LeBow wrote down the information and thanked Stillwell. Potter said, "I want to make sure everybody's got pictures of the takers. And we'll have to tell Frank and the HRT to go through the place with a fine-tooth comb if it looks like an escape."
He sat in his chair once more, staring out at the factory.
"By the way," Stillwell returned over the radio. "I'm having chow brought in for the troopers and the Heartland's delivering your all's supper any time now."
"Thank you, Dean."
"Heartland? All right," Derek Elb said, looking particularly pleased.
Potter's mind, though, wasn't on food. He was thinking something far graver – whether or not he should meet with Handy. He felt the deadlines compressing, sensed somehow that Handy was growing testy and would start making nonnegotiable ultimatums. Face to face, Potter might be able to wear the convict down more efficiently than through their phone conversations.
Thinking too: It might give me a chance to see Melanie.
It might give me a chance to save her.
Yet a meeting between the taker and the incident commander was the most dangerous form of negotiating. There was the physical risk, of course; hostage takers' feelings, both positive and negative, are their most extreme about the negotiator. They often believe, sometimes subconsciously, that killing the negotiator will give them power they don't otherwise have, that the troopers will fall into chaos or that someone less daunting will take the negotiator's place. Even without violence, however, there's a danger that the negotiator will, in the taker's eyes, shrink in authority and stature and lose his opponent's respect.
Potter leaned against the window. What's inside you, Handy? What's making the wheels go round?
Something's happening in that cold brain of yours.
When you talk I hear silence.
When you don't say a word I hear your voice.
When you smile I see… what? What do I see? Ah, that's the problem. I just don't know.
The door swung open and the smell of food filled the room. A young deputy from the Crow Ridge Sheriff's Department brought in several boxes, filled with plastic containers of food and cartons of coffee.
Potter's appetite returned suddenly as the trooper set out the containers. He expected tasteless diner fare – hot beef sandwiches and Jell-O. But the trooper pointed to each of the dishes as he laid them out and said, "That's cherry mos, that's zwieback, bratwurst, goat and lamb pie, sauerbraten, dill potatoes."
Derek Elb explained, "Heartland's a famous Mennonite restaurant. People drive there from all over the state."
For ten minutes, they ate, largely in silence. Potter tried to remember the names of the dishes to tell Cousin Linden when he returned to the Windy City. She collected exotic recipes. He was just finishing his second cup of coffee when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Tobe stiffen as a radio transmission came in. "What?" the young agent said in shock into his microphone. "Repeat that, Sheriff."
Potter turned to him.
"One of Dean's men just fished the twins out of the river!"
A collective gasp. Then, spontaneous applause erupted in the van. The intelligence officer plucked the two Post-It tabs representing the girls off the chart and moved them to the margin. He took down their pictures, which joined Jocylyn's, Shannon's, and Kielle's in the "Released" folder of hostage bios.
"They're being checked for hypothermia but they look fine otherwise. Like drowned rats, he said, but we're not supposed to tell the girls that."
"Call the hotel," Potter instructed. "Tell their parents."
Tobe, listening into his headset, laughed. He looked up. "They're on their way over, Arthur. They're insisting on seeing you."
"Me?"
"If you're an older man with glasses and a dark sports coat. Only they think your name is De l'Epée…"
Potter shook his head. "Who?"
Frances laughed briefly. "Abbé de l'Epée. He created the first widely used sign language."
"Why would they call me that?"
Frances shrugged. "I have no idea. He's sort of a patron saint for the Deaf."
The girls arrived five minutes later. Adorable twins, wrapped up in colorful Barney blankets, no less (another of Stillwell's miracles). They no longer resembled wet rodents at all but girls more awestruck than scared as they stared at Potter. In halting sign language they explained through Frances about how Melanie had gotten them out of the slaughterhouse.
"Melanie?" Angie asked, nodding toward Potter. "I was wrong. Seems you do have an ally inside."
Did Handy know what she'd done? Potter wondered. How much more resistance would he tolerate before the payback? And how lethal would it be this time?
His heart froze as he saw Frances Whiting's eyes go wide with horror. She turned to him. "The girls didn't understand exactly what was going on but I think one of them was raping the teacher."
"Melanie?" Potter asked quickly. "No. Donna Harstrawn."
"Oh, my good Lord, no," Budd muttered. "And they saw it, those girls?"
"Bonner?" Angie asked.
Potter's face showed none of the anguish he felt. He nodded. Of course it would be Bonner. His eyes strayed to the pictures of Beverly and Emily. Both young, both feminine. And then to the photo of Melanie.
Angie asked the girls if Handy had, in effect, set Bonner on the woman, or if the big man had been acting by himself.
Frances watched the signing, then said, "Bear – that's what they're calling Bonner – looked around a lot while he was doing it. Like he didn't want to get caught. They think Brutus – Handy – would have been mad if he'd seen him."
"Is Brutus friendly with any of you?" Angie asked the twins. "No. He's terrible. He just looks at us with cold eyes, like somebody in one of Shannon's cartoons. He beat up Melanie."
"Is she all right?" One girl nodded.
Angie shook her head. "This isn't good." She looked at the diagram of the factory. "They're not that far apart, the hostages and the takers, but there doesn't seem to be any Stockholming going on with Handy." The more I know about them the more I want to kill them. Potter asked about guns and the tools and the TV. But the little girls could offer nothing new. Then one of them handed him a slip of paper. It was soggy but the lettering, written in the waterproof markers Derek had provided, was clear enough. "It's from Melanie," he said, then read out loud: "Dear De l'Epée: There is so much to write to you. But no time. Be very careful of Handy. He's evil – more evil than anything. You should know: Handy and Wilcox are friends. Handy hates Bear (the fat one). Bear is greedy."
LeBow asked for the paper so he could type it into the computer. "It's disintegrating," Potter told him. He read aloud again as the intelligence officer typed.
One of the twins stepped forward and signed timidly. Potter smiled and glanced queryingly at Frances.
"They want your autograph," she said.
"Mine?"
In perfect unison they nodded. Potter took a pen from his shirt pocket, the silver fountain pen that he always carried with him.
"They're expecting," Frances continued, " 'Abbé de l'Epée.' "
"Ah, yes. Of course. And that's what they'll have. One for each."
The girls looked at the two slips of paper and carried them reverently when they left. One girl paused and signed to Frances.
She said, "Melanie said something else. She said to tell you to be careful."
Be forewarned…
"Show me how to say 'Thank you. You're very brave.' "
Frances did, and Potter mimicked the words with halting gestures. The girls broke into identical smiles then took Frances's hands as she escorted them to a trooper outside for the drive to the Days Inn.
Budd sat down next to Potter. "Why," he asked, "would Melanie tell us that?" He pointed to the note. "About Bonner being greedy, about the other two being friends?"
"Because she thinks there's something we can do with it," Angie said.