O'Neil's mobile rang and he listened for a few minutes and said to Dance, "Nope. It's either destroyed or the battery's out. They can't find a signal."
Dance looked around the garage. "He's dumped it somewhere. Let's hope nearby. We should have somebody check the trash cans--and the drains in the street."
"Bushes too," O'Neil said and sent two of his deputies off on the task.
TJ joined them. "He did come this way. Call me crazy, boss, but this isn't on the route I myself would take to Utah."
Whether or not Pell was headed for Utah, his coming to downtown Monterey was surprising. It was a small town and he'd easily be spotted, and there were far fewer escape routes than if he'd gone east, north or south. A risky place to meet his accomplice, but a brilliant move. This was the last place they'd expect him.
One other question nagged.
"Billy, I need to ask you something. Why are you still alive?"
"I . . . Well, I begged him not to hurt me. Practically got on my hands and knees. It was embarrassing."
It was also a lie. Dance didn't even need a baseline to see the stress flood through the man's body. He looked away and his face flushed.
"I need to know the truth. It could be important," she said.
"Really. I was crying like a baby. I think he felt sorry for me."
"Daniel Pell has never felt sorry for a human being in his life," O'Neil said.
"Go on," Dance said softly.
"Well, okay . . ." He swallowed and his face turned bright red. "We made a deal. He was going to kill me. I'm sure he was. I said if he'd let me live . . ." Tears filled his eyes. It was hard to watch the misery but Dance needed to understand Pell, and why this man was still alive, when two others had been killed under similar circumstances.
"Go on," she said softly.
"I said if he let me live I'd do anything for him. I meant give him money or something. But he said he wanted me to . . . See, he saw my wife's picture and he liked how she looked. So he asked me to tell him about the things we did together. You know, intimate things." He stared at the concrete floor of the garage. "Like, he wanted all the details. I mean, everything."
"What else?" Dance prompted.
"Naw, that was it. It was so embarrassing."
"Billy, please tell me."
His eyes filled with tears. His jaw was trembling.
"What?"
A deep breath. "He got my home phone number. And he said he'd call me at night sometime. Maybe next month, maybe six months. I'd never know. And when he called, my wife and me were supposed to go in the bedroom. And, you know . . ." The words caught in his throat. "I was supposed to leave the phone off the hook so he could listen to us. Pam had to say some things he told me."
Dance glanced at O'Neil, who exhaled softly. "We'll catch him before anything like that happens."
The man wiped his face. "I almost told him, 'No, you fucker. Go ahead and kill me.' But I couldn't."
"Why don't you go be with your family? Get out of town for a while."
"I almost told him that. I really did."
A medical tech led him back to the ambulance.
O'Neil whispered, "What the hell're we up against here?"
Echoing Dance's exact thought.
"Detective, I've got a phone," an MCSO deputy called as he joined them. "Was up the street in a trash can. The battery was in another can, across the street."