , mister. Man comes once a month, get his money."

"What's his name?"

"The Man," she said, closing the door in my face.

146

"SUPPOSE I TOLD you there was this kid. Abused kid, really tortured. Burned, locked in a basement for months. Social Services takes him away. His old man goes down to Logansport. Years later, they send him home to his mother. This same kid, he tries to join up with Matson's Nazis. They turn him down, or he spooks, not sure which. You knew about this kid, would you be interested in talking to him? About the killings?"

"I might," Sherwood said. "Should I be?"

"I think so."

"You haven't said enough to get a search warrant."

"If I had his address, maybe I could say enough, a couple of days from now."

"Which means you don t."

"Right."

"Just a name."

"His name, parents' names, date of birth, last known address."

"Which you tried and drew a blank?"

"Yeah."

"Give it to me."

147

I SHARKED AROUND, looking. Blossom at my side, not talking. Knowing I was listening to someone else.

We passed under railroad tracks, past a stone dam. Huge swastika on quarry rocks. Satan Rules!

Kids.

Two more dead days slipped by until the monster led me there. Through the gate of the Paul Douglas Nature Center. Two teardrop-shaped blobs of blacktop joined by a narrow connecting loop like a drooping barbell. Neatly marked parking lines painted in white, slotted between mercury vapor lights suspended high on metal posts. I slid the Lincoln into a space. The park entrance was to my left, past a wooden footbridge. To my right, over Blossom's shoulder, I could see an eight-foot chain link fence, woods behind it.

"Stay here," I told her. "Just stay in the car."

I found a foothold, pulled myself to the top of the fence, dropped down to the other side. Climbed a rise through some underbrush until I got to the top. Abandoned railroad tracks that hadn't seen a train for years, rusting in disgust, connectors broken loose. The other side of the tracks was a copse, black even in daylight. A deep drop-off behind the copse, leading to the streets below. I worked my way down, followed along the edge of the drop-off, feeling my way.

I was at the lakefront in ten minutes. White dunes in the distance. Dunes where the killer had roosted.

I climbed back, emerging out of the copse. Lay down prone on the tracks.

A clear view of the Lincoln. I could see Blossom stretching her slim arms in the front seat. It felt like watching a woman in a window.

Killing ground. Sloping to a perfect pitch for the sniper's song.

I closed my eyes, feeling the sun on my face, darkness at my back. Sucked clean air through my nose, down deep past my stomach. Expanded my chest on the exhale, centering.

Felt for the sniper in my mind. Listened to the child. "I hurt," he said.

Once a child's cry for help. Now a killer's boast.

"He'll be here." Wesley's voice.

148

I WORKED THE ground. No shell casings, no condoms. Not even a beer can. The spot was virgin, waiting for a rapist. I absently pulled some long green reeds from the earth. Climbed into the car, tossed them on the front seat between us.

On the way out, I checked the sign. The Nature Center closed each night at six.

149

"YOU OKAY?"

"That's his spot, Blossom. It's perfect."

She fingered the green stalks. "You know what these are?"

"No."

"This is a scouring rush. Horsetails, we call them. Prospectors used to use them. You crack them open, like this, see? They're hollow. The story is, you could see tiny flecks of gold, where it was leached up out of the ground if there was any underneath."

I wondered if they leached blood.

150

THE NEXT MORNING, the Lincoln circled the Nature Center in tightening loops, pawing the ground before it moved in.

"When are you going to try it?" Blossom.

I lit a cigarette with the dashboard lighter. "I have to get a call first. There's something I need."

The car phone rang. But it was Sherwood, not the Mole.

I let Blossom ride along to the meet with me. Let the cop know what I knew.

Most of it.

151

THE UNMARKED CAR was positioned at the gate to the beach. I pulled in alongside, got out. Blossom followed. Sherwood fell into step with us.

"Good news and bad news. This Luther Swain, he could be the guy. But he's gone. That address you had, it was the last one on record."

"What about his mother?"

Sherwood pulled out a thick slab of a notebook. "According to DPW records, she left about five years ago. The locals terminated her Welfare grant. The kid stayed on in the house until 1986, when he turned eighteen. They offered him some services: outpatient counseling, group therapy. Even said they'd hook him up with SSI Disability. But one day he just up and disappeared."

"You run them on SSI national?"

"Yeah. Zip. If they were getting checks from the government, we'd have located 'em."

"Tax records? Military? Passport?"

"Blank." His look was measured, just short of offended. "We know how to do it, pal, chase the paper. There's no trail. The kid don't even have a driver's license."

"Fuck." Me.

"Detective, did you by any chance pull this boy's medical records?" Blossom.

"Yes, ma'am. They're in the car." His tired eyes tracked her. "If you're thinking the blood banks, it won't fly. He's got type O."

"No, I was thinking…maybe it's not so strange he doesn't have most kinds of ID, but you'd think, a young man, he'd have a driver's license."

"So?"

"Burke, remember that report you read to me? Something about severe damage to his eyes? Maybe that's why he can't get a driver's license."

"I don't know anything about any reports, I said, the words evenly spaced, like rocks dropping into a pond.

"Me neither," said Sherwood. "We had this report of an attempted break-in at the DPW Building, but I figure, it had to be some kids playing a prank. Real rookie move, toss a rock through the glass. Not the kind you'd expect from any big-time New York heist-man."

Blossom's face flushed.

Back at Sherwood's car, we found the records. Blossom translated the big words. "He'll always have trouble with his vision, especially in daylight."

"He couldn't get a driver's license?" Sherwood.

"Not hardly."

"They got no test for buying a gun," the big man said.

152

I TOLD HIM about the Nature Center. We went by to take a look. I showed him what I'd seen. He nodded.

"Wait here."

I saw him talking to a uniformed park ranger. He walked back slow.

"He says they drop the gate every night. Padlock it. Wood gate. Anyone could get through it. Nobody does. Says the kids never park here. They patrol about twice a night. If they'd see someone, they'd chase 'em off. Maybe bust 'em for trespassing, if they were smoking dope."

"He'll work with you?"

"On this? Sure. We shut down the parking spots, like I told you. This one won't get patrols."

"How about if a car was going to park in here. Every night. Would he look the other way? Stay down?"

His eyes were someplace else. "What d'you have in mind?"

"Drawing his fire."