The Killing Vision - By Will Overby Page 0,70

stepped into the kitchen and looked around.

Joel had been tidying up since he got home, preparing for Dana, so at least the place didn’t look too bad. He motioned toward the table. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” Chapman slid into a chair and pulled out a small memo pad.

“Would you like something to drink?” Joel asked. “Coke or water or anything?”

Chapman licked his lips. “I’d love some water if it’s not too much trouble.”

Joel pulled two bottles from the fridge and offered one to Chapman. “I never drink the tap water,” he said. “When I was growing up we had well water, and it was good and sweet. Then when the county came along and put in lines, the water always had a funny taste after that.”

Chapman unscrewed the cap and drank thirstily. “Oh, that’s great,” he said. “Been dry all day.” He set the bottle down and pulled a pen from his jacket pocket. “So what did you need to talk with us about?”

Joel hesitated. He wasn’t quite sure how to go about this without sounding crazy. “It’s my sister-in-law,” he said. “I think she had something to do with that Saunders girl’s disappearance.”

Chapman’s expression became puzzled. “What makes you think that?”

This was where Joel had no idea what to say. He could tell the truth and risk being thought of as a nut, a hindrance to law enforcement. Or he could lie. And even if he lied, he would still be doing the right thing in the end. Right? He looked at Chapman. “She told me,” he said.

Chapman stared at him for a moment. “She told you? What did she say?”

Joel looked at the table. “She said she did it. She killed her.”

For a second, Chapman didn’t move. He sat with his mouth open, pinching his bottom lip. He shook his head and reached for his water. Instead of grabbing it, he grazed it with his knuckles, and the bottle tipped over. Water flowed over the table. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Chapman said, rising from his seat.

“I got it,” Joel said. He grabbed some paper towels and began to blot the puddle.

“Here, I’ll help,” Chapman said. He reached for the paper towels and brushed his hand against Joel’s arm.

* * *

6:10 PM

Halloran sat in Chapman’s den, sipping his beer and flipping through the television stations. God, he hated TV. He stopped on the news—the channel out of Springfield. They’d have a big top story tomorrow. He looked at the anchor, Randy Webber, with his blow-dried hair and shit-eating smile and felt sickened at the thought of him delivering that news with unseemly excitement.

He stood and wandered over to the shelves on the back wall. The bottom was full of board books for Isabel, and he laughed as he saw a couple of Cheerios wedged between the covers. There was a set of encyclopedias—no doubt John’s or Sheri’s from high school. And someone really liked Stephen King. Hardbacks. They were book club editions, but hardbacks just the same.

He had just taken another sip of beer and turned back toward the television when something in the corner between the bookshelf and the paneled wall caught his eye. A black case with a silver latch. He pulled it out and opened it and suddenly the beer was like acid in his stomach. He was staring at a clarinet. And even before he looked at the nametag, he knew what he would see.

Sarah Jo McElvoy.

He pulled his phone from his pocket to call the station. He had to know where Chapman had gone.

* * *

6:17 PM

Joel pulled his hand back.

It was as if he had plunged his arm into a mass of writhing, slimy worms. And worse was what he had seen. The girls—Sarah Jo McElvoy. Carmelita Santos. Another named Brittany. He backed away from the table, not wanting to meet Chapman’s eyes.

“Mr. Roberts?” Chapman said, and his voice seemed far away. “What’s wrong?”

Joel looked at him then. His eyes were so green. So innocent. Surely he was wrong. This had to be a mistake. Maybe it was leftover from where Chapman had touched someone else. But deep down he knew. It was the truth. He continued to back away. And before he could stop himself, before the reasoning part of his brain could take over, he blurted out, “You killed them.”

Chapman froze. “What did you say?”

Joel didn’t move. He continued to stare at Chapman. He realized Chapman’s eyes didn’t look innocent at all. They had suddenly become cold and dark. Joel took another