Blowout (33 page)

“No, it’ll be fine,” Sherlock said, took a final swipe and rose to her feet. “Callie, we don’t need you down here on your knees too. Thank you, Fleurette. There, all done. Hey, Ben, you’re a natural. Sean’s nearly out.”

Ben paused in his rocking and looked at her. Sherlock wanted to laugh, the expression on his face was so priceless. Then he said slowly, “Yeah, I guess I am a natural. Thing is, I’d be a natural too with a red Porsche.”

Callie laughed, got up, and walked to him. She punched him in the arm. “You are such a guy.” Then she cocked her head to one side as she looked at Sean, asleep in his arms. “Yeah, I guess you are a natural.”

A moment later there was pounding on the door. “Let’s get it over with,” Savich said and went to let in Jimmy Maitland and a half dozen FBI agents and Metro cops.

JEFFERSON DORMITORY

QUANTICO

SUNDAY MORNING

D
R*
. H*
ICKS WAS
flummoxed, and Savich knew why. Martin Thornton wasn’t going under. Something inside him was fighting the loss of control. Martin wasn’t going anywhere.

Savich wondered if this was Dr. Hicks’s first failure. It was just the three of them in Dr. Hicks’s small office; Janet was in the Quantico gym, working out with some students, who’d been assigned to keep an eye on her.

Dr. Hicks tried again. “Martin, listen to me carefully. I want you to relax, I want you to let yourself go. You’re safe, you do understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.”

“No one’s going to hurt you. I know you want to remember. I know you want to know the truth about what happened on your sixth birthday. I’m here to help you do it, but you have to help me, you have to let go. Now, let’s try again. Concentrate on this bright silver dollar, keep your eyes on it, watch it swing back and forth and try to focus that brain of yours.”

Martin stared at the blur of silver as it swung back and forth several dozen times, until his eyes nearly glazed over. He finally shook his head, rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “I’m sorry, Dr. Hicks. Nothing’s happening and believe me, you’re right, I want it to. I want to remember. I want to know what happened to my mother that day. You know what else? I want to remember what she looked like, what she smelled like. I know she wore a perfume like flowers, but I can’t smell it anymore. I’m beginning to believe I do know what happened that day. I want to see the man who killed my mom.”

“I agree you might have seen your mother murdered,” Savich said. “Martin, do you remember hiding in the attic? Martin—Austin. Which do you prefer?”

“I’m Martin Thornton now, Dillon, have been for more years than I was Austin.”

“All right, then, Martin. I’ve described the house to you, described the attic, described your mother. Do you remember the attic? Can you see it in your mind at all? Do you remember ever being in an attic?”

“No, I don’t. There’s nothing there.”

Dr. Hicks put the watch away, sat back in his leather chair, and crossed his hands over his skinny belly. “I’m thinking that when Agent Savich is through with this current case, you need to go back to Blessed Creek, see the house where you spent the first six years of your life. You need to climb up that ladder into the attic, go into the bathroom where they found your mom. I’m thinking that might break that dam in your memory, help everything flood back.”

Martin’s eyes lit up. “I could go back now, with Janet.”

“No way are you going anywhere, Martin,” Savich said, his voice sharp. “You’re going to promise me that you’ll stay right here. Promise me.”

“But—”

“Promise me.”

“All right, I promise.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere. You’re in a safe place, and right now, that’s exactly what you need—to feel safe. You need to know that if something happens in your brain, you’ll have help to deal with it. Forget the frustration of not remembering. It will all come back when it’s ready to. Now, Dr. Hicks has the name of an excellent psychiatrist, and you’ll want to tell him or her everything you know, everything you’ve felt, in great detail. Who do you have in mind, Dr. Hicks?”

“Dr. Lynette Foster. She works regularly with the FBI. She’s very good with memory issues, cases of trauma. You can trust her, Martin.”

Slowly, Martin Thornton nodded.

Savich said, “I’ve already spoken to Janet. Believe me, she’s not worried about your girls or anyone but you. You’re here for the near future. Hey, the food in The Boardroom is pretty good, and you have the PX with plenty of FBI souvenirs to buy, pretty cool stuff you can give for presents. Best of all, you can spend some time with Janet. You’re staying, Martin, until I’m through with this case.”

Dr. Hicks smiled when Martin nodded.

