Dead Man's Song (Pine Deep 2)

All afternoon he’d been rehearsing something witty and clever to say when she finally woke up, but his throat went as dry as sand and he couldn’t say a thing.

Instead, Val said, “You look horrible. ”

He swallowed, smiled, and said, “Whereas you are the most beautiful woman in the world. ” He kissed her hand.

“Oh, please. ” She pulled her hand gently out of his and reached up to touch her face, probing the thick bandage over her eye. “Ow. How’s this look?”

He peeked under the gauze. “Like an eggplant on a hot summer day, but hey, a few pounds of makeup and nobody’ll ever notice. ” He took a cup of water from the bedside table and handed it to her. She sipped once through the straw, took a breath, and took a longer sip before handing the cup back, her face thoughtful. Crow could imagine the tape machines in her

head replaying everything that had happened. He said softly, “Ruger’s dead. ”

“For sure this time?” Equal parts edge and uncertainty in her voice, echoing what he had asked Jerry Head.

“For double damn sure. ”

“Good,” she said and it was very nearly a snarl. She touched her chest, feeling for her little silver cross, but it wasn’t there; the nurses had taken it off. Crow opened the drawer of the bedside table and fished it out. He clumsily managed to place it around her neck and attach the clasp. She seemed to relax a bit more once it was on.

“How are Mark and Connie?

Crow gave it to her straight, repeating verbatim what Saul Weinstock had said. Val listened and then gave a single curt nod, but he knew she was processing it. “There’s more,” he said, taking her hand again. He took a deep breath and then told her about the new killings out at the farm. He could see the hurt register on her face, but she didn’t break.

“Those poor men,” she said, her voice hollowed out by shock. “Did they have families?” When he nodded, she shook her head. “My God!”

“They’ll catch Boyd soon, though. I saw the news earlier and they have state troopers, forest rangers, every kind of cop…even dogs and planes out there. ”

Her mouth was as hard as a knife blade. “They ought to gun him down and bury him in an unmarked grave. Right next to Ruger. ” Crow nodded, staring down at her hand, feeling the harshness of her words, but not finding any fault with her sentiments.

A few moments later she squeezed his hand and when he looked at her there were tears in her eyes. “I just want it to end, Crow!” she said, and her chest hitched with the first sob. “I just want it to be over. ” She started to cry then—deep sobs that made her body spasm and jerk. Crow reached for her and tried to comfort her with his nearness, whispering meaningless words as he held her. When he heard her say, “Daddy!” between the sobs, Crow lost it, too, and they clung together in grief.

(8)

Sunday was the only day Dick Hangood got to sleep in and he usually didn’t crawl out of bed before four in the afternoon, so when his phone rang at three, he leaned over and stared bleary-eyed at the caller ID, saw that it was Willard Fowler Newton, and almost didn’t answer. The only reason he even bothered was because Dick’s lover, Anton, was still asleep and the phone would wake him up. He slipped out of bed, took the portable phone, and clicked it on as he went into the living room. He slouched down into a leather armchair and immediately his dog leapt into his lap.

“You have one minute and then I’m going back to sleep, Newt, and unless this involves Brad Pitt and gratuitous nudity, I am probably going to fire you. Just so you know. ” Dick Hangood was the editor and co-owner of the Black Marsh Sentinel, a small paper that came out three times a week in the town just south of Pine Deep.

Willard Fowler Newton said just fourteen words: “The guy Malcolm Crow shot and killed last night was the Cape May Killer. ”

Dick Hangood sat up in the chair so fast he sent his Pomeranian flying off his lap and onto the hardwood floor where—in a fit of pique—he began savaging Anton’s socks, which were lying atop his shoes by the sofa. “Newton,” he said tiredly, “if you are jerking my chain—”

“Dick…I interviewed someone who was involved in what happened the other night. ” He was stretching that. Mike Sweeney had told him about the Cape May Killer connection, but Mike was on the periphery of what had happened.

For Hangood shifting gears into true newsman mode was an effort, but he managed it. “Who else knows about this?”

“No one. ”

“I mean, what other papers are there?”

“I’m serious—no one. The cops have been keeping this hush-hush. What I mean is…some other reporters know about the cop killings, but no one else knows about the Cape May Killer angle. I’ve been following the story all day,” Newton said urgently.

Hangood was still trying to find sense in this. “But the chief already issued a statement about the shooting at the Guthrie place. No one said anything about it being related to Cape May. ”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why this is what we in the news business call a scoop. ”

“Don’t get smart with me, Newt. ”

“Wake up, Dick…this is the real thing. We have to go to press right now. We have to get this out in a couple of hours. We’ll never have another chance—”

“Shut up and let me think. ”