Free Night Mask by William W. Johnstone

could check them out, when we get back.”
    She nodded her agreement and said wearily, “Wichita, here we come.”
    * * *
    Counting the man and woman who were found in ’83, eight more bodies had been uncovered over the years. That brought the Wichita count to ten ... at least. There were no radio stations in Wichita that played music from the ’30’s and ’40’s, and no theaters that showed classic movies. They angled up to Denver and found the count was now sixteen in and around the city.
    â€œCounting all the smaller towns and cities we didn’t check,” Leo said, “the death count is probably well over five hundred nationwide. We’ll never know.”
    The cops drove down to Albuquerque and then over to Phoenix. Then they headed north to Salt Lake City. In Leo’s room at the downtown Holiday Inn, the road-weary cops tallied up the count.
    â€œI make it one hundred and thirty,” Lani said. “Give or take a couple. And that’s not counting those in our own backyard.”
    Leo nodded and called into the station. He listened for a moment, then hung up. “Add one more,” he said grimly. “A Tammy Larson was just found.”
    â€œMinus her face?”
    Leo shuddered. “Minus more than that, kid. The Ripper has added a new twist. She had been completely skinned.”
    * * *
    The cops had been on the road for weeks, and they were worn out. After arriving back in La Barca, they checked in with Sheriff Brownwood and then drove out to the Potter mansion.
    The multimillionaire was clearly shocked at the news. “A hundred and thirty-one dead?” he managed a whisper.
    â€œThat we know of,” Leo said. “We figure the total is probably over five hundred.”
    â€œGood God!” the man blurted. “This is ... monstrous!”
    â€œThe problem is—” Lani said, “one of many—is that most of the evidence we’ve managed to piece together, we did illegally. It would never stand up in a court of law. It would never reach a court of law.”
    Dennis Potter looked first at Lani, then at Leo. His eyes were very, very bleak. When he spoke, his voice was clear and cold and flat, utterly devoid of emotion. “It is my opinion, that in some cases, justice is much more important than adhering to the strict letter of the law.” He turned his back to them for a moment, staring out a window. “Keep and use the credit cards whenever you need them. These ... monsters must be stopped. I don’t expect you two to do that tomorrow, next week, or even next month. But you’ll find them, eventually, and you’ll stop them. One way or the other. You have proven yourselves to be very fine police officers. I compliment you both.” He turned and picked up a picture from the fireplace mantel. A color eight by ten of his dead daughter. Dennis went to the cemetery every Sunday afternoon and placed a dozen roses on his daughter’s grave. He had lost his wife only a couple of years back. His other children were all married and gone. Dennis Potter was a very rich, very lonely man, in a lovely mansion. “You two both know your way out,” he said softly, not taking his eyes from the picture of his daughter. “Thank you for all you’ve done. Please keep me informed.”
    Lani and Leo left the study and let themselves out. They stood for a moment on the wide porch. Lani said, “I counted about five different messages in that little talk of his.”
    â€œAt least. Let’s go look at what’s left of Tammy Larson.”
    â€œI was afraid you’d say that.”
    * * *
    Both cops were badly shaken as they left the morgue late that afternoon. The M.E. had said, that in his opinion, it had taken the Ripper many hours to carefully and completely skin the victim. And there was no dirt imbedded in the tissue, so it was, again in his opinion, done in a fairly sterile environment. In a