He smiled then, showing her his very beautiful white teeth, likely false. “Yes, yes, I know I am an old man, but I do not have much longer to live. I want you with me until it is my time. I was hoping, perhaps, that you would see some advantage in marrying me.”
“Oh, is that why I’m wearing white? To put me in the mood?”
“You want manners,” Ian said. He was angry, she could see it as he stepped toward her only to stop when he felt his father’s hand on his forearm. Ian shook off his father’s hand and said, “She is disrespectful. She needs to see what an honor it would be to be your wife!”
Olaf only shook his head. He even smiled again as he said to Lily, “No, my dear, you are wearing white because that is a copy of the dress I last saw your grandmother wearing in Paris. It was the day she left with Emerson Elliott. The day I believed my world had collapsed.”
“You are good at copies, aren’t you?” Lily said. “I am not my grandmother, you foolish old man.”
Ian struck her across the face. Simon didn’t say a word, just hurled himself at Ian Jorgenson, slamming his fist into his jaw, then whirled back and kicked him in the kidney.
“Stop!” It was Nikki and he’d pulled a gun that was aimed at Simon.
Simon gave him a brief bow, straightened his shirt, and walked away.
Ian slowly raised himself to his feet, grimacing in pain. “I will go with Nikki and Alpo this evening. I will be the one to kill you.”
“All this,” Simon said, marveling as he turned to Olaf Jorgenson, “and you raised a coward, too.”
Lily lightly placed her hand on Simon’s arm. She was terrified.
She said to Olaf, “Even if I found you remotely acceptable in matrimonial terms, sir, I couldn’t marry you. I’m married to Tennyson Frasier.”
The old man was silent.
“I don’t ever wish to marry again, at least until I’ve seriously reconsidered my criteria. I don’t think there’s any way in the world that you would ever fit them. I’m married anyway, so it doesn’t matter, does it?”
Still the old man was silent, thoughtfully looking at her. Then he slowly nodded. He said, “I will be back shortly.”
“What are you going to do, Father?”
“I do not believe in bigamy. It is immoral. I’m going to make Lily a widow. Nikki, take me to my library.” As Nikki wheeled him out of the huge room, Lily and Simon saw him pull a small, thick black book from his sweater pocket. They watched him thumb through it as he disappeared from their view.
“He’s completely mad,” Lily whispered.
Washington, D.C.
Savich walked through the front door of his home, hugged his wife, kissed her, and said, “Where’s Sean?”
“At your mom’s house-babbling, gumming everything in sight, and happy. I left your mom a two-box supply of graham crackers.”
Savich was too tired, too depressed to smile. He raised an eyebrow in question.
She said, without preamble, “Both the Bureau and I agree with your plan. Tammy wants you, Dillon. She’s focused on you. There’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that she will come here. I took Sean to your mother’s because we don’t want him in harm’s way.
“Right before you got home, Jimmy Maitland issued a statement to the media that you were no longer the lead investigator in the manhunt for Tammy Tuttle. Aaron Briggs has replaced you as the lead. He said you were urgently needed to gather vital evidence in the Wilbur Wright case, the cult leader responsible for the heinous murders of a sheriff and two deputies in Flowers, Texas. You’re traveling to Texas on Friday to begin working with local law enforcement.”
He hugged her close and said against her hair, “You and Mr. Maitland got it done really fast. So I’m to leave on Friday? Today is Tuesday.”
“Yes. It gives Tammy plenty of time to get here.”
“Yes, it does.” Savich streaked his fingers through his hair, making it stand straight up. “Have you got Gabriella safely stashed away?”
“Actually, she’s at your mom’s house during the day. Both of them are safe. She said she doesn’t want to miss a single step that Sean takes.”
But Sean’s parents were missing his first steps, Savich thought. He felt brittle with rage, bowed with his failure.
He said finally, knowing that she wouldn’t like or accept it, “She’s scary, Sherlock. I don’t want her near you, either.”
She nodded slowly as she stepped against him, pressing her face to his neck. “I know, Dillon, but I couldn’t think of anything else. Jimmy Maitland told me you’d balk because of me and Sean, and I knew I couldn’t allow that. Now we’ve gotten both Gabriella and Sean to safety. Don’t even think you can send me away. We’re in this together, we always have been, and we’re going to get her. We have the advantage here because we control the scene. We can act and plan, we can be ready for her, not just wait to react to something she does.”
He held her tightly. He wondered if she could smell his fear, there was such a huge well of it. Savich kissed her and hugged her until she squeaked. “We’ve got to be ready for her, Sherlock, and I’ve got some ideas about that. I’ve been thinking about this for a good while now.”
“Like what?” she asked, pulling back, looking up at him.
“She has the power to create illusions, to make people see what she wants them to see. Whether it’s some kind of magician’s trick or a strange ability that’s inside her sick brain, the end result is the same.”
He let her go and began pacing. He looked at his grandmother’s painting over the fireplace, then turned and said, “You believe that she can’t fool me if I’m close enough to her. If we can get her here in the house, I’ll be close enough.”
He came back to her, smiled down at her while he ran his fingers through her curly hair.
“Kiss me, Dillon.”
“Can I do more than just kiss you?”
“Oh yes.”
“Good. Dinner can wait.”
All the world can wait, Sherlock thought, as she held him to her. “After dinner, I want us to go to the gym. It’ll relieve all the stress.”
“You got it. But if you have much stress after I’m through with you, I’ll have to reassess my program.”
And he laughed, actually laughed.
Gothenburg, Sweden
Bloated clouds hung low, blotting out the moon and stars. They would bring rain, perhaps even snow, before the night was over.
Simon was sitting low in a small boat, his hands tied behind him. Alpo was rowing and Nikki was beside him, the gun pressed against his side. In a boat trailing them were Ian Jorgenson and a small man Simon hadn’t seen before who was rowing.
The canal was wide, the town of Gothenburg on either side casting ghostly shadows in the dark light. There was just the rippling of the oars going through the water, smooth and nearly soundless.
The canal twisted to the right, and the buildings became fewer. There were no people that Simon could see.
He very nearly had the knot on his hands pulled loose. Just a few more minutes and his hands would be free, and a little more time after that to get circulation back into his hands and fingers.
If he had just a bit more time, he had a chance. But the buildings were thinning out too much. They could kill him at any time without worry.
He worked the knot, rubbing his wrists raw, but that didn’t matter. His blood helped loosen the strands of hemp.
“Stop!”
It was Ian Jorgenson. His small boat pulled up beside theirs.
“Here. This is fine. Give me the gun, Nikki, I want to put a bullet through this bastard. Then you can put him in that bag and sink him to the bottom.”
Simon could feel Nikki leaning toward Ian to give him the gun. It was his last chance. Simon jumped up, slammed against Alpo, and dove at the small man in the other boat. Both boats careened wildly, the men shouting and cursing. As Simon hit the water, he heard a splash behind him, then another.