“Okay, here’s the scoop. He’s forty-four. Lives in Washington now but comes from the West Coast.
Former military, army.”
Just like her late husband, she thought. The military part, as well as the age.
“Detective with Seattle PD, then joined the bureau. He’s with a division that investigates cults and related crimes. They track down the leaders, handle hostage negotiations and hook up cult members with deprogrammers. It was formed after Waco.”
The standoff in Texas between law officers and the cult run by David Koresh. The assault to rescue the members ended up tragically. The compound burned and most of the people inside died, including a number of children.
“He’s got a good rep in the bureau. He’s a bit of a straight arrow but he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty. That’s a direct quote from my buddy and I have no clue what it means. Oh, one other thing, boss.
The Nimue search. No VICAP or other law enforcement reports. And I’ve only checked out a few hundred screen names online. Half of them’re expired; the ones that are still active seem to belong to sixteen-year-old geeks. The real surnames are mostly European and I can’t find anyone who’s got a connection out here. But I did find a variation that’s interesting.”
“Really? What?”
“It’s an online role-playing game. You know those?”
“For a computer, right? One of those big boxes with wires in it?”
“Touché, boss. It’s set in the Middle Ages and what you do is kill trolls and dragons and nasty things and rescue damsels. Kind of what we do for a living, when you think about it. Anyway, the reason it didn’t show up at first is that it’s spelled differently—N-i-X-m-u-e.The logo is the wordNimue with a big redX in the middle, it. It’s one of the hottest games online nowadays. Hundreds of millions in sales….
Ah, whatever happened to Ms. Pac-Man, my personal favorite?”
“I don’t think Pell’s the sort who’s into computer games.”
“But heis the sort who killed a man who wrote software.”
“Good point. Look into that. But I’m still leaning toward it being a name or screen name.”
“Don’t worry, boss. I can check ’em both out, thanks to all the leisure time you give me.”
“Enjoying the band?”
“Double touché.”
Dance let Dylan and Patsy out for their bedtime business, then made a fast search of the property. No unrecognized cars were parked nearby. She got the animals back inside. Normally they’d sleep in the kitchen but tonight she let them have the run of the house; they made a huge racket when strangers came around. She also armed the window and door alarms.
Dance went into Maggie’s room and listened to her play a brief Mozart piece on the keyboard. Then kissed her good-night and shut out the light.
She sat for a few minutes with Wes while he told her about a new kid at the camp who’d moved to town with his parents a few months ago. They’d enjoyed playing some practice matches today.
“You want to ask him and his folks over tomorrow? To Grandpa’s birthday?”
“Naw. I don’t think so.”
After his father’s death Wes had also grown more shy and reclusive.
“You sure?”
“Maybe later. I don’t know…. Mom?”
“Yes, dearest son.”
An exasperated sigh.
“Yes?”
“How come you’ve still got your gun?”
Children…nothing whatsoever gets by them.
“Forgot all about it. It’s going in the safe right now.”
“Can I read for a while?”
“Sure. Ten minutes. What’s the book?”
“Lord of the Rings.” He opened, then closed it. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
But nothing more was forthcoming. Dance thought she knew what was on his mind. She’d talk if he wanted to. But she hoped he didn’t; it’d been a really long day.
Then he said, “Nothing,” in a tone she understood to mean: Thereis something but I don’t want to talk about it yet. He returned to Middle Earth.
She asked, “Where are the hobbits?” A nod at the book.
“In the Shire. The horsemen are looking for them.”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“’Night, Mom.”
Dance slipped the Glock into the safe. She reset the lock to a simple three-digit code, which she could open in the dark. She tried it now, with her eyes closed. It took no more than two seconds.
She showered, donned sweats and slipped under the thick comforter, the sorrows of the day wafting around her like the scent of lavender from the potpourri dish nearby.
Where are you? she thought to Daniel Pell. Who’s your partner?
What are you doing at this moment? Sleeping? Driving through neighborhoods, looking for someone or something? Are you planning to kill again?
How can I figure out what you have in mind, staying close?
Drifting off to sleep, she heard in her mind lines from the tape she and Michael O’Neil had just listened to.
“And I don’t have any children myself, either. That’s a regret, I must say…. But I’m a young man. I’ve got time, right?”
“Oh, if you get your act together, Daniel, there’s no reason in the world you couldn’t have a family of your own.”
Dance’s eyes opened. She lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at a configuration of shadows on the ceiling. Then, pulling on slippers, she made her way into the living room. “Go back to sleep,” she said to the two dogs, who nonetheless continued to watch her attentively for the next hour or so as she prowled once again through the box that Morton Nagle had prepared for her.
TUESDAY
Chapter 21
Kathryn Dance, TJ beside her, was in Charles Overby’s corner office, early-morning rain pelting the windows. Tourists thought the climate in Monterey Bay tended toward frequent overcasts threatening showers. In fact, the area was usually desperate for rain; the gray overhead was nothing more than standard-issue West Coast fog. Today, however, the precipitation was the real thing.
“I need something, Charles.”
“What’s that?”
“An okay for some expenses.”