Code 61

THIRTY

Wednesday, October 11, 2000

15:12

Yerkes Observatory is run by the University of Chicago. It's an incredible building, sort of dumbbell shaped, with a long hall connecting two observation areas. The building itself is an architectural delight. Built in 1895, it's a golden sandstone, ornately carved, complete with gargoyles, griffons and other mythological critters, as well as astronomical and astrological signs, cherubs, and just about anything else that would lend a Victorian Gothic air to the place. The domes themselves are very ornate, with pillared arches running around the lower levels, and making them look a lot like the exterior of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. The whole place has a Jules Verne atmosphere, and you can almost see the famous astronomers Hale, Barnard, and Burnham out of the corner of your eye.

We all got into Hester's car, and followed the map. As we turned in the long drive, Hester got a good look at the place, and said, “Wow.”

“Cool, no?” I gave her the basic details I'd gotten years back when I took the tour. “Some momentous stuff happened here, but in a quiet way.”

“It is quiet,” said Harry.

We parked right in front of the main entrance. There were only three or four cars there, and space for about twice that many.

The mirror image of the main entrance was on the other side of the building, so we walked on the lawn around the main dome, and approached the deserted rear of the building.

Sure enough, Tatiana was sitting on the stone steps, about fifty yards from us. She'd apparently pulled a pair of black slacks on over her dancing tights, and had on a pair of ankle-high, laced walking boots. She was in bright afternoon sunlight, and her hair shone like neon. She held her hand to her forehead to shade her eyes as we approached, and stood.

“Hi,” I said.

“What can we do for you?” asked Hester.

Tatiana didn't appear at all nervous, just in a hurry.

“Okay, look, I don't have a lot of time, and there's a couple of things you should know about what's going on.”

“You've got our complete attention,” I said.

“Let's take a little walk,” suggested Tatiana. We did, she and I walking together down a winding walk that crossed the big lawn, Hester and Harry following about a step behind. “Okay, first… well, you should know that we picked up Dan Peale on our way home, and gave him a ride.”

“You and Jessica? When you left Freiberg?” Always make sure.

“Yes.”

“Where did he spend the night?” asked Hester.

“Here,” said Tatiana. “In Lake Geneva.”

We stayed on the sidewalk, and meandered through a stand of trees.

“Wait just a second,” I said. “Your attorney told us that you two left early that morning. How could he have spent the night here, and then you gave him a ride?”

Tatiana snickered. “Early that morning? You might say that, I guess, and still be truthful. We left about ten after midnight.”

Ah. Attorneys. Always the most deceptive when they tell the truth.

“And where did you pick Dan up?”

“Right at the mine entrance, where we knew he'd be,” she said. “Just pulled over, and Jessica honked the horn. He came over the fence in a few minutes, and we were on our way.”

“How did you know that?” I asked. “Where to find him, I mean?”

“Cell phones,” said Tatiana, with eyebrows raised and an unspoken “duh” dangling from the end of the sentence.

Ah, again. I was going to have to buy one of those damned things, just so I wouldn't keep forgetting they existed.

“Where is he now?” I asked.

“I don't know. I think Jessica does, but I don't.”

“When did you last see him?” Hester asked.

“About seven-thirty this morning,” was the reply. “That's what I want to talk to you about. He's got one of Jessica's cars, and I'm afraid he's going to drag her down with him.”

She wasn't about to break down or anything, but she did seem to be getting toward an edge.

“Why do you say that?”

“He wants her to stay with him forever,” said Tatiana. “She's really mad at him right now, and that's good, but she let him have the car, and that's just because they spent last night together, and he's working on her emotions.” She took a deep breath. “Jessica's such a wonderful person, and he's going to get her in trouble because she cares.”

“How do you know she's mad at him?” I asked, leaving out any reference to them spending the night together. Their sleeping together really didn't strike me as an anger reaction. That, plus an image of a caring Jessica Hunley was hard to achieve.

“Oh,” said Tatiana, “you should have seen her when he got in the car down at the mine. She slapped him. Really. Three times, and called him an idiot and a fool.” Her eyes widened as she spoke. “I've never seen her mad like that. She was just furious.”

“And he didn't stop her?” asked Hester.

“He just sat there. Really. I was driving, and he got in the car, and there wasn't really room, and she just started slapping him, and he just sat there and let her.”

