I requested you for my unit, didn't I? You must have thought God was looking out for you when Petty told you you didn't have to go to L.A.'
It didn't matter now. He probably knew everything. At least she didn't have to lie anymore. 'It's true I wasn't interested in bank robbers. I told you that the day you first interviewed me.'
'Oh no, that's for sure. What you wanted was the chance to track down the serial killer who murdered your sister seven years ago. Her name was Belinda, wasn't it?'
10
SHE TOOK THE BLOW, BENDing slightly inward to absorb the pain of it, the unbearable nakedness of it spoken aloud. She knew she'd blown her chance to hell and gone. It was all over for her now. But maybe it wasn't. He was in Boston. She would simply resign from the FBI and move to Boston. She had no choice.
She didn't stir, just looked at him and said, 'They named him the String Killer. Isn't that a stupid name? String! Something hardly thicker than a thread, a piece of skinny hemp he used to torture the women, all seven of them-psychological torture-and the media reduced it to string, to make it sexy and clever.'
'Yes, I remember the case well. And now he's struck again after seven years, in Boston this time. In fact, it's seven years to the day.'
She just sat there, looking at him, and said in that flattened voice of hers, that held no surprise at all, 'How do you know?''
'I went into your computer, saw what you'd accessed, and downloaded. I saw that you'd used my password to get into a couple of specialized data banks. Odd, but I never thought one of my own people would steal my password. You just looked over my shoulder one day?''
She nodded, didn't say anything, which was smart. He was very angry.
He drew a deep breath, tamping down on the anger. 'I checked the security log. You spent three and a half hours here Monday night. You read the paper Tuesday morning and left for Boston the same day. I bought a Boston Globe. The story was on the third page.'
She rose slowly, like an old woman. 'I'll clean out my desk, sir, then go see Mr. Petty.'
'And what will you tell Petty?'
'That I lied, that you discovered it, and I've been dismissed. I'm really sorry, sir, but I had no choice.'
'I haven't canned you. If you think I intend to let you loose on the Boston Police Department, you're mistaken, Sherlock. But you've already spoken to them, haven't you? They kissed you off, right? No matter, don't tell me just yet. I'll call Ralph Budnack.'
She looked as if he'd struck her. Then she gave him the coldest smile he'd ever seen. Her chin went up. 'I know how the killer got into the nursing homes in Florida to strangle those old ladies.'
He realized in that instant that he admired her brain. Was she trying to bargain with him? Make a deal? Gain some kind of leverage? 'I see,' he said easily, sitting back in his chair, fiddling with a pen between his fingers. 'I give you something and you give me something in return?'
'No. I guess I want to show you that I'm not a complete fool, that I do care about something other than the man who murdered my sister. I really don't want any more old ladies to die. I just wanted to mention it before I forgot and left.'
'You wouldn't have forgotten, just as you couldn't bring yourself to put your sister's death behind you and go on with your life. Now, I already told you. You're not leaving. Go back to your desk, Sherlock, and write out your ideas on the Ghost. We'll talk later.'
She didn't want to talk to him. She wasn't in his league. Her very first attempt at deception, and he'd nailed her but good. She hadn't realized she'd been so obvious. But she had been. He'd seen through everything. His anger was frightening, since he didn't yell. It was cold, so very cold, that anger of his. Why hadn't he just plain fired her? She'd betrayed him.
Why?
He would, soon enough; she was certain of that. She'd fire herself if she were in his shoes. She would pull everything else out of the database and then she would just slip away. He would know what she'd done quickly enough, but who cared'/ She couldn't continue here. He wouldn't allow it; the breach had been too great, her conduct too far beyond the line. No, he wouldn't allow her to stay, no matter what game he was playing with her now.
She'd barely sat down at her desk before Hannah Paisley said from behind her, 'You're stupid, Sherlock, or does he call you by your cute little first name, Lacey?'
'I'm not stupid, Hannah, I'm just very tired. Well, maybe I am stupid.'
'Why are you so tired? Did Savich keep you up all night? How many times did he fuck you, Sherlock?''
Lacey flinched at the harshness of Hannah's voice, not the naked word. That naked word conjured up some smutty, frankly silly photos in Playboy, showing contorting bodies. Now that she thought about it, they hardly ever showed the men completely naked, just the women. Really naked.
'Please, Hannah, there's nothing at all between us. Savich doesn't even like me. In fact-'
'In fact what?'
Lacey just shook her head. No, let Hannah hear it from Savich. It would happen soon enough.
'Just look at me, Hannah. I'm skinny and very plain. You're beautiful-surely you must know that. I'm no threat to you, please believe me. Besides I don't like Savich any more than he likes me. Would you try to believe at least that?'
'No. I spotted what you were the minute you walked into the Unit.'
'What am I?'
'You're a manipulative bitch. You saw Savich at the Academy and you got him interested so he'd bring you into the Unit. But you listen to me, you stay away from Savich or I'll take you apart. You know I can. Do you hear me?'
Ollie came walking over, nearly sauntering, whistling, if Lacey wasn't mistaken, as if he didn't have a care in the world, but she saw his eyes. He recognized what he was seeing and he didn't like it. 'Hey, Hannah, what's happening with the Lazarus case? What does the guy use all those Coke bottles for?'
She wasn't shaking because of what Hannah had said-no,
Hannah and her ridiculous jealousy meant less than nothing to her. Lacey had seen other women in Savich's office, young women, nice-looking women. Did Hannah go after all of them as well?
Who cared? Forget Hannah. She turned her back on both Hannah and Ollie and booted up her computer, tapped her fingers while she waited, then punched in Savich's password. Nothing happened.
Then suddenly, there appeared: Not this time, Sherlock.
The screen went black. The computer was her enemy. As long as Savich was still breathing, the computer would remain her enemy. She lifted her fingers from the keyboard and laid her hands in her lap.
'Your aunt all right?'
It was Ollie. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her. 'You look like shit, Sherlock.'
'Thanks. Yes, my aunt is just fine now.'
'You look like you're ready to go over the edge.'
She'd lived on the edge for seven years; no reason to go over now. She smiled at him. 'Not really. I'm just tired, and that's what I told Hannah. Thanks for drawing her fire, Ollie. I wish she'd open her eyes and realize that I'm about as much a threat to her as a duck in the sights of a hunter.'
'That's an odd thing to say, Sherlock. Savich told me to tell you to come into the conference room. What's it all about?'
'Tell the agents how the Ghost gets into the nursing homes, Sherlock.'
She sat forward, her hands clasped together. 'The Ghost is disguised as an old woman, a nursing home resident. Ollie showed me how to mix and match report data and plug it into two overlapping protocols. I did it with data from what the witnesses had said after each of the murders. No one found anything unusual in any of these reports-not the witnesses, not the cops, not us. But the computer did.' She handed out a piece of paper. 'These are direct quotes from the witnesses, just the pertinent parts, naturally, just the parts that, once tied together, pull the killer out of the bag.'
Savich read aloud: ''No one around, Lieutenant. Not a single soul. Oh, just some patients, of course. They were scared, some of them disoriented. Perfectly natural.' ' He raised his head. 'This is from a night floor nurse.' He read down the page. 'This one is from a janitor: 'There wasn't anybody around. Just old folks and they're
