Read Online Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King - Free Book Online Page A

reports her missing and declares bankruptcy on the same day. Does TV interviews and squirts a bucket of alligator tears. We know he killed her, but with no body . . .” He shrugs. “You were in on the meetings with Diana the Dope.” He’s talking about the city’s district attorney.
    â€œStill can’t persuade her to charge him?”
    â€œNo corpus delicious, no charge. The cops in Modesto knew Scott Peterson was guilty as sin and still didn’t charge him until they recovered the bodies of his wife and kid. You know that.”
    Hodges does. He and Pete discussed Scott and Laci Peterson a lot during their investigation of Sheila Davis’s disappearance.
    â€œBut guess what? Blood’s turned up in their summer cabin by the lake.” Pete pauses for effect, then drops the other shoe. “It’s hers.”
    Hodges leans forward, his food temporarily forgotten. “When was this?”
    â€œLast month.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t tell me?”
    â€œI’m telling you now. Because you’re asking now. The search out there is ongoing. The Victor County cops are in charge.”
    â€œDid anyone see him in the area prior to Sheila’s disappearance?”
    â€œOh yeah. Two kids. Davis claimed he was mushroom hunting. Fucking Euell Gibbons, you know? When they find the body—if they find it—ole Donnie Davis can quit waiting for the seven years to be up so he can petition to have her declared dead and collect the insurance.” Pete smiles widely. “Think of the time he’ll save.”
    â€œWhat about the Park Rapist?”
    â€œIt’s really just a matter of time. We know he’s white, we know he’s in his teens or twenties, and we know he just can’t get enough of that well-maintained matronly pussy.”
    â€œYou’re putting out decoys, right? Because he likes the warm weather.”
    â€œWe are, and we’ll get him.”
    â€œIt would be nice if you got him before he rapes another fiftysomething on her way home from work.”
    â€œWe’re doing our best.” Pete looks slightly annoyed, and when their waiter appears to ask if everything’s all right, Pete waves the guy away.
    â€œI know,” Hodges says. Soothingly. “Pawnshop guy?”
    Pete breaks into a broad grin. “Young Aaron Jefferson.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œThat’s his actual name, although when he played football for City High, he called himself YA. You know, like YA Tittle. Although his girlfriend—also the mother of his three-year-old—tells us he calls the guy YA Titties. When I asked her if he was joking or serious, she said she didn’t have any idea.”
    Here is another story Hodges knows, another so old it could have come from the Bible . . . and there’s probably a version of it in there someplace. “Let me guess. He racks up a dozen jobs—”
    â€œIt’s fourteen now. Waving that sawed-off around like Omar on The Wire .”
    â€œâ€”and keeps getting away with it because he has the luck of the devil. Then he cheats on baby mama. She gets pissed and rats him out.”
    Pete points a finger-gun at his old partner. “Hole in one. And the next time Young Aaron walks into a pawnshop or a check-cashing emporium with his bellygun, we’ll know ahead of time, and it’s angel, angel, down we go.”
    â€œWhy wait?”
    â€œDA again,” Pete says. “You bring Diana the Dope a steak, she says cook it for me, and if it isn’t medium-rare, I’ll send it back.”
    â€œBut you’ve got him.”
    â€œI’ll bet you a new set of whitewalls that YA Titties is in County by the Fourth of July and in State by Christmas. Davis and the Park Rapist may take a little longer, but we’ll get them. You want dessert?”
    â€œNo. Yes.” To the waiter he says, “You still have that rum cake? The dark chocolate