A matter of time

'Such as?'

'Make it down to St. John Nepomuk Church, Twelfth and Lafayette, and see if the priest can put you on to anybody who could translate those letters for us. Then take one of those bills down to the Feds and see if it's kosher. Only one. We don't want them grabbing the whole damned pile yet.'

'Okay. It's something to do.'

Damned but it was going to be rough learning to do without John. He was going to have to do his own leg work.

Cash followed his railroad hunch and visited Union Station first. And yes, the ticket agent remembered the little old lady with the foreign accent. But he didn't remember where she had gone. The Amtrak ticket records-of course-were screwed up beyond hope.

'That's what you get when you let the government fuck around with things,' Cash grumbled as he walked back to his car, a rail schedule in hand.

She had pulled out Thursday morning. Assuming the usual foul-ups and delays, a plane should get him into Rochester well ahead of her.

He paused to call Beth. 'Norm. Yeah. I was right. She took the train. No. Hold off telling him. I'm going to slide home and talk it over with Annie. And I've still got to tell John's wife. You make my reservation? Good girl. Talk to you later.'

'You get suspended?' Annie demanded when he popped in. She had been watching Tran, who was to work the evening shift today, engage his elder son in a game of chess.

'No. I just snuck away. Wanted to tell you that I've got to go to New York.'

'New York? When?'

'Tonight.'

'What the hell for?'

'Because that's where Miss Groloch went. She took the Amtrak. I'm going to be in Rochester waiting when she gets there.'

Annie's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Her mouth tightened into a severe little red scar. 'This Hank's idea?'

'No.'

'I didn't think so. Are you nuts? Just have the Rochester police pick her up.'

'I know. I could. But I can't. It's something I've got to do. I don't know why. Call it an intuition.'

'I'll call it what it is. It's a damned fool obsession is what, Norman.'

'Look, dammit, that witch probably killed John. John Harald. Remember him? Michael's best friend? And it looks like she'll get away with it, just like all the others. Into her house and good-bye world.'

'Calm down, Norm.'

'No. I won't. I'm pissed. At me, at her, at a damned system that can't keep her from doing it again, at everything. John was my friend, Annie. The least I can do is save Carrie from having to go through the same shit as Nancy.'

'Come on. Be reasonable. You can't go roaring off up there like some Wild West bounty hunter. They only do things that way in Clint Eastwood movies.'

'I know. I know. Beth's making arrangements through Frank Segasture. The guy I met during the FBI course back when. You remember. We went clubbing with him and his wife after we graduated. The one who always talked about his uncle in Miami. I've got it all worked out.'

'I'll bet. You're always jumping in without looking.'

'I just wanted to tell you so you could get my things together: clothes; traveler's checks; my checkbook; some cash…'

'You've got it all worked out. Sure. Sometimes you're worse than a ten-year-old.'

Oh, she sounds bitter, Cash thought.

'You bothered to tell Carrie yet? That's your job, you know.'

'I haven't. Not yet.'

'What about his girl friend?'

'Huh? What girl friend?'

'Don't be coy with me, Norman. I can still figure things out for myself sometimes.'

'Yeah. Well.'

' 'Yeah. Well.' We'll talk about it sometime. Right now you'd just better get back to work and forget about going anywhere.'

The phone rang. Annie turned to answer it.

Cash headed for the door. This battle he would fight later, when the odds were better.

Tran followed him.

'Sergeant?'