The Resurrectionist (24 page)

Sarah wasn’t sure what she was feeling. She was both excited and scared. Anxious to hear what the detective had to say but frightened because she thought she knew what he had come here to tell her. The man who had sat in the cubicle next to the woman who thought she was being raped and murdered every night was now living across the street from her.

“What happened to her? Where’s she now? Can I talk to her?’ ”

“She’s in a mental institute now. She tried to set herself on fire.”

“Oh, my God,” Josh gasped.

“It was Dale, wasn’t it?” Sarah asked. “Dale was her coworker, the one she thought was raping her. Wasn’t he?”

“The man she identified as her attacker was Dale McCarthy. We never arrested him. That’s why his prints weren’t in the system. We didn’t have enough to go on and her story didn’t make any sense. So we closed the case. We figured she was just crazy. Then when she dumped kerosene all over herself and lit a match, we just figured that that confirmed it. Then I heard about your case from Detective Lassiter. I saw the tape and I heard your neighbor’s name. I put two and two together.”

“Do you still have the tape? In evidence somewhere? Can I hear it?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea. He did…more to her than he did to you. It was pretty violent. On the tape, it sounded like he was tearing her apart.”

“I want to meet her.”

“She’s in really bad shape. That all happened six years ago. She’s been in the Nevada Mental Health Institute ever since.”

“How is he doing it? How is he able to kill people and bring them back to life?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “Maybe he’s like a faith healer.”

“But they’re all fake. They’re all scammers. There’s no such thing as a real healer.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

“No, but that Amazing Randi guy has been debunking
faith healers and mystics for a couple decades and I’ve never even heard of a faith healer bringing someone back from the dead. And isn’t the deal that you’re supposed to be really pious and have strong faith in order to be able to heal the sick and wounded? Like a monk or a minister or something? It’s supposed to be like a gift from God, right? Are you trying to say that this perverted fuck is some kind of saint?”

The detective waved him off.

“Jesus did it.”

“That piece of shit ain’t Jesus!” Josh roared. There was still pain in his voice. His eyes were fierce and wounded. Sarah could tell he was just barely holding it together.

“No. He’s definitely not Jesus but maybe he’s able to tap into the same type of energy. Maybe it’s God. Maybe it’s something else. Maybe he’s tapping directly into the life force, the force of creation. We assume that that force is intelligent and moral and good. But what if it isn’t? What if it’s random and chaotic and mindless and somehow your neighbor has found a way to harness its energy? What if the same power that allowed Jesus to raise Lazarus from the dead is allowing Dale to resurrect his victims so he can rape and murder them over and over again?”

Josh shook his head and stood up from the couch. He took a few steps away from the couch and then shook his head again with his back to Detective Malcovich.

“No, Detective. I can’t see God giving a power like that to a sex murderer.”

“I didn’t say anything about God. I said the life force, the force of creation.”

Josh turned around and looked at the detective.

“So, are you saying there’s no God, Detective? Just some creative force? What are you, one of those New Age hippies?”

Sarah watched her husband swell up. Religion was a topic she tried to stay away from around Josh. He didn’t go to church every week, not since everything that had happened to him as a child, and she wasn’t sure he’d ever actually read the Bible, but he believed and was more than a little defensive about it. The mere mention of Richard Dawkins would send him off on a tirade. Sarah was a bit more open-minded. She didn’t know if God existed and would never say this to Josh but she thought anyone who claimed to know was deluding themselves. She was hoping the grizzled old detective wasn’t one of those militant atheists. She had a premonition of Josh tossing him out on his rear.

The detective chuckled but didn’t smile. The expression was devoid of mirth.

