Page 49 of Backtrack

“Millner?”

“Not according to Carol,” Shoemake said. “It was an older fellow who was not on the contact list. She can’t remember the last name but thinks it was an actor’s name. I doubt he was really Ricky Lee’s uncle, but he was scary enough she didn’t argue with him. He would have had to sign a checkout page. Those binders will be in the same storage facility. She’ll look for them tomorrow, but the school doesn’t really check IDs. He could have written Mickey Mouseon the paper and they would have let Ricky Lee go. Carol did say she thought this man was driving a black or blue dually pickup.”

“That was more than a year ago?” Johnson said. “She still remembers what kind of pickup he was driving?”

Shoemake laughed derisively. “She remembered because the guy let Ricky drive. She thought about calling the police, but frankly was afraid they’d bring Ricky back to school for the rest of the day. Beyond that, anything involving that kid tended to stick out in our minds. We paid attention to him. At first, we hoped we might be able to help him. You know, guide him to make better choices in his life. We took note later because every one of us who dealt with him were convinced that boy would come back to school one day with a shotgun and murder every last one of us.”

Cutter took a stack of business cards out of his shirt pocket, gave one to the guidance counselor, and then passed the others around the table.

“Thank you, Mrs. Shoemake,” he said. “We’ll check in at the middle school first thing tomorrow.”

“I hope you catch him before he hurts someone else,” she said.

“That’s the plan,” Cutter said. “You have been incredibly helpful.” He turned to go. Johnson followed him to the door but stopped, as if seized by a sudden idea. Cutter was surprised to see the kid turn and face the teachers again.

“One more thing y’all might be able to help with,” Johnson said. “We’re having a rash of vandalism along Highway 51 toward Granbury.”

Charlotte Blake looked over the top of her cat-eyed glasses. “Let me guess,” she said. “A bunch of damaged mailboxes?”

Johnson gave an excited nod. “Yes, ma’am. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You certainly have good timing, LJ,” Blake said. “I heard two boys whispering aboutmailbox baseballjust this morning.” She tore a piece of paper out of her gradebook and wrote two names in perfect cursive with her fountain pen before passing the paper to Johnson. “Hope this helps.” She touched the back of his hand as he took the paper. “I really am proud of you, Lafayette. So very proud.”

“I guess you were right about those fugitive gods,” Johnson said, sighing with obvious relief as they walked out the front doors of the high school.

“Yep,” Cutter said. “Good things come to those who put in the time.”

Johnson shook his head as they crossed the front lot, chuckling to himself.

“What’s up?” Cutter asked.

“Nothing really.” Johnson grinned. “I was just thinking how teachers and titty dancers both smoke the same brand of cigarette. If I’d known that, I’d been a lot less intimidated in high school. …”

“I suppose there’s a lesson in there somewhere,” Cutter said.

“Where to now?”

Cutter opened the door to his El Camino. “Hospital. We need to pick up your patrol car. You can follow me back to the Sheriff’s Office. I’ll park this beast and either grab another rig or jump in with you until we knock off for the night. Sixty-five cents a gallon for fuel adds up fast in my personal vehicle.”

“We should get a BOLO out on Ricky Lee Pink,” Johnson said.

“Yep,” Cutter said. “He doesn’t have a driver’s license photo on file.”

“Texas Youth Commission should have a photo, right?”

“Without a doubt,” Cutter said. “But all his information will be sealed. I’ll get with the judge, but I’m sure it’ll be tomorrow before we hear anything back.”

“Same with the middle school records,” Johnson noted.

“Yep,” Cutter said. “You go talk to Garza when we get to the SO. Give him the names of the mailbox baseball stars your favorite teacher gave you. He can run them down and then get back with the Pizza Place lady. Good thinking back there, by the way. Looks like you now have yourself a whole stable of informants.”

Johnson gave a mock shudder. “It’s okay with me if I never have to go to that teachers’ lounge again.” He looked at his watch. “What are you going to do?”

“Make copies of Pink’s police sketch. We can split up and deliver them to surrounding Sheriff’s Offices. I called a buddy at Tarrant County. He said we should send it over via wirephoto.”

“Wouldn’t that require the right equipment on this end?”

“Exactly,” Cutter said.