'Edwin Gibbs, under his Dennis Lex/Davis Taylor identity, still had a locker at work. We found the wallets of two of his victims, Robert and Patricia Wilson, in there.'
'They were the honeymoon couple?'
'Yes.'
They both took a moment, out of respect for the dead, Myron guessed. He pictured a healthy young couple beginning their life, coming to the Big Apple to see some shows and do a little shopping, walking the bustling streets hand in hand, a little scared about the future but ready to give it a go.
Kimberly cleared her throat. 'Gibbs also rented a white Ford Windstar using the Davis Taylor credit card. It was one of those automatic reservations. You just make a call, walk straight to the rental, and drive off. No one sees you.'
'Where did he pick up the van?'
'Newark Airport.'
'I assume that's the van we found in Bernardsville,' Myron said.
'The very.'
'Tidy,' he said, using a Win word. 'What else?'
'Preliminary autopsies reveal that all the victims were killed with a thirty-eight. Two shots to the head. No other signs of trauma. We don't think he tortured them or any of that. His modus operandus seemed to involve the early scream and then he just killed them.'
'He ends the seed sowing for them,' Myron said, 'but not the families.'
'Right.'
'Because for his victims, the terror would be real. He wanted it all in the mind.' Myron shook his head. 'What did Jeremy tell you about his ordeal?'
'You didn't talk to him about it?'
Myron shifted in his chair. 'No.'
'Edwin Gibbs wore the same disguise he used at work — the blond wig and beard and glasses. He blindfolded Jeremy as soon as he had him in the van and drove straight to that cabin. Edwin told him to scream into the phone — even made him practice first to make sure he had it right. After the call, Edwin chained him up and left him alone. You know the rest.'
Myron nodded. He did.
'What about the plagiarism charge and the novel?'
She shrugged. 'It was like you and Stan said. Edwin read it, probably right after his wife was dying of cancer. It influenced him.'
Myron stared at her for a moment.
'What?' she said.
'You guys figured that part out when you first got the novel,' Myron said. 'That Stan hadn't plagiarized. That the book influenced the killer.'
She shook her head. 'No.'
'Come on. You knew that the kidnappings had taken place. You just wanted to put pressure on Stan so he'd talk. And maybe you wanted to embarrass him a little.'
'That's not true,' Kimberly Green said. 'I'm not saying some of our agents didn't take it personally, but we believed that he was the Sow the Seeds kidnapper. I already told you some of the reasons why. Now we know that a lot of the same evidence pointed to his father.'
'What same evidence?'
She shook her head. 'It's not important anymore. We knew Stan was more here than just a reporter. And we were right. We even thought he was getting stuff wrong on purpose — that he was using the book rather than what he'd really done just to throw us off.'
Her words didn't resonate the way the truth does, but Myron didn't argue the point. He scanned his Client Wall and tried to bring his focus around to Lamar Richardson's visit. 'So the case is closed.'
She smiled. 'Like legs in a nunnery.'
'You make that one up?'
'Yup.'
'Good thing you carry a gun,' Myron said. 'So are you going to get a big promotion?'
She rose. 'I think I get to be a super-secret-special agent now.'
Myron smiled. They shook hands. Kimberly left then. Myron sat alone for a while. He rubbed his eyes and thought about what she'd said and what she hadn't said and realized that something was still very wrong.
Lamar Richardson, shortstop extraordinaire, showed up on time and by himself. Positively shocking. The meeting went well. Myron gave his standard spiel, but the standard spiel was pretty good. Damn good, actually. All businesspeople need a spiel. Spiel is good. Esperanza spoke up too. She had started developing her own spiel. Well honed. The perfect complement to Myron's. Quite the partnership, this was becoming.
Win stopped by briefly as planned. If recruitment was a baseball game, Win was the big closer. People knew his name. They checked out his reputation — er, his business reputation, that is. When prospective clients learned that Windsor Horne Lockwood III himself would handle their finances, that Win and Myron further insisted that clients meet with Win at least five times a year, they started smiling. Score one for the small agency.
Lamar Richardson played it close to the vest. He nodded a lot. He asked questions but not too many. Two hours after arriving, he shook their hands and said he'd be in touch. Myron and Esperanza walked him to the elevator and bade him good-bye.
Esperanza turned to Myron. 'Well?'
'Got him.'
'How can you be so sure?'
'I'm all-seeing,' Myron said. 'All-knowing.'
They moved back into Myron's office and sat down. 'If Lamar chooses us over IMG and TruPro' — she stopped, smiled—'we're baaaaack.'
'Pretty much.'
'And that means Big Cyndi will come back.'
'That's supposed to be a good thing, right?'
'You're starting to love her, you know.'
'Yeah, don't rub it in.'
Esperanza studied his face. She did that a lot. Myron didn't much believe in reading faces. Esperanza did. Especially his. 'What happened in that law office?' she asked. 'With Chase Layton?'
'I boxed his ears once and punched him seven times.'
Her eyes stayed on his face.
'You're supposed to say, 'But you saved Jeremy's life,' ' Myron added.
'No, that's Win's line.' She adjusted herself and faced him full. She wore an aquamarine business suit, cut low with no blouse, and it was a wonder Lamar had been able to concentrate on anything. Myron was used to her, but the effect was still there, still dazzling. He just saw the dazzle from a different angle.
'Speaking of Jeremy,' she said.
'Yes.'
'You still blocking?'
Myron thought about it, remembered the embrace in that cabin, stopped. 'More than ever,' he said.
'So what now?'
'The blood test came back. I'm the father.'
Something popped onto her face — regret maybe— but it didn't stay long. 'You should tell him the truth.'
'Right now I just want to save his life.'
She kept studying the face. 'Maybe soon,' she said.
'Maybe soon what?'
'You'll stop blocking,' Esperanza said.
'Yeah, maybe.'
'We'll chat then. In the meantime…'
