SUMMER of FEAR by T Jefferson Parker

Author:T Jefferson Parker [T Jefferson Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-08-30T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The bedlam at the Sheriff's Department had gotten worse. The General Services people clogged the elevators, heading down into the bowels of the building to revive, allegedly, the dead air-conditioning system. Random sheets of drywall had been pried away to expose the ducting system, in front of which the orange-clad techs stood looking in with arms crossed, postures of stubborn defeat. Against the far wall of the Investigations section, the Citizens' Task Force phone bank was up and running, staffed by four volunteers in blue T-shirts with images of Kimmy Wynn on the front. The dicks came and went, giving wide berth to the phone-bank workers, as if they suffered something contagious. Reporters lingered, unable to restrict themselves to the pressroom, clearly ignored by the dicks. Karen Schultz, gripping a bulky Records file against her body, tried to direct them back downstairs.

I proceeded down to the lab, where I found Chet Singer using an electron microscope on a piece of fiber left behind at the Fernandez scene. I handed him the tape I'd taken from Martin box of evidence, which Isabella had so beautifully decoded.

"Can you tell me what's wrong with this?"

Chet looked at me rather dolorously, taking the cassette in his large hand. "The Eye again?"

"Maybe," I said. "I think you should hear it. Only you.'

"Then I shall. I will tell Karen to fetch you when I've had a chance. You certainly look bedraggled today, Russell."

"Long night."

"Ah, I can imagine."

Winters, Parish, and Wald were positioned around the desk in Dan's office when I walked in. Between Wald and Parish directly across from Winters, sat a woman I'd never seen before. She was in her early sixties, with stiff strawberry blond wave of hair, bloodshot blue eyes, and a plain, not-quite-pretty face. She dabbed one eye with a tissue after looking up at me.

"Russell Monroe, meet Mary Ing. She's identified the photograph we ran in the papers. Our suspect is her son."

Wald grinned at me and nodded. Parish regarded me with a particularly hostile stare. Although Dan's voice was calm, I could see the satisfaction in his eyes.

Mary Ing offered her hand and I shook it. She sniffed into the tissue. "I'm still not positive."

"It's been eight years since you've seen him," said Winters. "We understand."

Erik leaned across the desk, picked up a small stack of snapshots, and handed them to me. They were all of the same man—in one shot, he was just a sullen boy. The last two picture bore dates: 12-24-82 and 12-25-80. The subjects were identical, a male Caucasian of varying age, in the last three photo graphs wearing his red-brown hair quite long, with a full bear and mustache. He looked like the man in the video.

"Billy," said Mary quietly. "William Fredrick Ing."

"He's got a sheet," proclaimed Parish. "I've had a chance to study it. Interesting stuff. Schultz is burning copies right now."

Karen came through the door, lugging the bulky file. "Schultz is done burning copies," she said as she strode to Winter's desk and plopped the bundle down in front of him.

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