“How many exits to the basement here, Louey?” Sydowskisaid.
Three: the back, the front,”-Louey pointed to a farcorner with the cleaver-“and that stairway to the sacristy.”
“Thanks.”
“Anybody I know?” Louey said.
“Who?”
“The guy you are looking for.”
Sydowski glanced at Florence, who put her hand onLouey’s arm.
“You don’t know him. He’s one of my old friends. Theinspector just wants his help.”
“Yeah? For what?”
“We’ll let you in on it a little later,” Sydowski toldhim. Louey went back to work.
Sydowski went to the kitchen door to check the layout.It was like a bingo hall with two sections of row upon row of long tablesdivided by a middle aisle. A fire marshal’s certificate near the door put thecapacity at four hundred. Supper had begun. Less than two dozen people wereseated and eating. A few hundred more were queued at the serving tables at thekitchen end of the hall. Volunteers dished up meals and encouragement.
Sydowski decided to give it some time. He and Turgeonknew Virgil Shook’s general description and his tattoos. In a few minutes theywould join the volunteers casually walking the hall.
“If he’s out there today, we’ll have the uniformscover the exits. Linda and I will take him quietly while he’s eating.” Sydowskiremoved his tie and suggested Turgeon let her hair down. “We don’t want to looktoo obvious.”
Barney Tucker, a retired diesel mechanic and devoutCatholic, greeted the shelter’s “guests” at the door, his stomach expanding thewords: JESUS IS LOVE on his T-shirt. Barney clasped his big hand warmly overVirgil Shook’s as Shook passed by with the others making their way to theserving table.
“Nice to see you friend,” Barney said.
Shook ignored him, breathing in the aroma of turkey,beef, peas, corn, tomato soup, baked potatoes, fresh buns, and coffee.Sustenance, sanctuary, and pity from the pious. The God bless yous blended withthe tinkling of cutler as the holy ones tended their miserable flock. Contemptslowly painted Shook’s face. He battled the urge to scream: Do you know whoI am? If they knew, they would bend their knees.
Shook’s migraines had started again. Cranium quakes.Aching in his head, his groin. Fuck, it hurt. He needed to love again. It hadbeen too long. So long. He searched the hall for someone. Maybe that littletemptress from Nevada? Daisy of the incredible blue eyes. He couldn’t find her.Fuck. The food line passed the cardboard donation box and he deposited anickel.
Turgeon patrolled the far aisle, carrying a plate of freshbuns, wishing she were in jeans and a sweatshirt instead of a blazer-skirtcombo. She did her best, smiling, scouring exposed arms for tattoos and facesfor features matching Shook’s composite.
She stifled a yawn. She had not been sleeping well. Atnight, lying alone in bed, she was attacked by fear for Gabrielle Nunn andDanny Becker. She could not switch off Shook’s confession. They had to bringthis all to an end. Were they too late?
A possibility jumped at Sydowski as he went from tableto table, topping glasses with a pewter pitcher of milk. If they spotted Shook,spotted him clean with Shook making them, then maybe they could hold offgrabbing him so they could surveil him. He might lead them to the children. Ifthey were still alive. He might lead them to evidence. They could also, losehim. He could abduct another child. It was a risk Sydowski weighed, studyingthe line that reached from the serving table to the door, searching fortattoos, the right body type and face. He constantly checked to be sure hissports jacket was buttoned so his gun was unseen. He concentrated, taking stockof the hall, the exits. How fast could he make them if Shook bolted? What wouldhe do?
Florence’s scalp tingled. She saw the flames. Thebroken heart. And the cobra curled around Virgil Shook’s left forearm.
It was him. In line, making his way to the servingtable.
“Whatzamatter, Florence? You look like you seen aghost.”
“Huh?”
“Something catch your eye, there?” Marty, an ancientbottle-and-can collector, smiled at her from his plate of food, then followedher gaze across the hall to the long line of people waiting to be served.
“Oh. No, Marty. I’m sorry.” Florence distracted him byputting her hand on his frail shoulder. “Ran off with my thoughts, I guess.Say, how about some gravy for that turkey?”
“Well, I don’t want nobody goin’ out of their way.” Atoothless smile came out from hiding in Marty’s grizzled beard.
“No trouble for a handsome man like you.”
Florence stole another glimpse of Shook. Their eyeslocked, charging her with raw panic. She looked away, struggling to conceal it,squeezing Marty’s shoulder.
“Gravy. Coming right up, Marty.”
Lord Jesus, please help me! Was she running to thekitchen? She didn’t know, or care. She was numb with fear and ordered herselfto be strong. Be calm for the children.
“Careful!”
She nearly ran into a volunteer carrying an urn of hotsoup inside the kitchen door. She leaned against a wall, gasping. Louey came toher. “Florence, you okay? What the hell is going on?”
What the fuck was it with that little bitch? Why wasshe gawking at him like that? Like she knew something about him. Shook couldn’tplace her. Fuck it. Let it simmer. He had enough to think about right now, likethe letters. It had been a week. Nothing had surfaced in the news. Nothing tohelp him get off. The blue meanies keeping a lid on it, denying him thepleasure of increasing San Francisco’s pain. What would the Zodiac do? Send theletters to the press, threaten harm if they weren’t published.
Slices of turkey and roast beef were heaped on Shook’splate next to a mountain range of mashed potatoes.
“Welcome, friend,” a young woman volunteer said.
Shook was cold to her kindness. Moving down theserving table, he grimaced. His pain was nearly unbearable, his need to loveagain was overwhelming and this other player, New Fuck, made it too hot tohunt. The letters, the game with the priest were poor substitutes for the realthing. He couldn’t’ stand it any longer. He had to do something.
Kindhart.
They could hunt together. Shook could plan somethinglike he did with Wallace. Grab a little prostitute, enjoy her, and turn up theheat. It would be rapturous. But where was Kindhart these days? He seemed to bescarce. Fuck him. Shook could do it himself. He grabbed a couple of buns and ithit him again. Who was that twitching dwarf gaping at him back there? She wasfamiliar, yet he couldn’t place her. Why had she acted so strange? Pious littlecunt. Maybe he would give her a lesson in humility.
Shook bit savagely into a bun and headed for asolitary table.
***
Florence was hysterical.
“It’s him! It’s him! Sweet Lord, he saw me!”
“Listen to me, Florence! Take a deep breath!” Sydowskisaid.
Turgeon was on the cellular phone. “Have the unitsmove in to the church exits now! No lights, no screamers!”
Florence was sobbing. Sydowski was bent over, holdingher shoulders in his big hands, comforting her. Turgeon pinpointed Shook fromthe kitchen door.
“I’ve got him, Walt. Doesn’t look like he suspectsanything yet-yes.” Turgeon described Shook over the phone, “Caucasian, whiteT-shirt, beard.”
“Good work, Florence. It will be over with soon.”
Curious kitchen staff had gathered in a circle.
“Folks, this is San Francisco Police business. It is amatter of life and death that you tell no one we are here.” Sydowski flashedhis shield. “Please. It’s important that you carry on.
“What exactly is going on, officer?” one man asked.
“Sir, we will tell you later. Please. Your help isvital now.”