Savich said, “Don’t mind Frank. He’s a good agent, just protective of the Bureau and somewhat territorial. Now, how did you manage to ditch Ms. Markham? I would have sworn she’d have been hanging on to your coattails to get herself in here.”
Ben ran his fingers through his thick hair, causing it to stand on end. “I didn’t ditch her until she was safe back at the house in Colfax. I’m lucky she didn’t follow me in. I’ll bet she could have talked her way past the guards.”
Savich laughed. “She seems like a pistol, Ben, smart and insightful.”
“Well, maybe. Who knows? All I know so far is that she’s a pain in the butt. She wanted to smack a reporter at Justice Wallace’s house. Can you believe that? She’s one of them.”
“Yes, well, don’t forget, Justice Califano was her stepfather, and the shoe’s on the other foot now. But the thing is, she’s on the inside. Use her, get her talking. I’ll bet she knows things she can’t even put together right now, things that are in her brain waiting for you to get them out.”
“Actually, she’s already started to earn her keep.” And then he told Savich about Justice Sumner Wallace hitting on Margaret Califano. “Doesn’t that boggle the mind? The guy’s a grandfather.”
Savich said, “This is going to take some thought. You’re right, Callie did good, give her a medal. I guess after she told you that, you can trust her not to feed stuff to the
“Okay, yeah, so she’s a straight shooter, at least so far. Like I said, I dropped her off at the Kettering home before I drove back in. Nearly landed myself in a ditch a couple of times. The roads are a mess.”
“The snow’s supposed to lighten up tonight, be gone by tomorrow. Hopefully it won’t freeze, the ice would really make it tough for us to get around.”
“At least the pizza’s pretty good here.”
“Yeah, agents are often stuck here for meals during an investigation, so the cafeteria keeps the food coming, about anything you like. The only section Sherlock doesn’t approve of is the Mexican wagon. Ah, I see Agent Halley looking over here at you again. He’s not a happy camper since he thinks Director Mueller should have appointed him to run the show, so ignore the attitude.”
“Not a problem. Everyone at Metro is hyped about this. I’m lucky to be heading up the field assignments. I’ve got maybe a dozen cops ready to do whatever you need.”
“I’ll give you the assignments, don’t worry.”
“Oh, by the way, Savich, I meant to ask you. How is Sheriff Kettering doing?”
Savich gave him a big smile. “That’s how we met, isn’t it? They’ve moved back to Jessborough, Tennessee. Miles is building a new helicopter facility there, and Katie’s the sheriff of Jessborough again.”
Ben shook his head. “Talk about a pistol, that sheriff sure qualifies.”
“Do keep our own pistol in the loop. I don’t want Callie calling me at midnight, frothing at the mouth. And thank her for the information about Justice Wallace. It sure opens up some interesting possibilities.”
“Yeah, it sure does. Did I remember to thank you for sticking me with her?”
“No, come to think of it, I don’t think you thanked me at all. There’s a couple of slices of vegetarian pizza left. Why don’t you tell me all the details of your interview with Justice and Mrs. Wallace while we chow down.”
CHAPTER
11
S HE RAN RIGHT in front of him, her long straight hair flying, frantically waving her arms, her eyes wild. He could tell she was yelling, but he couldn’t hear her voice even though she was right in front of him, yelling in his face. She was close, so close, and he could feel her terror as though it were his own.
And then he was in that lovely big house on the rise, all the lights on, looking back to see her sitting on the living room sofa, rocking back and forth, her thick veil of hair hiding her profile, the fire blazing behind her in the fireplace. He looked up at the ceiling when he heard a noise, the sound of quiet footsteps overhead.
Then he was climbing slowly up the ladder into the attic, every sense on full alert, but there wasn’t a man there. Something flew at him, hard and fast, swooping like a bat, or something else, something his brain couldn’t accept, and slammed him back through the ceiling door, knocking the breath out of him.
Savich jerked awake, wheezing, heart pounding so hard he thought he was dying. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but sit there trying to suck in air.
“Dillon? Are you all right? You’re here with me. It’s okay now, you were having a nightmare.”
He still couldn’t talk. He felt her hands rubbing his chest, his arms. “Samantha Barrister,” he managed at last. “I saw her, felt her right here, in my face. And then I was back in the house, going up those ladder steps after I heard the footsteps overhead. That bat, or whatever it was, knocked me back down to the corridor floor.”
“It’s all right now, you’re awake. Come here.” She pushed him back down, her palm rubbed over his chest, felt his pounding heart. She turned and pressed herself over him, kissed his neck, and whispered, “It will be all right. You probably had the nightmare because you can’t deal with Samantha’s murder right now. What happened to Samantha was thirty years ago, Dillon. It has to wait. Let it go for now.” She continued to rub her palm over his chest until she felt his heart slow and his breathing steady.
“I saw her in the road, Sherlock, saw her terror, I knew she was screaming, but I couldn’t hear her. Then she was right here, probably yelling for me to help her to stop him, only I couldn’t hear her.”
Sherlock was silent for a moment. He could practically hear her thinking. “Perhaps she was, for you. I said it had been thirty years, but the fact is, Samantha came to you—just you—in the Poconos. Maybe something’s happened to make her frantic, to make her come here to Washington. Something bad.”
“What could it be? Now, after thirty years? And what can I do about it? I can’t leave Washington and go ghost chasing right now.”
She kissed his nose, his mouth, his throat. “We could call the closest field office to do some checking.”
He thought about that a moment, then shook his head. “No, this is personal. I want to deal with it, I have to deal with it, no one else. I know it sounds weird, but I know she wants me to be the one.”
“All right then. When MAX is freed up, we can put him on it. He can scour databases, find out about the Barrister family, see what happened to her son and her husband.”
“But it’s going to be days before we can free MAX up to do that.”
“I know, but I think Samantha will understand.”
She felt a measure of calm flow through him. He turned on his side and drew her close. He said against her left temple, “Do you know something?”
She shook her head against his. Her curly hair brushed against his ear.
“Some people would think I’ve flipped out over this, want me to lie down on a shrink’s couch.”
“You’re the sanest person I’ve ever known. If I ever doubt you about anything, I’ll stretch out on a shrink’s couch myself.” She kissed him hard on the mouth, and eased down to tuck her head against his neck. “It’s nearly three o’clock. Sean will give us until seven o’clock. Let’s use the time wisely. We’ve got to sleep.”
When he fell asleep, Samantha Barrister wasn’t with him.
WASHINGTON, D.C.
SUNDAY
B EN R AVEN FLIPPED the channel on his TV from national to local news while he ate his bowl of Wheaties. It was his mom’s favorite cereal, and she’d fed it to him every morning, which explained, he supposed, a great deal. Director Mueller’s face was everywhere on TV, as well as sound bites from the Attorney General, the President, even the Director of Homeland Security. Anyone the media could get to, which was just about every politician inside the Beltway. And they all had something important to say. The politicians and the talking heads led the charge, blaming the FBI, the Supreme Court Police, even the President for not providing the nation with enough security from terrorists. Of course Director Mueller laid out why he didn’t believe terrorists were responsible, but no one liked that. It had to be either a terrorist or a madman, like the Washington snipers of a few years ago, that was the theory everyone wanted to run with.
Not even a day had passed since Justice Califano’s murder before speculation began on who would be on the President’s short list for appointment to the Supreme Court to take Justice Califano’s place.
Ben put his cereal bowl in the sink and filled it with water. He had thirty-five minutes to pick up Callie
