Chapter 11

Fat drops of crystal rain dripped off the brim of Hill’s hat. Despite the rain, he knew that his hiding place, deep in the shadows of a narrow alley across the street from The Herald Building, was nearly perfect. No pedestrians were taking their chances at this time of night in this part of town. Even fewer cars had passed. Regardless, anyone looking in from the street or from any of the nearby buildings wouldn’t have been able to spot him.
Thunder boomed in the distance, and it began to rain harder. Out of the corner of his eye, Hill picked up motion near the entrance to the parking garage adjacent to The Herald. Selena, the professor, emerged from the garage a moment later. Hill saw that she had no umbrella and watched as she jogged down the dark sidewalk toward the entrance to the newspaper’s downtown offices.
She was an unusual sight, a woman alone in this part of town, at this time of night. She stuck out like a dead circus clown in a dentist office waiting room. Hill stood motionless, following her with his eyes. He watched as she drew her slender, white arms in close around her and made for the dark confines of the recessed entrance at the front of The Herald Building.
Hill’s eyes moved to a second floor window that opened about halfway. Hill saw a figure there, most likely McMorn. Had it not been raining, Hill knew he would have been able to hear their shouted exchange. Selena craned her neck up to the window and mouthed a reply.
A few seconds later, she moved out of the rain and stood close to the massive doors at the front of the building. Hill knew there was a security keypad there. She fiddled with it a moment, probably punching in McMorn’s passcode. In a moment, she was gone, swallowed up by the gigantic building.
Hill relaxed and looked down at his watch. It was as 11 p.m. Less than an hour ago, he’d been standing in her apartment, filling out an incident report about a burglary there. Two hours prior to that, he’d used a crowbar to break down the door to her apartment.
He’d tossed the place even though he hadn’t been sure of what he was looking for. In the end, he’d found nothing that would help him put the pieces together over what McMorn and the woman had cooking. Why had McMorn gone to see her just hours after talking to Rembert at Claiborne Asylum?
Hill took out a pack of cigarettes, shook one out, popped it in his mouth, turned his back and lit the thing with a silver lighter. He cupped his hands over the end of the cigarette to hide the cherry and turned back to face the street. In a minute, he’d sucked all of the life out of the cigarette and thumped the butt into the gutter at his feet.
What are they up to, he wondered. What does it have to do with Rembert? Where does Selena have to fit in? Hill shrank back against the side of the building as a slow-moving car passed on the street in front of him. A wide fan of water blew up from underneath the car and a shiver shook Hill’s body like an echo in an ice cave.
Hill drew his coat in around him and headed back toward his car. It was parked just down the street and even though he wouldn’t be able to see the second floor window, he’d still be able to see the front door. Besides, it would be a lot warmer and dryer behind the wheel of his unmarked police cruiser.
A minute later, Hill, his wet coat tossed in the back seat, sat with his head against the front seat headrest. His eyes were closed and the warm air from the car’s heat blew strong in his face. I better not get too comfortable, he thought. I might fall asleep, drop my cigarette on the floorboard and catch my car on fire. This stakeout isn’t even part of an active case, and I’d hate to explain a burned out police car to the chief. Besides, McMorn would beat the fire department to the fire, and he’d ask questions that I might not have good answers for.
Just then, Hill saw movement at the building’s entrance. It was McMorn and the woman. They appeared to be just standing there, talking.
What are they up to, he wondered. Every fiber in his cop body told him that something was up.
Hill reached a large, stubby arm into the backseat. Without looking, he fished his hand into a large leather bag filled with a variety of surveillance equipment. A second later, his fingers found the most reliable piece of stakeout equipment of all, his binoculars.
Hill rolled down the driver’s side window, raised the binoculars to his eyes and dialed McMorn and Selena into focus. She was talking and motioning with her hands. She wasn’t angry, Hill could tell. Maybe it was excitement he was seeing.
McMorn, who’d been standing partially in shadow, stepped into the dim light thrown on the doorway by a distant streetlight. He was wearing a light, black jacket. Hill watched as he began to button it from the bottom. They’re getting ready to move out, Hill thought.
Just then, McMorn looked up, then down the street and his eye finally settled on Hill’s car. His eyes didn’t linger long, only long enough to make Hill wonder if he’d been spotted. Hill lowered his binoculars. Had he been spotted, he wondered. Probably not, he thought. He was hidden too well, thanks to a long dark shadow cast by an empty delivery truck parked a few feet up the street.
Hill sat there for a while longer, the tiny sounds of music drifting out of his dashboard radio. A moment later, McMorn and Selena stepped down to the sidewalk and then without hesitation they parted ways.
McMorn headed toward the Cotton House. Selena began making her way toward the parking garage. Again Hill was left wondering if this was being done for his benefit. McMorn didn’t appear to be in a hurry, but he was taking long strides.
That’s it, Hill thought. I’m tired of tiptoeing around these two. He flipped the remains of his cigarette out the window and rolled it up. He pulled out of his hiding place and pointed his car in the direction of the reporter. By God, I’ll find out what these two are up to. I’ll brace the kid. With the properly applied pressure, he’ll tell me all I want to know about his meeting with the mental patient.