True Detectives

“The whole guilt thing isn't relevant?” said Moe Reed. “Checking in one week after Caitlin disappears?”

“But also several months after Adella Villareal's murder. If you're tying the two cases together, it's hard to see a pattern.”

“You don't think they're co

“They might be if both women encountered the same bad guy. What I don't see is Caitlin being murdered because she babysat for Adella. Too much time lapse between the disappearances.”

Fox said, “We've got a disappeared baby, too. And no one knows who the father is.”

Reed said, “If Mason Book's the daddy, there'd be all sorts of motive to get rid of Adella as well as the kid. It could also explain the time lapse, Doc. What if Adella leaned too hard on Book and Book got Ax Dement to take care of the problem, maybe with the help of his favorite lowlife, Ramone W-who'd probably introduced Adella to Book in the first place because he was pimping her. Later, when Rory Stoltz started gofering for Book, he learned something and blabbed to Caitlin. She was a straight-arrow, had known Adella, babysat for her, freaked out, threatened to go to the cops. So they offed her, too. Whether or not Rory was directly involved in it, he figured out what happened to his girlfriend but can't say a thing. Too damn scared the same thing will happen to him. That would explain his mother being so protective.”

“Or,” said Fox, “Rory's also a sociopath and that's why Book hired him, and he just doesn't care. In either case, no baby means no paternity test.”

The brothers had edged closer together on the couch, seemed more of a unit. They both studied Alex.

He concentrated on the lines and empty space that spelled out Bellows's ringside exuberance. “It's possible. And if you ever do gain access to Book and he is impaired, he might fold easily. But right now, he's an unlikely point of entry and guessing about why he was hospitalized isn't useful. You've got nothing to tie him to any of your victims and he lives a cosseted life with Lem Dement's son in a house owned by Lem Dement. Who you know is co

Fox said, “You're saying we should concentrate on Ax.”

“What you described, Aaron-holding up traffic, then peeling out and flipping off the crowd-paints an interesting picture. Blithe, reckless, hostile.”

“Stone sociopath,” said Reed.

“If you can nail him for acts of cruelty, I'll take that bet. And growing up with a father who abuses his mother could sure feed sexual violence.”

“Believing that's how a real man treats women.”

“Precisely.”

Fox said, “Mom gets pounded but sticks around and likes to talk about guilt and atonement, maybe because she raised a really bad boy.”

Alex said, “What was the emotional temperature of that talk?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did she seem remorseful? Angry? Or was she mouthing words as if they were scripted.”

Fox thought. “Maybe all of the above. The sense I got was a really screwed-up head.”

Reed observed his brother, as if expecting more.

Fox shrugged. “That's it.”

Reed said, “How does the religious aspect fit in, Doc? Ax's daddy gets big-rich off what's basically a splatter flick camouflaged as a hymn, now he's building a church on the family compound.” Before Alex could answer, he turned to his brother. “For all we know, they've got a damn cult blossoming there and Mason Book got sucked into it. Actors are ripe for that, right? Always into the Next Big Thing.”

Fox nodded.

Reed said, “Guy's an anorexic, addicted zombie with no will-hell, maybe they were programming him in the hospital and that's why he got admitted. Or someone else was deprogramming him, whatever. Any way you can find out who his doc was?”

Fox smiled. “Going through alternative cha

Delaware laughed. “I'll have to study that.”

Reed said, “What about the religious aspect, Doc?”

“Moe, a wise man once said, ‘Religion's a good thing for good people and a bad thing for bad people.’”

“Meaning anything's possible with this bunch… okay, so we concentrate on Ax.”

“Not necessarily,” said Alex. “Same as with Book, there's not enough evidence and Daddy's dough makes him a big fish. Rory Stoltz is a mi

“Why theoretical?”

“Big fish eat little fish. They'd sacrifice him if it suited their purposes. On the other hand, you do have someone you could leverage, because he's likely to get into trouble and has really poor judgment.”

“Ramone W,” said Reed.

“A loser with impulse-control problems,” said Fox.

Alex said, “And no gates to hide behind.”

“I started watching him,” said Moe Reed, “and Petra Co

Fox said, “Maybe he was too stoned to react.”

“Still,” said Reed, “what kind of tough guy lets himself get smacked down in public by a woman? That doesn't smell of contract killer.”

Alex said, “Ramone got caught peeping his niece but it's likely that wasn't the only time he'd tried it. How old is he?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Interesting. Voyeurs generally start young and some progress to sexual violence. The fact that he's still watching implies a certain passivity.”

Reed said, “What does that say about his ability to get bloody and homicidal?”

“Maybe nothing,” said Alex. “Wars are pla

“Following orders,” said Fox. “Sure, why not, think Manson Family-think any whack-group-hell, that fits with a bizarro cult thing. We need dogs out in Carrillo, Moses.”

Reed didn't appear to have heard. “Fine, I'll keep on Wohr. Anything else, Doc?”

Delaware said, “Sounds like you're doing all the right things.”

Fox said, “And that sounds like therapy.”

CHAPTER 30

Liana Parlat adjusted the washcloth draped over Steve Rau's right nipple.

Terry cloth was a lot easier on her cheek than Steve's steel-wool chest hair.

He said, “You okay?”

“Mmm.” She laced her arm over his barrel torso.

“If you're not, I could shave it.”

“And subject me to stubble?” Liana traced his jawline with a fingertip. Felt stirring under the bedcovers. Saw visual proof.

“Oh, my, Stephen.”

“It's been a long time, Laura. I probably forgot stuff I never knew.”

The use of her fake name bothered her. For the first time. She said, “Fishing for a compliment? Fine: You're a stud.”

That lowered the flag to half-mast. “Oh, no,” she giggled. “Sorry.”

A sensitive one. But so sweet. He'd entered Riptide half an hour after she'd been sitting at the bar. Accomplishing nothing because the place was nearly empty and the few rummies in sight were well on their way to stupor. The barkeep wasn't the guy she'd seen the first time-

Gus. The taut woman with some sort of southern accent projected the couldn't-care-less attitude of a temp, had trouble locating lime juice.

When Liana asked how long she'd been working there, she squinted as if faced with a calculus problem. “Um, four days. Tonight's my last.”

“Don't like it?”

“Dead. No tips.” She turned her back on Liana, checked her cell phone, let a filmy used beer mug sit on the bar.

A Diet Coke and two sips of a gimlet later, Liana was feeling low. She hated serving Aaron an empty plate.