The Girls He Adored

57

After interviewing mrs. Edwina Comb, Pender visited three more of Donna Hughes's “best friends.” 0 for three. Not that he'd expected much-basically he was just killing time until he heard from Thom Davies.

The call came in around six-thirty in the evening, at the Holiday Inn off I-75 in Plano. Pender had checked in and enjoyed a long hot shower, protecting his bandaged scalp with a plastic shower cap-an afternoon with the anomic rich of Plano left him feeling dirtier than a night in the Sleep-Tite. He was in the bar listening to a cocktail pianist warbling “Michelle” when his sky pager began vibrating in his pocket. He recognized the number and hurried back to his room to return the call.

“What've you got for me, T. D.?”

“Jam,” said Thom Davies. “Jammety-jam-jam.”

“Remind me-in Davies-speak, jam is good or bad?”

“Jam is good. Jam is loovely. Forty-three criminal Buckleys in Oregon, nineteen of whom began their careers in juvenile facilities. Of those nineteen, eleven, representing five different facilities, are within our target age range.”

“Any of those have records for assault? Strong-arm stuff, anything like that?”

A pause while Davies counted. “Six.”

“How many are still in custody or on parole?” Those would be the easiest to locate.

“Five out of the six. Three in custody, two on parole. Do you have a fax there? — I'll send you the printout.”

Pender read him the Holiday Inn's fax number from the placard by the phone.

“All righty, then-I'll whip it right off to you.”

“Thanks, T.D. Thanks for everything. You went above and beyond-I truly owe you. Sorry I had to ruin your Sunday.”

“Never mind, it's my own bloody fault. After ten years with the bureau, I should know better than to answer the phone on my day off.”