She flinched slightly, as if she’d just been pinched. “ Reincarnation? That’s what you’re selling?”
“Look,” he said. “I know how it sounds.”
“I’m not sure you do.”
“A couple minutes ago you were asking me about fate and telling me you think you might be psychic. Is the idea that our souls have been around for a few thousand years really that much of a stretch?”
She took another moment to think about that, allowing herself to calm down. Then she said, “Maybe you have a point. But like I told you, I’m not a falafel and whole grains kind of girl.”
“This isn’t restricted to New Age wack jobs,” Pope said. “Eastern religions teach it. I have colleagues who believe in reincarnation as fervently as some people believe Christ rose from the dead. There are highly educated psychiatrists who think past-life trauma may have a direct causal relationship to nightmares and anxiety attacks.”
“None of which tells me what you think.”
Pope saw no reason to lie to her. “I’ve done a bit of past-life therapy in my time, but nothing that really swayed me one way or another.”
“So why push it now?”
“Because, based on what you’ve told me, it seems to fit. What you’ve described sounds more like memories than psychic visions.”
McBride shook her head. “There’s a flaw in your theory.”
“What?”
“If I’m tuning in on memories from some past life, how could the perp be the same guy? One creep in a red baseball cap is bad enough. But two? I don’t think so.”
“How old are you?” Pope asked.
The question threw her. “Twenty-eight. Why?”
“Twenty-eight years isn’t all that long. Maybe you were born the moment that little girl died.”
McBride seemed stunned by this possibility, but remained unconvinced. “So this guy kills me once, then tries again nearly three decades later?”
“Crazier things have happened.”
“But why?” she asked. “Unless this is the mother of all coincidences, how would he even know who I am?”
“I don’t know. But he called you Chavi, remember? ‘Is it you, Chavi?’ ”
“He was hallucinating.”
“That may well be, but it sounds to me like this Chavi person is the key to this little mystery. You and your attacker are somehow connected to her.” He nodded to the sleeping boy. “Maybe Evan, too.”
McBride looked as if a long, dark shadow had just fallen across her grave.
“This is insane.”
“Maybe. But for whatever reason, he seems fixated on you. And unless we can stop him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried…”
Pope paused, his gaze shifting to the view outside the living room window.
Ronnie had just pulled up in the Worthington Suburban and was unloading a couple plastic bags full of groceries. Beyond the truck, another car pulled up across the street.
A Lincoln Town Car.
Two large figures in the front seat.
The twin defenders.
“Shit,” Pope said, getting to his feet.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“I underestimated the stupidity of those morons.”
McBride turned, saw the Town Car. “Your friends from the Oasis?”
“The B-Team,” Pope said. “Help Ronnie with those groceries, then get Evan, get to the truck, and have her get you the hell out of here. And make it look natural. No need to tip our hand.”
“And what hand is that? Look, I’m a federal agent. I think I can-”
“You’re in no condition to be playing tag with these assholes. Take care of Evan.”
“And what do you plan to do?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t want anybody else in the line of fire. So, hurry up.”
McBride glanced at Evan, weighing a decision, then quickly nodded and headed toward the door.
Jake’s office was down the hallway. Pope went inside and moved around the desk to the painting that hung above the credenza. A Robert Knudson reproduction. Sunrise at Zuni Mission.
Pope took the painting off the wall and quickly dialed the combination to Jake’s safe, hoping he hadn’t changed it in the last couple years.
It clicked open and he reached inside, pulling out the Glock 9 that Jake always kept there.
If you were raised in Ludlow, chances were pretty good that you knew your way around firearms. Pope’s father, who had died of emphysema when Pope was barely out of his teens, was a former Army staff sergeant who had trained him well.
Pope checked the magazine, saw that it was full. When he got back to the living room, McBride, Evan, Ronnie, and the truck were gone, leaving only the Town Car.
The twin defenders were watching the house. Waiting.
Pope kept out of sight. He needed to talk to them, but he knew they weren’t here for conversation.
Cursing Anderson Troy-and himself for ever picking up a deck of cards-he headed toward the rear of the house.
He approached them from the rear driver’s side, keeping the Glock raised in case he was spotted in the side mirror.
Before they knew what hit them, he threw open the rear passenger door, slid onto the seat, and touched the muzzle of Jake’s Glock to the back of Jonah’s head.
“Easy now, I come in peace.”
Both Jonah and Joshua froze.
“Sure as hell don’t feel that way,” Jonah said. “Come on, Danny. Put the weapon down.”
“Unless you’re here on a diplomatic mission, I don’t think so. Get your hands on your head.”
They both did as they were told.
“What are you doing?” Joshua said. “You ain’t no Rambo.”
“You’re right. I’m just a guy who wants to be left alone. Especially when I’m with family and friends. So tell Troy that he’s got nothing to worry about. Half of what I know about him is forgotten and the rest is locked away forever.”
“We don’t tell him what to do,” Jonah said.
“I’m not asking you to. Just pass along the message. Think you can manage that?”
“Won’t do you a lick of good,” Joshua said. “The man makes up his mind, it takes an act of Congress to change it.”
“Fine,” Pope told him, then gestured with the Glock. “Give me your phone.”
“What for?”
“Just reach into your pocket-slowly-and hand it across.”
Joshua sighed, took his phone out, and gave it to Pope. “Sharkey’s right. You do have a screw loose.”
“What’s Troy’s direct line?”
“Hit three.”
Pope smiled. “Not one? He finds out, he won’t be happy.”
“Fuck you,” Joshua said.
Pope thumbed the third keypad. The line rang twice in his ear, then clicked on.
“Is it done?”
Troy. Up close and personal. Pope wished he could reach through the phone and wring his neck.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Andy, but the boys and I have been having a discussion about how stubborn you are, and they thought I should give you a call.”