“Really?” Hester didn't look convinced.

“Really, I'm telling you. You'd have to see her that way. I'm not kidding. He just got this stony look on his face, and never even said a word.”

Interesting. She'd established Jessica as the dominant personality, without a doubt.

“Well, since she's already been harboring a felon,” said Hester, “how much more damage can he do to her?”

“He wants to go to London,” said Tatiana. “See?”

“No,” I said, “I guess I don't. Why London?”

“You know. He says that's where he's from, originally. Anyway, to go all that distance, he needs more energy,” said the dancer. “Lots of it.”

“Yes?” She was losing me, and fast.

“We're afraid he has to kill again, to gain energy, before he can go on such a long trip.”

“Wouldn't killing somebody like that just drain more energy?” I asked. Thinking to myself, Jesus, what kind of nuts are these people?

“You know what he is. Huck said she told you what he is.”

“You mean a vampire?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” I said, “she and Toby and I guess everybody at least thought that's what he might be, to varying degrees.” I shrugged. “I don't think Huck believes that, really. Do you?”

“He is.” She said it very simply, and very convincingly. “He's a vampire. He gets energy from drinking blood. I know that.”

This was no time to bring up the subtle differences between actually being a vampire, and just being very delusional. She believed it, and that was going to have to do. The important thing was, if he really thought he was a vampire, there was a good chance he'd be tending to act as if he were. The downside was that if he was playing an elaborate game, he was only going into vampire mode to impress or frighten certain people. If that were the case, we were then dealing with somebody who was going to act normally outside their view. The latter scenario had my vote.

“So,” said Harry, “where do you think he's headed?”

Tatiana was silent for a second, organizing her response. She was genuinely worried, no doubt about that. She glanced at her watch. “Okay. Okay, look, Toby contacted us on e-mail, and said that he had some stuff to tell Dan. We just said to send it to us, and we'd try to find Dan.” She looked seriously at me. “Toby's not all that reliable, you know?”

“Yeah,” I said. “We know.” I made a mental note to obtain a search warrant for Toby's computer. I knew Harry was thinking the same about Jessica at this end.

“So Toby told us that Edie was talking to the cops. That'd be you, I suppose,” she said, almost as an afterthought. “So Dan called him, and told him to stop Edie by… by putting the stake in her heart, and other stuff.” Another deep breath. “So, you guys told us today that he really did that. Right?”

“Right. Or, at least, some of it. He did the stake thing,” I said, “but he couldn't do the other stuff.” She opened her mouth to talk, and I held up my hand. “Just so there's no misunderstanding, I really didn't say that Edie was actually talking to us. I indicated that her body could tell the pathologist things. Toby just put his own spin on it.”

“Oh.” She considered that, and I got the impression she didn't believe me. “Well, whatever. Anyway, Toby also said that Huck was talking to you, and that he thought Melissa was about ready to give up everything.”

“Well,” I said, “that's not been the case.”

“He thinks it is,” said Tatiana, “I can tell you that. Toby told him, and he's just furious.”

“So?”

“I'm afraid that he's going to go back to the Mansion and hurt somebody.”

“Why would he go back there? The cops know all about the Mansion,” Hester said.

“Because they've been cultivated by him, just for that,” said Tatiana. “They're his, well, his disciples, you know? And his livestock, kind of, at the same time.”

“Look,” I said, “why don't you come with us to some place where we can get all this down, and you can-”

“Jesus Christ, you guys! I gotta get back,” she said. “If Jessica finds out I'm gone… ” Her eyes darted to her watch, again. “Maybe later? Maybe tonight sometime? You do believe me, don't you? God, Huck said you were pretty real people.”

“I believe you about everything that counts, that's for sure,” I said. “I believe that Dan's pissed, and I believe Toby's an idiot. And I believe we better get some people to that house.”

She started walking away very fast, almost skipping as she turned back to us. “I'll call you,” she said. “Later,” and she was gone.

We decided that we'd better get word to the people at the Mansion, just in case he was really headed back there. I sort of doubted it, frankly. Delusional doesn't necessarily equate with dumb.

I called the Nation County Sheriff's Department on Hester's phone. I asked Sally to get a message to Borman.

“Just a sec, I'll let you talk to him.”

“What?” I didn't want to do that, not until I could reach him, anyway. But I had no choice. “He's right in the back room,” she said. “Writing his reports.”

