I studied the control panel and the instructions, since I couldn't imagine anything that would make me feel stupider than flying off the back of a treadmill. When I was confident I understood what I was doing, I started off slow, getting used to the feel of the rubber under my feet. I thought of nothing, just the feeling of my shoes hitting the treadmill, and then I reached down and pressed the control to increase the speed. Soon I was going at a good clip—and though I was indoors and not going anywhere and the damn scenery never changed, I was content. I began sweating, and gradually I began to feel that welcome exhaustion that tells you you've gone just about your limit. I slowed the pace a bit, and then slowed again, and finally I walked for about five minutes.
I'd been vaguely aware Mr. Silvertip was still in the room, moving from weight station to weight station, one of the hotel towels around his neck. I headed for the stack on a table by the door as soon as I was through, and while I was patting my face dry, a voice said, 'It's good to run in the mornings, isn't it? Helps you to start your day on a good note.'
I lowered the towel to appraise the speaker.
'FBI?' I asked.
He couldn't control his jerk of surprise. 'You're really psychic,' he said pleasantly after a moment.
'No, I'm not,' I said. 'Or only in the most limited way. Were you down here when Tolliver ran, too?'
He had dark blue eyes, and he examined me with them very carefully. I was exasperated. He'd had plenty of time to look me over while I was running. This wasn't about him deciding I was a hunkette of burning love. This was about something else.
'I decided you were more approachable,' he said. 'And you're the more interesting, of the two of you.'
'You're wrong there,' I said.
He looked down at my right leg. The top part of the leg is marked with a fine spider's web of red lines. My Lycra running shorts stopped at mid-thigh, and the web was clearly visible if you looked at the right leg with attention. That's the leg that gives out, every now and then. That's another reason I need to run, to keep that leg strong.
'What happened to you?' he asked. 'I've never seen marks like that.' He was quite clinical.
'I was hit by lightning,' I said.
He made an impatient movement, as if he'd read that and just recalled it. Or maybe he simply didn't believe me. 'How'd it come about?' he asked.
I explained the circumstances. 'I was doing my hair. I had a date,' I said, remotely remembering that detail. 'Of course, I never went out with that boy. The blast blew my shoe off and stopped my heart.'
'What saved you?'
'My brother, Tolliver. Gave me CPR.'
'I've never met anyone before who was hit by lightning and lived to tell about it.'
'There are plenty of us around,' I said, and I went out the glass door, towel still clutched in my hand.
'Wait,' he said behind me. 'I'd like to talk to you, if I may.'
I turned to face him. A woman stepped past us, ready for her own workout. She was wearing old shorts and a T-shirt dingy with age. She glanced at us curiously. I found myself glad to have a witness.
'What about?'
'I was there, in Nashville, for a while. That's why I got this assignment.'
I waited.
'I really want to know how you knew ahead of time that Tabitha was in the graveyard.'
'I didn't.'
'But you did.'
'If you're not in charge of the investigation, I don't have to talk to you, do I? And I can't think of any reason I'd want to.'
'I'm Agent Seth Koenig.' He said that as if I should have heard the name.
'I don't care.' And I got into the elevator before he could, pressed the door close button, and smiled as he took a surprised step toward me, realizing I was actually leaving.
After I showered, I knocked on the door to Tolliver's room and told him what had happened.
'That bastard. That was an ambush,' Tolliver said.
'That's putting it a little strong. It was more like a strategic approach,' I said.
Tolliver recognized my description of Seth Koenig. The agent had been in the exercise room when he was, sure enough. 'He thought you would recognize his name, huh?'
Tolliver said thoughtfully. 'Well, let's see.' Tolliver's laptop was already plugged in. He Googled the name and got several hits. Seth Koenig had been present at a few hunts for serial killers. Seth Koenig had been a heavy hitter.
'But all those are in the past,' I said, reading the dates. 'Nothing in the last four years or so.'
'That's true,' Tolliver said. 'I wonder what happened to his career?'
'And I wonder why he's here. I haven't heard any suggestion that Tabitha's abduction and death was part of any serial killer's pattern. And I think I'd remember if another girl had shown up buried in a cemetery, miles away from her abduction site, buried on top of somebody else, right?' I thought that over. 'Actually, other than her burial, there's nothing distinctive about Tabitha's case. That in itself is pretty awful, when you think about it.'
