Pulse

74

T he next morning, Quinn sat at his desk and called Jerry Lido’s cell phone number.

Lido answered on the second ring. Said, “Quinn.”

“I know who I am, Jerry. You sober?”

“It’s morning, Quinn.”

“You sound astonished.”

“You woke me up, is why I might sound sort of disoriented. I’m totally unmedicated. I heard about Pearl. How is she?”

“Pearl is… Pearl.” Quinn knew enough not to ask how Lido had heard about Pearl’s close call.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

“I’ve got a job for you,” Quinn said. He told Lido about his and Pearl’s conversation with Jody, about Meeding Properties and Mildred Dash and something secretive at Waycliffe College, the professor who had a file on old Daniel Danielle murders, and the mysterious and over-friendly Sarah Benham. And Macy Collins.

“Not to mention Daniel’s other, more recent victims,” Lido said.

“Not to mention. Daniel is topical again, studied along with Dahmer and Bundy in college courses.”

“And you want me to find out everything I can about all of this?”

“That’s it,” Quinn said. “It’s all connected in some way. Or can be connected. Like puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit to create a picture.”

“Because maybe one is missing.”

“Or more than one.”

“Waycliffe College,” Lido mused. “Don’t they have a lacrosse team?”

“One of the best in the country.”

“Is that a lie?”

“Might be. Ask Helen the profiler. She’s a sports babe and would be happy to talk lacrosse.”

Lido emitted a sound like an animal might make while struggling out of deep hibernation. Quinn thought he recognized it as a laugh but couldn’t be sure. Why did so many people with genius ability have so many quirks? Pearl was staring at him across the office as if she was wondering the same thing. She could only have picked up a word or two here and there in the conversation, so how could she know what he was thinking? She couldn’t know what they were talking about.

He’d tell her after talking with Lido, of course. And tell the others. He was beginning to get the feeling he sometimes experienced when a part of his mind knew an investigation was tracking toward a conclusion. Like radar locking on.

That feeling was seldom wrong.

“Gather round,” he told everyone, after breaking off his phone conversation with Lido.

They did, looking curious, oddly eager, with slight forward leans and direct eye contact. Senses were at their peak. These were hunters, picking up vibes from the lead predator.

“This have something to do with lacrosse?” Pearl asked.