Borman came on the line a second later. “Hi.”

“I thought you were up around the Mansion?”

“No, we went up there, and everything's fine. I thought I better come back down and get writing on these reports.”

I could see why he'd want to do that, but I wasn't all too happy about it. I thought he was trying to avoid working overtime, as opposed to being eiffcient.

“Look, go back up and talk to them again, will you? We have indications that Peale was in Lake Geneva this morning, early. He left. He's driving one of Jessica Hunley's cars, but we don't know which one for sure. There's a good chance he may be on his way back to the Mansion. Tell them that. All of them.” I really tried for a friendly voice. Well, a normal one, anyway. He didn't know that I was aware he'd filed a grievance, and he'd figure out Lamar had told me if I mentioned it.

“Oh, okay. Sure. So, like, you're over in Lake Geneva, then?”

Well, it was a good guess, and there really wasn't a reason to keep it secret anymore, since we'd already talked to Jessica.

“Yeah, we're in Lake Geneva. We got a few interviews to do yet, and should be on the way back tomorrow sometime.”

“Oh. Rank has its privileges, huh?”

I couldn't tell from his voice whether he was kidding or being sarcastic. “It sure does. You might want to remember that.” I took a breath, and lightened back up.

“Keep all this to yourself, though. Just you and Lamar. No point in the whole world knowing just yet.”

“Okay, I'll get right on it. Nothing much going on here, at all.” He sounded fairly earnest, and sincere.

“Okay. You might want to pick up some OT, and hang around up there this evening. Maybe a good idea to have a couple of reserves up there tonight, all right?”

“You got it.”

“Give me back to Sally, will you?”

“Yo!” Sally always managed to sound cheerful.

“Yeah, hey, keep me posted on anything that comes up, okay?”

“Always, Houseman. Hey,” she said, “I hear I'm a witness.”

“Ah, yeah, I guess. But I'm not allowed to talk about that with you.”

“Sure. I think it's a crock of shit, though. He's acting like a little brat.”

“I have no oiffcial opinion,” I said, smiling in spite of myself. “I can only say I agree with you completely.”

“Gotcha.”

“Anyway, I can be reached at Hester's cell phone yet today, and Lamar has my motel number for tonight. Lake Geneva.”

“I guessed,” she said.

“Not surprised. How long did it take you?”

“Just until Lamar called you from Dispatch.” I could hear the smile in her voice.

“No secrets in Nation County,” I said.

“You got it. Oh, hey… ”

“Yeah?” I was just getting ready to break the connection.

“Did Lamar tell you he had the flu?”

“Lamar? No, not a word.”

“He's pretty sick, I think. Be ready to get recalled, Houseman. We have Norris and Willy both out, too. You might have to come back here.”

“Right.” I broke the connection this time before she could give me any more bad news. The department was now down to four effectives, counting me.

I told Hester and Harry. They thought they could get the job done without me, if it was necessary. Put it gently, though. Like Harry said, “We'll miss you at mealtime.”

The next call was to Hawkins at the local sheriff's oiffce, with Hester doing the calling. I felt I should let her use her own phone once in a while.

She told him that our man Peale had likely been in Lake Geneva until early this morning, and that he was en route to points unknown, in a car that was probably registered to Jessica Hunley. Made his day. Hawkins told her he'd put out an E-1/F-1 bulletin, immediately. That would send the data to all the Midwestern states, including Iowa, Wisconsin, Michigan, Minnesota, and Illinois. With the notation that the suspect was armed, dangerous, and wanted for questioning in a murder in Iowa.

“That ought to produce something,” I said, when she told us.

“You'd think,” said Harry.

“So, we have,” she said, and looked at her watch, “about three hours to kill before we call Jessica. Mind if I check out a couple of these antique stores?”

By closing time at 5 P.M., Hester had acquired three brass candlesticks, and I had picked up a small cinnabar vase for Sue's collection. Harry, surprisingly, had shopped very intensely, but had no luck.

“Can't find good Royal Daulton anywhere, these days.”

Apparently to cope with his disappointment, Harry also engaged one of the store owners in a conversation about the “big gray building.” Bridgett Hunley's house, of course. Everybody seemed to know it as soon as we said it looked like a large government oiffce building. The lady told Harry quite a bit of local lore about the Hunleys, replete with the veiled implication that all their money hadn't been acquired on the up and up, and ended with her assessment of Jessica.