“Did I tell you I was a vice detective? Twenty years on the force looking at the worst of human nature. Evil and atrocities you could not even imagine. Every day I saw rapists, child molesters, drug dealers, addicts, prostitutes, pornographers, and sex slaves and more than my share of murders and assaults. So, if you’re asking me if I question whether whatever force runs this universe has any morality remotely resembling man’s, then that answer would be yes. I question it. I doubt it. I disbelieve. If you’re asking me if I doubt if an intelligent hand is guiding it all, unless that intelligent hand is even more sick and twisted than the criminals I’ve been locking up for the past two decades, then I doubt it. I doubt it very much. I can’t look at someone like Dale, who can do the things he can do. I can’t look at some rich fuck who can molest his kids or murder his
wife or sell drugs to teenagers or kidnap young girls and force them into prostitution and get away with it because he can afford the best lawyers, and believe in some omnibenevolent all-powerful father figure up there watching over us. I can buy a mindless force.”

“But you believe us about Dale?” Josh asked.

“I do. I believe you. And so does Trina.”

“Trina?”

“Detective Lassiter.”

“But not Torres, huh?” Sarah asked. “He ain’t buyin’ none of this, is he?”

“Torres is a bit of a skeptic. Even more so than me. At least he is when it comes to everything but God. He’s a Catholic.”

Sarah stood up and paced the floor.

“So how can you help us any more than she can, Harry? I mean, no offense, but so far the police department hasn’t done shit for us.”

“I’m going to help you catch him in the act. I’ll set up a stakeout right here in your house.”

“Is this another one of those off-the-record deals? That’s how Lassiter got in trouble and all the evidence she and Detective Torres gathered got thrown out and rendered inadmissible.”

Harry smiled sardonically, almost sneering, and for the first time, for just a moment, Sarah thought he looked more like a gunfighter than a hippie.

“Yeah, well I won’t be trying to gather evidence. I’m going to catch him sneaking in here and I’m going to put a bullet right between his beady little eyes.”

Hearing him say it made Sarah aware of how transparent the plan was. It was the obvious thing, which meant that Dale would probably be expecting it. But what else could they do? The other part of the plan
that bothered her was that it sounded like premeditated murder. It wasn’t much different than walking across the street and putting a bullet in Dale’s skull right now. She only hoped that a prosecutor would see the difference.

“That’s the same plan we had. But shouldn’t you be trying to arrest him, Harry? Why would you risk your badge doing something like this? I know it’s your job, but officially there’s no case. You could just walk away and let us try to catch him ourselves. Why are you here volunteering to give up your time and risk your career?”

Detective Harry Malcovich reached into his sports coat and pulled out his wallet, a tattered brown leather thing with receipts and business cards spilling out of it and bursting its seams. He pulled out a wrinkled photograph and held it up so Sarah and her husband could see it. It was a picture of a beautiful young brunette in her twenties with big smoldering eyes, long thick eyelashes, and full lips just like Sarah’s.

“I owe it to Dorothy Madigan…for not believing her. If I had stopped him, if I had just believed her, if I hadn’t just dismissed the whole case, she might not have tried to kill herself. If I had stopped him then, he might not have attacked you.”

Sarah’s eyes filled with tears.

“Thank you. Just tell us what we need to do.”

Detective Harry Malcovich was on the phone with Trina Lassiter, trying to patiently explain what he was doing at the Lincolns’ home.

“I’m going to set up a stakeout. Yes, I know, Trina. This is your case. That’s why I’m calling you. Starting to night. No, the captain doesn’t know anything about it and I’m not putting in for any overtime. This is all off the record. No. No. I know that. This isn’t my first rodeo, Trina. I’m going to drive around the block and then come back on foot. I’ll hop the fence and come in through the back door. Yes, I’ll let you know if anything happens. I’ll call you in the morning. Good night, Trina.”

He tucked his cell phone back in the pocket of his jacket.

“Is everything okay?” Sarah asked.

“She wasn’t happy. She thinks I’m trying to take over the case. The funny thing is, she admits there’s not much of a case. I’ll explain the connection to my case to her in the morning. Torres is out. He’s got kids and a wife. He’s worried about doing something that might get him fired. Jobs are hard to come by right now.”

Sarah smirked.

“He doesn’t believe me. He thinks I faked the tape
somehow. He wouldn’t give a damn about his pension if he thought I was telling the truth.”

“It ain’t the easiest story to swallow.”

“I know.” Sarah looked down at her feet, then over her shoulder at the sliding-glass door with the security bar on it.

