'There was no basement. I have the floor plan for the cabin in front of me.'
'Well, there might not have been a basement when your client owned it, but there is now. Perhaps this Bob Scott knew of the bunker and built the basement to have access to it.'
'I suppose that's possible. I was looking back through the chain of title, and there have been multiple owners since the army. In fact, when the army owned it, there was no cabin. One of the subsequent owners built it.'
'You wouldn't happen to have any photos of Bob Scott, would you? It's really important,' she added.
'Well, we normally make a copy of the party's driver's license when we do a real estate closing-you know, to verify identities since they're signing legal documents for recordation.'
Michelle almost jumped in her excitement. 'Can you send me that picture by fax, like right now?'
'No, I can't.'
'But it's not privileged information.'
'No. That's not it.' He sighed and said, 'Look, when I opened the file this morning, it was the first time I'd looked at it since the transaction closed. And, well, I didn't find the copy of Mr. Scott's driver's license.'
'Maybe you forgot to make a copy.'
'My secretary has been with me thirty years, and she's never forgotten before.'
'So maybe someone took the copy out of the file.'
'I don't know what to think. It's just not here.'
'Do you remember what Bob Scott looked like?'
'I really only saw him once, for a few minutes, at the closing. And I do hundreds of those a year.'
'Would you take a minute and think about it and try and describe him to me?'
The lawyer did so, and Michelle thanked him and hung up.
The description the lawyer had given was too vague for her to know if it was Bob Scott. And in eight years people can change a great deal, particularly those who've fallen out of the mainstream, like Scott. And she had no idea what Denby even looked like. God, she was going around in circles. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. Panicking was not going to help Sean.
Unable to move forward on any of her lines of inquiry, she started wondering about King's. He said he was working on something-something that required extra research. What had he said? He'd gone somewhere. She racked her tired mind trying to think of it.
And then she had it. She grabbed her keys and ran for her truck.
68
Michelle walked quickly into the UVA law library and up to the service desk. The woman who was there wasn't the one who'd helped King, but after Michelle asked, she was directed to the librarian who had.
Michelle flashed her Secret Service badge and told the woman she needed to see what King had been researching.
'I heard on the news about his home burning down. Is he all right? They didn't say.'
'Well, we just don't know right now. That's why I need your help.'
The woman told Michelle what King had asked for, then took her to the same room and logged her onto the system.
'It was the Martindale Hubbell directory,' the woman said.
'I'm sorry, I'm not a lawyer. What exactly is Martindale Hubbell?'
'It's a directory of all licensed lawyers across the U.S. Sean has a set at his office, but it was the most recent one. He needed a directory that went back some time.'
'Did he mention how far back?'
'Early seventies.'
'Did he mention anything else? Anything that would narrow it down more?' Michelle didn't know exactly how many lawyers were licensed in the U.S., but she figured there were far more than she had time to look at.
The woman shook her head. 'I'm sorry, that's all I know.'
She left, and Michelle looked at the screen with a discouraged expression when she saw that the directory contained well over one million names.
Not really knowing where to start, she ran her gaze over the home page and noticed a drop-down screen that made her sit up very straight. It was entitled 'Recent Searches.' It listed the last few documents the user from this remote location had been working on.
She clicked on the first item there. When she saw the name of the lawyer listed, and where he was from, she leaped up and sprinted through the library, causing many aspiring attorneys to stare.
She was on her phone before she even got to her truck. Her mind was racing so fast, filling in the blanks at such a fierce rate, that the person she called said hello three times before she even realized it.
'Parks,' she yelled into the phone, 'it's Michelle Maxwell. I think I know where Sean is. And I know who the hell is behind this.'
'Whoa, just slow down. What are you talking about?'
'Meet me in front of Greenberry's coffee shop at the Barracks Road Shopping Center just as fast as you can. And call up the cavalry. We've got to move fast.'
'Meet you at Barracks Road? Aren't you in the hospital?'
She clicked off without answering.
As she sped off, she prayed they wouldn't be too late.
Parks met her in front of the coffee shop. He was alone, and not looking happy. 'What the hell are you doing out of the hospital?'
'Where are your men?' she asked.
The marshal looked to be in a foul temper. 'What, do you think me and the cavalry just sit around the campfire waiting for you to blow the bugle? You call and scream in my ear and don't tell me a damn thing, and you expect me to conjure up some army and I don'teven know where the hell we're supposed to be going. I work for the federal government, lady, just like you, with limited budgets and manpower. I'm not James Bond!'
'Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I was just really excited. And we don't have much time.'
'I want you to take a deep breath, collect your thoughts and tell me what's going on. And if you've really cracked this thing and we need the manpower, we'll get it. It'll only take a phone call. Okay?' He looked at her with equal parts hope and skepticism.
She took a long breath and forced herself to calm down. 'Sean went to the law library and looked up some information on a lawyer who I think represented Arnold Ramsey when he was arrested back in the seventies.'
'Ramsey was arrested? Where did this angle come from?'
'Something Sean and I just stumbled on.'
Parks looked at her curiously. 'What was the lawyer's name?'
'Roland Morse, a lawyer from California. I'm certain he's Sidney Morse's father. Sidney Morse must have known Arnold Ramsey way back when, maybe in college. But that's beside the point. Jefferson, it's not Sidney, of course; it's Peter Morse, the younger brother. He's behind all this. I know it sounds like a stretch, but I'm almost positive it's him. Sean looked away for an instant, and Clyde Ritter was killed and his brother's life was ruined. He's got the money and the criminal background to put this all together. He's avenging his brother, who's sitting in a mental hospital catching tennis balls. And we never even had him on our list of suspects. He's got Sean and Joan and Bruno. And I know where.'
When she told him, Parks said, 'Well, what the hell are we waiting for? Let's go!' They jumped into her truck, and she laid rubber off both rear tires getting out of the parking lot. While she was doing that, Parks got on his phone and commenced summoning the cavalry. Michelle prayed they were not too late.
