Prior Bad Acts

58

“THERE’S A CABIN on one of the small lakes off Minnetonka,” Elwood said. “It’s owned by a Walter Dempsey. I found a reference to a Walter Dempsey in Stan’s personnel file from a few years back.”

“Did you call the local cops?” Kovac asked.

“They’re sending three units to lock the place down, and take Dempsey into custody if he’s there.”

“You and Tinks go out there. See what’s what. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe he went back there for a breather after he finished his craft project on Kenny Scott.”

“If he’s not there, we pull back,” Elwood said, “keep the local coppers on surveillance. They can move in and grab him when he shows.”

“He’s probably got an arsenal in the cabin,” Kovac said.

“I already warned them.” Elwood nodded toward the door to the interview room. “How’s that going?”

Kovac scowled. “These people make me want to go take a hot shower. Bunch of fucking pervs.”

“Literally,” Elwood said.

“And Tippen recognized this asshole?”

“Makes you wonder.”

“I don’t want to wonder,” Kovac said with disgust. “Jesus Christ. Remind me never to sit in a chair after he gets up from it.”

“He’s a student of the cinema,” Elwood said seriously. “X-rated films are, like it or not, a subgenre, and protected by the First Amendment rights to freedom of expression.”

“Somehow, I don’t think the founding fathers were thinking ofDebbie Does Dallas when they wrote that,” Kovac said dryly. “Tell him he’ll go blind watching that shit.”

The cell phone clipped to his belt rang. He snapped the holder free and looked at the screen.

“Oh, my God,” he breathed as his heart began to pound.

Carey.