Free Among the Missing by Richard Laymon Page A

There were seven matching volumes, each dark green, twelve inches high and half an inch in thickness. The spines were embossed, Sierra Log. They spanned the years from 1984 to 1990. Merton pulled down the last four. Carrying them under his arm, he hurried into his bedroom.
    His shotgun case lay across the shelf of his closet. He found its handle and pulled it down. He swung it onto the bed. Leaving the books beside the gun case, he knelt and pulled open the bottom drawer of his dresser. He took out a red and white cardboard box of Winchester and Western Super X shotgun shells. He flipped up the lid. The box was full. He carried it, the shotgun and the four yearbooks out the back door.
    Not wanting to squeeze through the thick wall of bushes again, he ran to the end of the hedge and ducked through an open space.
    As he stumbled out into the alley, a black retriever regarded him casually. Then it sniffed a garbage bin and lifted a hind leg.
    Merton walked swiftly to Walter's car.
    "I knew you'd be back," Walter said.
    "Give me a hand."
    Walter took the shotgun case out of Merton's grip. "Where do you want it?"
    "On the couch."
    Merton dropped the box of ammunition next to the case and sat down. He put three of the Sierra High School yearbooks next to him. The fourth, he placed on his lap.
    It was his latest yearbook, and his last. It covered 1990. He riffled through its pages until he found the individual photos of the senior class.
    So many familiar faces. Dumb, slow-smiling faces. Cruel faces. Smirky faces. Bored faces. Faces so lovely they made him ache.
    There was Doug Hawkins, the emaciated, red-nosed boy who wrote him notes bleating of unrequited love. Biff Krasner, the class tough guy who hungered for pain. Jerry Miller, who thought he was straight and never let Merton close to him. And that damned Andy Tarver. Andy the Flit. The bitch who wanted it so badly, then panicked and snitched and ended it all.
    Well, he'd fixed Andy pretty good. Pretty damned good.
    Ripping pages to the center of the yearbook, he found the group photo of the varsity football squad. The players all stood in full uniform, but didn't wear their helmets. Each held his helmet against his side, tucked under one arm like the head of the Headless Horseman.
    Merton drew his forefinger across each row, carefully studying the faces.
    Wrong year.
    He picked up the 1989 Log and turned directly to the football picture.
    Fierce eyes scowled out at him from a boy standing next to the coach.
    The same eyes glared at him from an individual shot lower on the page. There, a helmet hid his dark crew-cut. The boy was scowling toward the camera, crouched and ready to charge. The print beneath the photo read, "Bass Paxton, Team Captain."
    "Get me your phone book," Merton said.
    Walter, standing motionless at the end of the couch, nodded and moved away. He returned a few moments later with the directory. Merton took it from him, fingered through its pages, then drew his forefinger slowly down a column of "P" listings.
    "Paxton, Bass," he read aloud.
    "He's the one?"
    "That's him." Merton smiled. "He's gonna die tonight."

Chapter Twelve
    The Call
    Pac took the call from Birkus. "This is Deputy Hodges," she said. "What've you got for us?"
    "We've finished up with Alison Parkington."
    "Good. What turned up?"
    "I think we picked up a few interesting items. Cause of death was drowning. Her head was severed post-mortem. Also, there's evidence of sexual activity. That also took place post-mortem."
    "That's about how we figured it."
    "Our boy's a charmer."
    "Anything else?"
    "He has A-positive blood. He's a secreter. We typed him from semen we picked up with a vaginal swab. We also got some interesting combings from the pubic area. The victim's hair was blond, but we found a few strands of black mixed in. It's possible that they came from our suspect."
    "What about her husband?" Pac asked.
    "We did a little checking. He has brown hair."
    "So our man has black hair and