Free Killing Spree by Kevin O'Brien Page B

her door. He walked around outside the house to make sure Gillian’s intruder had indeed left. He even helped her clean up some of the mess on the living room floor—the broken beer bottles and half-burnt, soggy bags. Since Barry’s disappearance, the police had been harassing Gillian almost as much as these hoods. She’d become very wary of Seattle’s Finest. But this polite, young cop, who kept calling her “ma’am,” restored her faith in local law enforcement. She told him about the intruder threatening to go after Ethan.
    “Well, ma’am, it’s almost three o’clock,” the officer said. “If you want to go pick up your son at his school, I can follow you in the patrol car and make sure this guy doesn’t show up again. Would that help?”
    Gillian wanted to hug him. “Yes, thank you very much.”
    They arrived at Ethan’s school a bit early. Gillian pulled up about half a block behind the school buses. In the rearview mirror, she watched the squad car park behind her. The young policeman got out of his vehicle. He came around to the passenger side of her Saturn and opened the door. “Do you see this guy who threatened you anywhere on the premises, ma’am?”
    Gillian took a careful look around. “No, thank God.”
    To her surprise, the policeman climbed into her passenger seat and closed the door. “I doubt he’ll show,” the cop said, glancing toward the school. “But if he does, I’ll grab him.”
    Gillian saw the school’s main doors open. The children began to pour out. She recognized a couple of Ethan’s classmates. Biting her lip, she watched for her son.
    “There’s Ethan now,” the cop said. “I see him.”
    Gillian spotted him too—wandering out the door alone after a group of taller boys. She hated to see him by himself. He had one good friend, Craig Merchant, who was quite athletic and popular. Ethan was so skinny and uncoordinated. They made an odd couple, but they’d been best friends since the fourth grade.
    As Gillian watched Ethan emerge from the school alone, she almost wanted to explain to the cop that her son wasn’t totally friendless. But then she noticed the young officer staring intently at Ethan. Something didn’t seem right. “How did you recognize my son?” she murmured, squinting at the cop. “Out of the kids there, you were able to point him out.”
    The young cop turned to her with an icy stare. A tiny smile flickered across his face. “Oh, we know him, ma’am,” he said quietly. “And if you don’t start cooperating with my buddies, you’ll never see Ethan again. Now, where the fuck is your husband?”
    “I—I don’t know where he is, I swear. You have to believe me.” Gillian helplessly shook her head and started to cry. “I’m at the point right now where I’d turn in Barry just to get you people off my back and have a little peace and quiet.” This wasn’t exactly true. But now her son’s life was in jeopardy, and nothing else mattered. She would have said anything they wanted to hear.
    His head down, Ethan headed toward his school bus.
    The young officer was staring at him. He pulled his gun out of his holster. “Honk your horn and wave at him,” he said.
    “What?” Gillian asked, bewildered.
    “Do it,” he grunted.
    She tapped her horn twice. Several children glanced in her direction—including Ethan. Gillian rolled down her window and waved at him. All the while, every muscle in her body was rigid, and she felt a knot in her stomach. She hoped against hope that for some reason Ethan would decide to run away. Maybe some sixth sense would warn him of the danger.
    For a moment, Ethan seemed confused. Cocking his head to one side, he stared at the Saturn, but didn’t move.
    “Keep waving at him, Mrs. Tanner,” the cop said. “Now, here’s the deal. Before your son gets here, I’ll step out of the vehicle. I’ll look after your boy. You’ll drive to 811 Olive Way, where my friend is waiting. ‘811 Olive Way’ —say