name, Dane, and not hers, I can’t imagine anyone not checking. We just wait, nothing else to do.”

Sherlock said, “You know the deal you made with her not to delve into her past? Well, we’ve got to find her and protect her, we’ve got to find out who she is. The time has come. Dillon, can you have MAX find out who she is?”

“Yes,” Savich said. “We know her name’s Nicola, she’s twenty-eight, she’s got a Ph.D., and she’s a college professor. This won’t be anything for MAX. Everyone on board with this?”

Delion said, “Do it. Now isn’t the time for irrelevant promises.”

“Yeah,” Dane said. “That’s what I figured.”

While Savich worked, Detective Flynn was sitting back in his chair, his hands laced over his belly, a basketball on the floor beside him. He said, “I just don’t understand why she took off like this. She’s pulling us away from the really important stuff-you know, multiple murders, silly things like that. I’d like to get in her face when we catch up with her.”

Sherlock said, “Do you think she headed back up to San Francisco? To hide herself in the homeless population again?”

Dane shook his head. “No. And I don’t think she’s gone back home either, wherever home is.”

“Then where did she go?” Flynn asked, sipped at the god-awful coffee. His phone rang. He picked it up, barked, “Yeah? Detective Flynn here.”

He wrote something on a pad. When he set the receiver back into its cradle, he was grinning. “How’s this for a bit of luck? Our girl hitched a ride with a trucker. He said he always listens to the police reports on his CB. Said when he heard the APB, he knew he’d given our girl a ride.”

“Where?” Sherlock said.

“Up in Ventura County.”

“Hot damn,” Dane said. “She’s gone to see Captain DeLoach.”

“But why did she just run away like that?” Flynn asked.

“I’ll be sure to ask her after I handcuff her,” Dane said.

“I’ll provide the handcuffs,” Delion said.

“I’m still gonna burn her ass,” Flynn said.

MAX chose that moment to beep. Savich looked down, smiled. “MAX just told me who she is.”

Savich closed down MAX, rose, and stretched. “We can be at Bear Lake by midafternoon.”

THIRTY

One moment there was only the sound of Captain DeLoach’s soft snoring. The next there was a man’s voice, speaking quietly, right there, right next to Captain DeLoach’s wheelchair.

“Wake up, old man. Come on now, you can do it. It’s Weldon, and I’m here to make sure that it’s over, at least for you. Wake up, you old monster, wake up. I’m going to mete out the only justice you’ll ever get in this world, and I want you awake for this.”

Captain DeLoach jerked awake, snorted, looked up, and whispered, “Weldon, how did you get in here? There’s cops out there protecting me, lots of them. And the Feds, they’re everywhere looking for you. You’d better run while you’ve got the chance. How did you come in through the sliding doors? I always keep them locked.”

“You old fool, I have a key to the sliding doors. Not a soul saw me, for sure not that one cop chatting up Velvet in the reception area. And the other one who’s supposed to be protecting you-I saw him out in the parking lot smoking a cigarette. There’s just the two of them, old man.

“It’s finally time for you. For more than thirty years you’ve thumbed your nose at everybody. Now it stops. No more time for any big announcements to anyone else from you. It’s simple justice, you know it.”

“You think you can manage it this time when you didn’t the last two times, you little wimp?”

“I was trying to scare you, not kill you, you monster. I didn’t think I’d have to kill you then. Is your brain so far gone you can’t remember that?

“But this time, I am going to kill you. All your threats to tell the world what you are will die with you. After that fall you took-I really hoped you’d die, but you’re still tough, aren’t you? Why didn’t you make your big announcement?”

Captain DeLoach said, grinning widely, “Of course I’m tough, but no one could tell that by looking at you, you little pussy. I didn’t say anything because I wanted to torture you more, boy. Make you wonder, worry when the blow was going to fall. Threatening your daddy, trying to scare him-nearly to death-that’s not a nice thing, you know. And you left me there, lying on the floor, my head all bloody.”

“Shut up. No more abuse from you, old man, no more.”

“I’m still your only daddy, you puking coward. Jesus, I can’t believe that you’re actually part of me, although your mother was weak, always whining, just like you. And then she died, and it was just you and me, but you weren’t strong, you weren’t a man, you were just like her. And then you just up and left after high school, believed you’d escaped me. Well, I was sick of you, I wanted you out of there.

“But I kept tabs on you, boy. After all, you were the only one who knew. I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t ever tell anyone. And now you want to kill your own daddy.”

“Quiet! Just shut up, damn you. No more threats, no more lies. I’m going to send you to hell, where you belong.”

Weldon paused a moment, then said, “What I really can’t believe is just how long you’ve lasted.” He reached into his pocket.

Nick said, “No, Weldon, you’re not going to do anything to your father. Step away from him.”

Weldon DeLoach jerked up, appalled and surprised as he looked into the muzzle of the SIG Sauer, held in the hand of that homeless woman he’d seen on TV. What the hell was she doing here? He straightened slowly, took a step back.

The old man laughed, rubbed his arthritic hands together. “She’s my own personal bodyguard, Weldon. You thought there was only two cops. Not a chance. She’s here, staying right in my room. What do you think about them apples? She sharp, or what? Salute her, Weldon, she’s with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. She’s a special agent.”

Weldon kicked at his father’s wheelchair, missed, and yelled, “You moron, she’s not a cop. She’s a homeless woman who just happened to see things that would make her a real danger to the murderer.”

“What shouldn’t she have seen, Weldon?”

“The murderer just after he killed the priest in San Francisco.”

“Hey, does she think it’s you?”

Weldon was still blond today, deeply tanned, his eyes a pale blue. Nick wasn’t at all good with guessing people’s age, but if she had to, she’d say he was easily in his forties. Was it makeup? Contacts? Or was this the way he really looked? Nick simply didn’t know if he was the man she’d seen in the church. Maybe disguised, but she knew she’d be useless in court. She held the gun steady, knew she had to get him down to the floor, get him tied up so she could breathe again, so she could think, get help. She was scared, almost as scared as she’d been when she had faced John Rothman.

Still, she had to try. She said, “To be real accurate, Weldon, yes, I saw you.” She continued, now looking back at the old man, “Sir, I saw Weldon in a church just after he’d murdered Father Michael Joseph. And he’s killed other people as well. He wrote TV scripts, then copied them in real life. I’m sorry, but he is a very evil man.”

Captain DeLoach said, “Hey, you really mean that? Nah, that doesn’t make any sense. Weldon’s a pussy. No spine in that back of his, just mush. You really a homeless woman? Fancy that, I won’t have to pay you, will I? You don’t expect anything because you’re not an officer, right?”

“Right, this is for free,” Nick said, not looking at the grinning old man, who really did sound pleased as punch.

“You said Weldon is a murderer? He’s really a criminal?”

The old man laughed. “Listen to me, girl, you’re all wrong about this. Weldon couldn’t kill a roach if it crawled over his bare feet and started gnawing on his toe. He’s a coward.”

“Sir, please be quiet.” She adjusted her aim with the SIG just a bit and said to Weldon, “I want you to lie on

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