Read Online Terminal Island by John Shannon - Free Book Online Page B

softly.
    “He had a really troubled childhood. I knew him in school. And he has a job that’s probably always threatening to spin out of control on him. I’d guess he found one corner of life where he felt he had effortless control of things. Or so he thought. That may be partly why it’s hitting him so hard.”
    Detective Ramirez came back down the steep concrete staircase with a fresh cup of coffee and a can of 7UP that she handed to Maeve.
    “Thanks.”
    He could tell Maeve didn’t want the sugary soft drink, but she took it politely. Recently she’d been drinking mainly those peculiar herbal iced teas. She was trying to keep her weight down. If her waist stayed small and her breasts got any bigger, boys would be following her around with their tongues hanging out. He remembered being that age.
    “Detective Steelyard is resting.”
    “We went to school together. I think I can handle the name Ken.”
    “In that case, I’m Gloria. Were you close to Ken in high school?”
    “No. We were very close in grade school and a bit in junior high. Then his family started … going to hell, and he went away for a while by himself. Did he ever tell you about Fresno?”
    She shook her head, no.
    “We just never really picked it up again when he came back, I guess. I feel a bit bad about it. I’m stunned he turned out to be a cop, if you want to know the truth.”
    “He was a bad boy?”
    “Not at all. He just didn’t seem to have … what would you call it? Maybe a sense of authority. But that was then. He’s changed.”
    “He’s tough, he works at it, but he’s a little more fragile than he thinks, like a lot of cops,” was all she would admit to.
    “Aren’t we all. When I called, I told him that the goth angle looks like a dead end. I don’t see how they would connect to this train business anyway.”
    Gloria Ramirez was looking over the devastation thoughtfully. “There’s one pattern Ken didn’t want to see.”
    She waited, but he could see she was going to tell him, whether he encouraged her or not.
    “The cards have come in sets. I think the first card in each set marks a kind of warning shot. The Petricich kid was tied up—that’s where we found the two of whatever it is, call it spades. That’s the warning. Then Ken’s boxcar was trashed with a flash-bang, the three of spades, another warning shot. The next two were second cards. They sink the Petricich fishing boat on the second Petricich card, and they do this to Ken on his second card. It might be just a coincidence that the sets overlapped; I don’t know. In the Petricich case, it looks like the real target was the father. What do you know about Ken’s father?”
    “Long gone. He abandoned Ken’s mom when Ken was about thirteen, after slapping her around a lot. I don’t remember much about him except he seemed cranky and old. I mean, older than the other baby boom dads. I’m sure he’s dead by now.”
    “Can you think of anything special that happened in high school? You and Ken and Dan Petricich were all there together.”
    “The football team beat Banning once.” He almost laughed, amazed that he remembered that, but he shrugged instead. “It was before the antiwar era, so I can’t think of any demonstrations. That stuff came after us. High school was all so personal, full of the usual dreadfulness of adolescence. I assume we each had a share of the horrors, but it’s a pretty solitary time and everybody thinks he’s going through it alone. You hardly notice anybody else’s troubles.”
    “Think about it, will you? You might have the key to this and not know you know it.”
    “I’ll try. Did you find out anything about the ink stamp?”
    She nodded. “It says ‘no no.’ Two distinct ‘no’s, not a single word like the English no-no, you know, for a taboo. We had an expert on hanko look it over and he didn’t recognize it. He said it was odd, though it might just be a nickname. Most hankos are used as a kind of