“Excellent. Now, Janet’s in the gym, getting started on losing fifteen pounds she said, and it’s been over an hour. Dr. Hicks will show you the gym, then you and Janet can have lunch, wander the grounds if you like.

“I’m going to head out to the Hoover Building. By the way, can you do any of your work remotely if you have access to a computer?”

“Yeah, sure. I spend most of my time on the computer.”

When Savich left, he saw Martin standing tall, his shoulders no longer slumped. He heard him say to Dr. Hicks, “I’ve got lots of work to do. You said this Boardroom place has some good food?”

Savich would swear as he walked down the hall of the Jefferson Dormitory that he heard Martin Thornton whistling.

FBI HEADQUARTERS

WASHINGTON, D.C.

EARLY SUNDAY AFTERNOON

S
AVICH LOOKED OUT
over the thirty-plus agents and cops in the conference room. “Last night, as most of you already know, Günter fired six shots into my living room, his primary target Fleurette. His performance last night shows he’s becoming increasingly less controlled, more desperate, but given what he did in the middle of Georgetown, I certainly can’t say he’s any less daring. So long as he continues, our chances of finding him improve. So far the only physical evidence we have are ballistics from the recovered bullets—probably a plain old thirty-eight. We’ve located Günter’s approximate range and position, but apart from a few broken branches, some partial footprints in the snow, he left nothing behind.

“But we may have a lead. Two Metro policemen found a witness, an older man who was walking his dog two blocks over. They’re not convinced he’s reliable, but let me report what Mr. Avery told them. He said he saw a man running toward a car. He thinks it was a light gray, or maybe white, late-model Toyota. Said the guy was fast, ran easily, was tall and well-built. He was wearing a Burberry coat, black gloves on his hands.

“Now the thing is, the two policemen had major doubts about Mr. Avery’s mental acuity. They thought he might be embellishing, even creating, all these excellent details to impress them. Evidently Mr. Avery also told him that the car fishtailed as it drove away, headed east. He thinks it was a Virginia plate, the first two letters RT or BT. There’s no match for that plate to a late model Toyota, so we’re checking for recently stolen Toyotas and reports of stolen plates with those letters. Mr. Avery did not hear any shots.

“As I said, the police weren’t sure we could believe much of anything he said, that he wandered all over the lot—even asked his dog’s opinion—seemed a little too, well, old and odd is how they put it. Oh yeah, the police officers said when he asked his dog’s opinion, the little sucker actually barked.

“It’s clear we have no unified, specific theory for these latest crimes, the murder of Eliza Vickers and the attempted murder of Elaine LaFleurette last night. In Danny O’Malley’s case, there are strong indications he made contact with the perpetrators. For the two women, the connection to Justice Califano is of course clear, but the killer’s specific motives are not.”

He paused, looking out over the group. “All right, I want every idea, every speculation you’ve come up with on why Eliza Vickers was murdered, and why Fleurette was shot at. Ollie, you’re nearly busting out of your vest, so you lead off.”

Ollie Hamish, Savich’s second-in-command in the Criminal Apprehension Unit, cleared his throat. “Okay,” Ollie said, “let’s start with Eliza Vickers.” He sat forward, his hands clasped in front of him on the conference table. “Ben told us about last Friday when he and Callie were in Justice Califano’s office looking for Fleurette, but only Eliza was there, cleaning up things. He said that when he asked her if there was anything he could do, she hesitated. I can’t get that out of my mind.” He paused a moment, focusing his thoughts. “She knew something. Maybe she didn’t realize how important it was, but you know, that’s not very likely. What was it? Was she involved in Justice Califano’s murder? Did she turn on him because he wasn’t about to leave his wife for her?” Ollie shot an apologetic look at Callie. “Rage can do terrible things to people, we’ve all seen it. Eliza Vickers could have found out who Günter was, maybe she’d dated him or met him some other way and hired him or persuaded him to murder Justice Califano—”

Sherlock shot to her feet. She bent over the table, her hands flat on the piles of paper on front of her. “No, that can’t be right, Ollie. Eliza was solid. Listen to me, it’s true I only met Eliza Vickers twice, then spoke to her briefly at Justice Califano’s funeral, but I felt I knew her in all the important ways. I even admired her. Eliza couldn’t have had Justice Califano killed, she was devoted to him, loved and respected him as both a man and as a Justice. Did she have him killed out of jealousy? No way. She knew there was no future for them. That isn’t it, Ollie. It’s got to be something else.

