He paused to shake hands with a few of the reporters, clapping some on the shoulders, and every once in a while taking a senior reporter’s proffered hand in both of his and leaning close to share a private word, the content of which was meaningless, but the obviousness of the confidence making its mark on the younger journalists watching. The reporters thanked him and gave him their support in the way reporters sometimes do when a great statesman is bearing the burden of some national crisis. Watching, Ferro was so dazzled by the mayor’s finesse that he had to restrain himself from applauding.
As the reporters shuffled out to file their stories, Gus turned a beaming face at Ferro and LaMastra. “That’s why no one sane will run against him.”
“Jeeez-us,” breathed LaMastra.
When the press was gone, Terry settled a muscular haunch on a desk, folded his arms, cocked his head to one side, and looked at the gathered cops. “Well?” he said.
At that point the officers actually did applaud. Ferro stepped over and shook his hand. “That was pretty amazing, Your Honor. You should run for president.”
Terry ignored the comment and turned to face Ferro. “You think you can catch this guy?” His voice was hard, his eyes harder.
Ferro meet Terry’s stare. “I have as good a chance as anyone, sir.”
Terry continued to stare at him for a moment. “Before I came here I called the Philadelphia chief of police. You are now officially detached to the Pine Deep Police Department as officer in charge of this investigation, effective immediately and for the duration of this investigation. Not the State Police, not the FBI, and not Gus. You are in charge, which means you are responsible. The entire manhunt is yours to run, and I expect you to get it resolved right away. Are we clear on that, Sergeant?”
Ferro nodded. “We are.” He had been about to say more, but Terry abruptly turned away, effectively shutting him out, and spoke to Gus. “Gus, you are responsible for the town proper and tourist security. I expect you and Detective Sergeant Ferro to liaise and compare notes, and to do whatever is necessary to protect the citizens of Pine Deep and to ensure that the financial security of the town is not adversely affected by these events. I hope that is clear to you both.”
“Terry, I—”
“Thank you gentlemen. I will expect regular reports.” With that Terry turned and walked out of the office, got in his car, and drove away.
Chapter 7
(1)
“Lois, where are my goddamn keys?”
Vic stood at the foot of the stairs and his voice shook the whole house. He pounded his fist down on the newel post. A door opened upstairs and Lois stepped tentatively out into the hall. “Honey, I saw them on the stair post just a few minutes ago.”
“I’ve only been home for half a goddamn hour. How the hell did they go missing in half a goddamn hour?”
“Maybe Mike—” Lois started and then clamped her hand over her mouth. She had been about to suggest that Mike had moved them when he come in from school, then realized that this was one of Vic’s favorite traps and she had stuck her foot right into it. “I mean—maybe they fell down—” she finished lamely, but Vic was already smiling. He turned and vanished around the corner, heading to the kitchen.
Mike looked up from his history textbook, knowing what was coming. He had heard Vic yelling, had heard what his mother had said, and knew the routine by heart. He gripped the book tightly and waited for the first hit. Vic’s hand swept out and backhanded him across the cheek. It was hard, but Mike had felt much worse from Vic. Even so, it rocked him and the force turned his whole body so hard that his chair legs scraped across the floor.
“Where are my keys?”
Mike blinked away the stars in his eyes. “I—I thought I saw them on the TV.”
It was as if Vic and he were reading from a script they’d rehearsed to performance levels.
“Did I put them on the TV?”
“No.”
A pause as Vic tilted his head as if listening.
“No,
“Where did I put them?”
“You put them on the newel post.”
“How then did they get to the top of the TV?”
“I guess I put them there.”
“You
“I put them there, sir.”
“Did I ask you to move my keys?”
“No, sir?”
“Then why did you freaking
This was the point at which Mike either had to fake an explanation or give a sullen silence. He’d learned that sullen silences usually brought this part of the ritual to a quicker close. Explanations drew it out and gave Vic more time to get hot. It was better not to let Vic really get going. Mike said nothing, so Vic belted him. This time is was not a casual how-do-you-do backhand, but a real corker of a forehand slap with nice form as Vic put his hips and shoulders into it. Mike could almost appreciate the way in which Vic turned into it like a ballplayer knocking one up into centerfield.
