Ned Bramlock, who wore Italian tasseled loafers and had a full head of beautiful chestnut hair, said as he managed to furrow his brow in concern, “We’ve tried to speak to Judge Sedgewick who issued the order to the police officers to release Marlin Jones, but he’s refusing comment at this time.” They switched to an ACLU lawyer, who claimed what the judge did was exactly correct since to have refused to allow the alleged killer privacy for the testing would have been a violation of his civil rights. They switched to another judge, this one retired, who said flatly that Judge Sedgewick was an idiot without a lick of judgment or sense.
Savich turned off the TV set. He stretched. “Let’s go work out.”
She rose. “Yes, let’s go. There’s a World Gym just two blocks from here, down on Union Street. It’s open at six A.M. It’s nearly seven-thirty now.”
By the time they’d finished, Lacey was so exhausted, even her rage was dampened somewhat, at least until she could breathe normally again. They walked home, holding hands.
“It’s going to be a beautiful day.”
“It usually is in San Francisco,” she said. “Even when the fog comes rolling through the Golden Gate, it’s breathtaking. The fog makes it more lovely.” She fell silent.
“They’ll catch him. He’s got no money, no transportation. Everyone is looking for him. His photo is all over the TV. Someone will see him and they’ll call the cops. Don’t worry, Sherlock.”
She was thinking about Judge Sedgewick and what she’d like to do to the guy as they walked back to her parents’ home. As they turned onto Broadway, she spotted three local TV station vans and a good dozen people equipped with cameras and microphones parked in her parents’ front yard. They heard Isabelle yelling, “Get out of here, you vultures, go! Scat!”
“Come on, ma’am, tell Agent Sherlock we’re here. We need to talk to her for a little while.”
“Yeah, the public’s got a right to know.”
“Hey, did you know her sister, Belinda Madigan? Is it true that Lacey joined the FBI just to bring down Marlin Jones?”
“Is it true she entrapped Jones?”
Isabelle looked ready to kill. She raised her hands, palms out. To Sherlock’s surprise, the rowdy group quieted down instantly. She said in a voice that carried to the end of the block, “Go talk to that moronic judge who made the police remove Marlin Jones’s restraints. Maybe he can take that killer’s place until he’s caught again.”
“Good for her,” Savich said.
Sherlock pulled out her cell and called her parents’ house.
“Sherlock residence.”
“Isabelle? It’s Lacey. We saw them all in time. You did great, told the reporters the truth. Is Dad there?”
“Yes, just a moment, Lacey. I’m glad you’re out of here. The reporters are planning to camp out here, I think. How did they know you were here?”
Hannah, she thought with sudden insight. Hannah hated her guts. She’d do anything to hurt her. “We’ll find out, Isabelle. Get Dad for me.”
Twenty minutes later they were picked up by Danny Elbright, one of Judge Sherlock’s clerks. He had their luggage in the trunk. “Isabelle carried everything out the back and I swung around to pick up the luggage.
“Judge Sherlock called the airline and got you on a flight leaving at ten o’clock A.M. Is this all right?”
“That’s great,” Savich said. He stretched out, leaned back his head, and closed his eyes. “What a day and it’s only nine o’clock in the morning. I hope the media aren’t smart enough to call the airlines yet.”
“Don’t worry about me, Lacey,” Danny Elbright said, looking at her in the rearview mirror. “I know if I ever opened my mouth your daddy would send me up the big river. I won’t say a word. I want you to catch this creep. Wasn’t Isabelle a kick? I’ll bet she’ll be all over the news.”
Lacey said, “Thanks, Danny. Hey, maybe Marlin’s been caught as we speak.”
“Let’s see.” Danny turned on the radio and began station surfing.
By the time their plane left San Francisco International, Marlin Jones was still on the loose. He’d been free for five hours and twenty minutes. There were two seats left in First Class, and Judge Sherlock had snagged them. Both Savich and Sherlock were relieved when no one recognized them at the airport.
“You’ll be staying with me,” Savich said as he took a glass of orange juice from a flight attendant. “We’re not going to take any chances.”