“Say you did believe she was responsible, then the logical follow-up would be that Günter then killed her because she was cracking under the pressure. It doesn’t fly. No, this hesitation Ben and Callie saw, it was about something else entirely.”

“Okay, Sherlock, if it wasn’t about this, then what do you think she hesitated about?”

Dillon’s calm voice always cooled her down. She said, the emotional edge gone from her voice, “Maybe she wanted to say something about Danny O’Malley, or she was worried about Fleurette, thinking maybe Fleurette could be a target too.”

Agent Foley said, “All right, let’s go with that. So if Eliza was thinking about Danny O’Malley or worrying about Fleurette, then why wouldn’t she say something to Detective Raven? Why wouldn’t she warn him that Fleurette might be in danger, and why would she think that? Why?”

Ben said, “The thing is, the place was a madhouse. She was the only one there. The phone rang, and she waved us out. That’s what happened. What was she thinking?” Ben shrugged, then turned to Callie. “You got any thoughts on this? You were there, you saw exactly what I saw.”

Callie said, “Yes, she hesitated. I saw it. Wondered about it, but just for a moment. Unfortunately, I was focused on finding Fleurette, we both were.”

Ben said, “I’m thinking that maybe Eliza wondered if Fleurette knew something, but then again, why wouldn’t she tell us?” Ben saw that Sherlock was ready to break in, gave her a half-smile, and added, “No, I don’t think Eliza herself knew anything about Justice Califano’s murder. And I don’t think she’d want Justice Califano dead, for any reason. I think Eliza could have walked in and found Justice Califano making out with Sonya McGivens or Fleurette or Tai Curtis on his big mahogany desk, and still not have reacted with violence. Like Sherlock said, she was too together and on-track with herself. She was too accepting of who and what Justice Califano was.”

Ollie Hamish said, “All right, I’m hearing you guys. So her hesitation has got to mean that she found out something, or heard something, but she wasn’t quite sure what it meant, maybe didn’t want to say anything to Ben until she was sure, one way or the other—”

Ben said, “So whatever she heard was from someone she trusted or liked or simply couldn’t conceive of having anything to do with Justice Califano’s murder.”

Jimmy Maitland spoke for the first time. “Let’s say Eliza Vickers did find out something. In any case, it was the real deal. It got her murdered. And that means, people, that we’re back to tracing her movements. We need to know where she went, who she saw, or talked to, everything, since Justice Califano’s murder. And as far back as we can. Jagger, you and Brewer put your teams on it.”

Savich said, “We already checked her phone records, no go there. Maybe we’ll get lucky and she actually visited whoever it was. Maybe she asked too many questions, made this person nervous, and that signed her death warrant.”

Jimmy Maitland said, “The person knew she wasn’t going to let it go, knew she was smart, knew she’d gnaw on it until she figured it out, so the person called Günter. Like you said, Savich, it signed her death warrant.”

Frank Halley said, “But what did she hear? And where was she? In Justice Califano’s office? Or maybe someone called her, warned her, but she wouldn’t believe it. Maybe there’s someone else here, someone else in the Supreme Court Building, another law clerk.”

Savich nodded. “Good. Keep going.”

Another FBI agent said, “But why wouldn’t this other law clerk, or whoever it was, tell us? We’ve been all over them, at least three, four interviews of everyone who works there. And why Fleurette?”

Savich said, “Okay, we’ve got some good solid ideas on Eliza, but still nothing definitive. Why Fleurette? I’m thinking now the reason Günter wants Fleurette dead is pretty straightforward—he saw her speaking with Danny O’Malley last Friday, and he believed Danny was confiding in her.”

Callie said, “She walked with him for a block or so when they left the Supreme Court to go to lunch.”

“And Günter saw them together,” Savich said. “Okay, we need to get back to the law clerks again just in case one of them knows more than they’ve told us. Also, we need to go back to my neighborhood today to canvass a wider radius. When you have your assignments, we’ll head out again.”

When the conference room cleared, Savich approached Mr. Maitland and Director Mueller. “Thank you for staying. I’d like your permission to let the world know that Elaine LaFleurette isn’t at our house any longer. Two reasons: first, for Sean’s safety, and second”—Savich searched the faces—“I think it’s time we became proactive. We may be able to flush Günter out. We can select a volunteer to impersonate Fleurette, make her visible on the grounds at Quantico. Most assassins would never risk a kill at Quantico, but Günter?”