“I’ll need somewhere to camp out here while we wait for him to make his move.”

“You can sleep on the couch. How long do you think this will take?”

“I’d love it if he made his move tonight but I’d be surprised. He’ll probably try to wait a few days to see if things calm down but eventually he’ll do it again. He’s obsessed. He can’t help himself. Unless he starts fixating on someone else.”

Sarah looked at Detective Harry Malcovich without responding. There was something about the man that made him appear wise and worldly in a tragic sort of way. He was like a vagabond uncle who had been backpacking around the world since the sixties and only dropped in once in a while in between trips to Egypt or Tibet. Everything he said seemed to hold some deeper meaning that he was keeping to himself but hoping she would figure out on her own. Sarah didn’t know what to say about Dale going after some other woman. She knew she would feel guilty. She would blame herself for not stopping him but she’d also be relieved that her own personal ordeal was over. But Sarah doubted that she’d ever be able to relax knowing he was still out there somewhere and the idea of him getting away with raping her angered her. She wanted him to pay. She wanted to kill him for it.

“So then how many days are you thinking, Detective?”

“Three days. A week at the most.”

Sarah thought about living with a relative stranger for a week and sincerely hoped that it would not take that long. She didn’t like the idea of having a strange man wandering around the house, even if he was a cop. She could see the same uncertainty on Josh’s face but knew he wouldn’t say anything. Josh hated verbal confrontations. If it wasn’t a disagreement he could settle with his fists he tended to ignore it.

“I’m going to go move my car a few blocks away. I’ll come back through the back door so your neighbor doesn’t know I’m here. Just don’t shoot me when you see me hopping your fence.”

Sarah nodded. Josh smirked.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll hold our fire.”

Sarah and Josh walked the detective to the front door and saw him out, locking the door behind him.

“So, what do you think of our new houseguest? He just sort of invited himself, didn’t he?” Sarah said.

“Well. I guess it’s a better plan than taking NoDoz.”

“Well, it’s almost four in the morning now. He’ll be leaving soon anyway. Then I can finally rest and then get that run in that I’ve been wanting to do since we left for the hotel. So much for my thirty miles a week. Maybe I’ll get so fat that fucker across the street will lose interest.”

“You’d still be gorgeous even with thirty or forty extra pounds on you. It would give you some breakneck curves. Just more to love.”

“What about sixty pounds?”

“Now, don’t push it. I don’t even keep that much meat in the freezer.”

“You’re a big, strong guy. You shouldn’t mind lifting a little weight. Might save you a trip to the gym.”

Sarah was trying her best to lighten the mood the way she normally did but today it felt strained and false. She wasn’t in any mood to laugh and hearing the sound of her own forced laughter only made her feel more miserable. She fell silent and just stared ahead at the empty wall, waiting for the detective to return.

“You think we should call Detective Lassiter? You know, just to check this guy out. Make sure he is who he says he is and isn’t some sort of rogue cop?”

“Couldn’t hurt. I’ve still got her on speed dial. Hand me my phone before he comes back. I’ll call her.”

Sarah took her phone from Josh and dialed eleven. The phone rang three times and then Detective Trina Lassiter answered, sounding groggy and mildly annoyed.

“Hullo?”

“Detective? I’m so sorry to wake you.”

“That’s okay.”

“I just wanted to ask you a few questions about Detective Malcovich. Is he okay? I mean, is he…”

“Harry? He’s harmless. I know he’s a bit unconventional with that whole Columbo act of his and he can be a bit of a know-it-all and that will get on your damn nerves, but that’s it.”

“It just seems a bit weird that he shows up at our doorstep in the middle of the night and practically moves in.”

“Yeah, he has a tendency to get a bit obsessed with a case. He has one of the best closure rates in the department though. He may not always get his man but he gets more than most.”

“Okay.”

“Look. My shift begins at eight. I’ll stop by your
house and check on you. Harry wants to talk to me some more about your case anyway.”

“Yeah, he said that my situation reminds him of another case he had a few years ago. He thinks they might be related.”

“Really? He didn’t mention it to me.”

“Oh, shit!”

“What?”