Ferro flinched as Terry hammered home the last few words. He gave himself a moment, and then said, “Yes, sir, that’s very true. However, the three reports were all by reliable witnesses, so we know that—for better or worse—he
“Best guess,” LaMastra said, “is that Boyd’s trying to make it to New York. We know from his jacket that he’s well connected there.”
“Still, no matter what his destination,” said Ferro, “the bottom line is that there are no bad guys in your town anymore. Two are dead, one is elsewhere, and therefore, Mr. Mayor, this ball game is about over. Chief Bernhardt will be following up on the investigation of who might have let Boyd into the hospital, but that’s far less important at this point.”
Terry stared at them both for a long time, hardly breathing, processing what he had just heard, then he exhaled so long and thoroughly that he seemed to deflate. He leaned his head back and stared upward at the ceiling for nearly thirty seconds. Ferro and LaMastra exchanged a look; LaMastra shrugged.
“What about Ruger’s body?” Terry asked.
“I doubt he took it with him, so we can only assume he wanted to bury it for some reason known only to himself. One theory is that Ruger may have hidden the money and cocaine and Boyd thought he could find some record of it on Ruger’s person, a note or a lockbox key. Another theory is that he may have thought Ruger might have had some useful papers on him.”
“Or, Boyd could just be a total nutcase,” LaMastra said.
Ferro nodded. “From his recent actions it seems clear that Boyd is mentally unstable, so I don’t really want to speculate on why he would want to do this, but there was no evidence that he took the body with him when he left Pine Deep. He just left.”
“Well,” Terry said, “then that means you guys really are done here. What else remains to be done?”
LaMastra shrugged. “We have to tidy up all the jurisdictional paperwork, check to make sure we have all the physical evidence we need, call in the troops, that sort of thing.”
“What about the missing money and cocaine?”
Ferro spread his hands. “Chief Bernhardt will conduct a search and contact us if he finds anything. If he needs backup he can contact the state police. Ruger and Boyd must had hidden the stuff somewhere near the Guthrie farm, or maybe in the state forest, so it’ll probably turn up sooner or later. Since your busy season is here, the chief’s going to keep the reactivated officers on for now, so there will still be extra eyes open until the money and drugs are found, and until the media circus hauls down its tents and leaves town, which I assume will be in waves. The Cape May story is still newsworthy so some reporters will linger until they’ve interviewed everyone even remotely associated with the incidents here. Eventually they’ll all be gone to cover other stuff and you’ll have your town all to yourself. Despite everything, Mr. Mayor, all of this hullabaloo may actually help bring in tourist dollars, now that the real danger is over.”
The mayor sat there and steepled his fingers. A number of expressions came and went across his haggard face, but he said nothing for such a long time that LaMastra started fidgeting. Abruptly Terry slapped his thighs with both hands, stood up quickly, and said, “Gentlemen, I can’t say it has been a pleasure, but I do thank you for all you’ve done. Please feel free to visit again anytime you want to buy some pumpkins, watch a Halloween parade, or take a trip on the Haunted Hayride. Just don’t bring any more serial killers to my town, okay?”
Rising, Ferro gave him a wan smile. “We’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Mayor.”
They shook hands, but there was no warmth in it.
(3)
