this, Becca? It’s an LED-light-emitting diode. When our boy calls his number, the name and address of the person who’s registered as the phone owner will appear here on this green screen. It’s like the automatic phone display for 911.”
“All done, Sherlock?” Savich said, then nodded when she pressed a couple of buttons. “Good. Now I’m going to go meet with the guys, set up a surveillance schedule, tell them about the tap and the trace.”
“Fine,” said Adam. “I’m coming with you. I want to meet them. I don’t want anyone shot by accident. Also, we need to start tracking down our boy. He’s somewhere close.”
“Three of the guys are already on that. They’re checking all the gas stations within fifty miles, all the bed-and- breakfasts, motels, inns. They’ve already gotten a list of every single guy between the ages of twenty and fifty who arrived in Bangor and Portland within the past three days.”
Sherlock yawned. “Becca and I will guard the fort. You guys be careful. Hey, a nap sounds good, what with all the excitement. Is there another usable bedroom in this grandiose monstrosity?”
The men got back to Jacob Marley’s house two hours later. It was dark, nearly nine o’clock in the evening. The house was lit up from top to bottom, all the outdoor lights on as well. The newly stained front door both looked and smelled great.
Sherlock was drinking coffee in the living room, studying a file she’d brought with her from Washington. The shades were drawn tight, which was smart. Becca wasn’t anywhere around. They’d already checked with Perkins. There had been no phone calls.
Adam found Becca in her bedroom. She was lying flat on her back in the middle of the bed, her hands crossed over her stomach. Her eyes were closed but he knew she wasn’t asleep. Her shoulders were locked stiff.
“Becca? You okay?”
“Yeah.”
She felt the bed give when he sat down beside her. “What do you want? Go away. I don’t want to have to look at your pretty face. Has anyone seen him?”
“I don’t have a pretty face. It’s Savich who’s got the pretty face. No, there’s no sign of him yet, just that blood in the woods we found. The guys took samples to be analyzed.”
She cracked her left eye open. “Did everything go all right? Were all the men there? Have they found anything out yet?”
“Yes, all six of them are here, each of them well trained. I know four of them, even worked with a couple of them in the past, so that’s good. They’re all top-notch. It’s just a matter of time until we track him down. All of us have favors owed. We’ll call them all in if necessary. You know, the reason I was here was to protect you from the cops and the Feebs because we knew they couldn’t protect you from the stalker. But things have changed now. The guy’s here and there’s just no choice. We’ve got to get him or you’ll never be safe.”
“Who is this Thomas, Adam? He must be very powerful to be able to have all this guy power up here for one insignificant person, namely me.”
“You’re not insignificant.” He sounded too harsh, too intense, and he clamped his teeth together. “Look, don’t worry about Thomas. He’s doing what he’s got to do. Now, why are you up here, lying down?” He paused a moment. She was dull-eyed, pale again, and it worried him. He looked at his fingernails and said, “But first things first. I’m getting hungry. Any ideas for dinner? It’s nearly nine o’clock. It’s nearly time to go to bed. Oh yeah, that was a good idea to have all the lights on.”
She opened both eyes then and stared up at him. “ Sherlock did that. Now let me get this straight. You’re worried about food? Now?”
He nodded. He’d distracted her. Her eyes were narrowed on his face, her lips were seamed into a thin line. Good.
“Of course I’m hungry. What about dinner?”
“Well then,” she said, rolling to the other side of the bed to stand and streaking her hands through her hair, “let me get my little self downstairs and see what I can whip together.”
She stalked out of the bedroom, Adam on her heels, grinning at the back of her head. She was keeping it together. Being pissed was good. He was pleased and inordinately relieved. He was afraid, though, that being an asshole was a bit too easy for him. He noticed again that the tilt of her head was just like her father’s.
“So,” Sherlock said some thirty minutes later at the kitchen table after she’d chewed a bite of tuna salad that Savich had whipped up, “this Tyler McBride seems hung up on you, Becca, and he’s wildly jealous of Adam. Could he be a problem?”
“He already is a problem,” Adam said, waving a dill pickle. “The guy attacked me. I wasn’t doing a single thing and he attacked me.”
“You held back from hurting him,” Sherlock said. “That was smart. Mr. McBride is not only very afraid for Becca, he also feels threatened because another male showed up. It’s strange. Here he knows that Becca’s in trouble. You’d think that the more folks to help, the better.”
It was just the way he should have felt the entire time, Adam thought. Bottom line, just like Tyler, he’d felt threatened. And the women knew it.
“I’m glad you didn’t hit Savich,” Sherlock said, seeing quite clearly what he was thinking. “I would have done more than clip you on the jaw if you had, Adam.” She then gave him a sunny smile, raised the plate, and said, “Anyone want another tuna sandwich?”
Becca said, “Or would you prefer raw meat?”
“That’s really quite enough, Becca,” Adam said, finally annoyed. “I’m going to take another sandwich and go talk to the guys, see how they’re doing. The moon’s nearly full tonight. It’s quiet. Don’t worry about the boyfriend being out there to shoot me. I’ll take my gun. Oh yeah, if I had attacked Savich, I would have coldcocked him before you could have hurt me, Sherlock.”
He left the kitchen.
Sherlock couldn’t help herself; she laughed. Savich looked back and forth between the two women, stood slowly, nabbed a sandwich, then said, “I think it’s a little thick in here. See you later, Sherlock. I’m going to go give my mom a call and see how she’s faring with our boy.”
“Call me when you’ve got him on the phone,” Sherlock said, then took a big bite out of an apple.
Savich walked to the living room, where the only phone in the whole house was. He heard Adam whistling outside.
He hated to lie to his mom when she asked him exactly what he and Sherlock were doing, but he did, and cleanly. “It’s a background check on someone very important who’s being considered for the Supreme Court. All very hush-hush and that’s why Jimmy Maitland asked me and Sherlock to take care of it. Don’t worry, Mom, we’ll be back in a couple of days. I met a really cute little boy today. It seems his mother abandoned him and his father over a year ago and he hasn’t said much since then. Is that Sean gurgling in the background? I’d sure like to speak to him, Mom.”
16
The phone rang sharply at midnight. Everyone heard it, but Becca was the fastest. She was on her feet, running down the front stairs to the living room by the second ring.
It was him, she knew it, and she wanted to talk to him. There wasn’t the need to keep him on for any specified length of time. The slammer was instantaneous, the identification there in a flash.
Her hand shook as she picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“I don’t know if I want to be your boyfriend anymore. You shot my dog, Rebecca.”
“His name was Gleason. He was very fat and you shot and killed him. I’m really upset, Becca. I’m coming to get you now. Not long. Hey, honey, you want to send flowers to poor Gleason’s funeral?”
“Why don’t you bury yourself with him, you murdering psycho?”
Adam heard his hitching breath, the flutter of rage. She’d gotten to him. Good.
He saw Savich write down the name and address from the slammer and sit down on the sofa, opening his
