“I’ve been transferred out of homicide,” she said.
“Where?”
“The juvenile division. Habitual offenders….”
It sounded like a move to Siberia. Andrews had struck back and knocked her all the way down the food chain. Teddy wasn’t sure if he felt guilty, or just inept.
“It’s not your fault, Teddy.”
“Did you tell him about the fingerprint?”
“Yes,” she said.
“How did he react?”
“It didn’t seem to faze him. He took it in stride.”
“You wanna meet somewhere?” he asked.
“He only gave me an hour to move my office,” she said. “After that I think I’d rather go home, take a shower and change. We were up all night, remember?”
“Yeah,” he said. “What about Vega and Ellwood?”
“They’re looking for Rosemary, and Trisco’s the one. Nothing’s changed. They’re working it hard.”
“I’ll call you back this afternoon,” he said.
“Maybe I’ll have better news.”
He slipped the phone into his pocket. As he gazed at the building, he noticed a man staring at him from the corner. It was Alan Andrews, striding toward him like he knew who Teddy had been talking to. He’d seen him on the phone. Seen him sitting on a bench in December across from his office. Teddy set his coffee down and stood up as the district attorney moved closer. The man stopped just short of his face. To Teddy’s surprise, he didn’t appear anxious or even angry. Instead, Alan Andrews was relaxed, his voice eerily smooth.
“Do you really think you’re ready for the big leagues, Teddy Mack?”
Teddy didn’t say anything, and took a step back.
“I didn’t think so,” Andrews said, sizing him up. “I just got off the phone with a partner at your firm. It’s official. You’ve cashed your last paycheck. Your career’s over. You’ve been fired.”
Teddy took it in and buried it. Andrews gave him a long look, then turned away and started off as if pleased.
“At least it won’t be in the papers, Andrews.”
The man turned back. “What did you say?”
“I wasn’t fired in public,” Teddy said. “When they get through with you, I don’t think it’ll be so easy.”
Andrews smiled and took a step closer. “You really think so?”
Teddy nodded.
“What do you think they’re gonna do to me?” Andrews said. “What’s your best guess? I’ll tell you what they’re gonna do. They’re gonna make me mayor. That’s how it’s written. That’s how it ends.”
Teddy found Andrews’s confidence astounding, his armor impenetrable, if not bizarre.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure,” Andrews said.
“How much money have you raised so far?”
“For mayor?”
Teddy nodded.
“It’s only an exploratory committee,” Andrews said. “I haven’t announced my candidacy yet. If I did, I’d have to give up my job.”
“But how much have you got socked away in your war chest?”
Andrews shrugged as he thought it over. “More than anyone else, times five or six.”
“Then why do you need the Trisco’s money? How do you expect to get away with it?”
“Get away with what?”
“Protecting him. A serial killer.”
“But I’m not protecting anyone,” Andrews said with an odd glint in his eyes. “The man who murdered Darlene Lewis is awaiting trial in a city jail.”
Teddy walked down the sidewalk, heading for the parking garage and wondering how Andrews could maintain his composure given what had happened and the things all of them knew. The man’s cavalier attitude was unnerving. Either Andrews was in shock and had lost his ability to reason, or he was two steps ahead of everyone else and had found a way out. Like Nash had said, Andrews was a survivor.
As Teddy crossed the street and started down the next block, he pretended he was Alan Andrews and tried to imagine what the way out might look like. Andrews had the evidence against Holmes, but Trisco’s fingerprint on the painting would seem to discount it.
What would the way out look like? What would the results be if Andrews got his wish?
Teddy thought it over. Holmes would take the fall and be found guilty for the murders, no question about that. And Edward Trisco III would be spirited off to a psychiatric facility as he had before, so that the killings would stop. Only this time Trisco’s exile would be unofficial. It would last the duration of his life with his parent’s blessings and a guarantee that they wouldn’t buy his way out.
But what about Harris Carmichael, the manager at the cafe? How would Andrews explain away his murder. Holmes was already in prison and wouldn’t be available to take the fall. Trisco’s hair had been found in the glue around Carmichael’s mouth, the lab reporting a match. Vega and Ellwood were beating down the evidence trail. How could Andrews cover it up?
It didn’t make sense, Teddy realized. There was something missing from the puzzle. A piece they hadn’t considered or seen or imagined.
Something caught his eye and he turned to the storefront on his left. When he looked through the window, he realized it was the lobby to the Trisco building and stopped in his tracks. There was a model on display, some sort of building project. The sign read MARSH CREEK ESTATES.
Teddy entered the lobby, avoiding the guards behind the front desk and trying to hide the fact that he needed a shave. As he approached the model, he read the words TRISCO LAND CORPORATION and picked up a pamphlet. He’d known about the Trisco’s holdings in technology and banking. That’s how they made their fortune. But he hadn’t been aware of their interest in real estate.
Apparently the corporation owned 2,500 acres of open countryside thirty-five miles west of the city. The property bordered Marsh Creek State Park and included the north side of the lake. According to the pamphlet, the Trisco Land Corporation wanted to develop the property and had already presented their plan to the county. The hills would be bulldozed down and carried off to make room for an eighteen-hole golf course and hotel along the shoreline. Luxury homes and condominiums would rim the country club for miles. The land just north of the turnpike would be relegated for the construction of yet another shopping mall. From the way the presentation was worded in the pamphlet, it sounded like the project was about to be green-lighted.
Teddy flipped the page over and saw a photograph of the lake. The water looked choppy and people were sailing. Teddy had never been to Marsh Creek before, and the size of the lake took him by surprise. Beside the text was a small graphic that included a map of the area.
He looked back at the model, comparing it with the map. When he noticed a building structure on a lane just off Lakeview Road, his eyes widened and he caught his breath.
The Trisco’s owned a summer home. If the model was accurate, the place sat right on the water.
“May I help you?” someone said.
Teddy looked up and saw two guards standing on the other side of the model. It took a moment to register, but the man standing behind them was Edward Trisco’s father and his fangs were out.
SIXTY-TWO
Eddie heard something hit the concrete floor and peeked around his canvas as he tightened the straps on the gas mask over his head.