“All right,” she said, and stared down at where Yosemite would be if only they had been sitting on the right side of the airplane instead of the left.
“I know you’re scared. Don’t be.”
“Actually I’m furious, not scared. There’s no reason why Marlin would come after me. You know he’s not crazy, and he’d have to be totally off the deep end to fixate on getting back at me.
“What I can’t believe is that a judge—a person who’s supposed to have a tad of common sense—would even listen to those idiot shrinks and their ridiculous demands.”
“Well, I’ll bet you no judge is going to pull that kind of stunt again anytime soon. This was an aberration, Sherlock, an unfortunate blip. Everyone will raise hell and the ACLU will look like idiots for defending the judge’s ruling.
“Also, it turns out one of the doctors might not make it. The other doctor has a severe concussion, according to the news. As for the orderly, his jaw’s broken and he has a lump over his left ear the size of a hockey puck. You can bet next week’s paycheck that restraints will be left on prisoners in the future. If that doctor dies, the hole Marlin’s in will be so deep he’ll never see the sunshine again.”
Savich took her hand. “We’ll see. I do wonder where Marlin’s daddy is. I have this feeling he’s still out there, still kicking around. What’s he doing, I wonder? Does Marlin know where he is? Is Marlin going to see him? Could Erasmus have been the one to come after you in Washington? Could he have been the one to hit me in Boston? Have Marlin and his daddy possibly been in contact and maybe even now are in cahoots?”
She sucked in her breath. “I was thinking the same thing. But as to the father-and-son-duo idea, I don’t know if it’s another seemingly random piece to the puzzle or a major gluing piece.”
“I think it says a lot about how well we’re suited that I understand exactly what you just said.” He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers. He looked deep into her eyes. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. His fingers lightly caressed her ear. “Hey, gorgeous, what do you want from this gourmet lunch menu?”
MARLIN Jones was still free when they arrived at Savich’s house at seven-thirty that evening.
There were no reporters waiting for them.
“If they’re anywhere, it’s at your town house. Another excellent reason for staying here with me.”
“Yes,” she said and followed him in. “I hope Hannah doesn’t tell them where I probably am.”
“I’m going to call Mr. Maitland and let him know we’re back. And Ollie. Yeah, I think I’ll give Hannah a ring. I think you’re right. She’s probably behind the leak. I’m beginning to think this might be a good time for her to transfer to another section. She’d better keep her mouth shut from now on or she’ll be out of the Bureau.”
“Maybe she’s not the one who talked.”
“We’ll see. You unpack and then relax. We’ll have dinner in. I’ve got some great spinach lasagna in the freezer that I made a while back. You’ll love it.”
“I think I’d rather have Dizzy Dan’s pizza. Do they deliver?”
“They will for me.” He frowned at her, then strode back to her, grabbed her, and pulled her tightly against him. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll get through this. Marlin will be in jail again by tomorrow morning, you’ll see. All the FBI’s in on this, big-time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mr. Maitland so pissed. Marlin doesn’t stand a chance.”
But she didn’t know if she agreed. Marlin Jones was out there. She nodded though,
saying nothing, and laid her cheek against his shoulder.
HER clothes went into his closet, her shoes on the floor beside his size-twelve wing tips and gym shoes. Her underwear went in the second drawer of the dresser. And when he was kissing his way down her body, his mouth against her, she forgot everything but him and what he was making her feel. She yelled and arced upward and told him between gasping breaths, “I love you, Dillon. Just in case you didn’t hear me the first time, I’ll marry you. You’re the best.”
“Good. Don’t forget it,” he said, staring down at her, and came into her.
It was nearly morning when Savich came slowly awake, aware that something strange was happening, something that was probably better than any pesto pasta he’d ever made, better even than having won a huge bet off one of his relatives. The something strange suddenly intensified and he lurched up, gasping. She was leaning over him, her tangled hair covering his belly, her mouth on him.
All he could do was moan and clutch her hair. And when he kissed her mouth, she said, “If you could do that to me, surely you had to like it too. It only makes sense, doesn’t it? I’ve never done that before. Did I do okay?”
