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Authors: Linda Welch
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asked the mom.
“ June Pollock. Amy and I … .” Slapping one hand over her mouth, she lost it again.
Time was a ticking. I needed to identify the killer so Mike and SLCPD could get everyone out of the mall. I would have to come back and talk to June and Amy later, and I had to find the other two deceased people and talk to them. I gestured at mom and daughter. “Can you tell me who did this to you?”
June gulped. She lifted one hand and pointed at the food court. “Him.”
I turned to see the food court. “Describe him.”
“ He’s sitting between a tall, bald old man and a little boy. He’s wearing a navy blazer and black slacks. Some kind of nametag on his lapel.”
I spotted him. A short man, in his late twenties maybe, slicked back black hair and a pale face. He looked like a mall employee.
Yeah. You can look pale, buddy. You’re not going home a free man.
“ Thank you. I’m going to talk to the police officers in charge and they’ll take care of him.”
Now the fun would begin. Mike had only my word this guy was the killer, but at least he had someplace to start. The hardest part would be persuading Salt Lake City PD to take the man into custody. If Mike could do that, SLCPD would follow procedure by scouring the mall and the accused for evidence, and looking at his background. I’d known Mike to tuck a suspect away in a holding cell, wear him down, try to brow-beat a confession from him, but Mike didn’t run this case. But I was betting evidence nailed this bastard.
Not all the cases on which I worked had a successful conclusion. The word of a person who delves in the paranormal is not respected, and of course, seldom believed by people in general, so their participation is rarely mentioned. Imagine the field-day a defense attorney would have with a psychic on the witness stand. Good hard evidence wins a case. One case in Nevada, the accused walked owing to a seemingly infallible alibi. I knew he did it, but the police had no proof. But I felt positive about this case - forensics would find all kinds of nifty little incriminating things on this man’s body.
“ And him,” a young voice said from behind me.
I spun back to Amy. Another one? There were two of them? “Where?”
She lifted her chin and jerked it. “Short brown hair, camouflage jacket, black Levis, backpack on the ground by his feet.”
Oookay! I was not even going to look at the guy directly. “I’m going to talk to the police now,” I told them, “but I will be back.”
The mother’s tone was bitter. “We understand. You have to take care of the living.”
I ambled back to Mike trying to appear casual. Every eye in the food court tracked me. They wondered about me, why I was here.
I walked past Mike and he fell in behind me. I stopped when we got to the far side of the food court. He came in close and ducked his head to bring it near mine. I described the killers and told him where they sat.
Mike put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a little push. “You head outside. We’ll take care of this.”
I didn’t argue. I headed back the way I came in. I heard a voice behind me. “I don’t want to alarm you, but we think the perpetrators are still in the mall. We’re going to escort you out one at a time. Please remain seated until two officers come for you… .” The voice faded as I drew away from the food court. I exited the mall and stood near the door.
Before long, they came out one at a time, each escorted by a couple of officers or members of SWAT. They were separating the civilians as if it were standard procedure, so they could take care of the suspects without risking a confrontation and endangering the others.
The press had been herded away and I understood why. One shout, one stupid remark or question could easily jeopardize the operation.
The mall employee was fifth, but two SWAT swooped in and steered him behind the waiting bus. The brown-haired guy was twelfth. He must have suspected
“ June Pollock. Amy and I … .” Slapping one hand over her mouth, she lost it again.
Time was a ticking. I needed to identify the killer so Mike and SLCPD could get everyone out of the mall. I would have to come back and talk to June and Amy later, and I had to find the other two deceased people and talk to them. I gestured at mom and daughter. “Can you tell me who did this to you?”
June gulped. She lifted one hand and pointed at the food court. “Him.”
I turned to see the food court. “Describe him.”
“ He’s sitting between a tall, bald old man and a little boy. He’s wearing a navy blazer and black slacks. Some kind of nametag on his lapel.”
I spotted him. A short man, in his late twenties maybe, slicked back black hair and a pale face. He looked like a mall employee.
Yeah. You can look pale, buddy. You’re not going home a free man.
“ Thank you. I’m going to talk to the police officers in charge and they’ll take care of him.”
Now the fun would begin. Mike had only my word this guy was the killer, but at least he had someplace to start. The hardest part would be persuading Salt Lake City PD to take the man into custody. If Mike could do that, SLCPD would follow procedure by scouring the mall and the accused for evidence, and looking at his background. I’d known Mike to tuck a suspect away in a holding cell, wear him down, try to brow-beat a confession from him, but Mike didn’t run this case. But I was betting evidence nailed this bastard.
Not all the cases on which I worked had a successful conclusion. The word of a person who delves in the paranormal is not respected, and of course, seldom believed by people in general, so their participation is rarely mentioned. Imagine the field-day a defense attorney would have with a psychic on the witness stand. Good hard evidence wins a case. One case in Nevada, the accused walked owing to a seemingly infallible alibi. I knew he did it, but the police had no proof. But I felt positive about this case - forensics would find all kinds of nifty little incriminating things on this man’s body.
“ And him,” a young voice said from behind me.
I spun back to Amy. Another one? There were two of them? “Where?”
She lifted her chin and jerked it. “Short brown hair, camouflage jacket, black Levis, backpack on the ground by his feet.”
Oookay! I was not even going to look at the guy directly. “I’m going to talk to the police now,” I told them, “but I will be back.”
The mother’s tone was bitter. “We understand. You have to take care of the living.”
I ambled back to Mike trying to appear casual. Every eye in the food court tracked me. They wondered about me, why I was here.
I walked past Mike and he fell in behind me. I stopped when we got to the far side of the food court. He came in close and ducked his head to bring it near mine. I described the killers and told him where they sat.
Mike put a hand on my shoulder and gave me a little push. “You head outside. We’ll take care of this.”
I didn’t argue. I headed back the way I came in. I heard a voice behind me. “I don’t want to alarm you, but we think the perpetrators are still in the mall. We’re going to escort you out one at a time. Please remain seated until two officers come for you… .” The voice faded as I drew away from the food court. I exited the mall and stood near the door.
Before long, they came out one at a time, each escorted by a couple of officers or members of SWAT. They were separating the civilians as if it were standard procedure, so they could take care of the suspects without risking a confrontation and endangering the others.
The press had been herded away and I understood why. One shout, one stupid remark or question could easily jeopardize the operation.
The mall employee was fifth, but two SWAT swooped in and steered him behind the waiting bus. The brown-haired guy was twelfth. He must have suspected
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