“Killing them? What are you talking about? Why would I want to kill Taylor?”
His lawyer stopped him, then mustered an indignant scowl as he turned on Daniels. “Where the hell’s this coming from? I thought we were here to discuss what happened at True Light!”
“I thought so too until we found out that your client had a strong motive for killing Taylor Carver.” Daniels picked up Carver’s thesis and opened it to near the end. He pointed out several highlighted passages for Paveeth’s lawyer to read.
“What the hell am I supposed to be reading?”
“A blueprint for everything that happened at True Light,” Daniels said.
“What are they talking about?” Paveeth asked his lawyer. “I never saw that document!”
The lawyer read the highlighted passages, then thumbed through the rest of the manuscript. “You must be kidding,” he said to Daniels.
“What is that document?” Paveeth demanded, his skin color paling to a muddled gray.
“It looks like a book your friend Taylor wrote,” the lawyer said.
“It explains how he was going to expose you,” Daniels said. “You got your hands on a copy, didn’t you, Anil? Is that why you sent Yuri and Dmitry to Taylor’s apartment?”
“Th-This is insane!” Paveeth sputtered. “I knew n-nothing about this book! And I never would’ve hurt Taylor. If Yuri and Dmitry went to their apartment, they did it without me knowing about it.”
“That doesn’t sound like you,” Shannon said. “After all, you like to sit in the corner and watch.”
Paveeth’s jaw dropped. He turned wildly from Shannon to Daniels to his lawyer. His lawyer held out a hand in a stop gesture to Daniels. “We’re done here,” he said. “We’re not going to give you any more chances to sandbag us.”
The DA spoke up then. “Among the other charges we’ve already discussed, we’re adding first degree murder charges for the deaths of Taylor Carver, Linda Gibson, Jane Lowenstein, Leslie Bishop and Candace Johnson. And rest assured that we will be seeking the death penalty.”
“This is ridiculous,” Paveeth’s lawyer argued. “We’re talking about a book, for God sake! And those other women-we’ve already explained how my client had no knowledge-”
“Save it,” the DA said. “I’ve got more than enough circumstantial evidence to convict on all charges. And if I were you I wouldn’t expect a break from a jury. I doubt one exists that could find your client sympathetic.”
Daniels opened the door and a couple of uniformed officers came in and had Paveeth stand while they cuffed his hands behind his back. As they took him from the room, he staggered like a fighter who’d been knocked out on his feet and had no clue where he was. His lawyer followed him out.
The DA stood up, shook Shannon’s undamaged hand and thanked him for what he had done. “I hear you’re the guy who cracked this wide open. I’m going to see if my office can do something for you.” One of the FBI agents nodded to Shannon on his way out, the other stopped to shake his hand also. “I’ve read the Charlie Winters’ case file. Very impressive work, very impressive here also. If you have any thoughts on joining the FBI, give me a call.” The agent handed him his card, and Shannon saw that he was a regional director. He told him he’d give it some thought. After the FBI director walked out, Daniels and Shannon were left alone in the room. Daniels gave Shannon a hard grin. “You’re not actually thinking of joining them?”
“I don’t think so. I’ve gotten used to not wearing a suit the last five years.”
“As a detective first grade, you could dress as casually as you’d like.”
“Is that an offer?”
“Well, no, I can’t make an offer, but I could certainly talk to my boss about you. We could use someone like you in the department.”
Shannon pointed to his right hand. “Problem is, I’m still disabled.”
“We could work around it. So what do you say? You want me to talk to my boss?”
“I’ll tell you what, I’ve got nine to twelve months to think about it. Let me tell you then.”
“But the answer’s going to turn out no, huh?”
“I can’t tell you right now. We’ll see.”
The two men walked quietly through the station and to the adjoining parking lot so that Daniels could drive Shannon back to his apartment. Neither man spoke during the ride, Shannon deep in thought, Daniels suspiciously glancing over at his passenger every few minutes as he drove. By the time he pulled up to Shannon’s apartment building, he had lost all patience.
“Alright, spill it,” he demanded. “What the hell’s on your mind? You’re going to try to tell me that Paveeth didn’t kill those two students? Is that what the fuck’s going on?”
Shannon shook his head. “Something just doesn’t add up.”
“Goddamn it, Bill! We’ve got the sonofabitch dead to rights. The guy’s a manipulator, he can put on a good act and play the innocent victim when he wants to, but he’s the guy behind all this. He didn’t know about Carver’s plans? My ass he didn’t!”
Shannon waved it away. “This is probably nothing more than the last couple of days catching up to me. You ever have that incense analyzed?”
“FBI’s doing it now. According to our buddy, Paveeth, he did doctor the incense and add a mild hallucinogenic, along with mixing in his own sweat-I guess for the pheromones. We’ll see if the FBI finds anything else.”
Shannon left the car and gave Daniels a short nod. Susan was waiting for him in the apartment. Concern showed in her eyes as she asked how his shoulder was. She had him take off his shirt so she could check to see if the wound had started bleeding.
The apartment was for the most back to where it had been. The landlord had already patched the wall by the closet and repainted the living room, while Daniels had recovered his computer for him from the True Light compound and Susan had placed a small throw rug over Emily’s blood stain. That night they heard on the news that Les Hasherford had been found dead in a Colorado Springs motel. According to the medical examiner he’d been dead for several days with the cause of death apparently being heart failure. The maid went three days without touching his room because of a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door. The story reported how Hasherford had helped police only a few days earlier locate a missing boy who was in critical condition at the time he was found, but had since recovered from a head trauma and been released from the hospital. A police spokesman credited Hasherford with saving the boy’s life
Shannon could see that the story affected Susan, but she had already cried herself out over the last few days. That night she held him tightly, and at times he could feel her small body sobbing silently and tearlessly.
The next couple of days dragged by slowly for him. He tried reading the PI novels Maguire had left him, and while he agreed with Maguire’s assessment of them, there was something nagging at the back of his mind that kept him from fully appreciating them. Susan sensed something was bothering him, just as he could sense her sadness over Les Hasherford’s death. They tried to comfort each other, but there was a small hole in both of them that they couldn’t quite fix.
Eric Wilson called him Thursday afternoon from Wichita to tell him that French officials had spoken with Linda’s younger sister, Gloria, and that Fred Gibson had been arrested earlier that day for child abuse and rape. Wilson seemed relieved when Shannon was able to tell him that an arrest was pending for Linda Gibson’s murder. “Do you think they have the right guy?” Wilson asked. “I hope so,” Shannon said, but his words sounded hollow to him.
Kathleen Tirroza called him that same night. She’d heard through the FBI grapevine what had happened and wanted to make sure he was okay. “Once again, right in the middle of it. Damn, you’ve got more lives than a cat!” she said, sounding a bit drunk. Her comment brought an involuntary smile to his lips since Kathleen, with her almond-shaped eyes and slender athletic body, always reminded him of a cat. “Yeah, but I think they’re being used up,” he told her. “And I keep leaving little pieces of me behind with each one.” That sobered her up. She asked him to save one of his lives for September 27th so he could drink a toast at her wedding. Before hanging up, she mentioned that she had no luck identifying his Russian. “If his records exist, they’ve been moved to classified files I don’t have access to.”
Friday morning he met Eli at
“I’d have to think seeing Susan tied up like that would’ve flashed you back to Charlie Winters. And you were almost killed. That’s got to be a tough thing to come to grips with.” He hesitated, then added, “Bill, even though it
