Deadlock (FBI Thriller #24)(17)
“I am not a fake, Agent Savich.”
“Tell me then, Zoltan, how you got Rebekah to come to you in the first place. She wasn’t clear to me on why you called her.”
“It’s no secret. Her grandfather came to me three times during séances with other clients. He finally gave me enough information to identify both him and Rebekah and to find her. He told me a nickname he had for her, Pumpkin. There’s nothing more to it. He told her about this Big Take and that she knew where it was hidden. She didn’t want to know what they’d stolen, didn’t want to discuss it, as I’m sure she told you. I now realize her grandfather was right to warn her—he told her there’s a wolf in the fold, as he put it. Perhaps this wolf tried to kidnap her, and that would mean the wolf is someone close to her. If only she could come back, perhaps her grandfather would tell her who the wolf is.”
She sipped her own tea. “It always surprises me what the Departed have to say to the living, and the living to the Departed. And what they don’t want to say.”
He watched her rise slowly to her feet and thought again how graceful she was. He agreed with her for a moment that what the Departed would have to say to the living might be surprising. Then he put on the brakes, realized what she’d done. “What did you put in my tea, Zoltan? A psychotropic drug? LSD?”
She flapped her white hands at him. “Goodness no, Agent Savich. It’s merely my own special blend of herbs, designed to help my clients relax, to put them in an easy state of mind.”
“Don’t you mean make them more receptive to whatever you say? Did you give the same blend to Rebekah Manvers last night?”
She studied him. “How very curious. No one has ever noticed anything different about my special tea, except you. There’s nothing to be alarmed about, but that’s not the point, is it?” She walked to the fireplace. She fiddled with an antique andiron, straightened it, and went to stand behind a love seat. “Of course, you think my special tea is some diabolical attempt to manipulate my clients into believing what I want them to believe. That is not it at all. As you can imagine, when people come to me, they’re upset, often in distress. I provide the tea because it helps level them out, calms them, makes them less afraid, if you will. Speaking to the dead isn’t an easy thing to face, Agent Savich. Better, I’ve found, to ease them into it, when they’re a bit more relaxed and calm. If there is communication, it’s far more comfortable for them, and, I’ve learned, less emotional.
“The fact is, Agent Savich, I’m a simple but lucky woman, well aware of the benefits to others my special gift provides. I could never have imagined such a thing possible before I met Zoltan. I didn’t ask for this gift, nor have I ever lied about any of it. I help grief-stricken people reach their Departed and speak to them. Nothing more, nothing less.” She paused, looked rapt. “Zoltan gave me the keys to his kingdom, Agent Savich.”
And what did that mean exactly? Savich wanted to ask her, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why. He nodded to Zoltan, picked up the thermos, and walked out. He closed the front door quietly behind him.
11
HOOVER BUILDING
CRIMINAL APPREHENSION UNIT
FRIDAY, LATE AFTERNOON
OCTOBER 30
Denny Roper walked into the CAU carrying the second package at nearly the same time he’d brought the first one. There were more than a dozen agents behind him this time. Roper had clearly gotten the word out when the second package had arrived. Savich, knowing there was no choice, motioned them all into the conference room.
“It’s the same, marked ‘PERSONAL,’ to you, Savich.” Roper was broadcasting excitement.
Everyone crowded around as Savich slit open the box and lifted out another red box. “Only a day after the first red box arrived, as expected.” Savich carefully unfolded the red paper. “Either good luck or very fine planning.”
No one was surprised to see more puzzle pieces. Once they were fitted together and placed above the pieces from yesterday, they showed more buildings, part of a commercial area, but no printed names that could identify them, and a single street sign—Main. There was also more of the ancient pier, the focal point. Was the town on the Potomac? The Chesapeake?
Agent Davis Sullivan said, “Looks like the wacko added a few more bones, nothing else. And how did he manage to find a time when no one was around to snap a photograph?”
No one had an answer for that.
Lucy said, “It has to be a photograph someone took, not a precut puzzle you’d buy. There are tons of companies that take photos you send and make them into puzzles, like Shutterfly. I looked some up. There’s Puzzleyou.com and goodness, even Walgreens does it, pages of them and that’s only here in the U.S.”
Sherlock said, “The person who’s red-boxing you could even have access to whatever equipment he’d need and make the puzzle himself.”
Ruth said, “And that would make him as good as invisible. We couldn’t track him.”
Ollie said, “I’m wondering if there’s more than one person involved, and that means—”
Shirley finished his sentence. “—the greater the chance of our catching them.”
Savich looked around at the group of agents. “We have more now, but still not enough. I don’t suppose anyone recognizes this place?”