Ryan said nothing.
“Now what?”
“Now we wait for Crowe's warrant.”
“And in the meantime?”
Ryan grinned, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“In the meantime we talk to the attorney general of the great state of Delaware, find out what we can about the H&F Investment Group.”
Boyd and I were sharing a club sandwich and fries on the porch at High Ridge House when Lucy Crowe's squad car appeared on the road below. I watched her wind upward toward the driveway. Boyd continued to watch the sandwich.
“Spending quality time?” Crowe asked when she'd reached the stairs.
“He says I've been neglecting him.”
I held out a slice of ham. Boyd tipped his head and took it gently with his front teeth. Then he lowered his snout, dropped the ham on the porch, licked it twice, and wolfed it down. In seconds his chin was back on my knee.
“They're just like kids.”
“Mmm. Did you get the warrant?”
Boyd's eyes moved as my hand moved, alert for lunch meat or fries.
“I had a real heart-to-heart with the magistrate.”
“And?”
She sighed and removed her hat.
“He says it's not enough.”
“Evidence of a body?” I was shocked. “Daniel Wahnetah could be decomposing in that courtyard even as we speak.”
“Are you familiar with the term junk science? I am. It was thrown at me at least a dozen times this morning. I think old Frank is going to start his own support group. Junk Science Victims Anonymous.”
“Is the guy an idiot?”
“He's never going to Sweden to collect a prize, but he's usually reasonable.”
Boyd raised his head and blew air through his nose. I put my hand down and he sniffed, then gave it a lick.
“You're neglecting him, again.”
I offered a slice of egg. Boyd dropped it, licked it, sniffed, licked again, then left it on the porch.
“I don't care for egg in club sandwiches, either,” Crowe said to Boyd. The dog moved his ear slightly, to indicate that he'd heard, but kept his eyes on my plate.
“It gets worse,” Crowe went on.
Why not?
“There have been additional complaints.”
“About me?”
She nodded.
“By whom?”
“The magistrate wouldn't share that information. But if you go anywhere near the site, the morgue, or any crash-related record, item, or family member, I am to arrest you for obstruction of justice. That includes this courtyard property.”
“What the hell is going on?” My stomach tightened in anger.
Crowe shrugged. “I'm not sure. But you're out of that investigation.”
“Am I allowed to go to the public library?” I spat.
The sheriff rubbed the back of her neck and rested a boot on the bottom step. Beneath her jacket I could see the bulge of a gun.
“There's something very wrong here, Sheriff.”
“I'm listening.”
“My room was ransacked yesterday.”
“Theories?”
I told her about the figurines in the bathtub.
“Not exactly a Hallmark greeting.”
“It's probably that Boyd's annoying someone.” I said it hopefully, but didn't really believe my own words.
Boyd's ears shot forward at the sound of his name. I gave him a slice of bacon.
“Is he a barker?”
“Not really. I asked Ruby if he makes noise when I'm away. She said he howls a bit, but nothing extraordinary.”
“What does Ruby say about it?”
“Satan's minions.”
“Maybe you have something that someone wants.”
“Nothing was taken, though all my files were thrown around. The whole room was trashed.”
“Did you keep notes on this foot?”
“I'd taken them with me to Oak Ridge.”
She looked at me a full five seconds, then nodded her nod.
“Makes that Volvo episode a little more suspect. You watch yourself.”
Oh yes.
Crowe leaned over and brushed off the toe of her boot, then looked at her watch.
“I'll see if I can get the DA to push harder.”
At that moment Ryan's rental car appeared in the valley. The driver's-side window was open and his silhouette looked dark against the car's interior. We watched him climb the mountain and turn into the drive. Moments later he strode up the path, his face looking drawn and tense.
“What is it?”
I heard Crowe's hat brush the top of her thigh.
Ryan hesitated a beat, then, “There's still no sign of Jean's body.”
I could read naked misery in his demeanor. And more. Selfimposed guilt. The conviction that his absence from the partnership had caused Bertrand to be on that plane. Detectives without partners are limited in what they can investigate. That makes them available for courier duty.
“They'll find him,” I said softly.
Ryan let his eyes rove the horizon, his back rigid, his neck muscles tight as twisted ropes. After a full minute, he shook out and lit a cigarette, cupping the flame in both hands.
“How did your afternoon go?” He flicked the match.
I told him about Crowe's meeting with the magistrate.
“Your foot may be a dead issue.”
“What do you mean?”
He blew smoke through his nostrils, then pulled something from his jacket pocket.
“They also found this.”
He unfolded a paper and handed it to me.
I STARED, FIRST IN CONFUSION, THEN IN DAWNING COMPREHENSION.
Ryan had given me a composite produced on a color printer. There were three images, each showing a fragment of plastic. In the first I could make out the letters b-i-o-h-a-z. In the second, a truncated phrase: -aboratory servic-. A red symbol practically leaped from the third picture. I'd seen dozens at the lab, and recognized it instantly.
I looked at Ryan.
“It's a biohazard container.”
He nodded.
“Which wasn't on the manifest.”
“No.”
“And everyone thinks it held a foot.”
“Opinion is running in that direction.”
Boyd nudged my hand, and I absently held out the rest of the sandwich. He looked at me, as though assuring himself there was no mistake, then took the booty and moved off, opting for distance in case it was a misunderstanding, after all.
“So they're admitting that the foot does not belong to any passenger.”
“Not exactly. But they're opening up to the possibility.”
“What does this do to the warrant?” I asked Crowe.
“It won't help.”
She pushed back from the step, stood with feet apart, and replaced her hat.
“But something's reeking under that wall, and I intend to find out what.”
She gave her Sheriff Crowe head dip, turned, and walked up the path. Moments later we saw her bubble top wending down the mountain.
I felt Ryan's stare and brought my gaze back to him.
“Why did the magistrate nix the warrant?”
“Apparently the guy's a candidate for the Flat Earth Society. On top of that, he'll issue a warrant for obstruction if I so much as shed a skin cell.” My cheeks burned with anger.
Boyd crossed the porch, snout down, head moving from side to side. Reaching the swing, he sniffed up my leg, then sat and stared at me with his tongue out.
Ryan drew on his cigarette, flicked it onto the lawn. Boyd's eyes shifted sideways, then back to me.
“Did you find out about H&F?”
Ryan had gone to his “office” to phone Delaware.
“I thought the request might be processed more expeditiously if it came from the FBI, so I asked McMahon to make the call. I'll be at the reassembly site all afternoon but I can ask him tonight.”