There were two cops; the woman did all the questioning. She had already asked for her name and address. “So you were in class. Tell me what happened after that.”
“We had planned lunch together. Tim had a picnic basket in his car. He drove us out to the lake and to this little clearing. It was sheltered and had a nice view. We...”
“Did you make love?”
“Yes, sort of. He went down on me.”
“Go on.”
“I think we... me, anyway... I must have dozed off. Then I was stung by something, I thought a bee. Then he was, too.”
“Was the sex voluntary?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Then why did you request a rape kit?”
“It wasn’t for him. I’m sore. I feel like I was penetrated.”
“We’ll know when your kit comes back. Do you think Tim did it?”
“No, I think Tim was out, like me. He was stung, too.”
“Then you were taken. Both of you?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Do you remember what the man you saw looked like?”
“Two. There were two of them. They wore masks, like surgical masks. They both had very blue eyes. I remember that. I heard them say a few words. I think Tim was raped, too. Is it possible he’s still alive?”
“If he got out of the boat and made his way to shore. You were about fifty yards out.”
“He wouldn’t have left me. He’s not like that. Where’s the boat?”
“It went down. Tim probably went with it. They’re out there, dragging the lake. Perhaps they’ll find it.”
“Are my clothes here?”
“No, you were nude when you were found.”
“Let them know I had a handbag. I’d like that back, if possible.”
“I will. I’ll go make a call. You eat your soup.”
Carly was torn between the soup and sleep. The soup won.
26
It was mid-morning a couple of days later. Everybody had finished breakfast, and most were reading the papers.
“Interesting piece in the Times,” Lance said.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Stone replied.
“Is that your delicate manner of telling me I’m reading your newspaper?”
“I’m glad you thought it was delicate.”
Lance folded the newspaper in such a way that the only thing Stone could see was the story and handed it to him.
“Thank you,” Stone said, sipping a second cup of coffee.
“Aren’t you going to read it?”
“Eventually. But, like a good host, I haven’t prevented you from reading it, and you’re going to tell me about it anyway.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Lance said, “read the goddamned piece.”
“Is it about the twins?”
“Possibly. You’ll have to read it all to find out.”
Stone unfolded the newspaper, to make a point, then began to read. He finished it, then looked at Lance, who was waiting for a reaction.
“It doesn’t mention the twins,” Stone said.
“Doesn’t it? I thought they were all over it.”
“You mean you think the twins kidnapped these two people, raped them...”
“Just the girl,” Lance said. “There’s no mention of rape with regard to the young man.”
“I thought that was all over the piece,” Stone said.
“You noticed that they were in a class before their little, ah, picnic?”
“Yes.”
“You notice that the girl is a senior law student?”
“Yes.”
“It would be interesting if someone rang them up and asked if they were in the twins’ class on criminal appeals.”
“I suppose they could have been,” Stone admitted.
Dino, who had been reading his own copy of the Times, put it down and looked up. “I’m with Lance on this one,” he said. “The story reeks of the twins.”
“I suppose I caught a whiff of that,” Stone said.
“You’re just giving Lance a hard time. Stop it.”
“Do you think Lance is contrite, for stealing my Times?”
“I am sorry,” Lance said.
“But not contrite?”
“I refer you to the Oxford English Dictionary,” Lance said. “I think you will find that the two words can properly be conflated.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Stone said.
“Does the story move you to action?”
“It’s a moving story,” Stone said. “What action do you suggest?”
“I think you and Dino should go to New Haven and interview the girl.”
“We have no authority to do that,” Stone said.
Lance checked his watch. “I believe you will have in a short while.”
“How long?”
“How long does it take the FedEx truck to travel from the ferry to your house?”
“I suppose it depends on how many packages he has to deliver.”
They heard a beep-beep from the front of the house, and Stone got up. He went outside and came back shortly. “It’s for you, Lance,” he said, tossing a book-size package to Lance from halfway across the room.
Lance caught it, took a small pocketknife from his pocket, and opened it. Inside were two smaller packages. He tossed one to Stone, the other to Dino. “Congratulations,” he said.
“For what?” Dino asked.
“A federal judge has appointed the two of you as United States Marshals.”
Stone and Dino got their packages open. Inside each was a gold badge, a circle around a star.
“You will note that it does not say ‘deputy marshal,’” Lance said. “It is the deputy marshals who do all the real work of the service, investigating, pursuing, arresting, and so forth. The marshals are people like you, honest but shiftless, who want to display some authority. You also have picture IDs.”
Stone examined his ID. “This is my passport photo,” he said. “I know, because I’m wearing a dinner jacket.”
“Why did you wear a dinner jacket for a passport photo?” Dino asked.
“I was on my way to a dinner when I ran into a drugstore to have the picture taken.”
“Now you have the authority to question victims of and witnesses to crimes.”
“Murder is a state crime,” Stone pointed out. “Why would U.S. Marshals have the authority to question a victim?”
“There were two victims,” Lance said. “The young man was an FBI agent, finishing up a law degree at Yale. His last class was on criminal appeals. U.S. Marshals have the authority to question victims of and witnesses to federal crimes, and murdering an FBI agent is a federal crime.”
“How do we know the guy was FBI? It’s not mentioned in the story.”
“I have other means of knowing it,” Lance replied.
“I like it,” Dino said. “Is there any way the use of this badge can come back to bite me on the ass?”
“Only if you commit a federal crime while wearing it,” Lance said. “I suppose.”
“Who was the federal judge who appointed us?” Stone asked.
“It’s all in your commissioning document, in the envelope,” Lance replied. “She’s an old friend. Of the Agency.”
Stone took this as a denial that Lance had had, sometime in the past, carnal knowledge of a woman who, later, became a federal judge.
“Well, now,” Lance said, “I suppose there is nothing impeding your questioning the young lady in question. I’ve texted you her contact information, and I’ll be dying to know what she has to tell you.”
“I suppose,” Stone said, “that being United States Marshals doesn’t prevent us questioning her electronically, as on the telephone?”
“I suppose,” Lance said. “That would obviate a trip to New Haven, wouldn’t it?”
“It would,” Stone agreed.