“I’ve awakened you,” he said as he stepped into her apartment.
“I’ve been thinking the same thing for weeks,” she said, and began loosening his tie.
8
Friday, June 22, 5:45 P.M.
Elena Rosario’s Apartment
“It’s a good plan,” she said, straightening the tie she had removed several hours earlier. She moved her hands into his hair.
He traced the curve of her spine, not ready to let go yet. “I’m not sure. If it weren’t for Seth—”
“I know.” She looked up into his eyes. “Whatever you decide.”
He pulled her closer, held her to him, and said, “Promise me you will be careful.”
“I will. You too.”
Reluctantly, he let her go. “I’ll leave first. If you see anyone follow—”
“I’ll page you.”
He saw the worry in her eyes. “Elena—”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t make me one of your problems.”
He smiled, thinking of how, despite all the tension and trouble in his life right now, she had made him feel good, had eased some ache within him. “Sometimes, mon ange, you really are quite ridiculous.”
“What’s an ‘ange’?”
“Angel.”
He left hearing the warm sound of her laughter.
He did not step out into the street until he had studied it for a moment. Seeing no sign of anyone watching the building, he walked a block south. He unbuttoned his coat and kept his hand near his weapon. He continued for a few blocks, to a coffee shop. He used a pay phone there to call Lieutenant Willis.
He was surprised when the lieutenant answered over a speaker phone — the lieutenant disliked using the speaker. “Lefebvre? Glad you called.” His voice sounded tinny. “Captain Bredloe and Pete Baird are here in my office. The captain wants to talk to you.”
He heard Bredloe’s voice, a little closer to the phone, and deeper. “Everything okay with you, Phil?”
“Yes, but — actually, I was calling to ask the lieutenant for a few days off.”
There was a pause, then Bredloe said, “I happened to overhear — there was an incident here this morning—”
Lefebvre heard a chair squeak and pictured Baird shifting in discomfort. So Baird was getting his ass chewed out. “Nothing of any importance,” he said quickly.
“We haven’t seen you since then, and your car was still here, so we became a little concerned.”
“I went for a walk, that’s all.”
“For seven hours?” Baird’s voice said. “The Express must be getting one hell of a story out of this one.”
“Detective Baird,” Bredloe said repressively.
The picture became clearer in Lefebvre’s mind. “I’m afraid Vince Adams may have misled you. Except to disappoint Ms. Kelly when she asked for my time, I haven’t been talking to reporters today. I didn’t realize I had caused so much concern by holding that brief conversation with her.”
This time more than one chair creaked.
“I owe Detective Baird an apology,” Lefebvre went on, perfectly capable of returning Baird’s insults, but knowing that a man like Pete Baird would feel worse if he got conciliation when he expected revenge. “I was irritable this morning. The walk helped — taking a little time to myself helped. I realized that Lieutenant Willis made a good suggestion to me a few weeks ago, and I ignored it. So I called Matt Arden and he has invited me to fly out to the desert to spend a few days with him. If you’ve no objection, I’d like to go.”
“You do need a real break, Phil,” Willis said. “You’re either working or with the kid. You’ve been too involved in the Randolph case.”
“Exactly. Although to be honest, I would feel easier about going if we increased the guard on his room.”
“Why?” Bredloe asked sharply.
“Once or twice, I’ve thought I’ve seen suspicious-looking individuals in the hallways,” he said, glad to be able to be truthful about that, at least.
“Nothing definite, but it occurs to me that Dane had no reason to attack when he thought Seth might die. Now that we’ve held this news conference, everyone knows that Seth is doing better and can communicate with us — but by making that information public, we’ve increased the danger to our only witness. I’m going over to the hospital this evening, but I can’t be with Seth all the time.”
“What he’s saying makes sense,” he heard Bredloe say to Willis. “Let’s double the guard at the start of the next shift.”
Lefebvre caught a cab. He took it back to headquarters, but didn’t enter the building. He retrieved his car and began a series of errands, the final one to Mail Call, a store where he rented a private mailbox. He talked for a moment with the owner and made a few arrangements with him. He picked up his mail, then drove over to the hospital.
He sat in the car for a few moments, to give himself time to consider how he would tell Seth that he was leaving Las Piernas for a few days. Earlier, from Elena’s apartment, he had called Matt Arden. Matt had immediately agreed to help and urged Lefebvre to move out of range of the killer. Lefebvre, unwilling to run away, had at first refused to leave Las Piernas. After some argument, though, the old man had finally persuaded Lefebvre that it would be best for him to come to the desert just long enough to meet with an outside investigator. To bring anyone into Las Piernas would only alert the killer, he said — Matt would use his connections to make sure Lefebvre told his story to someone they could trust, but Lefebvre must tell Seth’s story away from the department.
The moment he walked into Seth’s room, Lefebvre began to reconsider his plan to leave Las Piernas. Seth looked worse than he had in days — pale and tense, with dark circles under his eyes. Although his mother was with him, he did not hide his relief at seeing Lefebvre.
Tory Randolph immediately launched into an exhaustive list of grievances, most of them having to do with what she considered the premature breakup of the gathering the day before.
Lefebvre, watching Seth, suddenly said, “No, don’t—”
But he was too late — Seth angrily knocked a stack of books to the floor.
She rounded on Seth. “Why did you do that?” she asked angrily.
“It’s the only way he can interrupt you,” Lefebvre said, bending to pick up the books.
“I asked him!” she said.
Lefebvre stood. “Well, then — read his answer.”
She read the computer screen aloud. “‘You don’t listen to me. He does. He stays.’” She looked at her son, then began to cry. “Oh, Seth—”
Apparently accustomed to her tears, he ignored her.
“I’m thinking of going away for a few days,” Lefebvre said quietly.
Seth mouthed the word “no,” then in frustration, pointed to the screen.
Please don’t go. Not now.
Tory turned and walked to the far side of the room, saying nothing.
Again Seth pointed to the screen. He had typed one word:
Scared.
He erased it before his mother walked back to pick up her purse. She bent to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee. I’ll come back later.”
When she had left, Lefebvre sat quietly beside Seth. Seth tapped him on the hand and wrote: Sorry. Selfish of me. Ashamed.
“Don’t be. I’m scared, too.”
When will you be back?
“I don’t think I’ll go after all,” Lefebvre said. “Not just yet.”
Lefebvre decided to call Matt and tell him that he would wait until Monday to fly out there. By then, Seth would probably feel a little more at ease and the guard on his room would be heavier. Matt wouldn’t be happy, but he couldn’t disappoint Seth. He would at least take care of one of Matt’s requests — he would stop by the lab and take another look at the bloody shoes that had been found on the Cygnet. Matt wanted to know if the shoes looked new or worn.