Paradox (FBI Thriller #22)



Susan could only stare at the young woman she’d known for as long as she’d lived in Haggersville. Her eyes were a bit blurred from the drugs, but her voice—no longer was her sweet voice diffident, uncertain, always pausing to see if someone else wanted to speak. Now her voice was strong, confident, and what she’d said about people? “Yes, that’s it, exactly,” Susan said. “Chief Christie and Agent Porto told my family you’d changed your name from Gunny back to your given name, Leigh. I’m glad you did. It’s a lovely name.”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Leigh looked beyond her, smiled. “Hi, Eric, it’s nice of you to come.” She patted the other side of her bed.

Eric walked to her, lightly touched his fingers to her hand. He couldn’t help it, he stared at her as his sister-in-law was doing.

Leigh asked, “Susan, do you have any idea how Mr. Henry’s belt buckle could have gotten in the lake?”

Susan knew she had to stop gawking at this young woman. “No, I don’t. Nor do Landry or Eric.”

Eric said, “We told the chief and agent that none of us saw his body. It was delivered in a shroud from the morgue. We moved him in his shroud into a closed coffin for the memorial service. Then he was cremated. We never saw a belt buckle, and it definitely wasn’t among his ashes.”

Susan shrugged, looking helpless. “We’re at a loss.”

“I see,” Leigh said. She remembered vividly what she’d heard had been done to Mr. Henry.

Susan leaned close. “Leigh, I’m sorry to ask you, but could you please tell us about that afternoon you first saw the belt buckle? We’re hoping, praying, you’ll remember something else that happened in that meeting, something that might help Chief Christie and Agent Porto.”

Sala said, “Give it a try, Leigh. Think back to that afternoon with Mr. Henry. Picture it again. You’re there. You’re eating birthday cake. Is Mrs. Boilou in the study with you and Mr. Henry?”

“No, I told you, she took her slice of cake and left.” Leigh continued, her voice calm, and once again she gave a perfect recital of her visit from the moment she’d walked through his study door carrying his birthday cake to when he’d sworn her to secrecy about the belt buckle. “And so I left, went home, and told my mom how happy Mr. Henry was with his birthday cake. There was no problem about keeping the belt buckle secret. I forgot all about it until Agent Savich showed it Monday on TV.”

Eric said, “This was Mr. Henry’s seventy-fifth birthday, right?”

Leigh smiled. “Mom put a big blue sugar seventy-five on top of the cake.” She paused, then, “Do you know, Susan, I didn’t wonder then, but now it seems strange he had a Star of David belt buckle when he wasn’t Jewish.”

Sala said, “I checked his background, no mention of Jewish relatives or ancestors. Both Ty and I found it odd as well.”

Leigh said, “I see him so clearly, so very proud of that belt buckle, and he kept polishing it over and over again. And caressing it, which was creepy, now that I look back on it. It was like a valued prize he’d won. He told me how the belt buckle brought back wonderful memories of the first time in his life he knew what was important to him. And he kissed the belt buckle. Now, that really was creepy.

“Thinking about it now, I wonder how a Jewish belt could represent what was most important in his life? Where did he get it? Who gave it to him or sold it to him? Or did he steal it?”

Ty said, “All excellent questions. But a stolen belt buckle? How can that have been so important to him?”

Eric said, “It’s amazing you can remember so clearly everything Mr. Henry said after five years.”

Leigh said, “Do you know, it doesn’t feel amazing, not any longer. It feels, well, natural.” She felt pounding in the back of her head, a constant, but the pain meds were still hanging in, keeping the worst of it at bay. Thankfully, the meds weren’t strong enough to fuzz up her brain.

Andrew said, “Leigh, if Mr. Henry said words you didn’t understand back then, how can you know what he said now?”

She couldn’t say Dad, not yet, maybe not ever. Chief Masters was more her dad than this man who’d fathered her. “Sir, all I know is when I pictured Mr. Henry saying those words, how his mouth moved, well, suddenly each word was clear.”

Lulie smiled. “I know that might make all of you uncomfortable, but Dr. Ellis said Leigh might have had a kind of partial seizure disorder and with the surgery and medication, it’s under control now. If I can accept it, then you must as well.”

Eric grinned down at Leigh, and the bad boy came through loud and clear. “Maybe someone went after you because they were jealous of you?”

Leigh patted the white bandage wrapped around her head. “Not yet, Eric. Let me get the handkerchief off my head, my hair washed, and a touch of lipstick on, hey, then maybe somebody’ll be jealous.”

Leigh had made a joke, an actual joke, and everyone laughed except her mom and Susan. Lulie couldn’t help it, she kept gawking at her daughter. As for Andrew, he looked proud.

Eric said, “You think the person who struck Leigh down might still believe she knows something to incriminate him or her that Leigh hasn’t thought of yet? That’s why you have Romero guarding the door?”

“That’s right, Mr. Sparrow,” Sala said. “We’re not going to take any chances.”

Leigh said, “I appreciate that, Chief Christie. Susan, Eric, I’m being hypnotized tomorrow. We’ll see if any more comes out. If so, Chief Christie will let you know.” She smiled at Susan, who was still staring at her. She said, rich humor in her voice, “Susan, it’s okay. I know I’m a surprise to you, but it’s still me.” She turned to Ty. “What does Mrs. Boilou have to say? Does she remember that day five years ago? Maybe remembered something I didn’t?”

“We can’t get in touch with her,” Sala said. “Vacation at her sister’s, we were told.”

All the uncertainties were reaching critical mass in Ty’s brain. She felt exhausted. She wanted to crawl in beside Leigh. Then her phone buzzed with a text from Dillon.

You and Sala come to dinner at my house.

Important. An hour and a half?

She texted back. What’s on the menu?

Time to take a risk.

Count us in.

Ty looked up to see Lulie was crying, her face against Andrew’s shoulder. She raised blurred eyes to Ty. “Even now Leigh’s still in danger.”

Thankfully Leigh hadn’t heard this. She’d fallen asleep again. Eric and Susan Sparrow were standing silent, looking on. What were they thinking? Ty put her hand on Lulie’s shoulder. “Ms. Saks, this will all be over soon. Chief Masters will keep Leigh safe.” Ty smiled. “Maybe when Leigh wakes up again, she’ll have the solution.”

Eric said, “After seeing her now, I wonder what she’ll decide to do with her life.”

Lulie hiccupped, gave a ghost of a smile. “Maybe a rocket scientist?”

“Or a politician,” Eric said, shooting a look toward Leigh’s father.





59




* * *



SAVICH HOUSE

GEORGETOWN

WEDNESDAY NIGHT

Ty set down her fork, sat back in her chair, and patted her stomach. “I’d drive to Maine for that lasagna, Dillon. It’s so much better than mine, I want to steal your recipe then shoot you so I’m the only one left who knows how to make it.”

Sala said, “You don’t have to worry about me shooting you, Savich. I’ll sign over my paychecks to you if you’ll cook for me.”

Savich laughed and looked at his wife, who was drumming her fingers on the table, lips seamed. He gave her a moment, knew she wouldn’t be able to help herself, and, sure enough, in the next second, out came “And what about the garlic toast? You didn’t think it was the best garlic toast you’ve ever eaten? And the Caesar salad? Wasn’t the dressing spectacular enough for you guys? Weren’t the croutons cheesy enough, crispy enough?”