there are deeper reasons?”
“No, there’s deeper reasons.”
“Like what?”
Stanton paused. “I’ve had them before.”
“Tell me about one.”
“They’re just fragments. Impressions, almost. When I was in Sex Crimes, we found some remains we couldn’t identify in an abandoned building. The most accurate way to identify a body is with dental records. Everything else fades with time and exposure to the environment. But this vic was missing all their teeth. So identification was almost impossible.” He swallowed and paused a moment. “One night, after we had already closed the case and transferred it to the Open-Unsolved files, I saw something in a dream. A young girl standing in a dress and high heels. Her hair was cut short, and her nose and cheeks were rosy, like she’d been exposed to a lot of wind or something. Her hands were up, blocking something coming toward her. And her eyes… they looked more terrified than any eyes I’ve ever seen. She knew she was going to die.
“But she was standing still. And I couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t running… until it hit me that it was a photo. There was a photo of her somewhere. A photo of the vic before she was killed.” He was quiet a long time but didn’t look Dr. Vaquer in the eyes. “A few months later, a trucker named Randy Gomez was arrested by the FBI for an unrelated case. But his home was in San Diego, so we were brought in on the search. They found a photograph of a young girl in an abandoned building. It was tucked underneath his pillow. She was in heels, her hands were up defending her, and the look on her face was…”
“ Was it her?”
“Identical to what I saw in my dream. He confessed to killing her.”
Neither of them spoke or moved. Stanton exhaled loudly. “Can we talk about something else?”
12
The RV had a smooth ride, but it was hard to hide in traffic. Tate wished he’d thought about that before following Sharon Miller. But she didn’t seem like the kind of lady who would be constantly looking in her rearview mirror anyway.
They crossed the island, Tate always staying as far back as he could without losing her. Eventually, they reached a neighborhood Tate had never been to, large houses with immense lawns and swimming pools in the back. Shiny luxury cars were in every driveway. When he was a kid, Tate always pictured himself living in a place like that. But life had taken him another direction. He still had the desire to live there, but not the means to make it happen.
Sharon parked in a driveway , went to the door, and knocked. The man who answered kissed her, his hands drifting down to her ass. She went inside, and the door shut behind her.
“Shit,” Hiapo said. “She’s scandalous. Guess all bitches are.”
Tate turned off the RV and took out a joint from a small plastic baggie on the floor. He lit up and took a few puffs before handing it to Hiapo, who was in the passenger seat. “You had a mama. Was your mama scandalous?”
“No,” Hiapo said, inhaling from the joint.
“Then not all bitches are scandalous, are they?”
Sticks came up front, having just woken from his nap on the bed in the back of the RV. He was rubbing his eyes when he took the joint from Hiapo. He inhaled a big pull and held it.
“What we doing?” he asked in that high-pitched squeal stoners got when holding in smoke.
“She’s with some dude,” Tate said.
“Good. Just walk up and bust a cap in her, man.”
“Fuck no. They got gunshot residue and DNA and all that shit, man. I ain’t riskin’ goin’ back inside.”
“So what you wanna do?” he asked, exhaling smoke.
“We gonna take her in the RV and dump her somewhere in the ocean. Let the sharks have her, man. No body, no murder. That’s what this fucker in the can used to say to me. Said he killed, like, ten girls and got rid of all the bodies, so he was only in there for a robbery.”
“No body, huh?” Stick s pulled the joint away and
“No, there’s deeper reasons.”
“Like what?”
Stanton paused. “I’ve had them before.”
“Tell me about one.”
“They’re just fragments. Impressions, almost. When I was in Sex Crimes, we found some remains we couldn’t identify in an abandoned building. The most accurate way to identify a body is with dental records. Everything else fades with time and exposure to the environment. But this vic was missing all their teeth. So identification was almost impossible.” He swallowed and paused a moment. “One night, after we had already closed the case and transferred it to the Open-Unsolved files, I saw something in a dream. A young girl standing in a dress and high heels. Her hair was cut short, and her nose and cheeks were rosy, like she’d been exposed to a lot of wind or something. Her hands were up, blocking something coming toward her. And her eyes… they looked more terrified than any eyes I’ve ever seen. She knew she was going to die.
“But she was standing still. And I couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t running… until it hit me that it was a photo. There was a photo of her somewhere. A photo of the vic before she was killed.” He was quiet a long time but didn’t look Dr. Vaquer in the eyes. “A few months later, a trucker named Randy Gomez was arrested by the FBI for an unrelated case. But his home was in San Diego, so we were brought in on the search. They found a photograph of a young girl in an abandoned building. It was tucked underneath his pillow. She was in heels, her hands were up defending her, and the look on her face was…”
“ Was it her?”
“Identical to what I saw in my dream. He confessed to killing her.”
Neither of them spoke or moved. Stanton exhaled loudly. “Can we talk about something else?”
12
The RV had a smooth ride, but it was hard to hide in traffic. Tate wished he’d thought about that before following Sharon Miller. But she didn’t seem like the kind of lady who would be constantly looking in her rearview mirror anyway.
They crossed the island, Tate always staying as far back as he could without losing her. Eventually, they reached a neighborhood Tate had never been to, large houses with immense lawns and swimming pools in the back. Shiny luxury cars were in every driveway. When he was a kid, Tate always pictured himself living in a place like that. But life had taken him another direction. He still had the desire to live there, but not the means to make it happen.
Sharon parked in a driveway , went to the door, and knocked. The man who answered kissed her, his hands drifting down to her ass. She went inside, and the door shut behind her.
“Shit,” Hiapo said. “She’s scandalous. Guess all bitches are.”
Tate turned off the RV and took out a joint from a small plastic baggie on the floor. He lit up and took a few puffs before handing it to Hiapo, who was in the passenger seat. “You had a mama. Was your mama scandalous?”
“No,” Hiapo said, inhaling from the joint.
“Then not all bitches are scandalous, are they?”
Sticks came up front, having just woken from his nap on the bed in the back of the RV. He was rubbing his eyes when he took the joint from Hiapo. He inhaled a big pull and held it.
“What we doing?” he asked in that high-pitched squeal stoners got when holding in smoke.
“She’s with some dude,” Tate said.
“Good. Just walk up and bust a cap in her, man.”
“Fuck no. They got gunshot residue and DNA and all that shit, man. I ain’t riskin’ goin’ back inside.”
“So what you wanna do?” he asked, exhaling smoke.
“We gonna take her in the RV and dump her somewhere in the ocean. Let the sharks have her, man. No body, no murder. That’s what this fucker in the can used to say to me. Said he killed, like, ten girls and got rid of all the bodies, so he was only in there for a robbery.”
“No body, huh?” Stick s pulled the joint away and
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