“It was okay,” he said. “Yeah, I think maybe it was okay. Really not bad for your first time.” She slid down his chest again. Then it was all over for him.
OLLIE said, “Mr. Maitland has a representative speaking to the media downstairs. Sherlock, don’t worry, they’ll lay off, that was the deal he struck with them.”
“Good,” Savich said.
“But there’s lots of gossip, lots of innuendo,” Hannah said, tapping her pen against the conference table. “Marlin Jones’s lawyer is making hay with Sherlock here being one of the murdered women’s sisters.”
“That’s true,” Savich said. “Does anyone know how the media found out about that?”
No one said a word.
“Hannah?” Savich said, looking at her.
She looked right at Lacey. “No, certainly not. But I don’t think it’s bad that the media found out what she did. It’s possible the case against Jones could be tossed out as entrapment.” She shrugged. “You knew it was going to come out anyway. At least now there’s time to get the media through chewing on it by the time Marlin Jones is recaptured.”
She was lying, but how could he prove it? Savich smiled at her, a smile cold enough to freeze water. He said, his voice so gentle it made the hair rise on the back of Sherlock’s neck, “I wonder that it didn’t occur to the one who told the press that Sherlock wasn’t the one who made the decision? That both the Bureau and the local cops all discussed her as bait for Marlin and okayed it?”
“I bet you talked him into it,” Hannah said to Sherlock. The other agents were squirming, looking off, wishing, Savich knew, that they were anywhere but seated here at the conference table.
Savich raised his hands. “All right, that’s enough. As most of you know, Sherlock is at my place. Not a word about this to anybody outside this room. Okay, we’ll have our regular status meeting tomorrow. I wanted everyone up to speed on this debacle. Hannah, I’d like to see you in my office.”
The meeting broke up. Ollie collared Sherlock. “I’ve been working through MAXINE’s protocols using a different slant with the Florida nursing home killings. Come and see where I’m at. I’d like your input. Besides, it’ll get your mind off Marlin Jones. You’re looking hunted.”
She wanted to go after Savich and Hannah. Then Hannah turned around and looked at her. Sherlock changed her mind. She didn’t want to get within spitting distance of Hannah.
In Savich’s office, he waved his hand to a chair facing his desk. “Sit down, Hannah.”
She sat. He said nothing at all for a very long time, just looked at her, his head cocked to the left.
“You wanted to speak to me, Dillon?”
“Oh yes. I know it was you who told the media about Sherlock’s connection to one of the San Francisco murders. I’d like you to tell me why you did it.”
THIRTY
She said in a low voice that was hard as nails, “I told you already that I didn’t do it.”
“You’re lying. Understand this, Hannah. It wasn’t Sherlock’s decision to be used as bait. Sure, she wanted to do it, very badly, but it wasn’t her decision. You’re the last person who should have opened your mouth. The fact of the matter is that you talked to the press to cause trouble. That’s unprofessional and unacceptable behavior in a Special Agent.”
“I didn’t do it. You can’t prove that I did. Don’t forget it was a judge who ordered the removal of Marlin Jones’s shackles. Why wouldn’t a judge throw this out as well?”
“Because of the bloody evidence, that’s why. Look, Hannah, I don’t want you in this unit. I think a transfer is in order. You’re a good agent, but not here, not in my unit.”
“That dowdy little prig is that good in bed?”
“Special Agents don’t talk about other Special Agents that way. It’s sexist. It’s not acceptable. I won’t have it.”
Hannah rose slowly, bent over toward Savich, splayed her hands on his desk, and said in a low voice, “Tell me what you see in her, just tell me so I’ll understand. You swore to me that you’d never allow yourself to become serious over anyone who worked in your unit, yet you saw little miss prim and fell all over yourself.”
He rose to face her. “Listen to me, let it go. Sherlock’s never done anything to you. If you want a target, I’m right here, really big, right in front of you. Take your best shot. Leave Sherlock alone. Oh yeah, I know too that you called the media in San Francisco and told them where Sherlock lived.
