The Killing Vision - By Will Overby Page 0,35
on at 6:00, he fumbled for the snooze and smacked it. And then again. And again. Finally, at seven, he called Wade. Half an hour later when Wade pulled into the driveway, Joel expected him to come to the door to check on him. He didn’t, though; just climbed into the cable truck and drove away, barely giving the house a glance. Joel watched him from the front window and was relieved.
When Wade was gone, Joel took a shower, then sat at the kitchen table with his coffee and a cigarette. His heart was pounding dully but insistently. He had a few Lortabs from a visit to the dentist last year; he briefly considered taking half of one to calm himself. Then he thought better of it. This was one time when he wanted his senses sharp and unimpeded. He dressed in his cleanest uniform and ran a brush through his hair.
“Mayor Carver?” he said to the mirror. “I’m Joel Roberts from Cable-Com. Just wanted to make sure you were happy with our work yesterday.” He extended his hand, trying to look natural as he did it. He had no idea what he would do or say after he took the mayor’s hand. He only hoped he could stay in control of himself.
Outside, he looked at Wade’s truck sitting beside his Explorer in the morning sun. He wondered if he should get in it, feel the wheel and the seats, see if he could pick up anything on his brother and what he had done all weekend. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Part of it he suspected; the rest he didn’t want to know.
In town he parked as close to City Hall as he could get. The city was still swarming with reporters, and they seemed to have all camped out on the City Hall lawn. He weaved his way through them, stepped through a metal detecting device, and entered the lobby of the building.
The mayor’s office was directly in front of him. He cleared his throat and headed toward the door. His heart was hammering and his hands were shaking, and he cursed himself for not breaking off just a bit of a Lortab to take the edge off things.
Larry Carver’s receptionist was a young blonde, and Joel wondered if she’d ever seen the sling in the mayor’s basement. She looked up at him and smiled. “May I help you?”
“I’m Joel Roberts. I’d like to see the mayor.”
She nodded, the smile never leaving her face, though it seemed to have grown cold. “What did you need to see him about, Mr. Roberts?”
Her question momentarily threw him off guard. “I…we did some work for him yesterday at his house. I’m with Cable-Com. The cable company.”
She nodded again. “Did he need to pay you for something? Do you have an invoice I can give him?”
“No,” he said, working to keep his voice steady. “I just came by to make sure he was happy with everything.”
She scribbled on a pad. “I can leave him the message that you came by.”
“Look,” he said, his composure beginning to slip a bit, “I’d just like to see him, okay?”
She put down her pen and gave him that cold smile again. “I’m sorry, but he’s not here.”
Joel felt his whole countenance fall. “He’s not?”
“No. He’s out of town at a meeting. Left this morning. I’m afraid he won’t be back in the office until tomorrow.”
Joel stared at her, and part of him wanted to say insanely, “I’ll wait,” just to wipe that distant smile from her face. But instead he said simply, “Tomorrow?”
She nodded. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Roberts?”
He shook his head, turning for the door. “I guess not,” he said. “Just…give him the message.”
Back in the lobby he took a seat on a bench and watched the passersby for a little while, wondering what to do next. After a few moments, it came to him. He headed outside and down the street to the police station.
* * *
10:40 AM
Halloran had been buried in paperwork all morning, mostly stuff he’d neglected the past few days while he and Chapman were roaming around Cedar Hill. He had checked for any updates on the Santos girl, and when there was nothing new, he made a small note of it in his report and resumed work on his backlog. So when Camron stuck her head in his office door and told him he had a visitor, he welcomed the break.
He