“That’s all, ‘large, white male’?”
“He had hair,” Ward said.
“Had hair, or was hairy?”
“Wasn’t bald,” Ward said. “Late twenties, early thirties. The mail carrier lives in that little village down there,” he added, jerking his thumb in the direction of the highway. “You want to talk to him?”
“Yes, I do, but what I really want first is a tire cast. Is there a phone in the village?”
“Yeah, sure, there’s a store and a post office.”
“Are you back among us, Matt?” Washington asked. “Feel up to driving down there and calling the boss?”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said.
“Well, then, go call him. Tell him what we have—were you with us when Lieutenant Ward gave us the vehicle description?” He stopped and turned to Ward. “I don’t suppose we have a license number?”
“No,” Ward said. “Just that it was a Pennsylvania tag. But he saw that the grill was pushed in on the right. What caught the mail carrier’s attention was that the van was parked right up by the steps. He thought maybe somebody was moving in.”
“I heard what Lieutenant Ward said,” Matt said. “A ’69 dark red Ford with a door on the side.”
“Maroon, kid,” Lieutenant Ward said. “Not red, maroon. This ain’t whisper down the lane.”
“Yes, sir,” Matt said, terribly embarrassed. “Maroon.”
“And a pushed-in, on the right, grill,” Washington added, quickly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Pennsylvania tag. So tell Inspector Wohl that. Find out if Harris decided to come out here. If he did, tell Wohl that you’ll bring the casts in as soon as they’re set and dry, and that I’ll ride back with Tony. If he’s not coming, then I’ll do what I can here and go back with you. Or you can take the casts in and come back for me. Ask him how he wants to handle it.”
Forty-five minutes later, five miles north of Doylestown on US 611, a Pennsylvania State Trooper turned on his flashing red light, hit the siren switch just long enough to make it growl, and caught the attention of the driver of a Ford LTD that was exceeding the 50 mph speed limit by thirty miles an hour, and which might, or might not, be an unmarked law enforcement vehicle.
Matt was startled by the growl of the siren, and by the State Trooper car in his rearview mirror. He slowed, and the Trooper pulled abreast and signaled him to pull over. Matt held his badge up to the window, and the Trooper repeated the gesture to pull over.
Matt pulled onto the shoulder and stoppe
d and was out of his car before the Trooper could get out of his. He met him at the fender of the State Police car with his badge and photo ID in his hand.
The Trooper looked at it, and then, doubtfully, at Matt.
“What’s the big hurry?” the trooper asked.
“I’m carrying tire casts from the crime scene in Durham to Philadelphia,” Matt said. When that didn’t seem to impress the trooper very much, he added: “We’re trying to get a match. We think the doer is a serial rapist we’re looking for.”
The trooper walked to the car and looked in the backseat, where the tire casts, padded in newspaper, were strapped to the seat with seat belts.
“I didn’t know the Philadelphia cops were interested in that job,” the Trooper said, “and I wasn’t sure if you were really a cop. I’ve had two weirdos lately with black-walled tires and antennas that didn’t have any radios. And you were going like hell.”
“Can I go now?”
“I’ll take you through Doylestown to the Willow Grove interchange,” the Trooper said, and walked back to his car and got in.
There is a stoplight at the intersection of US 611, which at that point is also known as “Old York Road,” and Moreland Road in Willow Grove. When Matt stopped for it, the State Trooper by then having left him, his eye fell on the line of cars coming in the opposite direction. The face of the driver of the first car in line was familiar to him. It was that of Inspector Peter Wohl. He raised his hand in sort of a salute. He was sure that Wohl saw him, he was looking right at him, but there was no response. And then Matt saw another familiar face in Wohl’s car, that of his sister.
What the hell is she doing with Inspector Wohl?
The light changed. The two cars passed each other. The drivers examined each other, Matt looking at Wohl with curiosity on his face, Wohl looking at Matt with no expression that Matt could read. And Amy Payne didn’t look at all.