“You have compromised this case, Hannah; you’ve muddied the waters because of your stupid jealousy. Now, if you want to stay in the Bureau, you’d best be very careful from here on out. I’ll call Colin Petty in Personnel. You can discuss transfer options with him right now.”
“Tell me why. Why her?”
Sherlock’s face was vivid in his mind’s eye. He looked bemused as he said slowly, “You know, I really can’t answer that. Lots of things, I guess. Good day, Agent. I’ll be calling Personnel right now.”
She called him a shit, but it was low enough so he could ignore it. At least he hoped he was the shit and not Sherlock. He’d never meant to hurt Hannah, never meant to do anything to encourage her. He called Colin Petty, then buzzed Hannah to go see him.
He sighed, turned on MAXINE, and was soon in another world, one that he controlled, one that answered only to his siren’s song, one that never let him down. He reviewed everything on Marlin Jones.
Where was he? Hiding? On the run? Was he alone?
MAXINE brought up the driver’s license photo of Marlin’s father, Erasmus Jones. Were they together? Did Erasmus play any role at all in any of the murders in Denver or San Francisco or Boston? Was it actually he who rented the Ford Taurus? If he had, then they were probably together.
He reviewed the reports, completely immersed until Jimmy Maitland said from the open doorway, “Maitland to Savich and MAXINE. Are you two hovering anywhere close?”
Savich blinked, forcing himself to look up. He rose. “Hello, sir. What can I do for you? Have they caught Marlin Jones?”
Jimmy Maitland shook his head mournfully. “No, not yet, but it won’t be much longer. All the major corridors out of Boston are covered with agents and locals. Oh yeah, Big John Bullock is hassling the Bureau office in Boston big-time. He wants to see Agent Sherlock. He wants what he’s calling a predeposition. He wants to make some hay now before the cops have Marlin in custody again. What do you suggest we do?”
Savich sat back in his chair. Jimmy Maitland lowered himself into one of the chairs facing Savich’s desk. “This isn’t easy, is it? That opportunistic jerk, I wish Marlin had hit him harder.”
“Too late. Come on, Savich, do you think Big John will make hash out of Sherlock?”
“No. Besides, we’ll have a person from Justice with us. I think Sherlock is incidental. What he wants i
s to have the media crawling all over her, making her look guilty, and thus exonerating Marlin Jones, which is impossible. The guy’s spitting in the wind.”
“And if that doctor dies, it’s more than impossible. They might launch him into space. Last I heard, it’s still too close to call.”
“If the doctor dies, I can see Big John going for manslaughter or murder two. No premeditation, an act of passion by an insane man, a man out of control, a man terrified about what was going to happen to him.” Suddenly Savich sat upright in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him. “Let’s do it. I think Sherlock can handle herself fine. Let’s face that bastard down. Who knows? We might get something out of it.”
Jimmy Maitland said very slowly, “You think maybe Marlin will find out about her being in Boston? He’ll try to get to her?”
Savich was very still. “Yeah, bottom line, that’s why I think we should go.”
“It’s a real long shot. Next to impossible.”
“Yeah, but even if there’s a remote chance it’d be worth it. But it’s not my decision to make. I’ll speak to Sherlock. But you know something? I don’t think Marlin would even find out about her going to Boston—unless we let it loose to the media. Also, even if he does find out, he’d really have to be crazy to come after her.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know. Big John will leak it to the media, count on it. I will too. But you’re right, it’s got to be Sherlock’s decision. But you already know the answer, don’t you, Savich?”
“Oh yes.”
“THE media are out in force, thicker than fleas on a one-eared dock rat,” Jimmy Maitland said, blew his nose, then stuffed the handkerchief back into his coat pocket. He drew away from the window in the twenty-third-floor office of Big John Bullock. He wasn’t happy with all this, but he knew that with the leak, there was no way Marlin Jones didn’t know about Sherlock being here in Boston. He wouldn’t be surprised if Sherlock had called the media. She really wanted Marlin Jones, badly.
The Beginning Page 62
