“Give me directions.”
I gave the directions, tapped off on the cell phone and opened the small duffel bag I had on the seat beside me. I was wearing jeans and a turtleneck under my black leather jacket. I took the jacket off, zipped myself into a flak vest and put the jacket back on over the vest. The next item I took out of the duffel was a black nylon webbed gun belt with pouches to hold pepper spray and bludgeoning batons, not to mention my Smith & Wesson. I got out of the truck and strapped on the gun belt, filling the pouches, buckling in my gun. I adjusted the Velcro straps that held my .38 secure to my leg, tucked cuffs into the back of the belt and stuffed two spare nylon cuffs into my jacket pockets.
Now that I knew what Mo was up to I sort of wished I had rubber gloves, too.
I got back into the truck and cracked my knuckles, feeling nervous and stupid, all decked out like SWAT Princess.
I sat there until Ranger rolled to a stop behind me in the Bronco. I walked back to him and saw him smile.
“Looks like you're serious.”
“People keep shooting at me.”
“That's about as serious as it gets,” Ranger said.
He was already wearing his vest. He strapped on his gun belt while I explained the situation.
“This is your takedown,” he said. “Do you have a plan?”
“Drive in. Knock on the door. Arrest him.”
“You want the front or the back?”
“I want the front.”
“I'll leave the Bronco here and circle around through the woods. Give me a couple minutes to get in place, then you do your thing.”
It was a long shot that Mo would be in the house. If I'd had more time I'd have set up surveillance. As it was, either we'd scare some poor soul half to death, or we'd risk getting drilled at the door. Then again, maybe Mo really didn't do any of the killing and wasn't all that dangerous.
I gave Ranger a lead and then drove down the driveway, parked behind the car in the carport and walked directly to the bungalow's front door. Shades were drawn in all the windows. I was poised to knock on the door when the door opened, and Mo peered out at me.
“Well,” he said, “I guess this is it.”
“You don't seem surprised to see me.”
“Actually, the sound of a vehicle on my driveway gave me quite a start. But then I realized it was you, and to tell you the truth, I was relieved.”
“Afraid it was Reverend Bill?”
“So, you know about Bill.” He shook his head. “I'll be happy when this is all cleared up. I don't feel safe here anymore. I don't feel safe anywhere.”
I stood just inside the front door and looked around. Two bedrooms, one bath, living room, eat-in kitchen with a back door. The rug was threadbare but clean. The furniture was shabby. Not a lot of clutter. Colors were faded into a blur of neutral nothing. A couch, an overstuffed club chair, a TV and VCR. No dust on the coffee table.
“I imagine you're not safe either,” Mo said. “You've been making Bill real nervous.”
I did a mental head shake. I'd unwittingly camped out in front of the Freedom Church. Mo and Bill must have been panicked, thinking I was on to them. Sometimes I amazed even myself. How could a person's instincts be so wrong and at the same time so right?
Mo pulled a shade aside and peeked out the front window. “How did you find me?”
“I took a sort of roundabout route through the burg grapevine.”
Mo turned back to me, horror etched onto his face. I looked into his eyes and saw his mind racing a million miles an hour.
“That's impossible,” he said, anxiety pinching his lips, turning them white. “Nobody in the burg knows about this house.”
“Larry Skolnik knows. You remember Larry? The kid who wrote secret messages on his arm. Works in his father's dry cleaning shop now.”
I walked to the open bedroom door and looked in. Bed, neatly made. Throw rug on the floor. Bedside table with lamp and clock. The second bedroom was empty. Tracks on the rug from a recent vacuuming. A few indentations in the rug from furniture or whatever. Clearly the room had recently been cleaned out. I checked the bathroom. There was a heavy drape on the small single window. Darkroom, I thought. Mo probably did some stills of his stars. I walked back to the front door.