‘Me? Of course not. It was … I’m not sure but I think it was Steve Foster. It came from Sacramento. His turf.’ He did seem genuinely upset, though hardly as livid as she.
But she understood he was troubled for a different reason. She was concerned about spooking the unsub. Overby had been out-politicked. He’d brought Foster in to make sure the CBI got some credit for running the case, since Dance had been sidelined. But Foster had taken it one step further and made sure the kudos would go to Headquarters, Sacramento. Not the West Central Division of CBI.
Why didn’t that surprise her? ‘Whose case is it?’
‘Well, technically, Kathryn, it’s not ours.’
‘Oh, come on. We can play this fiction only so far. Foster’s here on the Guzman Connection thing. He has nothing to do with my case.’
‘O’Neil’s case. MCSO’s case. I—’
‘Charles! Never mind. I’ll go talk to him.’
‘Do you think that’s a good—’
But she was already walking down the hall. And into the Guzman Connection task-force room. Overby appeared a moment later.
‘Hey,’ Jimmy Gomez said.
‘Steve.’ Both men with that name turned but Dance’s eyes were squarely on Foster.
‘It was a misunderstanding,’ the bulky man said, and looked back to his computer. Not even trying to deny it.
‘We agreed we weren’t going to release the description. We weren’t even going to say it was a murder investigation.’
He grumbled, ‘I should’ve been more specific when I was talking to my people in Sacramento. Should’ve told them not to speak to the press.’
‘Who was it?’ Dance asked.
‘Oh, hard to say. I don’t know what happened. It’s a mystery. I’m sorry.’
Though he was no more perplexed by it than he was contrite.
‘What’s this all about?’ asked stolid Carol Allerton, the DEA star. Dance reminded her of the debate about releasing the description of their perp. As she spoke, she kept her eyes on Foster.
‘It made the news?’ Carol Allerton asked. ‘Ouch.’ Indicating which way she would have voted.
‘It made the news,’ Overby said, with a wrinkly mouth.
To Foster, Dance said, ‘Why would you even discuss it? With anybody in Sacramento? It’s a West Central Division investigation. Our investigation.’
He wasn’t used to being cross-examined.
‘You mean a Monterey Sheriff’s investigation.’
‘I mean not Sacramento’s.’ Her lips tautened.
‘Well, sorry about that. I told somebody, they talked to the press. I should’ve told ’em to keep the lid on. It was a fuck-up. But, bright side, I’ll bet somebody’s already spotted some could-bes. And’ll call it in. Anytime now. You may have your boy before sundown, Kathryn.’
‘This morning Michael and I had every mobile unit on the Peninsula to start making sweeps of venues that might make good locations for other attacks. All day long. Shopping mall, churches, movie theaters. I don’t know what they’re going to be looking for now. If our perp heard the same news show I did, there’s not going to be any brown-haired man in a green jacket to spot.’
Foster wouldn’t back down. ‘That presupposes your unsub’s going to try this again. Is there any evidence to that effect?’
‘Not specifically. But my assessment is it’s a strong possibility.’ And she certainly wasn’t going to take the chance that there’d be no other attack.
Foster didn’t need to reiterate his opinion of Dance’s ability to make assessment.
He said, ‘It’s probably moot. He’s a thousand miles away by now.’
CHAPTER 20
Antioch March had changed majors four times in three years at two schools. Distraction, boredom and, truth be told, the Get kept him jumping from department to department (and finally drove him out of both Northwestern and Chicago altogether, without any degree, despite his near-perfect academic record).
Still, he’d picked up some insights in various classes. He was thinking of one now, recalling the neo-Gothic classroom overlooking the north shore of Lake Michigan. Psychology. March had been fascinated to learn that there are only five basic fears.
For instance, take the fear of sharks, one that particularly interested him. That’s merely a sub-category of the fear of mutilation: having part of our body damaged or excised. More broadly, fear of injury.
The four other basic fears: of physical death, of ego death (embarrassment and shame), of separation (from Mommy, from the drugs we inhale so desperately, from our lover) and of loss of autonomy (claustrophobia on a physical level to being dominated by an abusive spouse).
March remembered the cold November day when he’d heard about them in a lecture. Truly mesmerizing.
And now he was about to put several to good use. Fear of physical death, of mutilation and loss of autonomy, all rolled into one. A movie theater would be his next target.
He had parked his car in a strip mall about a hundred yards from the Marina Hills Cineplex, just off Highway One in Marina. He was walking toward the theaters now.
Don’t we love the comfort of the lights going down, the trailers coming to an end, the film starting? Waiting to be exhilarated, amused, thrilled – laughing or crying. Why is a theater so much better than Netflix or cable? Because the real world is gone.
Until the real world comes crashing in.
In the form of smoke or gunshots.
And then comfort becomes constriction.