“And she's going to inherit the whole thing,” she said. “She seems nice, but there's something about her.”

“Really,” said Harry, “I think there's 'something about' everybody who has that much money, don't you?”

“Oh, yes. I've known her… well, known of her, since she was in high school. Always able to buy her way out of any sort of trouble.”

“Those rich kids always seem to get into their share of trouble, don't they?” said Harry, sounding bemused. He was really good at that.

“Yes, they do. Can I interest you in something else?”

“No, Royal Daulton is my thing, honey.”

“That's nice,” she said. “That Jessica, she does seem to have problems with her proteges, though. For some reason.”

“Oh, really?” said Harry, with more charm than I'd seen him display since his last murder trial. “Well, young people are a little different these days.”

“They just don't last,” said the clerk. “She has one now, with really horrible hair, who's been with her the longest of any of them. Must be all of three years. I don't give her much longer, and Jessica will be ready for a new one.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” said Harry.

“She really has bad luck with them. Some just leave, I guess, but one was drowned out there in the lake, and one was killed in a car crash just about four years ago.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. One ran off with a local insurance man. Ruined his family. I truly think,” she said, very seriously, “that it must be something with dancers.”

“Oh,” said Harry, cinffding in her, “I do agree. Yes I do.”

When we got in the car, Harry was smiling all over himself. “I still got, it, don't I? Don't I? Am I fuckin' charmin' or what?”

“Uhhuh.” I agreed. “Charm the birds from the trees.”

Hester was shaking her head. “I don't care what anybody says, Harry, you can be almost human if you really, really try.”

“You really think so? You ain't just being nice, Hester? Wasn't that great?” asked Harry, of either of us. “But, hey? Two deaders associated with Dirty Dan the Vampire Man? Nobody has to draw me a map of that one.”

As if to punctuate, Hester's phone rang. Hawkins. They'd checked out Hunley's home and studio. The silver 2000 Mercedes Benz SUV was nowhere to be found. Not conclusive, of course, but if Peale was in one of her two cars, and they had the BMW accounted for…

Hester thanked him, and then told him about Harry's conversation with the clerk. I couldn't hear what he said, but it took a few seconds. She said, “Right. Good. Thanks,” and broke the connection. She took a deep breath, and let it out very slowly. “This damned case just keeps going, doesn't it?”

“Seems to.” “Well,” she said, “I hope Hawkins didn't have anything planned for the next month or so.”

“We gotta be careful,” I said when she was done with her call to Hawkins. “It gives good old Jessica a really sinister cast, here. Maybe more sinister than she would ever deserve.”

Hester gave a devilish smile. “Does, doesn't it?”

Our shopping spree over, we drove to Lake Geneva proper, parked, and went sight-seeing while looking for a place to have supper. On the way, we took a walk on the enclosed bricked dock and pier, called the “Rivera.” The Rivera had a ballroom on the second floor, and who knew what on the third. Turrets, as well. A thoroughly fascinating place. We could see Bridgett Hunley's enormous home from there, kind of a complementary balance to the Rivera. There were several inboard motorboats moving about, as well as a couple of late sailing boats. Nice scenery, and it gave a little insight into the young Jessica. And just how easy it would be for somebody to “drown” in that huge lake.

We stopped and looked over the pier rail. You could see fish swimming along the sandy bottom about ten feet down. Thinking of a body down there, the calming effect you normally associate with swimming fish was somewhat reduced.

The sky was clear, the sound of the water was soothing, and there was even some color still in the trees. It was gorgeous. I savored the thought that this was the first real perk I'd had in twenty years on the job.

We grabbed supper at a little place called Speedos Harbor Side Cafe, across the street from the Rivera. From our table, we had a fine view of the lake. While we watched, a rescue boat came gliding smoothly to the dock we'd just left. Brought the subject of drowning to my mind again. The coincidence of a drowning and a car crash taking her partners out was a little too much to buy. Maybe one had been an authentic accident, but both?

Hester was apparently thinking the same thing. “Car crash, especially fatal, is a lot harder to fake than a drowning,” she said.

“True.”

“The word 'true,' all by itself,” she said, “is absolutely no encouragement at all. Means you're humoring me.”

“True.”

Harry chuckled. “You're right, though, Hester. Odds are way against it.”

