Nighttime Is My Time

68

At twelve o'clock Sam Deegan tapped on the door of the district attorney's office and walked in without waiting for a response.

Rich Stevens was poring over notes on his desk and looked up, his expression showing irritation at the abrupt interruption.

"Rich, sorry to barge in, but this is important," Sam told him. "We're making a big mistake if we don't take the threat to Jean Sheridan's daughter seriously. I had a message to call Craig Michaelson, the lawyer who handled the adoption. We just connected. Michael-son has been in touch with the adoptive parents. The father is a three-star general at the Pentagon. The girl is a second-year cadet at West Point. The General called her and asked if she had ever met Laura Wilcox. The answer is absolutely not. And she doesn't remember where she lost the hairbrush."

There wasn't a trace of annoyance left in Rich Stevens' expression as he leaned back in his chair and entwined his fingers, always a sign to those who knew him that he was deeply concerned.

"That's all we need," he said, "to have the daughter of a three-star general being threatened by some nut. Are they putting a bodyguard on the girl at the Point?"

"From what Michaelson tells me, she has two big exams, one tomorrow, one Friday. She laughed at the suggestion that she'd leave the grounds. The father didn't want to upset her by telling her about these threats. He and the mother are flying up tomorrow to meet Jean Sheridan. The General wants to come in here and talk to you Friday morning."

"Who is he?"

"Michaelson didn't want to give that information over the phone. The girl knows she's adopted, but until this morning the General and his wife had no idea of the identity of the natural parents. Jean Sheridan swears she never told anybody about the baby until she started getting the faxes. I say whoever found out about the baby and knew who had adopted her, learned it at the time she was born. Michael-son is sure his records were never seen by anyone. Jean Sheridan suspects the leak occurred in the doctor's office where she was a maternity patient, which at least gives us a starting point in trying to figure out who might have had access to the records."

"Then if Laura Wilcox isn't involved in the threats and didn't send that last fax apologizing for them, I've stuck my neck out by calling her disappearance a publicity stunt," Rich Stevens said bitterly.

"We can't be sure about that part of it yet, Rich, but we can be pretty damn sure that she's not the one threatening the girl. Which raises the question, if Laura didn't send that fax, was it sent to make us drop the investigation?"

"Which is what I told you to do. All right, Sam. I'll pull you off the homicides. I wish we knew the name of the cadet. I'll ask you again: Is the General positive that she's safe?"

"According to Michaelson, she is because of the tests. He says that if she's not in class, she's studying in her room. She assured her father she wouldn't leave the West Point campus."

"Then with all the security at West Point, she should be all right, at least for the present. That's a relief."

"I'm not so sure about that. Being on the grounds of West Point didn't save her natural father's life," Sam said grimly. "He was a cadet. Two weeks before graduation he was the victim of a hit-and-run driver. They never found the person who killed him."

"Any question that it wasn't an accident?" Stevens asked sharply.

"From what Jean Sheridan tells me, it never occurred to anyone that Reed Thornton-that was his name-was deliberately run down. They believed the driver panicked and then was afraid to turn himself in. But in light of all that's been happening, it wouldn't be a bad idea to look at the file on that case."

"Run with it, Sam. God Almighty, can you just see what the media will do if they ever get their hands on this? Three-star general's daughter, a West Point cadet, threatened. Her natural father, a cadet, died in a mysterious accident at the Point. Her natural mother is an acclaimed historian and a best-selling author."

"There's more," Sam said. "Reed Thornton's father is a retired brigadier general. He still doesn't know he has a granddaughter."

"Sam, I'll ask you one more time: Are you sure, are you positive that the girl is safe?"

"I have to accept the fact that her adopted father is satisfied that she's safe."

As Sam got up, he noticed a pile of notes on Rich Stevens' desk. "More tips about the homicides?"

"Sam, in the couple of hours you've been out, I've lost count of how many calls have poured in about suspicious-looking men. One of them came from a woman who swore she'd been followed out of the supermarket. She got the guy's license plate number. The suspect turned out to be an FBI agent who's visiting his mother. We've had two calls about strange cars in schoolyards. Both of them turned out to be fathers waiting for their kids. We have a nut who confessed to the murders. The only problem is he's been in jail for the last month."

"Any psychics call yet?"

"Oh, sure. Three of them."

The phone on Stevens' desk rang. He picked it up, listened, then put his hand over the speaker. "I'm holding for the governor," he said, raising his eyebrows.

As Sam left the room, he heard the district attorney saying, "Good morning, Governor. Yes, it is a very serious problem, but we're working round the clock to…"

To find the perpetrator and bring him to justice, Sam thought. Let's hope that happens before any more pewter owls get planted on dead women.

Including a nineteen-year-old West Point cadet-that chilling possibility darted through his mind as he walked down the corridor to his own office.