'Just fine.'
'You’re handling this okay?'
'Don’t I seem to be?'
'I didn’t mean professionally. I meant…on an emotional level.'
Up the stairs to the upper floor, the gun in her hand, no sound anywhere in the house…
'I’m great,' she said. 'Really. Never better.'
'We both know that’s not true.'
She saw his disappointment. He wanted her to trust him enough to level with him.
'Okay,' she admitted, 'I’ve been better. I’ve also been worse. Working other cases, waiting for this one to open up again-that was harder.'
'At least now you’re back in it.'
'Right. And I’m hanging in there.'
'Aren’t we all.' He hesitated. 'Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you in.'
'You had to. And I have to be here. I have to be involved.'
'Then I hope it brings you some closure.'
Closure. God, how she hated that word, with all its smug psychoanalytic neatness. As if there could ever be closure. As if grief were a room in a house, and she could just shut the door and seal it away.
On the upper floor, moving down the hall toward the bedroom, the door ajar, her heart beating loud against her ears…
'Thanks,' she answered. 'I hope so too.'
There was a short silence as both of them tried to think of something more to say.
'If you need to talk…' Andrus managed.
'You’re available. I know.'
'Please keep it in mind.'
She wouldn’t, though. Andrus was not a man she would feel comfortable confiding in. He was too coldly analytical, too fussy and well organized. Besides, he knew too much already. She could preserve her privacy only if she kept her feelings to herself. Because her feelings were the only private part of her she had left.
But she couldn’t tell him any of this, so all she said was 'I will. ’Night, Gerry.'
'’Night, Tess.'
She joined Larkin in the hall. They headed deeper into the maze of squad rooms and offices.
'Despite what the AD thinks,' Tess said, 'Mr. Hayde sounds promising to me.'
Larkin grunted. 'Mr. Hayde. You know, that name’s almost like ‘Mr. Hyde.’ Only with an A.'
'So?'
'Think it’s an omen, maybe?'
She looked at him and saw that goddamned smirk. More games.
'Have we got a warrant for his house?' she asked.
'No probable cause. They checked his car, though. Without a warrant.'
'I guess that’s why Andrus didn’t mention it.'
'Probably. Anyway, they gave it a quick once-over-no forensics, just a visual. Didn’t find anything.'
'Anything else the AD neglected to tell me?'
'Only that Hayde’s a cold fish. Didn’t even break a sweat when we left him alone in the interrogation room for twenty minutes.'
'If he’s our guy, he’d have to be cold.'
'Yeah. If.'
He must be, she thought. He had to be.
They turned a corner and came upon two closed doors. The one on the left had a sign on it reading, DO NOT DISTURB-INTERVIEW IN PROGRESS.
Behind that door was Mr. William Hayde, who might or might not be the only man Tess hated on this earth.
Larkin reached for the other door, then turned to her. 'I know this case has cost you, Tess.'
She wanted to say that he had no idea how much it had cost her, but she held back, because he had addressed her without irony for the first time.
'I met him once, you know. Paul Voorhees.'
Her voice caught. 'Did you?'
'In New Orleans. I was working a multiple rapist, and Paul came in to consult. Helped us a lot. We snagged the guy. Eddie Mullen-they called him the Devil, because he wore a Mardi Gras devil mask. Paul must’ve told you.'
'I don’t think he did.' She wondered how many other cases he had left undiscussed.
'Well, anyway, Paul was a good guy. And I know it’s tough-losing any colleague, let alone your partner.'
Let alone someone who was more than a partner, she thought, but Larkin didn’t know about that part of it, and didn’t have to know.
'You’ve been through a lot.' Larkin looked away. 'I hope tonight ends it. For everybody’s sake…but most of all for yours.'
'Thank you,' she said with a quick, faltering smile that her mouth couldn’t quite hold.
'Okay, then.' Larkin clapped his hands, signaling an end to whatever sort of moment they had shared. 'Let’s settle in for some Q and A.'
He pulled open the door and gestured for her to enter the observation room, where agents Tyler, Hart, and DiFranco stood before a bank of TV monitors watching the suspect from several angles.
From this distance Tess couldn’t see his face on the multiple screens. She wondered what he would look like. She wondered if he would match the face that visited her in nightmares.
Larkin was waiting for her to enter. She brushed past him, trembling just a little as she stepped inside the room.
5
At 10:45, Amanda Pierce drove into the short-term parking lot of Los Angeles International Airport. She ditched her Sunbird at the curb, grabbing her small suitcase out of the backseat, and disappeared into the concourse.
She had chosen the airport because it was large and brightly lit and would be crowded on the first night of a holiday weekend. Also, she didn’t know if the feds realized that LA was her final destination. There was a chance she could convince them she was taking a flight to another city.
LAX offered an additional asset, one that might prove critical-the ready availability of taxicabs. Not many places in this city were so accommodating.
But the taxis would be of use to her only if she could shake free of the people who had trailed her for a thousand miles, all the way from northeastern Oregon to southern California. The first step was to force them out of their cars so she could get a look at them and see how many there were.
The terminal was enormous, and despite the late hour, plenty of shops and eateries were still open. The place was like a garish shopping mall, crowded with stores and bars and luridly decorated restaurants. Palm trees were planted along the concourse under skylights and before wide windows. The floor shone beneath the bright overhead lights.
Toting her suitcase, Pierce entered a store selling magazines and souvenirs, then feigned interest in a selection of Dodgers T-shirts while watching the store entrance from the corner of her eye.
A man entered, glancing at her in a way that was not quite casual. He seemed to mutter something to himself, but she knew he was actually speaking into a throat microphone, reporting his reacquisition of the target.
She called him Alpha, using standard law enforcement code. Alpha lingered near the entrance. But there was another way of leaving the store, a second exit at the far end. Pierce wandered in that direction. Alpha did not