Car crashes really are a lot harder to fake. One of the reasons is that there's just such an enormous amount of data regarding wrecks that had been compiled over the last fifty years. That, coupled with the intense interest of insurance companies and courts regarding claimed damages, has produced entire fields of study that are related to car crashes. Every fatality is thoroughly studied, measured, photographed, analyzed, and subjected to reconstructive procedures that virtually ensure any foul play will stand out like a red flag. A good tiaffic investigator can tell you precisely what happened. Precisely. And if there are any inconsistencies, you'll hear about it.

Murder via car wreck is easy to accomplish, don't get me wrong. It's just virtually impossible to make it look accidental. Physics is physics.

“I wonder, though,” I said absently.

“What?” asked Harry, lowering his menu.

“Oh, I dunno. Just thinking. If you wanted to do somebody, it would be a lot easier to make a drowning look like an accident. Just for instance.”

“True.” That was from Hester.

I looked over at her. “You're right. No help at all.”

“Hey. I told you.” She looked out the window, toward the lake. “A little too much to drink, splash, gurgle. Nothing weird, just drowned.”

“Well, yeah. Bad swimmer… better if a nonswimmer. And, most of the time, people are murdered for mundane reasons like rage, for instance, or jealousy. Things like that. By people they know.” I looked expectantly at Hester.

“Jealousy is good,” she said. “Would lead to a more cold-blooded approach than the heat of anger. Just for example, you know? More of the 'gee look at the neat fish… splash… oops' kind of thing.” She pursed her lips. “Jessica ain't gettin' no younger, Pilgrim,” she said, sounding quite remarkably like John Wayne.

“True.”

That earned me a withering glance.

“Really, when you find somebody who seems to be just surrounded by, oh, certain events,” she said, avoiding the word murder in deference to a passing waitress, “there's just every indication that they may have something to do with causing those events. Like, if the drowning victim was messing with our vampire.” She half giggled. “Count boy-toy.”

I didn't say “true.” Harry did.

She drummed her fingers on the table. “Got to stop this speculation, Houseman. It's making it too easy to feel like there's some real evidence, here.”

“Sure makes the time pass, though,” I said.

She pulled her cell phone out and dialed.

“Can you get us copies of the investigations we just talked about? Both the car wreck and the drowning? Great. Great. Oh, and when did that drowning occur? Really? Well, that is interesting. Thanks.”

She disconnected, looking very pleased. “The drowning was in the summer of ninety-seven,” she said. “Hawkins thinks late July or early August.”

The hamburgers were great.

It had been a satisfying day, altogether. And the tour of the interior of the Hunley place was coming up in less than an hour and a half. I was anticipating being impressed.

Hester got another phone call, and handed it to me. “I'm beginning to feel like your answering service, Houseman.”

It was my oiffce. They were down to two full-time deputies, because of that damned flu. Lamar had said that, if at all possible, I was to return to the county immediately. He had also said that with Hester and Harry in Lake Geneva, I should be able to do that. He was, of course, right.

I bid farewell to Hester, Harry, and Lake Geneva at 6:14 P.M., and headed back to Nation County. I hated to leave, but my two cohorts assured me that they would keep me posted on any developments. Damn. I think I was as disappointed to miss the visit to the Hunley estate as I was to miss the interview itself.

I drove right into rain, but it was an uneventful trip, until I was contacted by radio near Dodgeville. Our Mutual Aid frequency was the same as Wisconsin's WISPERN, which stood for Wisconsin Police Emergency Radio Network. They always have had better acronyms. Anyway, I was instructed to go directly to the sheriff's department in Dodgeville. There was a moment's confusion on the radio, because Dodgeville was the county seat of Iowa County, Wisconsin. They were calling me Iowa Car, which was a bit of a kick.

There was a deputy waiting for me. “We have a number for you to call,” she said. “I guess it's pretty urgent.” She ushered me into a private oiffce.

My first thought was that something had happened to either Sue or our daughter, Jane. I needn't have worried. The number she handed me was for Hester's cell phone.

“Gorse,” answered Hester.

“Houseman here. How was the big house?”

“Great, but later, right now you should know that they've located Jessica's silver 2000 Mercedes Benz SUV. It's been abandoned, in a place called Capron, Illinois.” “Where's that from Nation County?” I asked. I'd never heard of the place.

