Just Cause

Brown looked at Shaeffer and then toward Cowart. 'But now, you see, he's figured that out.'

The detective hunched forward, slapping a fist into a palm to accentuate his words. 'He's figured out that distance helps keep him safe, that when he arrives in some little town to kill, no one should know him. No one will pay any attention to him. And no one will make him when he grabs his victim. And who does he grab? He learned what happens when he snatched a little white girl. So now he goes to places where the police aren't quite as sophisticated and the press isn't as aware, and grabs a little black girl, because that ain't hardly going to get anyone's attention, not the same way Joanie Shriver did. So he goes and does these things, then he comes back up here and returns to school and there ain't nobody looking for him, 'Nobody.'

Brown paused before adding, 'Nobody now, except us three.'

'And Wilcox?' Cowart asked.

Brown took a deep breath. 'He's dead,' he replied flatly.

'We don't know that,' Shaeffer said. The idea seemed impossible to her. She knew it to be true yet couldn't stand to hear it said.

'Dead,' Brown continued, voice picking up momentum. 'Somewhere close to here. And that's the reason Ferguson's running. That's his first rule. Kill safe. Kill anonymously. Use distance. It's such a damn easy formula.'

He stared at the young detective. 'He was dead as soon as you lost sight of him.'

'You shouldn't have left him,' Cowart said.

She turned, bristling. 'I didn't leave him! He left me. I tried to stop him. Dammit, I don't have to listen to this! I don't even have to be here!'.'Yes, you do,' Cowart said. 'Don't you get it, Detective? There's a real bad guy out there. Because of accidents, bad judgment, mistakes, bad luck, whatever.

And when you add it all up, he let him go…' Cowart pointed sharply at Tanny Brown, '… and I let him go…' He punched an index finger against his own chest, then turned it, like a pistol, toward her.'… And now, you've let him go, too. Just like that.'

He took a deep breath. 'In effect, there's only one of us that actually caught up with him. Wilcox. And now…'

'He's dead,' Brown said again. He stood in the center of the room, clenching his hands into fists, then releasing them slowly. 'And we're the only people really looking for him.' He, too, punched a finger at her. 'Now you owe, too.'

She felt a sudden dizziness, as if the floor of the motel room were pitching beneath her like her stepfather's fishing boat. But she knew what they said was true. They had created the problem. Now it was up to them to find a solution.

Wilcox and some little girls, she told herself.

These two have no idea, she thought. They don't know what it's like to feel yourself pinned down and attacked, to know that you might be about to die and can do nothing to stop it. She envisioned the last minutes the little girls must have experienced in a rush of horror that robbed her of her breath and rekindled her determination.

'Got to be found, first, though,' she said. 'Who's got a suggestion?'

'Florida,' Cowart said slowly. 1 think he's gone back to Florida. That's what he knows. That will be where he thinks he's safest. He has two worries, it seems to me. He's worried about me and he's worried about Detective Brown. I don't think he has you connected in all this. Did he see you with Wilcox?'

'I don't think so.'

'Well, maybe that's an advantage.'

Cowart turned to Brown. His head was filled with something Blair Sullivan had told him: Got to be a free man to be a good killer, Cowart. He knows that, the reporter realized. So he said it.

'But you and I, well, that's different. He needs to know he's free of us. Then he can get on with what he's been doing, without worrying and always looking over his back.'

'How does he do that?'

The reporter took a deep breath. 'The other day. When I saw him. He threatened my daughter. He knows where she lives with her mother, in Tampa.'

Tanny Brown started to say something, then stopped.

"That's why…'

'Tell me about the threat,' the detective demanded.

'He just said he knew where she lived. He didn't say what he would do. Only that he knew who she was and that would prevent me from writing anything about him. Especially unproven allegations connecting him to other crimes.'

'And will it?'

'Well, what would you do?' the reporter replied angrily.

'You think that's where he's gone now? To Tampa. To…'

'Cut out my heart. Those are his words.'

'Is that what you think?'

Cowart shook his head. 'No. I think he believes he has me wrapped up. That he doesn't have to do anything to keep me quiet.'

Tanny Brown stared hard at him. I have daughters, too,' he said. 'Did he threaten them?'

Cowart felt a slight queasiness. 'No. He never mentioned them.'

'He knows where they live, too, Cowart. Everyone in Pachoula knows where I live.'

'He never said anything.'

'Did he know I was outside, when he was busy threatening you? Did he know I was there, close by?'

'I don't know.'

'Why didn't he mention them, Cowart? Wouldn't the same threat work against me as well?'

Cowart shook his head. 'No. He knows you wouldn't back off.'

Brown nodded. 'At least you got that right. So, Mister Reporter, how does he deal with me? If I'm his remaining problem, how does he get rid of me?'

Cowart thought hard. Only one possibility came to mind, so he spoke it quickly. 'He probably wants to do the same to you that he did to Wilcox. Lead you into a trap somewhere, and

He paused. 'Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he's figured he should just run. Boston, Chicago, L.A., any city with a large urban inner city. He could disappear, and, if he's got the patience, after a while start in doing what he wants, once again.'

'You think he's got that patience?' Shaeffer asked.

Cowart shook his head. 'No. I don't know that he thinks he even needs to be patient. He's won at every step. He's arrogant and on a roll and he doesn't think we can catch him. And even if we do, what can we do to him? He beat us before. Probably thinks he can do it again.'

'Which means there's only one place he can be going,' Tanny Brown said abruptly. He looked around at them. 'Only one place. Back where it started.'

'Pachoula,' Cowart said.

'Pachoula,' the detective agreed. 'Home for him. Home for me. Place he thinks is safe. Even if everybody there hates him, it's still where he's safe and comfortable. Good place to start things, or finish them. And that's where I think he's going.'