“But you did get to the child in time.”
“I should have figured it out sooner.”
Morganstern sighed. Of all of his agents, Nick had always been the most critical of his own performance. “You were the only one who did figure it out,” he reminded him. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“Did you read the newspapers? The reporters said she was crazy, but they didn’t see the look in her eyes. I did, and I’m telling you, she wasn’t crazy at all. She was pure evil.”
“Yes, I’ve read the papers and you’re right, they did call her crazy. I expected they would,” he added. “I understand why and I think you do too. It’s the only way the public can make sense out of such a heinous crime. They want to believe that only a demented man or woman could do such obscene things to another human being, and only a crazy person could derive pleasure in the killing of innocents. A good number of them are crazy, but some aren’t. Evil does exist. We’ve both seen it. Somewhere along the way, the Stark woman made a conscious choice to cross the line.”
“People are afraid of what they don’t understand.”
“Yes,” Morganstern agreed. “And there’s a large percentage of academics who don’t want to believe that evil exists. If they can’t reason it or explain it in their narrow minds, then it simply can’t be. I think that’s one of the reasons our culture is such fertile ground for depravity. Some of my colleagues believe they can fix anything with a long-winded diagnosis and a few mind-altering drugs.”
“I heard that one of your colleagues believes that Stark’s husband controlled her and that she was so terrified of him, her mind snapped. In other words, we should feel sorry for her.”
“Yes, I heard that too. Nonsense. The Stark woman was as depraved as her husband. Her fingerprints were on those pornographic tapes along with his. She was a willing participant, but I do believe she was breaking down. They’d never gone after children before.”
“Honest to God, Pete, she was smiling at me. The boy was cradled in her arms, and she held a butcher knife over him. He was unconscious, but I could see he was still breathing. She was waiting for me. She knew I had figured it all out and I think she wanted me to watch her kill him.” He paused to nod. “Yeah, it felt good to blow her away. I’m just sorry her husband wasn’t there. I would have liked to have gotten him too. Any leads yet? I still think you ought to put our friend Noah on his trail.”
“I’ve been considering doing just that, but they want to take Donald Stark alive so they can question him, and they know if Stark gives him any trouble at all, Noah won’t hesitate to shoot.”
“You kill a cockroach, Pete. You don’t domesticate him. Noah’s got the right idea.” He rolled his shoulders to stretch his cramped muscles, rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, and then remarked, “I think I need to go on another retreat.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I think I might be burning out. Am I?”
Morganstern shook his head. “No, you’re just a little fatigued, that’s all. None of this conversation is going in my report. I meant it when I said it was between you and me. You’re way past due for some time off, but that’s my fault, not yours. I want you to take a month off now and get your mind centered again.”
A hint of a smile softened Nick’s bleak expression. “Center my mind?”
“Chill out,” he explained. “Or try to anyway. When was the last time you went up to Nathan’s Bay to see that big family of yours?”
“It’s been a while,” Nick admitted. “I keep in touch with all of them by E-mail. Everyone’s as busy as I am.”
“Go home,” he said. “It’ll be good for you. Your folks will be glad to see you again. How’s the judge doing?”
“Dad’s fine,” Nick answered.
“What about your friend Father Madden?”
“I talk to Tommy every night.”
“By E-mail?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you ought to go see him and have those talks face-to-face.”
“You think I need a little spiritual guidance?” Nick asked with a grin.
“I think you need a little laughter.”
“Yeah, I probably do,” he agreed. He grew serious once again and said, “Pete, about my instincts. Do you think I’m losing my edge?”
Morganstern scoffed at the notion. “Your instincts couldn’t be better. The Stark woman fooled everyone but you. Everyone,” he repeated more forcefully. “Her relatives, her friends and neighbors, her church group. She didn’t fool you, though. Oh, I’m sure the locals would have eventually figured it out, but by then that little boy would be dead and buried, and she would have snatched another one. You know as well as I do that once they start, they don’t stop.”
