Der Schädelring: Thriller (German Edition)

the deal?" Sue used Julia's nickname for her, a reference to the Credence Clearwater Revival song.
    "You'll get the scoop if something turns up. I know solving a twenty-year-old missing-persons case isn't Page One stuff, but at least you'll have my gratitude."
    "Great. That and a quarter will let me throw a coin in a street musician's hat."
    "Is it okay if I come down around eleven? Then I'll take you out to lunch."
    "Okay. I'll have to run, though. They're releasing the autopsy report of a suspected drug dealer. Five bullet holes in him, what do you think was the cause of death?"
    "Let me guess. No matter what the medical examiner's ruling, the D.A.'s office will go, 'No evidence, no case.'"
    "Saves taxpayer money."
    Julia took a cab across town. The Appeal had changed very little in four months, and Julia grew a little wistful seeing her old desk. The newsroom was just as busy as before, her column inches in the first four pages filled by younger, hungrier writers. A few former coworkers seemed glad to see her, but afforded her only a couple of minutes before turning back to the day's breaking stories.
    Sue McCallister was vibrant in a red skirt and jacket, her curly brown hair tied back with a scarf. Julia hugged her, glad for some human contact after enduring Mitchell's mood swings. They spent a couple of minutes catching up on the last few months and Julia's new job, and then Sue said, "You got your 'bloodhound' face on. Let's get to the clippings."
    They went to a small cubicle and sat at a table covered with press releases and Styrofoam coffee cups. Sue had already made copies of all the stories on Douglas Stone's disappearance, and the pages protruded from a manila folder. Julia was familiar with most; she had clippings of the case tucked into her filing cabinet in Elkwood. This time, though, she jotted notes from each.
    "Ah, what are we looking for?" Sue said, her smile bright with lipstick.
    "Cops. I’m tracking the trackers."
    "Well, T.L. Snead headed that case, at least early on. It got dropped pretty quick."
    "Snead. Why does that sound familiar?"
    "Probably because you've read it a hundred times. He's the one who made all the media statements."
    They went deeper into the pile. Other officers listed were Whitmore, a Sgt. J.T. Redding, and Sgt. W.R. Ussery. Julia scanned the copy she almost knew by heart, hoping to catch something she had missed the first time. No mention of Satanic connections had ever been made.
    One article was accompanied by a photograph of little Julia, her eyes wide and her mouth relaxed in shock. Some unidentified Social Services worker was leading her into an office building. The cut-line copy downplayed the "abandoned girl" theme, but it was impossible to avoid sensationalism totally. Julia had been front-page news for nearly a week, slipped to the crime briefs, and finally was gone, fading into the gray wasteland of dead stories.
    Snead was quoted in several of the early articles. He used copspeak such as "We're following up on every lead" and "We're hopeful that Mr. Stone will be found." Snead was photographed at the front of the house, directing the investigation, his hooked nose and dark eyes making him look like a great bird of prey. Far in the background, barely visible in the murky ink of the fence line, the barn stood in the meadow.
    Julia's heart raced for a moment, but she turned her mind back to business.
    "T.L. Snead, T.L. Snead," Julia murmured. "I wonder what his initials stand for?"
    Sue wiggled two of her fingers. "Let your fingers do the walking, girl."
    Sue turned to her computer and mouse-clicked her way to a database of public records that included municipal police reports. A separate database listed the members of the police force, their salaries, and career highlights. Sue made a dirty joke about “police briefs” as she browsed the files.
    T.L. Snead was not on the current roster. A search revealed that Snead had transferred from the force four months ago, though he was nearing retirement. The lieutenant had resigned to accept a position in Elkwood, North Carolina.

 
     
    CHAPTER SIXTEEN
     
    "Weird," said Sue. "How many people move from Memphis to Elkwood every year?"
    "Do you believe in coincidences?" Julia asked.
    "I don't believe anything unless I read it in the paper. You know the first rule of journalism: Consider the source."
    Julia's mind raced with this new information. T.L. Snead had led the investigation into her father's disappearance, an