It took very little time for Savich and six other agents to board a Sabreliner at Andrews Air Force Base for a flight to Bar Harbor.
He spent the entire flight telling the agents everything he could think of. It was time, Savich decided, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders, to let everyone know exactly what they were dealing with.
A psychopathic killer who is an illusionist, possibly a telepath. He had never seen anything like it, and he hoped he never would again.
He’d just finished telling all the agents about the Ghouls, detailing what Marilyn had told him and what he himself had seen. If they didn’t believe him, they were cool enough to keep it to themselves.
One agent, a friend of Virginia Cosgrove’s, didn’t doubt a single word. As they were debarking from the jet in Bar Harbor, she said, “Virginia told me some things Marilyn Warluski had told her. It was terrifying, Mr. Savich.”
“Just Savich, Ms. Rodriguez. I’m very sorry about Agent Cosgrove.”
“We all are, sir.” Then she managed a grin. “Just Lois, Savich.”
“You got it.”
“The thing is, guys,” he said to all of them, “if you see her or him again”-he waved the artist’s drawing under all their noses-“don’t play any games. Don’t even think about trying to take her alive. Don’t trust anything you see happen, fire without hesitation, and shoot to kill. Now, I’m going to the photo shop, make sure there’s no confusion. Then we’ll get together at the local police department and get everything set up.”
He wondered if the Ghouls would be with her, with Tammy as their head acolyte, their priestess of death.
He was becoming melodramatic. All he really knew as he walked into the photo shop, Hamlet’s Pics, on Wescott Avenue, was that he was glad to his soul that Sherlock wasn’t here, that she was at home, safe with Sean.
He spoke to the photo shop employee, Teddi Tyler-spelled with an “i” he was told-to verify what he’d said to the local police. Teddi repeated that the woman whose photo Savich was showing him had indeed been in the shop, just yesterday, late afternoon. He’d called the police right away.
“What did she want?”
“She had some film she wanted developed.”
Savich felt his heart pound, deep and slow, and it was all he could do to remain calm and smooth. They were so close now. “Did you develop the film, Mr. Tyler?”
“Yes, sir, Agent Savich. The police told me to go ahead and develop it and hold the photos for the FBI.”
“When did she say she wanted to pick the photos up?”
“This afternoon, at two o’clock. I told her that would be just fine.”
“Did she look like she was in good health, Mr. Tyler?”
“She was sort of pale, but looked good other than that. It was pretty cold yesterday so she was all bundled up in a thick coat, a big scarf around her neck and a wool ski cap, but I still recognized her, no problem.”
“Did you make any comment to her about how she looked familiar?”
“Oh, no, Agent Savich. I was really cool.”
Yeah, I bet, Savich thought, praying that he’d been cool enough not to alert Tammy that he was on to her. One thing-Teddi Tyler was still alive, and that meant Tammy hadn’t felt threatened, he hoped. Everything he’d told Savich so far was exactly what he’d told the local cops.
“I want you to think carefully now, Mr. Tyler. When she handed you the film, which hand did she use?”
Teddi frowned, furrowing his forehead into three deep lines. “Her left hand,” he said at last. “Yes, it was her left hand. She had her purse on a long strap hanging over her left shoulder. It was kind of clumsy.”
“Did you ever see her right hand?”
Again Teddi went into a big frown. “I’m sorry, Agent Savich,” he said finally, shaking his head, “I just don’t remember. All I’m sure about is that she stayed all bundled up-again no surprise, since it was so cold.”
“Thank you, Mr. Tyler. Now, a special agent will take your place behind the counter. Agent Briggs will be in soon and you can go over procedures with him.” Savich raised his hand, seeing that Teddi Tyler wanted to argue. “There’s no way you are going to face this woman again, Mr. Tyler. She’s very dangerous, even to us. Now, show me those photos.”
Savich took the photo envelope from Teddi and moved away from the counter to the glass front windows. The sun was shining brightly for a November day. It didn’t look like it was forty degrees outside. He slowly opened the envelope and pulled out the glossy 4x6 photos. There were only six of them.
He looked at one after the other, and then looked again. He didn’t understand. All of them were beach shots, undoubtedly taken in the Caribbean. Two were taken in the early morning, two when the sun was high, and two at sunset. None of them was very well done-well, that made sense since she had only one arm-but what was the point? All beach shots, no people in any of them. What was this about?
He held the photos up to Teddi. “Did she say anything about the photos? What they were? Anything at all?”
“Yeah, she said they were vacation photos she wanted to show her roommate. Said her roommate didn’t believe her when she’d said how beautiful it was down in the Caribbean. She had to prove it.”
If Tammy hadn’t lied, then Marilyn was alive. She wanted Marilyn to admire the beaches in the Caribbean.
He told Teddi Tyler to take off as soon as Agent Briggs arrived. As for Briggs, he was a natural retailer, experienced in undercover jobs. He was fast, a good judge of people’s behavior. Savich trusted him. Briggs knew how dangerous Tammy was, knew everything Savich knew.
They had three hours to get it all set up. There were three agents undercover near Marilyn’s boyfriend’s house just off Newport Drive. He doubted they would see either Marilyn or Tammy at the boyfriend’s house. Of course not, Savich thought, that would be too easy.
Savich left, drew the salty air deep into his lungs, and called Simon Russo on his way to the meet with the other agents. He hadn’t spoken to Russo or Lily in nearly thirty hours. He knew they were all right; otherwise Hoyt would have yelled out. Still, he wanted to know what was happening. He was worried about Lily, just couldn’t help it. He knew Simon would protect her with his life, knew Hoyt and the Eureka police were with them all the way. But still, she was his sister, and he loved her deeply. He didn’t want anything to happen to her. When he thought of what she’d already endured, he felt rage in his gut.
The more he thought about it, the more Savich worried.
He pulled his leather jacket collar up around his ears and dialed. Simon’s cell phone didn’t answer. Savich wasn’t about to second-guess himself and try to believe that the battery was dead. He immediately put in a call to Clark Hoyt.
23
Bar Harbor, Maine
Clark Hoyt answered his cell phone on the third ring. “Savich? Good thing you called. We can’t find Simon or Lily. Our guys have been sticking close to them, but when Lily wanted to go to the cemetery, everyone decided they’d be safe there, and so we agreed to give them some privacy. Jesus, Savich, they went after them in the cemetery!
“When they didn’t show up in an hour at Bender’s Café in Hemlock Bay, my agents called me, then drove to the cemetery. We found Simon’s rental car and one of the Frasiers’ cars in the parking lot. There weren’t any other cars around. We know Lily visited her daughter’s grave because the daffodils she’d bought were there.”
Hoyt paused.
“What is it, Clark? What else did you find?”
“Some blood on the front seats, Savich, just a trace, but there was blood on the parking lot cement, a good bit more. We’re testing it. We fucked up, Savich. Jesus, I’m sorry. We’ll find them, I swear it to you.”