“Well, just a sec,” she said, and I could hear paper rustling. Her map. “Okay, it's southwest of Lake Geneva, and northeast of Rockford. About thirty road miles from here.”

“So, he's not headed toward Nation County?”

“Don't bet on it,” she said. “The car was abandoned at a used car lot, and the owner is checking right now on whether or not he's missing a car. There's also a good chance he's headed home to Moline. Jessica apparently told him we were here, asking questions.”

“Oh.”

“There's absolutely no doubt that he had it. Jessica told us that she'd 'left the keys in the car' and he took it.”

“That's cute,” I said. “Nice dodge.”

“Shit, Houseman, her local attorney was there. She's hell on wheels, and she has just about every base in the world covered. She denies knowing how Peale got to Lake Geneva. We didn't reveal Tatiana to her, just asked how he'd gotten her car, and led into it.” Hester sounded disgusted. “We got to her twice, though. I think she's finally getting really worried. And her aunt seemed to be a bit pissed off at her by the time we were done.”

“Cool.”

“Tell you what we'll do,” she said. “You continue on, and if we get a make on a missing car from that lot in Capron, we'll have them tell you by radio. Just so you know as soon as possible.”

“Right. Hey, Hester?”

“Yes?”

“If you do the brunch again tomorrow, could you bring me a doggy bag?”

I was about twenty miles east of the Mississippi and Nation County when Wisconsin State Radio contacted me again. They gave me a simple message. I was to be looking for a blue '96 Honda four-door. It had no plates, naturally, since it was stolen off a sales lot. The keys, according to the dispatcher, had been under the floor mat. No direction of travel was given, for the obvious reason that nobody knew one. I just had to assume he was headed our way.

I checked in with Dispatch in Nation County at 22:44 hours. The dispatcher, Norma, the new one, said I was to contact Borman via radio immediately. I did, and he asked me to meet him at the foot of the Mansion driveway.

The rain was steady as I got out of the car. Not hard, just one of those long, drawn-out rains that come in October, putting the last nail in summer's ciffin, and giving us our first taste of the cold that was to come in the next few months. It was about forty degrees, or so, but felt much colder. I hurried across the soaked gravel road to Borman's squad car, carrying my green rubber raincoat. It's impossible to put the things on in a car, and by the time I would have gotten it on, I knew I'd already be in Borman's squad. I was startled when Sally just about knocked me over when she opened the front passenger door.

“You get in front, you'll never fit behind the cage,” she said, and scurried past me to open the back door and squeeze in to the backseat. She left the back door open a crack, so she could get out without having somebody open it from the outside. There are no door handles on the inside of the back doors in a squad car. Makes it harder for prisoners to escape.

I dropped into the front passenger seat, knocking my left knee against the damned radio console, which was angled away for the driver, and encroached on the passenger's leg room. I shut the door.

“Shit weather,” I said. “What's up?”

“What are we doing here?” asked Borman. “We can't see crap, nobody has come in or out for the last four hours, and I've been up since six this morning.”

I was beginning to think the kid was taking a course in how to irritate a superior.

“Well, for starters, your friend 'Slasher' Peale left Lake Geneva shortly before I did. There's a good chance he's headed this way.”

Silence.

“Then, there's the information we got that says he's really, really pissed at some of the folks in the house, up there.” I shivered. “Got any coffee?”

He fished a thermos out of the space between the armrest and the steel safety plate of the plastic cage. “Here.”

“Thanks. I've been up since seven, myself.” I unscrewed the top, and Sally reached her hand through the sliding section of the cage, and handed me a Styrofoam cup out of the backseat. I poured the steaming coffee gingerly, sat the cup on the dash, and screwed the thermos cap back in place. “Who else we got available tonight?”

“Ten is the late car. He's on at midnight. That's it. Other than him, it's just me. And Sally.”

“Damn,” I said. “That means we stay here all night.”

“What?”

“Yep. All night.” I turned in the seat. “How about you, kid?” I asked Sally. “When you gotta be back at work?”

“Day off tomorrow,” she said.

“Okay,” I said, taking a sip of coffee from the cup. “Old coffee,” I said. I sniffed. “What's that smell?”

“Smell?” asked Sally.

“Yeah, that weird smell.”

“I don't smell anything,” she said.

“You better tell him,” said Borman. He was smiling.

Sally took a deep breath. “It's garlic.”

“What?”

