YOU BROKE THE RULES.
CHAPTER 75
Embassy Suites
Omaha, Nebraska
Maggie rubbed her shoulders, trying to get rid of the chill. The room was freezing and she couldn't shake that old saying from her mind, "When hell freezes over… " It seemed appropriate since she never believed she would be making a deal with the devil. Technically, Assistant Director Cunningham had taken care of the details, but she was the one who had to sit across the table from Keller.
"Isn't it awfully cold in here?" she asked Pakula, who sipped his fifth coffee of the day.
"Actually I was just thinking it feels good."
He was no help. Maggie gave in and poured herself a cup of hot tea from the service butler in the corner. The Embassy Suites's concierge had prepared a room for them with little notice, doing an impressive job that included an assortment of afternoon refreshments. She couldn't help thinking Pakula would be pleased _ more tree food. However, the detective seemed content with only coffee. She had recognized his feeding frenzy as a nervous habit, which would mean that he wasn't at all anxious this afternoon. How could he not be? Was she the only one who realized the significance of this meeting?
"Chief Ramsey must know someone important," Maggie said, lifting the stainless-steel lid off a plate of fruits and cheeses and trying to calm her nerves by pretending they were here for an ordinary interview. She glanced over her shoulder at Pakula. "No doughnuts though."
"Very funny."
The look he shot back made her smile, and she realized she missed her partner, Special Agent R. J. Tully. Not an easy realization, since she prided herself in being a sort of lone warrior. But Tully had a way of calming her in situations like this and it usually included his corny sense of humor.
There was little time to take refuge in humor. Suddenly the meeting-room door opened and Detective Kasab came in, holding the door for Father Michael Keller as he entered, as if he deserved such a courtesy.
Maggie was stunned. She hardly recognized Keller. He looked much older. His skin was tanned but leathery, his dark hair prematurely peppered with gray. If she remembered correctly he was younger than her. His escape to South America had weathered him and converted his smooth, handsome, boyish looks to that of a haggard older man.
He carried a cardboard box gently in his hands, as though the contents would shatter with the slightest jerk or slip. And when he glanced around the room, slowly examining it, his eyes brushed her aside. Was he checking for back doors, maybe an escape? Did he expect to be tricked?
Pakula introduced himself, and like Kasab, was cordial and polite, treating Keller like some visiting dignitary. When Pakula made a motion to introduce Maggie she stepped forward, preempting him.
"No need for introductions," she said. "Father Keller and I are old friends. Isn't that right?" She looked Keller in the eyes, but didn't offer her hand as Pakula had. Instead, she set her cup of tea at the end of the table and took a seat.
"I'd like to believe that we certainly are not enemies, Agent O'Dell," he said with that same smooth, deep voice she remembered so well. "Do you mind if I call you Maggie?"
"Yes, I do."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, I do mind." She sipped her tea while the three men stood silently and stared at her in the same way they'd stare at someone who stood up in the middle of a wedding ceremony and said, "I object."
She could already feel the tension crawl into the room like fog over a cold lake. So she'd be the party pooper, the curmudgeon, the spoiler of this ever-so-cordial gentlemen's agreement. She didn't care. As far as she was concerned Keller was no gentleman and certainly couldn't be trusted. She only wished the hot tea would dull the chill that had settled deep inside her. She opened a small notebook and started tapping her pen, ready to begin.
"I'll be in the lobby if you need anything," Kasab said to Pakula, finally breaking the silence. Pakula gave him a nod and Kasab left, closing the door behind him.
Maggie didn't take her eyes off Keller, almost daring him to see if he could lie his way past her.
Pakula cleared his throat and shot her a look. They had known each other only a few days and she could already read his warning. He was telling her to cool it. Then he picked up his coffee mug and wandered over to the service butler for a refill.
"Can I get you some coffee, Father Keller?"
Maggie wanted to tell him to stop being so damn polite.
Keller pointed at her cup and said to Pakula, "May I have a cup of hot tea instead?"
"Oh sure. Do you take anything in it?"
"Do you have any of those little sugar cubes?"
Pakula poked around the service butler, lifting lids. "Doesn't look like it."
"Plain is fine, then."
Maggie wanted to yell this wasn't a frickin' tea party. Jesus!
Finally the three of them settled around the long table __ Maggie at the head so she purposely didn't have to sit across from Keller __ Pakula to her right and Keller to her left with his box and his cup of hot tea.
It had been Keller's request that he meet only with Maggie. At least Ramsey and Cunningham had the good sense to insist Detective Pakula be here at the meeting. Though Maggie couldn't help wondering if Cunningham had insisted on it because he was concerned for her safety or if it was Keller's safety he had considered.
Maggie watched Keller taking in everything about him. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks a bit sunken. She was pleased to see beads of sweat on his upper lip. He wore khaki pants and a plain white cotton shirt, a sleeveless white T-shirt visible underneath. Other than wet circles forming under his arms, his clothes looked crisp and clean and freshly pressed. Although on closer inspection she could see that the shirt's collar had become a bit threadbare.
She paid particular attention to his hands. Despite his haggard appearance his hands had been well taken care of __ smooth and without a single callus or unsightly cuticle, short but clean and neatly trimmed fingernails, straight long fingers. He seemed to use them with careful deliberation, almost with a reverence, everything they did was ceremonial. Even the way he picked up the teacup, slowly and delicately, bringing it to his lips as if it were a chalice. It reminded her how he had used those hands to consecrate the butchering of little boys and even try to turn that into a gruesome ritual.
He sat straight-backed and calm except that his eyes betrayed him as they continued to dart around the room. Again, she wondered if Keller was worried about them tricking him. Why shouldn't he worry? Surely he didn't think she wouldn't at least try to trap him, now that she finally had him right where she wanted him __ sitting in a room with a police detective alongside her? After all, that was exactly what she had in mind.
"What's in the box?" she asked. Not able to resist an opening taunt, she added, "A fillet knife? Maybe some boy's underpants?"
He was good. Not even a flinch as he met her eyes and said, "The person you're looking for has been e-mailing me and sending me things. I've brought as many of the items as possible in the hopes that you might be able to get his fingerprints."
"If he's been sending stuff," Pakula said, "how have you been getting it? Postal service? Special delivery?"
"Postal service. All but one of them. No return addresses even on the postal service ones."
"He's been sending you things?" Maggie said. "How did he find you?"
Keller shrugged. "Probably through the church."
"Actually, the church officials told me they had no record of your whereabouts," Maggie challenged. "In fact, they said you hadn't been issued a reassignment."