"Дон Пендлтон. The Violent Streets ("Палач" #41) " - читать интересную книгу автора

"I believe the intervals between crimes occur when the killer is
interrupted, probably by arrest on other charges, or by commitment to an
institution," she explained. "Now, the intervals seem too short and
irregular for normal sentencing and parole, so..."
"An escapee," Bolan finished for her. The old tightness was back in his
gut.
"Exactly," she said, almost shouting it out. "If I can find a man who
was locked up during the relevant periods but escaped in time to commit each
of the murders... I've got him!"
"What's your progress?" the Executioner asked.
She looked downcast again, losing some of the exhilaration.
"Negative on all local jail records," she said. "I was just starting
acanvass of mental institutions when I got kicked upstairs. But from the
rapist's M.O. - as far as he got, that is - I believe it is the same man who
got Toni Blancanales, and I believe that Toni is the only living
eyewitness."
"Who is in charge of the Blancanales investigation now?" he asked.
"Well... Lieutenant Fawcett has indirect authority, in conjunction with
someone from the rape unit."
"How does Homicide inherit a rape case?"
She smiled dryly. "R.H.I.P., mister. Rank hath its privileges."
"So what happens to your pet theory, Fran?"
"I still have my friends on the unit," she said. "A transfer doesn't
change that. Between us, we'll finish the canvass of sanitariums sooner or
later."
"Make it sooner," Bolan advised sternly.
The lady cop bristled visibly at that.
"You don't rank me, mister. I don't know why I'm spilling my guts to
you anyway, when I don't even know your interest in all this."
"I told you, I'm interested in justice," Bolan said. "And if your
theory proves out, there's more to all this than a sex freak on the prowl.
I'll need a copy of that suspect sketch, and any pertinent data from your
canvass."
The lady cop stiffened.
"You ask a lot, La Mancha. You won't get me to hurt the department."
"I haven't asked you to. But if there is a cover-up, then those
responsible are spoiling every decent thing a lawman stands for. You owe
them nothing."
There was another long pause. "I'll have to think this over," she said.
Bolan nodded.
"You know the numbers," he said softly. "Our man missed with Toni, so
he's still hungry. How long have we got?"
"Give me time to think, dammit!" she snapped. There was more worry than
anger in her voice.
Bolan wrote a telephone number, Pol's answering service, on a card and
then rose to leave.
"You can reach me through this number when you make up your mind. And
you might watch your step today."
"Bet on it," she told him, smiling again. "And thanks... for happening
by. You know, I should report what happened."