Sixteen

Pam:

From the moment they left I was tracking them down. Dan won’t tell you that, and Dan won’t tell you that he didn’t learn the truth about Billy himself. He got it from me. That big jelly head couldn’t put a two-piece puzzle together without instructions.

So yes, I was pursuing my degree, but you can take any of that neglectful mother hooey Dan tries to feed you and spit it right back in his face. Because every book I cracked took me a step closer back to my son. The Five Rs of Research taught me about newspaper archives. From Conversation to Interrogation taught me how to juice the facts from folks who think their own name is a state secret. And Advanced Investigation Techniques taught me how to get injury data from the hospitals, how to locate a cluster of gun-shot wounds of the same caliber.

I had to do it all by my lonesome, cause the cops sure weren’t going to help none. They’d decided to call all the shootings accidents. All those cowboys were just too embarrassed that they’d been out-slung by a toddler. Then Mr. Berger had the big to-do with that “Daybreak Mugger” up in Austin, and they didn’t quite drop the whole thing—they just tossed it back and forth from hand to hand like a hot biscuit.

“At this point, if your husband has elected to take his son on a vacation, he’s well within his rights Mrs. Cullers.” This is what they told me down at the station. Some melon-faced girl sitting behind a desk.

“But what about the gun?” I said. “Even if you want to call the shootings accidents, aren’t you at all concerned about a 3-year-old boy running loose with a gun.”

“I assure you Mrs. Cullers, as soon as Officer Berger is finished talking to the reporters, he’s putting out a warrant to recover the gun that was used in the three most recent accidents.” She straightened her little badge like she was trying to remind herself that she was actually working. “If your husband fails to turn over the gun in the 24 hours subsequent to the issuance of that warrant, then we’ll put out a warrant for his arrest.”

“But my husband’s left town. He ran from the cops. My son shot two police officers. My husband put a gun to my head . . .”

“I understand your concern Mrs. Cullers, but there are procedures here. These things take time. As matters currently stand, all we have is a series of random handgun accidents. That’s what’s on the official report. No one ran away from anyone. No one put a gun to anyone’s head.” She glanced back through the long window behind her desk. Mr. Berger was leaning against a desk, smiling with his arms folded across his puffed out chest while a gaggle of reporters mooned over him like majorettes with crushes on the high school quarterback. “Honestly, Mrs. Cullers, do you think that the man who cracked the Daybreak Mugger case could actually have been intentionally shot and then eluded by a three-year-old boy.”

“I was there,” I reminded her, but she didn’t give a hoot. I asked about the other victims. Chad, the day-care worker. But she told me neither of them had pressed charges. The day-care worker had left town. And Chad’s parents were so busy planning their trip to LA for another Star Search audition that he wasn’t even included in the “accident” report.

The whole thing just stunk like a weed. But what can you do? I was on my own.

Nearly a week later, they sent a couple of uniforms to the house looking for Dan. Didn’t even mention Billy. They wanted to ignore his part in all this. Make believe he didn’t even exist.

I offered them coffee—I wanted to get some information of my own—but they brought me in for questioning as if I was trying hide Dan. Mr. Berger and his partner weren’t even there anymore. He’d resigned and lit out for Houston. His partner, whose name they wouldn’t give me, just plain disappeared—poof.

So the greenhorns they had working on the case now didn’t even know details form cat tails. When I lost my temper and knocked a soda all over someone’s desk, called them all “rhubarbs,” and reminded them that they’d have found Dan by now if someone had listened to me last week, they told me I was getting “belligerent.” Threatened to lock me up for the night.

So I backed off.

I did my own research. Found the article about Mr. Berger. Found Mr. Berger.

Found out the truth about “Billy Shooter.”