bag appeared stuffed full, bulging, an easel stood in the corner. Didn't really pay it much mind. Figured it was a second, old easel he meant to leave behind. Now… I don't know.”
Petersaul handed Lee her card, saying, “Anything else comes to mind-anything at all about this guy-you call, understood, Captain?”
They said good-bye to the fleeing fire marshal who seemed now to want to put distance between himself and the FBI agents. Lee was muttering angrily to himself the entire way out of the building, paying no heed to the landlady's calling after him in search of some answers to questions of her own. Petersaul returned to combing through the immaculately cleaned apartment. It appeared absolutely empty, save for the silent furniture left behind in the furnished one-bedroom, oversized living room, bath and kitchenette.
“We need blue lights and Luminol spray on every inch of this place,” she said. “All I smell is blood here.”
“No way you can smell it over the cleaning odors.”
“I feel it then. Will you make the call?”
“Sure.” Cates got on his cell phone and dialed Sands's office.
“I'm going to check out the kitchen cabinets and the bathroom cabinet, see if he left any prescription bottles or anything useful behind.”
He didn't answer, as he was speaking to Sands directly. “Yeah, Dr. Sands. We got what might turn out to be a lair here.”
Petersaul dialed for Darwin but Darwin wasn't answering his phone. In fact, it failed to ring. It'd been deactivated, the carrier said in a mechanical voice.
Frustrated, Petersaul attempted to get hold of Dr. Coran and only — after eleven rings did someone answer. It was a gruff male voice announcing, “Oregon State Pen. Dr. Coran is inside death-row lockup. Call back later. This phone has been confiscated.”
“Tell her Pete called!” she shouted to the sound of a click. “Fuck! Now what?”
Petersaul rejoined Cates in the living room. They stood in silence for a long several seconds until Cates finally burst out, “Well? What'd he think of our findings?”
“Couldn't get him. Couldn't get anyone.”
“No one?”
“I believe Darwin and Dr. Coran are on death row with Towne. Darwin told me they had a two o'clock appointment there, but apparently, it was pushed back.”
“Then we call the fucking governor.”
“Yeah… yeah, we call Hughes.”
“Let's go to the Chicago field office, set it up as a three-way with the governor. That'd be easier for all concerned and you can help me get all the details in,” she told Cates.
“It's your show. Darwin did leave you in charge.”
“He trusts me. Look, Cates, Darwin has… well, he has a personal reason for stopping this execution. I can't give you any details as he promised me to secrecy, but I… trust me… he has good reason, and Robert Towne is unjustly accused. He believes that. And if he believes it so strongly, then I do as well.”
“Kinda like on faith, huh? All right. I'll follow your lead with the governor. We'll see if we can't sway him.”
They rushed to Chicago to go to the FBI field office there, a good hour and a half even with the siren at full blast.
Agents Cates and Petersaul stepped from Police Plaza One where they had gone to see the body of Lucinda Wellingham and had met Chicago's top M.E., Horace Keene, who graciously and earnestly shared all that he and his team had learned about Lucinda's death and the awful coffin she'd been found in at UPS. The agents stepped out into a Chicago downpour and into a blackened sky, the clock tower across the street at the LaSalle Bank read 5:48 P.M.
“Time's running out for that guy up in Portland,” Cates commented, fighting with the wind to light a cigarette from where they stood beneath the canopy outside Police Plaza One. “What is it, tomorrow midnight? Nothing we got here is going to change a lotta minds in Oregon.”
“We need to compare our notes,” she replied. “There's a Bennigan's across the street. Let's go have a meal and we can decide what to pass along to Darwin that's going to help out there in Portland.”
“Tell me, Pete, you sleeping with our young boss?”
“What a goddamn question to pose to me in the rain in the midst of an investigation with a wind howling so loud I can't hear myself think!”
“Don't call it the Windy City for nothing,” short and stubby Cates replied.
“I always heard that Windy City referred to the politicians here,” she said, stalling.
He just stared at her, his silence a kind of friendly fire-acid bath.
“Fuck, Jared.” She stared long into Cates's steely gray, unflinching eyes. “Does everybody know it?”
“Everybody knows it.”
“Fuck… and we've been so cautious. Never anything in the office, never so much as a glance.”
“That was the giveaway. You two never make eye contact, and never check each other out. It's unnatural, like an ignored instinct. Sore thumb, Pete. Besides, you are working in the middle of an office full of detectives. Pete, I know it's none of my business but-”
“It'd destroy his marriage and screw with his kids' heads, Jared, if it ever got out.”
“Then cut it off. End it.”
“I will. I will.”
“You sound like a junky or a gambler now.”
“I fucking will!”
“That's sounding a little more convincing.”
They dodged cabs and traffic for the restaurant. Once sitting inside, along with ordering a meal, they exchanged notepads and discussed the case and its most salient aspects, creating a list of items to share with Darwin in Portland.
“I'll call him,” Cates volunteered. “I'm senior here, partner, and he doesn't have a hard-on for me.”
“No, he's expecting to hear from me.”
“Christ, Pete, do you hear yourself? You sound like a high-school girl on a prom date. This is an FBI investigation, not a sock hop.” “They don't do sock hops anymore, they do raves and hazings, Cates. Get with the times.”
Cates pulled out his cell phone and began to dial. She put a finger over his phone and said, “I will call him, and it will be a professional call. That's the end of it, Cates. No more.” She left the table for a quiet corner of the room, pulled out her own cell phone and speed dialed Darwin's private cell number.
Repeatedly Jessica and Darwin had been put off by the Oregon state penal authorities, who cited a litany of reasons why they could not visit Towne until after four in the afternoon. But finally they were in, after they had undergone frisking and scanning, their telephones confiscated along with their guns.
Darwin introduced Jessica to Robert Towne who looked so much like his brother that Jessica did a double take. “I thought you guys were half brothers, different moms. You look like twins.”
“To authorities, we are twins in here,” replied Darwin, going to his brother and hugging him. “Rob, Dr. Jessica Coran has helped me tremendously.”
“Little Brother has told me all about you, and how hard you've worked for my reprieve and in gathering evidence for a new trial. But like I've told this knucklehead, I'm done for and prepared to meet my Maker.”
Jessica shook the hand Towne offered. She took an instant liking to him. He was Darwin all over again, the spitting image. “I swear Darwin didn't tell me how closely you two resemble one another.”
“Not for long,” joked Towne.
“Not if things keep hurtling 'long downhill,” added Darwin.
“We are doing all we can to free you, Mr. Towne, to prove your innocence.”“How can you know I am innocent? We only just met.”
“I've come to trust my instincts over the years, and I trust my faith in Darwin and all that he's uncovered. Besides, all the holes in the case lead to one conclusion. The evidence in your case has to be viewed side by side
