The Third Victim Part 26

"n.o.body knows yet, Mrs. O'grady. n.o.body knows."

Wednesday, May 16, 5:57 p.m.

The man's favorite service provider was AOL. He liked the way it grouped headline news and made it easy to jump from story to story.

Double-click on news summary, Sheriff's Son Suspected in Small-Town Slayings. Two paragraphs later, double-click again for the in-depth report. Whole world mourns. Three families devastated, president cries out for greater gun control, yada, yada, yada. A sidebar gave him additional options. He could chat with others on the subject. See a timeline of all the recent school shootings. Read an interview of other school-shooting survivors discussing how each new incident reopened their wounds and ripped out their hearts. He read that article. Open wounds, bleeding hearts. G.o.d, he loved journalism these days. For that matter, he kept the December 20" edition of Time magazine under gla.s.s. Anything for inspiration.

Two hours before he'd downloaded the most recent articles on the Bakersville story. Not as much coverage as he'd hoped. Only three dead, that was the problem. Front-page news had become a lot more compet.i.tive than when he'd first started. He'd have to remember that.

Six p.m. The man pushed away from his laptop. d.a.m.n, he was hungry.

This motel didn't offer much in the way of amenities. He'd hoped for a larger hotel, a nice innocuous chain. No such luck within driving distance of Bakersville. He'd had to go with a cheap, privately run place. On the one hand, the owner seemed overly interested in his guests. On the other hand, there wasn't a large staff working all hours of the night to notice the man's activities. Win some, lose some.

The man's stomach grumbled again. He decided to try the local bar.

Fifteen minutes later, coat and hat in place, he journeyed down the tiny main street into a dimly lit tavern. Three local men, cl.u.s.tered around the single TV, looked up curiously. The lone, balding bartender gave him a small nod of greeting. The man took a seat in front of three silver keg levers and ordered a beer.

"Anything good on the news?" he called down to the other men.

"Senate wants some new gun law. Hold the parents accountable for whatever damage their kids do with guns."

"About time," the man's friend mumbled.

"As they say, the apple never falls far from the tree; these kids had to get their ideas from somewhere."

The third man eyed the first two levelly. He had an old, weather-beaten face from a lifetime spent riding a John Deere. He said quietly, "Shep's a good man."

The other two shrugged and almost immediately began studying their feet. Apparently they felt in no position to argue.

So the man at the bar drawled, "Shep's a good sheriff, sure. But a father don't you think a father is a separate thing?"

The three men turned away from the TV. For the first time, they truly studied him. The older man, Ruddy-Face, spoke first.

"I don't think we caught your name."

"Oh, I'm just pa.s.sing through. Business, you know. Generally I love traveling down the coast. Pretty countryside, nice people. But this time ... A thirteen-year-old boy shooting two little girls. Then murdering that poor teacher ... Such a beautiful woman, such a horrible waste." He turned back to the bartender, whose welcoming demeanor had already disappeared.

"Can I get an order of buffalo wings? Extra hot. Extra blue cheese." "n.o.body knows if Danny O'grady did it," Ruddy-Face said stiffly. The bartender nodded.

"Come on, Darren," one of his friends said softly.

"My wife heard it straight from Luke Hayes's mother that Danny confessed."

"And I'm telling you that the O'Gradys are good people."

"Any other suspects?" the man at the bar asked casually.

"Some kids reported seeing a man in black," Ruddy-Face said instantly.

"Come on, Darren, no one believes that. They're kids. They're frightened and they got a big imagination."

"Doesn't mean it's not true."

The other men frowned but once again deigned not to argue.

"I heard the O'Gradys have marital problems," the man at the bar said next.

Ruddy-Face tried his cold stare on him. He was large, barrel-chested and thick-armed even now, from a lifetime of work. The man at the bar was not impressed. Old men like Ruddy-Face didn't engage in bar fights. They used their age and position to shame their opponents into silence. Well, he'd finally met his match. The man at the bar had no shame.

"I'm just saying what I heard," he said evenly. Ruddy-Face took a step forward. One of his companions caught his arm.

"Leave him alone, Darren. Man's got a right to his opinion."

"Last summer," Ruddy-Face said in a clipped voice, "I drove to Bakersville for the weekly auction. d.a.m.n if I didn't blow out a tire on my trailer and nearly kill us all. Shep O'grady was pa.s.sing by in his patrol car, his son sitting in the pa.s.senger seat. They pulled over and helped me out. And Danny didn't just sit there. He got out of the car, helped line up the spare, and worked on tightening the lug nuts like a fine young man. When I thanked them both, he told me, no problem, sir, and shook my hand. I don't know what happened in that school. But I wouldn't be too quick to judge a boy, or two parents, the rest of you have never met."

The man at the bar said, "Really, that's interesting.

"Cause I heard Danny O'grady has a nasty temper. Hangs out with the wrong crowd, trashed his own locker. My client has a son at Bakersville K-through-eight, and he said everyone knew Danny O'grady was not right in the head."

Ruddy-Face drew his bushy white brows into a thick, thunderous glare.

His friend once more caught his arm.

"Face it," his friend said in a placating voice.

"Tragedies like this aren't meant to make sense. Makes me wonder sometimes if each generation don't need a war, simply to have a way to vent."

"You think war makes for better youths?" Ruddy-Face asked incredulously.

The friend shrugged.

"I remember shooting up Germans and Koreans, but never our schools."

That's a load of horse s.h.i.+t, Edgar."

"I'm just saying ' "Drug addictions and double amputees, that's what you're saying. Yeah, war works wonders for young men."

"Well, what do you think is going on, Darren? These shootings keep happening! Jee-sus, how many has it been now!"

All the men fell silent, even the one at the bar, who was fighting not to grin.

Ruddy-Face said shortly, "I guess we'll just have to see what happens."

Edgar snorted.

"If anything happens. Bakersville doesn't even have a sheriff anymore.

I hear that woman's in charge."

"Officer Lorraine Conner," the man at the bar said, and the bartender eyed him curiously.

Edgar nodded.