FOLLOW THE LEADER - Chapter 77

 Chapter 77

Guessing that Mrs. Latham was tied up and gagged or dead, I headed for her room.  Dorothy Latham lay on her left side with the covers pulled up. This position exposed her right temple. An easy target. I saw a small hole, probably from a .22. There was very little blood. I touched it with my finger, which made my own blood curdle. Still warm. I had just missed him. 

I crept into the hallway.

The door to Jason’s room was closed. I slowly turned the knob. Unlocked. Keeping my flash off I pushed it open with my  foot.

No response.

Keeping low, I groped my way inside and found the light switch. I turned it on.

No shooter present. If he had been hiding in the closet, he would have shot at me by now. 

I began to search the room.

When I went around the bed, there was Cocoa’s twisted body. She had fallen onto her side, which was unnatural. She must have passed out or died before she fell. At first I guessed that maybe Powers had shot her in the head. But no. There were two holes in her chest. One of them had hit the bulls-eye. He had killed her with the same .22 pistol. She had on a black T-shirt and black jeans. A half-on white sock was on one foot, the other bare.

Clearly she was trying to leave him.

There was no wallet. I figured Jason had taken it. I found 

Cocoa’s makeup kit on an old bureau. Then I spotted a duffel bag near the closet. She had fled from the raid with just a few items, it appeared. Inside the bag was a sweatshirt, black sneakers, two pairs of underwear, a pack of hand wipes, and an overripe apple. Beneath all that I spotted a large switchblade knife. Was she hiding it from Powers? 

I kept looking for anything that Powers might have left. There was nothing on the tabletops, nor in the bureau drawers or closet. Nothing inside the big desk drawer, either. 

I was about to leave when I spotted a wastebasket. It appeared to be completely empty except for an old newspaper. I pulled out the paper and saw used tissues. Below those was a tiny wad of paper. I plucked it out and opened it. It was a crudely drawn rectangle with one X inside it.  Below it was “G.Park.” More than likely the little map was Cocoa’s and she had wadded it up. Something Jason would never do if he were running from the law. Could the G stand for Golden Gate Park?  Possibly. But Glen Canyon Park was only minutes away by foot, so it was probably the latter. What did the X stand for? I tried to visualize its location. Far left (west) below the row of trees, which ran alongside Elk Street. The bank below it was not steep. You could park on the street and descend the bank and be inside of Glen Canyon Park, as it was officially called. If it was dark you would be unseen.

The X stood for a small clubhouse.

It had picnic tables outside, a barbecue pit and doors which led into bathrooms. Inside was the meeting room. Chances were that all of these rooms were locked up at night.

More than likely, this was the spot that Sheena, Peewee and the Mexican girl were supposed to head for after their escape. Jason would wait for them there.

Now I was positive that my hunch about Powers hiding in the park was correct. I needed to call Colin.

I quickly phoned him but got his voice mail.  I checked my watch. It was nearly two a.m.

Answer!

I got out my phone and punched in Colin’s emergency number. 

And got nothing.

I left a long message about the freshly killed bodies I had found in the Latham house. “He must have seen me coming up the street,” I finished. Then I told him where Powers might be: Glen Canyon Park, where Colin and I had played  as kids. I flashed on one memorable day when we played Capture The Flag with some buddies from our Potrero Hill neighborhood. “I’m going after him,” I announced. “Don’t stress. Strictly reconnaissance. I know better than to bring a knife to a gun fight.”

Secretly I was itching to get my hands on Jason Powers, but if I throttled him, he could never disclose all the killings he had ordered. Nor could he tell us if a Southern California branch existed, possibly made up of gang members who did not follow him to Northern California.

I disconnected.

Somehow I remembered to wipe down the doorknobs and other things I had touched, both upstairs and down, ending with the utility room.

I stepped outside into the small back yard and breathed cool fresh air. Thick fog had descended. 

That would not stop the predators inside Glen Canyon Park.

And in all likelihood, one of them was waiting for me.