important clues to reveal something about the killer, the words he used to refer to himself, Char-ron, he'd said, or Charon, and the unusual word Hellsmouth. Could be a place.'
Furth replied, “I thought he said Char-man, that he was like this char-grill guy, char-man. Didn't catch the reference to Hellsmouth. Any event, you can tell Bishop yourself.'
'How's that?'
Warren's got a thing for you. Why don't you give him a call? He's gonna want to know about this new wrinkle. May even want to accompany you to Page, knowing Warren as I do.'
The innuendo was thick enough to slice with a blunt scalpel, she thought, but it was no secret how Warren Bishop felt about Jessica Coran. She'd seen Bishop at one of today's sessions, and they'd had more coffee together. He'd been understanding-sweet, even-when she spoke of the awful first phone call from the Phantom's supposed first victim, telling him in graphic detail how horrible it all was. He'd been sympathetic, suggesting that she have something a bit stronger than coffee later with him in the lounge, suggesting they have dinner together.
They'd known each other for years, since her first year in the FBI Academy. They'd been close friends and had studied together, competing with one another to be the best. He was so good in hand-to-hand that they made him an instructor on the spot, and so he'd actually become one of her trainers.
Over the years they'd stayed in contact, remaining best of friends, but when the death of Chris Lorentian had happened and Jessica had been placed in danger, Bishop had been out of town on another case, which had taken him to New Mexico.
Now he and his team had gone into swift action, surfing and sifting through FBI computer files for any and all similar fire deaths that might be related. These fire deaths ranged from those ruled accidental to those intentionally set fires that engulfed whole homes, restaurants, or warehouses, leaving someone dead in the process. They'd narrowed the list down to seventy-two that smacked of similarities, primarily the use of butane as an accelerant alongside the smoked remains of some poor slob, male or female. Bishop and his team were reworking and rethinking every angle on each such case, but Jessica's gut reaction was one of skepticism. She believed this guy had started with Chris Lorentian-that '#1 is #9' pointed to this supposition. The phone call to her, the message written in the victim's own bodily grease, all had something to do with the number 1 and the number 9.
Perhaps the killer had a preset game plan that called for nine lives. And it had something to do with the notion of traitorous behavior.
She believed the victims knew their killer, or at least had had some previous contact with him. And this assumption was a world of difference from its opposite view, that victim and killer were strangers, that these were stranger killings.
Bishop was a broad-shouldered, handsome man with a wonderful smile and a great sense of humor. His sense of duty and honor were equally honed. A Desert Storm vet, he would make any woman a great prize, but like Jessica, his work had for all these years kept him from a personal life. It was natural and easy for the two of them to share time together, reminisce about the academy, about their earlier lives and the people they had once been. In fact, Jessica rather liked being reminded of a time when she was a naпf, an innocent. Bishop made her feel good, made her laugh, as he was still capable of doing, but she was also sure that he also made her look hard at what she'd become without the slightest intention of doing so.
They'd parted at her door, all thought of their jobs and professional selves abandoned. They'd kissed, for old times' sake on her part, but somehow it had become a passionate embrace, one she felt safe within, confident with. Still, she had halted him at the door, telling Warren that her heart belonged now to James Parry, and that regardless of her strong feelings and attachment to him, she simply couldn't betray James. 'Not like this,' she'd said, and Bishop, in his usual poise and with a grin of acceptance, thanked her for what he termed ''The best evening of my life in a long, long time.'
'Liar,' she'd countered.
'I mean every word of it, Jess, and if Parry doesn't take care of you, I'll go looking for the bastard.'
'My hero, my shining knight.'
'Uughhhh! Now you're making me sick.' He remained laughing all the way down the corridor and when he waved good-naturedly from the elevator. 'Don't worry about a thing, Jess,' he assured her then. 'I've got Harry Furth, my best man, on the wiretap. If this murdering piece of filth does call you again, we're going to nail the putrid excuse for a human being. Trust me.'
'Yeah, Bishop,' she'd replied. 'I do-trust you, that is.'
'Trust me to take this elevator down and leave you in peace, you mean?''
'That, too, Warren, and thanks for understanding.'
'Long as you're happy, Jess.'
She had smiled then as the elevator doors closed on his strong, tall form. It would have been so easy to have invited him in..
She now pushed the thought away, telephoned for a cab, and began packing an overnight bag for Page, Arizona.
Jessica's next call went to J. T., alerting him to the alarming news: Once again the Phantom had struck like a naming shadow, and the SOB had forced his victim to contact Jessica via telephone so that Jessica might listen in on the murder. J. T. instantly reacted, coming to her room to stand in wait with her, to be with her, to console her. They ordered a pot of black coffee from the all-night room service, and between gulps she told him as much as she could recall of the ugly, bizarre, phoned-in murder of the Martin woman; then they packed, not knowing if they'd be returning to Las Vegas. John Thorpe insisted on accompanying her to Lake Powell at Glen Canyon.
'Ever hear of a name like Charon?' she asked J. T.
'We'll have it run through the FBI computers. See what kicks out, follow leads to his crooked past. We'll get this twisted bastard, Jess.'
Warren Bishop met Jessica and J. T. at the airport, where a helicopter had been chartered for their early- morning flight. Bishop had come rushing to her side as soon as he'd learned of the phone call that had so rocked Jessica's night. In the dismal gloom of an airport at 5:20 a.m. of what already felt like a scorching day in this desert paradise, they stood waiting on the flight pad.
Warren, looking sleepy and fatigued, like a bear just out of hibernation, walked Jessica aside and apologetically said, 'I wish I could fly up there with you, Jess, but I can't drop everything here. Too many pressing and politically charged problems, and being the guy in charge…'
'No need for apologies, Warren. You and your men have done quite enough.'
'Furth'll get on the voice tape, see if we can learn anything from it, and there'll be Arizona-Utah branch agents there to meet you in Page.
'Jess, promise me you'll take every precaution against this guy. Obviously, for some screwball reason, he has it in for you.'
'No need to worry about me, Warren, and I fully understand. I have a pretty fair idea of the scope of your responsibilities here. Don't forget, I'm in love with a field chief.'
'Just the same, I may follow you on a later flight.'
'We could be back in a day or two, depending.'
'Then again, you might not. We've hardly had time to recapture… old times.' For a split second, the look in his eye gave Jessica a start. She feared he might suddenly surprise her by taking her into his arms and passionately kissing her. To stave off the moment, she turned to search for where J. T. had gotten off to, and seeing that he was busy with the young chopper pilot, she said, 'I'd best board before J. T. bores the pilot to death.'
'Wait, Jess,' he said, giving her a bear hug and a kiss on the forehead. ''A little brotherly kiss, huh?'' he asked. 'Just want you to know that you can count on me, Jess.'
'Thanks, Warren… but I know that-always have.'
'Have a safe flight.'
'I'm sure we will.'
'Some of most fantastic scenery on the continent between here and Page. You'll enjoy it. And don't forget to look up at the stars once in a while, for the soul.'
'Hey, I look up plenty. Last time I came on vacation out West, I was practically a youngster. Visited Yellowstone up in Wyoming. Did some hiking, fishing, and photo hunting.'
'Yeah, I can see you in Yellowstone,' he replied, smiling wide. ''You always did love the outdoors, nature.
