Restoration
Chapter 21
Rosalind fingers herself as she studies the autopsy photos Samuelson brought her. "I think I'm going to miss Nolan. He was like having a big dumb puppy. I could do anything to him, and he would whimper for more."
"But I did what you wanted, right?" Samuelson presses. "I did a good job."
"You did an adequate job," Rosalind judges. "It doesn't look like he suffered much—no jagged wounds. He must have died instantly. You don't get as many points for that or as big a reward. But you can make it better."
"What do you mean better?" Samuelson demands.
"I want to go to his funeral."
"Rosalind, I can't authorize getting you out for that." Samuelson protests, jumping back as Rosalind springs from her stripped bed, shaking her head.
"I know every rule here, Apprentice, and how to get what I want. I just need you to carry a message for me."
"Where?"
"The D.A.'s office."
Armstrong's fist pounds the metal wall of a van outside the prison as he watches the feed from Samuelson's button camera. "That sonofabitch Del Monte! That's why he made the deal. She's been controlling him all along."
"What are you going to do?" Nolan asks.
"I'm going to have to let it play out until we nail the bastard. Then we can cut Rosalind's strings once and for all," Armstrong declares grimly.
"Does he know I'm alive?"
"The only people who know that are the ones we needed to set up our charade — and your friend, the doctor."
"She lives and breathes privacy. She's not going to tell anyone."
"Good. So we let Samuelson carry Rosalind's message to Del Monte. We fake your funeral if we have to. How long can you hold your breath?" Armstrong inquires.
Nolan sighs. "Why is everyone always asking me that?"
Del Monte studies the note delivered by Rosalind's new errand boy. "So Officer Nolan is her freshest kill, and she wants to see him go into the ground. The burying was never her favorite part, but she still got off on it. They've both loved torture since they were children, and he ran into her in the woods while she was vivisecting a neighbor's cat. She let Sean play with some of the pieces. They'd shared their lust ever since, making love as victims slowly bled out or smothered — until Armstrong put her in prison.
Damn, Armstrong anyway! Sean threw every obstacle he could in the detective's path, but he wouldn't quit. Even as Armstrong's wife lay dying, he was obsessed with catching Rosalind. Sean did everything he could to screw up the case, dealing years of countless victims down to three, but with Armstrong bucking him all the way, that was as far as he could go. Still, Rosalind managed to take her pleasures by proxy, and Sean enjoyed them with her. He'll revel in watching Nolan's dead body descend into the grave almost as much as Rosalind will. And she'll find a way to keep going. She always does.
The second Grace can get someone to cover for her; she rushes to Mid-Wilshire. The report she saw on the web of an unnamed cop succumbing to injuries sustained at a homeless site can't be about Nolan. John was banged up, but that was all unless she missed something. She hurries toward Armstrong's office, where the detective is behind his desk, gulping coffee. "Is the dead cop John?"
"Close the door," Armstrong urges.
Grace kicks it shut with the sole of her on-your-feet-eight-hours-a-day shoe. "What's going on, Nick?"
"Look, Grace, you saw Nolan. You know he's fine, but that's something you're going to have to continue keeping to yourself. We didn't put Nolan's name out there because he wants to make sure we don't scare his family, but the leak is designed to point to him. His supposed death is part of a plan to strip Rosalind Dyer of every tool she has to continue sending out apprentices to make her kills. It's possibly the most important part."
"So, where is John? Can I see him?"
"He's at a safe house, and no, I'm sorry, you can't. Too many people know of your connection with our division and your friendship with Nolan. If you're seen, you'd put him, and possibly yourself and others in danger. But everything will be over soon, I promise."
"All right, when you see John, tell him… Hell, I don't know what you should tell him."
"That you were worried about him, Grace. I'll pass on the message," Armstrong promises.
"I don't care what the regs say," Del Monte proclaims. "If we're ever going to locate all of Rosalind Dyer's victims, we need to grant this request. She's going to be transported to that funeral."
Sean holds the phone away from his ear while an official at corrections complains about budget and manpower. Sean has enough problems like that himself but making Rosalind unhappy trumps any of them. She'll have her moment. They both will. The coming morning they'll share the ecstasy of the kill.
Armstrong points to an oxygen generator tucked into a coffin. "Hopefully, you won't be in there long enough to need that, but you won't have to be afraid of running out of air. The only statement we've made to the press is that at the wishes of the family, the identity of the dead cop is being held back through the mourning period, and the ceremony will be private. No viewing, but Rosalind may ask Del Monte to demand that she get a look inside the casket."
"While I'm holding my breath," Nolan notes resignedly.
If Del Monte lets her have what she wants, it will give us one more piece of evidence to hang him on, but we'll still need whatever they say to each other."
"How are you going to get it?" Nolan queries.
"Two ways, just in case. We're going to keep Rosalind confined to that prison wheelchair and bug it. We're bugging your coffin too."
John runs his hand over his eyes. "You would not believe the visual I just got."
Armstrong lays a hand on John's shoulder. "Hang in there, Nolan. It's going to be over soon."
Rosalind would have loved a formal police funeral with rifles firing and the cops in dress uniforms, but the simple graveside ceremony fits the aw-shucks humble Nolan. It also puts her almost on top of Nolan's grave. She'd peg the number of attendees at no more than a dozen. She recognizes a few of the cops that she led around by the nose in Griffith Park. She assumes the rest of the gathering must be family. Del Monte is standing 2 feet away, and she can feel the heat of anticipation flowing between them.
A large black cop with sergeant's stripes clears his throat. "As many of you know, I gave John Nolan a hard time, but he stood up to whatever I threw his way, proving himself more than worthy of his badge. Even while fighting for his place on the force, John was one of the most compassionate souls I have ever known. When he swore to protect and serve, he meant every word of it. The way he lived was the way he died, reaching out a helping hand. I have no doubt that the arms of the angels will reach out to him. We are committing John Nolan to the ground, but his spirit will soar to the heavens."
"I want to see him. I need to say goodbye, " Rosalind calls out loudly.
While protestations rumble through the mourners, Del Monte demands the opening of the coffin. Rosalind looks in at Nolan's artfully made-up face. "Goodbye, boy scout. Sean made sure I could watch your send-off, as unimpressive as it is. It was fun knowing you. And even more fun having you killed," she adds in a whisper. "Sean enjoyed it too."
