first month to see if any bodies bobbed to the surface.'
'We should check the tunnels again.'
'We've checked them a dozen times. Each time we brought you along, remember?'
'But we haven't really explored every inch of the island. There could be — '
'Jack and his daughter aren't there.'
'Then they moved them someplace else. You have any leads?'
'Darby, you need help.'
'I'll be fine on my own.' But the words died on her mouth. One of these people had broken into her house, bypassed the alarm code and left Sarah Casey's picture in her coffee-maker. They had been watching her and found her. Maybe they were watching her right now.
'I'm talking about your head,' he said. 'You're exhibiting classic signs of post-traumatic stress disorder.'
'What's the status of that EMT? Have you found him yet?'
Sergey didn't answer, and she spoke into the silence.
'I gave you his description. He spoke to Keats, remember? I told you — '
'His name is Peter Grange,' Sergey said. 'He's thirty-six years old and single.'
'When did you find out?'
'A while ago.'
'When were you going to tell me?'
Sergey didn't answer.
'Do you have him in custody?' she asked.
'No. He disappeared. We know he's not one of the bodies we found in the ossuary.'
'So let me help with the investigation. I can — '
'The Bureau has enough people working on it.' He sounded so incredibly tired. 'The guy's gone. We're never going to find him.'
She squeezed the receiver, wanting to take it and smash it across Sergey's head. Knock out that loser thinking and help him get his priorities straight.
'Darby, you're going to have to deal with this.'
'I'd deal with it much better if you'd let me into the investigation.'
'There is no investigation. Not any more.'
She felt a cold space in her stomach. 'Since when?'
'Since about a week or so ago. The suits upstairs, they decided to pull the plug on it for the time being. Those bodies we found, most of them were identified and — '
'I know. It's all over the news.' She had followed it in the papers and on TV. The FBI was getting heat about not having found this cult sooner, with the media resurrecting the ghost of Waco and drawing comparisons with that botched operation.
She also knew that Sergey's son was not among the dead.
'We put in a lot of manpower, a lot of time and even more money,' he said. 'The suits and bean-counters looked at the bottom line and decided that finding and identifying those bodies, bringing them home to their families — that was a victory. They put all the information about this group into the open. Forwarded all our information to police departments while the press is hot and it's fresh in everyone's minds. This group is on everyone's radar screen now.'
'And Casey and his daughter? Are they still on your radar?'
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
'I consider Jack a friend,' he said. 'Keep that in mind when you hear what I'm about to say.'
She heard a hitch in his voice. He cleared his throat and said, 'Have you considered the fact that both he and his daughter are dead?'
'They're alive.'
'You don't know — '
'Last week you told me Taylor Casey received a phone call from her daughter.'
'Yes. Yes, I did say that. But we don't know for sure that her daughter was on the other end of the line. Taylor Casey received a phone call that lasted twenty-two seconds. And you remember I said I couldn't trace it.'
'You said it was Sarah. Taylor told you her daughter called crying, asking her mother when she's coming to get her.'
'Darby, the woman was lobotomized. She has permanent and severe brain damage. She doesn't know what day it is. She thinks Jack is coming in any minute to pick her up.'
'I want to talk to her.'
'No. She's being moved to another private facility — the same place we're taking Darren Waters. They'll both be well taken care of. You need to stop this obsessive thinking.'
'Sarah Casey is twelve years old.'
'And my son was five when they took him.'
Darby propped an arm up on top of the payphone and looked out at the cars whisking by on the highway, the sun warm on her face.
'My son isn't coming back,' Sergey said. 'I've come to grips with that. I won't lie to you, it's not an easy process. For a while there I was a member of the living dead. But I've got past that now, and yes, there are still days when I wake up and wish I could go back and do things differently. But I can't. Sad fact of life but there it is. That day is gone, and my son's gone. You've got to start letting this go.'
Her eyes were burning. Wet. 'And do what?'
'Live,' Sergey said. 'Coop has been calling me. He wants to know where — '
'Don't tell him.'
'He wants to talk to you.'
'No. I can't risk it.'
'You can't hide for ever.'
'Don't tell him,' she said, and hung up.
*
Darby delivered the picture to the Boston office and then checked herself into the Four Seasons. The room she had shared with Coop was occupied, so she picked out the cheapest room, raided the mini-bar and got drunk.
That night, she dreamed of men and women rising from the surf under a moonless sky, their ghoulish faces and bloated white bodies picked apart by fish. They crept across the sand dragging their chains and she was so tired she didn't hear them enter her room.
She woke with a start. Her Glock was lying next to her, and she picked it up and searched the rooms.
Sweating, she sat on the couch in the small living room, her Glock aimed at the door.
87
Sergey called two days later, a few minutes after midnight.
'Where are you?' he asked, and Darby heard him give a sigh of relief.
'Back at the rental house. Packing. I just got here.'
'My guys lost sight of you.'
'I've been moving around.'
'If you're scared, the offer for protective federal custody — '
'I'm going to do this on my own.'
'Good. Good for you. The offer is there if you ever need or want it. You need any help packing? I can send some people there. They can drive you to wherever you're going.'
