Warning Signs

CHAPTER 23

My last session on Monday was over at five-fifteen, so I was surprised when I looked up as the session was ending and noticed that the red light was beaming on the wall.

I gave my patient half a minute to exit the waiting room before I walked out to see whether the light was a mistake or whether I had scheduled another patient and had neglected to note it on my calendar.

I did that sometimes.

The waiting room was empty.

I flicked off the light and moved back to my office to pack up. I walked in to find that Lucy Tanner was sitting in my chair.

"I like this seat better than the other one. This is definitely the power chair in the room."

"Hi, Lucy. How did you get in?" I made a conscious effort to keep my annoyance from my voice. Lucy's presence reminded me of the ethical malignancy that was metastasizing in my treatment of Naomi Bigg. But Lucy also represented my best hope for finding out what Ramp and Paul might be up to.

She tilted her head toward the French door. "That's not much of a lock you have. I can recommend something that's a little harder to pick, if you would like. Sorry. I didn't want to be seen hanging out in your waiting room. How are you holding up?"

I moved to the far end of the sofa and put my feet up. "I'm a wreck. I had a friend of Sam's who trains K-9 dogs come by my house and check for explosives Saturday. I couldn't believe I did it."

"Dorsey? From Westminster?"

I nodded.

"You like her?"

"I do."

I thought Lucy clenched her teeth a little bit. I was about to inquire about her feelings about Dorsey when she distracted me by asking, "She and her dog find anything?"

"Thankfully, no."

"Good. She still smoking dope?"

I swallowed. "I wouldn't know."

"Learn anything new from your 'source'?"

"My patient, Lucy. My patient. And no, I didn't learn anything that will help us much. Other than that she is seriously reluctant to believe that her son is plotting anything worrisome. And that if she's approached by the authorities she'll deny everything she told me."

"She's warning you? Does she suspect something?"

"She's suspicious about how the police happened to find the bomb in the Peterson house."

"That's almost like an admission, isn't it?"

"Maybe for a cop, Lucy. It's not enough for me."

She manufactured a small smile. "Sorry I didn't call. I've been pretty busy. When I haven't been with Cozy or his investigator, I've been down in Denver mostly."

"You find Ramp?"

"Not even a trace. I tracked down all sorts of anti-law-enforcement Web sites and scoured the bulletin boards looking for his name. Nothing. Not a first name, not a last name, not a computer name. Asked some friends in the Denver and Aurora PDs if they had anything on anybody with that name, first or last. Nothing. I have a feeler out to someone on the Denver PD bomb squad to see if Ramp's in their database. I'm still waiting to hear.

"Next brainstorm was that I went back ten years and looked at all the murdered women in the Denver metro area. Sorted out all the mothers, then sorted by mothers who had sons, then looked for kids named Ramp.

"I'm working under the assumption that Ramp's a nickname, so I didn't expect to find him on that list, and I didn't. Then I made another list of all the sons of murdered mothers who would be between sixteen and twenty-five years old today. Guess how many that is?"

"Too many. I don't want to know."

"Until I have something else to go on, I'm working under the assumption that his mother was killed in the metro area. A broader net is just unworkable for me."

"What about the bomb in the Petersons' house? Did that give the bomb squad any clues?"

"Sammy found out what he could for me. But, no. No latents on the bomb. No unusual materials used in the construction. The explosive was commercial dynamite, slightly aged, a little unstable, but not too bad. No recognizable signature. And the architecture of the device didn't draw any hits from the ATF database."

"That's not much."

Lucy said, "I'm left with the phone book."

"Anything there?"

"I've called all the Denver metro Ramps. There aren't that many. I reached two of the listings and ruled them out. A couple more I just got answering machines. Outside Denver metro there are, I think, three more Ramps. I'm going to try them tonight over dinner. It's a good time to reach people."

"So that leaves us where?" I asked.

"We still have the car bomb in Denver. I think-my gut feeling is-that, failing to find Ramp directly, the car bomb in Denver is our best link to him. I have trouble believing that discovering two explosive devices in the metro area on the same day can be isolated events. Sam has a contact with the Denver bomb squad."

"Walter."

"What?"

"Sam's contact's name is Walter. Or at least he calls him Walter."

Lucy laughed. The sound was a refreshing trill. "That means Sam thinks he's reliable. When he doesn't trust sources or snitches, he gives them names that begin with L-stands for loser. When he thinks they're reliable, he gives them names that begin with W. Those are the winners. So Sam trusts this guy, whoever he is. But until Sam hears more from Walter or something breaks in the news, we're in the dark about the Denver situation."

"That leaves us with Paul or with the mythical Ramp."

"Yes. And the path to Paul leads directly back to your patient, right?"

"Right. But Paul also should eventually lead us to Ramp."

"I agree. That's why Paul is next on my agenda."

I considered the options. If Lucy was discovered following Paul, it would become clear to Naomi that I'd been sharing her information with someone else. That would certainly end the therapy.

"Lucy, I'll follow Paul. If I'm discovered doing it, I have a chance of explaining away my indiscretion. If you get discovered, I'm screwed. My patient would stop talking to me. And I can't risk that."

"You don't know how to do this. This is police work."

"Paul's in school during the day. I know where he works. I know where he lives. I should be able to figure out when he's hanging out with his friend. My patient says they usually get together in Boulder, not Denver."

"And what will you do then?"

"Get a photograph. Get Ramp's license plate number. That should be enough for you to go on, right?"

"Should be," she acknowledged. "Should be."