“You know, like you put on bread. Garlic.” She reached down to her utility belt, undid the little nylon pouch that we kept exam gloves in, and produced a small plastic bag with a small garlic medallion in it.

“You're kidding.”

“Houseman, you can never be too safe,” she said, replacing the bag. “Take it from me.”

I sighed. “Okay, mother. Just keep it sealed up, okay?”

“You bet.” She looked down, replacing the bag. “Want to see my ciuciffx?”

I laughed. “No. Honest to God… ”

“No different than a ballistic vest,” she said. “Insurance is insurance.”

That reminded me of the matters at hand. “Now, can I ask you guys a question?” I looked at them both.

“Sure,” said Borman.

“What are you doing down here?”

“Watching the place. Just like Lamar said.”

I sighed, mostly for effect. “No. When you're all the way down here, all you can see is the road. You aren't supposed to be watching the road. You're supposed to be watching the house.”

“We tried that,” he said. “Kevin came out and told us to get out of the driveway. He's got that right, it's private property.”

“The woods up there aren't private property, they belong to the state.”

“But there's no road into the woods.” He sounded exasperated.

“What kind of rain gear you got in here?” I asked.

“Hooded raincoat, like yours. Gortex overalls. Boots. But I'm not hiking up into those woods in the rain.”

I made an effort to sound thoroughly disgusted. I think it worked. “No, you're not. Our suspect is probably in a blue '96 Honda four-door, no plates. I have no idea whether or not he's armed, so assume he is. Got that?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I'm going to put my rain gear on, go into the woods, to where I can see the house. You stay down here, and keep alert. I'll call on my walkie if I see anything, and you do the same.” I started to open the door.

“Wait,” said Sally. “We've got the night-vision scope with us.”

Our department had purchased some Russian Army surplus night vision gear in 1998. Right out of a commercial catalogue. It was inexpensive, and adequate, except the battery didn't last more than four hours. We had one battery, and it took a good four hours to recharge. The recharger, naturally, was in the oiffce.

“I'll take it,” I said. “How much time you got left on the battery?”

“A good three hours.” Sally sounded apologetic. “We used 'em for a few minutes after we got here.”

I would have done the same thing, but didn't say so. Instead, “I'll only use 'em when I think I need to.”

“I really think we need two in the woods, and one down here,” she said. “Much safer down here. Can I go?”

“You got rain gear?” She had guts.

“I'll make something work,” she said. “Go get your stuff on.”

I had a pair of waterproof winter boots in my trunk, along with my rain coveralls and a shelter half. Since it was impossible to dress in the car, by the time I got the stuff on I was wet all over.

I sloshed back over to Borman's car. Sally, being only about five feet tall, had been able to get most of his gear on while she sat in his car, so she was comparatively dry. She'd rolled up his coveralls, and looked totally lost in his hooded raincoat.

“How do I do my gun?” she asked.

“Keep it all under the coat, and when we get set up up there, unzip the bottom of the coat so you can reach the holster.”

“Got it.”

“You gonna be all right down here?” I asked Borman.

“Yes.” He was the irritated one now.

“I dunno just how long we're going to be up there,” I said, “but at least until three A.M. Don't go to sleep, and keep your car locked. You really don't want that bastard getting your car.”

The odds on that were very slim, but I figured it'd help him stay awake.

Sally and I sat on the right side of the hood of Borman's car, as he crept up the drive with only his parking lights on. That way, we could be deposited without any sound of closing doors.

A minute later, she and I were standing in the cold rain, watching the receding red glow of Borman's brake lights as he backed down the drive.

“Hope nobody sees that,” said Sally.

“Not likely,” I said. There were a lot of lights on in the house. Nobody looking our way from a lighted room would be able to see anything. “Let's go this way.”

I led us to the left of the gate pillars, following the shoulder-high wall. As long as the house was lit, it was going to be easy to find the wall. Our landmark.

We went about twenty yards, to where the wall blended into the slope, and the line of trees became the demarcation between the Hunley property and the State of Iowa. It was easier to see than I had anticipated, because the house was so brightly lit. I ducked down and signaled Sally to follow me under a couple of big spruce trees. It was fairly dry under there, and it kept us out of the wind.

I knelt down, and opened the big plastic case that contained the night vision scope.

“This isn't so bad,” she whispered.

