Part 24 (1/2)

”Not that easy, sir?”

Wotan sat for a while with his hand covering the slug on the desk. ”Do you think he's effective?” he finally asked.

Travers threw up her hands, frustrated. ”Yes,” she confessed. ”I do.”

”Do you think he's getting close?”

”Yes.”

”Then with whom exactly are you arguing, Agent Travers?”

Travers opened her mouth, then thought better of it and closed it again. She looked at Wotan, but the room seemed to fade into darkness around the ma.s.sive desk.

She rose to leave.

Through the living room window, Darby saw the mail truck pause at the end of the walkway before continuing up the street. She pressed her hands firmly to her eyes as she headed to the front door. It felt good, like scratching an itch. When she removed her hands, her vision dotted for a moment, then cleared.

The amount of pressure she'd felt over the past few days was so great that she sensed it physically, pus.h.i.+ng in on her from all angles. She stepped outside, nodding to the agents parked up the street as she headed to the mailbox.

She flipped through the mail, pausing to examine one envelope in particular. Though there was no return address, she knew immediately who it was from.

Jade leaned over the kitchen sink and peeled an apple with a hunting knife he kept in the kitchen drawer. The weight in his hand felt better than that of a kitchen knife, more substantial.

As he raised curls along the knife's edge, he felt the firmness of the blade through the thin red skin of the apple. His hands moved quickly, like a chef's. When he'd worked his way around the apple several times, he flipped it over and deftly cored it with a single deep thrust and twist.

The doorbell rang and he went to answer it, still holding the knife in his hand. Travers stood on the porch looking out at the street, a newspaper in her hand. She wore a pair of jeans and a white s.h.i.+rt, loosely tucked in. He recognized the s.h.i.+rt from the last time she'd come over. Not a woman much interested in clothes, he decided.

Her hair was still pulled back in a ponytail, but several strands had escaped and curved down the side of one cheek. She turned to face him, and the morning sun shone across her blond hair, catching its golden highlights. She smiled, lips parting back from perfect white teeth.

Jade bit the apple because he couldn't think of anything to say. She entered the house, brus.h.i.+ng his shoulder with hers. As she pa.s.sed him, she impaled the newspaper on the hunting knife.

”Smart move, Marlow.”

Jade was surprised that there was no sarcasm in her voice.

He pulled the newspaper off the knife and opened it. The brightly colored headlines betrayed that it was a tabloid-The Globe. Half of the front page was taken up with a color photograph of Jade and Darby standing in the doorway of the Atlasias' home, Jade's arm across Darby's shoulders. ”Jade Marlow's 'Private Investigation' of Allander Atlasia's Mother.” ”True Details of the Daring Affair Inside!” the subhead screamed.

When he entered the living room, Travers was sitting on the couch, flipping through a legal notebook. On it, Jade had profiled all the victims' personalities from information he had pieced together from the houses, and from friends and neighbors. He needed to know how they had reacted to Allander; that might help him to understand his actions.

”Excellent move, Marlow,” she said. ”The photo. Creates an urgency and an attraction for him.”

”Urgency is what I'm hoping for,” Jade said. ”Right now, he has us just waiting for him to move again. I want to light a fire under him and get him moving.”

”Moving where?”

Jade shrugged, averting his eyes.

”I guess that's the challenge, huh?” Travers said, continuing to flip through the notebook. ”How'd you come up with that? Putting your arm around Darby?”

”I thought about the emotion that most overwhelms him.”

”Rage?”

Jade shook his head. ”His rage he can control.”

”What then?”

”Jealousy.”

”Of whom?”

”Not of whom. Of what. Of his mother's attentions. Of her time. Of her person. That's his Achilles' heel. His jealousy.”

Travers smiled, and for a moment Jade thought he detected a softness in her eyes. ”At times, Marlow, I almost like you. But don't quote me on that.”

”I won't.” Jade grinned and lowered his eyes. When he looked up, he started to say something else, then stopped himself.

”What?”

”Nothing.” He shook his head. ”Where were you this morning? I tried reaching you.”

Travers shrugged, glancing at the notebook. ”Ch.o.r.es.”

”Yeah, you strike me as the real housekeeper type.”

She pretended to be absorbed in his notes. After a few moments, she didn't have to pretend. Underneath the personality charts in the notebook, Jade had written the information from forensics. Nothing much to match right now-no traces of dirt or carpet fibers. Since Allander wasn't settled into a base yet, it wouldn't help that much anyway. Given the time frame, he had moved almost directly from the first house to the second, with a quick stop at Jade's. Jade bet he'd move to a safe zone for a while now. To wait. To plan.

Travers looked at Jade's extensive notes, flipping over page after page of his comments and thoughts. One of the last pages was filled with scribbles and doodles that he had made while he did phone work.

Travers stifled a smile. It was just like Jade to confine his doodling to one page.

Jade crossed his arms, facing Travers's back as she looked through the notes.

Hidden in the doodles were the names of the victims: ”Henry Weiter.” ”Janice Weiter.” ”Linda Johnson.” ”Theodore Johnson.” ”Earl Johnson.” They were written in a scrawling hand, much different from Jade's usual neat writing.

”It was tough there yesterday,” she said over her shoulder. ”The bodies . . .”

Jade shook his head, inhaling deeply. ”I missed. Just missed.”

She turned to him and a look of understanding pa.s.sed between them. Her eyes lit with a sudden realization. ”It's not your fault, you know,” she said softly. ”There was nothing you could do.”

”I could've gotten there earlier. I could've figured out where he was heading. I could've been here waiting when he stopped by my house. I could've-” His voice broke off. He opened his hands and turned them to the ceiling before slapping them against his hips.

Travers rose and walked slowly over to him. She placed her hand gently on his side. Jade admired how her hair curled around her neck. The edge of her palm was on his stomach, her fingers resting tenderly across his ribs. He lowered his eyes and cleared his throat awkwardly. ”I had a . . . brother who died when I was younger.”

Travers's forehead wrinkled with sympathetic lines. ”I'm sorry.”