Pete tapped the thick manila folder with his knuckles. “In the interviews, I read all about how she sat next to the poor mother’s side day in and day out, comforting her. She was on the church’s grieving committee,” he added with a shake of his head. He looked as though even he, who had seen and heard it all before, was shocked by the Stark woman’s gall.
“The police talked to everyone in that church group, and they couldn’t find anything,” Nick said. “They weren’t real thorough,” he added. “But then it was a tiny little town and the sheriff didn’t know what to look for.”
“He was smart enough not to wait. He called us in right away,” Morganstern said. “He and the other locals were convinced that a transient had taken the boy, weren’t they? And that’s where all of their efforts were focused.”
“Yes,” Nick agreed. “It’s difficult to believe that one of your own could do such a thing. They had a couple of witnesses who had seen a vagrant hanging around the schoolyard, but their descriptions didn’t match. The team from Cincinnati were on their way,” he added. “And they would have figured her game out real quick.”
“What exactly was it that tipped you off ? How did you know?”
“Little things out of sync,” he replied. “I can’t explain what it was that bothered me about her or why I decided to follow her home.”
“I can explain it. Instinct.”
“I guess so,” he agreed. “I knew I was going to do a real thorough check on her. Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I got this weird, gut feeling about her, and it got stronger as soon as I walked into her house . . . you know what I mean?”
“Explain it. What was the house like?”
“Immaculate. I couldn’t see a speck of dust or dirt anywhere. The living room was small—a couple of easy chairs, sofa, TV—but, you know what was odd, Pete? There weren’t any pictures on the walls or family photos. Yeah, I remember I thought that was real odd. She had plastic covers on her furniture. I guess a lot of people do that. I don’t know. Anyway, like I said, it was spotless, but it smelled peculiar.”
“What kind of smell was it?”
“Vinegar . . . and ammonia. The smell was so strong it made my eyes burn. I figured she was just a compulsive housecleaner . . . and then I followed her into the kitchen. It was clean as a whistle. Not a thing sitting on the counters, not a towel draped on the sink, nothing. She told me to have a seat while she fixed us a cup of coffee, and then I noticed the stuff she had on the table. There were salt and pepper shakers, but in between was a huge clear plastic container of pink antacid tablets, and next to it was a ketchup-size bottle of hot sauce. I thought that was damned peculiar . . . and then I saw the dog. The animal tipped the scales. It was a black cocker spaniel sitting in the corner by the back door. He never took his eyes off her. She put a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the table and when she turned her back to get the coffee, I took one of the cookies and put it down by my side, to see if the dog would come and get it, but he never even looked at me. Hell, he was too afraid to blink, and he was watching her every move. If the sheriff had seen the dog with her, he would have known something was real wrong, but when he interviewed her, the cocker was outside in the pen.”
“He went inside her house and didn’t notice anything unusual.”
“I was lucky, and she was arrogant and reckless.”
“What made you go back inside after you left her house?”
“I was going to get some backup and wait and see where she went, but as soon as I got outside, I knew I had to go back in, and fast. I had this feeling she knew I was on to her. And I knew that the boy was somewhere in that house.”
“Your instincts couldn’t be better tuned,” Morganstern said. “That’s why I went after you, you know.”
“I know. The infamous football game.”
Morganstern smiled. “I just saw it again on CNN Sports a couple of weeks ago. They must run that clip at least twice a year.”
“I wish they’d give it a rest. It’s old news.”
The two men stood. Nick towered over his boss. Morganstern, in his tasseled black leather loafers, was five feet eight inches tall, and Nick was over six feet. His boss was slightly built, with thinning blond hair that was quickly going gray, and his thick bifocals were constantly slipping down the bridge of his narrow nose. He always wore a conservative black or navy suit with a long-sleeved, white, starched shirt and muted striped tie. To the casual observer, Morganstern looked like a nerdy university professor, but to the agents under his supervision, he was, in every respect, a giant of a man who handled the hellacious job and the horrific pressures with unruffled ease.
“I’ll see you in a month, Nick, but not a day before. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
His superior started out the door, then paused. “Are you still getting sick every time you get on a plane?”
“Is there anything you don’t know about me?”
“I don’t believe there is.”
