bedroom and told Daniels he was maintaining the crime scene. Daniels waved him over. “Show this license to every tenant in this building and find out if anyone saw him here this afternoon. Also whether anyone saw a black Mercedes sedan. I want every tenant asked. I also want the neighborhood canvassed.”
“His nose is probably bandaged up,” Shannon offered. Daniels eyes narrowed as he gave him a sideways glance. “I broke it pretty good the other day,” Shannon explained.
“You heard what he said,” Daniels said to Jenks. “Mention the bandages.” Jenks acknowledged Daniels with a curt “yes sir”, then left the apartment.
Daniels asked Shannon, “Outside the videotapes, anything taken?”
“My computer. Nothing else that’s obvious. I’ll go through the apartment more thoroughly later. Are you going to talk to True Light?”
“Yeah, I’ll get their side of it. I want you heading over to the precinct and looking at mug shots for that other Russian.”
“Later. Mug shots are a long shot at best. Right now I’m going to pick up Susan and take her to Boulder Memorial. When the sketch artist is available give me a call on my cell phone and I’ll take care of that and the mug shots at the same time.”
Daniels made a face but didn’t argue. Instead, he mentioned in an offhand manner that maybe they’d get lucky. That Emily would regain consciousness and be able to tell them what happened.
“If she does recover she’s not going to be able to tell us anything. If she could, those Russians wouldn’t have left her alive.”
Daniels shrugged weakly, indicating he pretty much agreed with that. “I’ll get forensics here, see if we can lift any prints or fibers,” he said without any enthusiasm. Shannon left without bothering to mention how useless that activity would be.
The Boulderado Hotel was less than a five-minute drive from his apartment. On his way to pick up Susan, he found that he had shaken loose a cigarette and was lighting it before he realized what he was doing. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror-the cigarette dangling from his lips, the hardness about his face, an emptiness in his eyes. He took the cigarette out and crumpled it. After parking at the hotel, he tossed the cigarette and the rest of the pack in the trash, then found Susan waiting for him in the hotel lobby.
She walked to him quickly and took hold of his hand, then asked whether there was any news on Emily. He told her that he didn’t know of any yet. “But you gave her the Opium 1M?” He nodded and told her he did.
As they walked to their car, Shannon saw that dark clouds had rolled over the Flatirons. With the approaching storm the temperature had dropped almost twenty degrees in the last hour. He felt Susan shiver next to him. She squeezed his hand harder, but didn’t say a word.
While they drove to Boulder Memorial, he told her his theory about Paveeth sending the Russians to their apartment while he was busy at True Light. She sat quietly, listening, her face tense and pale in the evening dusk.
“I am so angry about this,” she said at last.
“Susie, I am so sorry about what happened.”
“There is nothing for you to feel sorry about, hon. You did nothing wrong. The person I am furious with is this Anil Paveeth. For him to think he can victimize people the way he does.”
Shannon hesitated, said, “Susie, I really don’t want you going back to that yoga studio. I don’t think it’s safe. I also think the incense they use has been doctored. Maybe Paveeth’s added THC to it, maybe other ingredients. Anyway I think he’s using it to weaken people’s resolve, along with the other standard brainwashing techniques they’re employing. This guy’s a chemical engineer. He’d know how to do something like that.”
She didn’t respond. Shannon glanced over and saw her brow furrowed as she sat lost in her own thoughts.
When they arrived at the hospital, they went to the ICU waiting area and checked in at the desk. The nurse brought up Emily’s record on her computer and told them that she was in surgery now but her doctor would come out later and talk to them.
They took seats and waited. Shannon could see the worry tugging at Susan’s features and spoiling her mouth. Under the fluorescent light of the waiting room, her skin looked almost paper-thin. More to get her mind onto something else, Shannon asked her what the characteristics were of a Medhorrinum remedy-type.
Numbly, she rattled off, “Intense energy, passion, outgoing, zest for life, all of which leads to them burning themselves out. Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious since I’ve been hanging out with one of your Medhorrinum patients. Hell, we might even go into business together.”
That knocked her out of her brooding and brought a bare trace of a smile to her lips. “Hon, fifty bucks you’re bluffing.”
“Mike Maguire. He’s the Boston guy I went to the ballgame with the other night. You can pay me later in services. We’ll work out an arrangement.”
“Oh no you don’t! You’re not leaving it like that. How’d you find out he’s my patient?”
Shannon couldn’t keep from smiling. “Mike’s doing a few odd jobs for me. I had him outside Vishna Yoga today taking pictures of everyone going in and out of the place. He was a bit shocked to see his trusted homeopath consorting with a known cult.”
“I bet he was!” Her bare trace of a smile stretched a fraction of an inch. “He’s a nice man. I like him.”
“Yeah, he kind of grows on you.”
Susan laughed at that. It was a sad laugh, but at least it was a laugh. “Thanks,” she said.
“For what?”
“For trying to get my mind off Emily.”
“She’s going to be okay,” Shannon said. “I have a gut feeling that she’ll be okay.”
She nodded but didn’t seem too confident about Shannon’s gut. He looked helplessly at her, wishing there was something he could do. He knew this was hard for her. It was hard for him. After Charlie Winters, they’d both reached their thresholds as far as being able to lose people close to them because of violence. He started wondering how Emily had gotten into their apartment. If those two Russian thugs had broken in as he’d guessed, they would’ve locked the door after them. So how did she get into their bedroom?
He remembered then that he still had to call Maguire’s wife in Massachusetts. It was already seven-thirty. With the two hour time difference he had to call her soon if he was going to do it that night. He told Susan he’d be back in a few minutes, then walked out into the hallway and found a quiet spot near one of the emergency exit doors with better cell phone reception.
A woman answered on the other end with a flat “yeah?”
Shannon introduced himself and told her he’d like to talk to Nancy Maguire.
There was a long pause, then the woman in the same flat voice told him that she was Nancy. “Mike told me you’d be calling,” she said. “I don’t know why you’re bothering. There’s nothing I can tell you.”
“I was hoping you might have seen or heard something the night your neighbors were murdered.”
“No. Nothing. Mike told you I was taking sleeping pills, right?”
“Yeah, he did, but if you could try to-”
“Look, you know about my pills. That’s my answer.”
Shannon stared out the glass door. Flashes of lightning showed in the distance. He listened for the rumble of accompanying thunder, but the lightning was too far off.
“I have a few other questions,” he said, his own voice flattening out to match Nancy Maguire’s. “Do you remember seeing anyone with either of the victims?”
“I told you, I was out that night.”
“Not just that night. Any night.”
There was another long pause. Then, “No, I can’t think of anyone.”
“If I were to fax you some photos, could you take a look at them and tell me if any of the people look familiar?”
“I told you, I don’t remember seeing anyone with them. Look, it’s late here, I got to get going.”
“Before you go, Mike wanted me to tell you he misses you.”
“Yeah, that’s nice.” Then she hung up. Shannon found himself shaking his head and staring at his cell phone. He put his phone away and went back to the waiting area to join Susan. Robideau was now standing next to her talking to her. Shannon joined his ex-wife. Robideau seemed surprised to see Shannon, but gave him a short nod before