“No, better than I thought.” I fumbled a bit, got it by the big handle, and felt for the switch. I peered into the eyepiece, and was in a very brightly lit world of green hues. I swept the area, quickly. We were about fifty yards from the house, on the southwest corner. I could see pretty clearly to the opposite tree line behind the house, although the lights on the lower floor tended to overpower the scope. I looked to my right, back the way we had come. Clear. To my left, I could see about fifteen feet before the trees and undergrowth blocked the view. Behind us, it was even thicker. Good cover. I hit the zoom button, and everything got twice as big. Cool. That was a handy feature, but it was a two-edged sword. If you zoomed, your field of view was so small; you'd miss a lot of stuff. The secret was to use the zoom feature only when necessary.

I shut the night scope off, and put it back in the box, careful not to engage any latches that might make noise.

“Comfortable?” I asked.

“Yep.”

“Good. Now let me tell you this… ” and I explained the elevator shaft to the mine to her.

“You mean,” she said, after I was done, “Peale could just pop up any time?”

“Yeah, sorta.”

“Jesus Christ, Houseman.”

“Don't get too worried. Just check around once in a while, that's all.”

“Just where is this elevator shaft?”

“Well, now that's a good question.” I grinned in the dark. “Somewhere to our right, I think, and a lot closer to the bluff.”

“You think?” she hissed.

“It's in with some of the old Kommune foundations. Not sure just where.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Don't know why you're worried,” I said. “You've got the garlic.” I got a discreet kick for that one.

For the next twenty-five minutes, nothing changed except the occasional occupant moving from room to room in the house. I found we could recognize them, sometimes, if they lingered in front of a window. I saw Huck, and Melissa, for sure. Otherwise, it was just cold and damp, with constant dripping as the rain filtered down through the trees.

Sally seemed to devote most of her time to looking toward our right.

Then lights started going off in the house. The parlor and dining room lights went first, then most of the lights in the kitchen. I could see Kevin at one point, very clearly, in the glazed main door. He just stood and stared out the door for a while, then disappeared from view.

“Sally?”

“What?”

“Use the night scope, and check the whole area for a minute. Especially to the right. Make sure we aren't missing anything.”

“Oooh. Okay.”

After about a minute, she said, “Nothing.”

We waited some more. Finally, she said, “Do you really think he might come here?” “I don't want to take the chance that he will,” I said. Twenty minutes later, Sally spoke. “I thought I saw something.”

“Where?”

“Over there.”

That did me a lot of good. I could hear her fumbling for the night scope. “Just a sec… ”

“Where?”

“Look toward the back door, then keep going to the right. About halfway to the tree line, I thought I saw something move… ”

I looked. I saw nothing. Then I heard the click of the night scope being turned on.

“Jesus Christ!” I'd never heard somebody yell in a whisper before.

“What?”

“There's somebody out there!”

“Give me the scope.”

“Just a minute… ”

“Just give me the goddamned scope!” I hissed.

“Jeeez,” she said, but handed it over, reluctantly. I was about to ask her where this somebody was, when I saw him. He was keeping low, and moving around the house from the back to the front, staying under the first floor windows, and apparently going to the front door.

“He looks like he's headed to the front door,” I said.

I watched for a moment. The rain had let up a bit, but he was still difficult to make out. There was something about the way he walked that struck me as familiar.

“Call Borman,” I whispered, “and alert him.” Coming from the direction of the rear of the house, our intruder would have come up from the east, or bluff side.

Not from Borman's direction. I wanted Borman to be aware that he might have to move in a hurry.

Sally keyed the mike on her walkie-talkie, and said, “Eight? Eight?”

Either she'd had her receiver volume turned up earlier, or she'd bumped the dial when she took it out of the case. Either way, there was a loud scratching sound from her radio, and Borman clearly said “Eight… ” in what I thought was a booming voice. I must have jumped a foot.

Sally was quick. Very. She had the volume back down before he finished with “… go ahead.”

The man I was watching turned, and cocked his head. He might have heard the radio, but probably not clearly. He listened for a few seconds, and then turned back toward the house. But in that few seconds, I hit the zoom button, and I made him.

“Son of a bitch,” I said.

“What, what?” said Sally. Over in her direction, I could hear Borman's voice, barely audible now, calling us.

“Answer him, tell him to stand by, we have movement.”

She did.

“I made our man out there,” I said.

“Peale?”

“William Chester.”