21st Birthday (Women's Murder Club #21)(49)

I said to Conklin, “Ready?”

“Let’s go.”

We drew our guns and proceeded toward the front door, but when we were twenty feet from the porch, floodlights snapped on and blazed from under the eaves.

The light was blinding. I could no longer see the cabin.

A man’s voice rang out. “Drop your weapons. Now.”

He stepped out onto his porch, a silhouette, but I saw the AK in his hands. A light pull on the trigger and he could cut me and Conklin down.

This was on me. All of it was on me. My idea. I was the senior officer on scene. I had no time flat to figure out how to get us out.

The voice called out, again. “Trespassers. Toss your guns toward me.”

“Can’t do that,” I said. “We’re SFPD. I’m holstering my weapon and backing away.”

The speaker said, “Police? Why didn’t you say so? Show me your hands. Believe me,” said the man standing behind the floodlights. “I’m not kidding around.”





CHAPTER 65





I HOLSTERED MY GUN.

I showed the SOB on the porch my hands and Conklin did the same. In the process, I thumbed my mic into the open position so that Brady could hear us.

“We’re not going to shoot,” I called out to the man with the assault rifle. “You’re in no danger. We came here to talk. How about you cut the lights so we can do that?”

He stepped inside his cabin, and pulled a plug or threw a switch. All but one of the security lights went out. We were twenty yards away from the porch, close enough to recognize the man from the photo Berney had passed on to Joe. His gun was still aimed at us.

“Talk fast,” he said.

I identified myself and asked him to do the same.

“Winslow,” he said. “Jake. You’re here about my son?”

“Right,” I said.

My heart pounded right about where Burke was aiming his weapon.

He said, “Then this is what you need to know. You won’t prove a thing against Lucas. He’s a strategic genius with a gift for the dramatic. He has no conscience. None at all. But I’ll tell you this — he did it. He killed his mother and sister. Now he’s gone and killed his wife and baby girl.”

“You have any proof he did any of these murders?” I called out. “A witness? A letter? A taped conversation?”

“Do you?” he shouted back. “Take my word for it, or don’t. Lucas has been a killer since he was a kid. Animals, of course. But my wife and his sister were his first human kills — that I know about.”

His voice broke. He coughed. Then he spoke again.

“I do not know what he did with their bodies. Maybe he’ll tell you if you make him a deal. He wouldn’t tell me. Lucas is a sick human being. And he’s a liar. He’s the one who sent you here, isn’t he?”

“Your name came up,” Conklin said.

Burke snorted.

“We’d like your comments about your son for the record,” Conklin continued. “We can give you a lift to our station, get this on tape, and drive you back. Door-to-door service and that will be the end of it. Check off, ‘did my civic duty.’”

“That’s not happening. You’ve got your man and I’m done with you two and him. Now get off my property and stay off it.

“You know the drill. ‘All trespassers will be shot on sight.’”





CHAPTER 66





BRADY WAS STANDING on the road when our headlights hit him.

Conklin pulled in next to the van and Brady opened my door, “Tell me every detail,” Brady said. “Start with when the guy called you out.”

I told him about the floodlights, the AK, the man who looked like the picture we’d seen of Evan Burke.

“His features were smooth and ordinary,” I said, “what we could see of him. He said his son, Lucas, has killed a lot of people, starting with his own mother and sister, and including Tara and Lorrie Burke. But he, Evan, doesn’t have any evidence whatsoever.”

Brady said, “He was too far from you for me to hear what he said about Lucas.”

Conklin said, “He said that his son is a psychopath and a genius and that we’ll never catch him in the act of anything. But sure as shootin’, Luke did it.”

“Starting to sound like both of them are psycho,” said Brady. “Suggest we keep our vehicles so we can see the roads leading to Burke’s place tonight. Maybe he’ll bolt and we can follow him.”

Cappy and Alvarez got out of the van, stretched their legs, and Brady brought out a cooler from the back. There were enough water and sandwiches to take the edge off our hunger, but I still felt the sting of being run off by Burke.

We returned to our vehicles and prepared for an all-night stakeout. As the adrenaline I’d been mainlining burned off, I felt deflated, bordering on depressed.

One good thing.

I was in a car with Conklin.

It felt good. Like old times.

Sometime later, when Rich shook me awake, I said, “What?”

“Motorcycle. Alvarez saw it coming down from Burke’s house. Buckle up.”

Brady’s voice came over the radio. “Boxer. Conklin. Follow the bike. No flashers. No sirens. Do not lose him.”