“Yeah? When was the last time I got laid?”
Morganstern pretended to be shocked by the question. “It’s been a long while, Agent. Apparently you’re going through a dry spell.”
Nick laughed. “Is that right?”
“One of these days you’ll meet the right woman, heaven help her.”
“I’m not looking for the right woman.”
Morganstern smiled a fatherly smile. “And that, you see, is exactly when you’ll find her. You won’t be looking, and she’ll blindside you, just like my Katie blindsided me. I never had a chance, and I predict you won’t either. She’s out there somewhere, just waiting for you.”
“Then she’s going to have a hell of a long wait,” he replied. “In our line of work, marriage isn’t in the equation.”
“Katie and I have managed for over twenty years.”
“Katie’s a saint.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Nick. Do you?”
“Get sick every time I get on a plane? Hell, yes.”
Morganstern chuckled. “Good luck getting home then.”
“You know, Pete, most psychiatrists would try to get to the bottom of my phobia, but you get a kick out of it, don’t you?”
He laughed again. “See you in a month,” he repeated as he strolled out of the office.
Nick gathered up his files, made a couple of necessary calls to his Boston office and to Frank O’Leary at Quantico, and then hitched a ride to the airport with one of the local agents. Since there was no getting out of his forced vacation, he made some tentative plans. He really was going to try to kick back and relax, maybe go sailing with his oldest brother, Theo, if he could pry him away from his job for a couple of days, and then he was going to drive halfway across the country to Holy Oaks, Iowa, to see his best friend, Tommy, and get some serious fishing done. Morganstern hadn’t mentioned the promotion O’Leary had dropped on the table two weeks ago. While he was on vacation Nick planned to weigh the pros and cons of the new job. He was counting on Tommy for help with the decision. He was closer to him than he was to his own five brothers, and he trusted him implicitly. His friend would play his usual role of devil’s advocate, and hopefully by the time Nick returned to his job, he would know what he was going to do.
He knew Tommy was worried about him. He’d been nagging him by E-mail for the past six months to come and see him. Like Morganstern, Tommy understood the stresses and the nightmares of Nick’s work, and he also believed that Nick needed time away.
Tommy had his own battle to fight, and every three months when he checked into the Kansas Medical Center for tests, it was Nick who got the queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach that stayed there until Tommy E-mailed him with good news. So far, his friend had been lucky; the cancer had been contained. But it was always there, hovering, waiting to strike. Tommy had learned to deal with his illness. Nick hadn’t. If he could take the pain and suffering away from his friend, he would willingly give his right arm, but that wasn’t how it worked. As Tommy had said, this was a war he had to wage alone, and all Nick could do was be there for him when he needed him.
Nick was suddenly anxious to see his friend again. He might even be able to talk him into taking off his priest collar for one night and getting roaring drunk with him the way they used to when they roomed together at Penn State.
And he would finally get to meet Tommy’s only family, his baby sister, Laurant. She was eight years younger than her brother and had grown up with the nuns in a boarding school for wealthy young girls in the mountains near Geneva. Tommy had tried several times to bring her to America, but the conditions of the trust and the lawyers guarding the money convinced the judges to keep her sequestered until she was of age to make decisions for herself. Tommy had told Nick that it wasn’t as grim as it sounded and that by following the letter of the trust, the lawyers were, in fact, protecting the estate.
Laurant had been of age for some time now and had moved to Holy Oaks a year ago to be close to her brother. Nick had never met her, but he remembered the photos of her that Tommy had stuck up on the mirror. She’d looked like a street urchin, a scruffy-looking kid wearing a pleated black skirt and a uniform white blouse that was partially hanging out of her waistband. One of her knee-high socks had fallen down around her ankle. She had scabby knees and curly long brown hair that drooped down over one of her eyes. Both he and Tommy had laughed when they saw the photo. Laurant couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old when the picture was taken, but what stuck in Nick’s mind was the joy in her smile and the sparkle in her eyes, suggesting the nuns’ chronic complaints about her were true. She did look like she had a bit of the devil in her and a zest for life that was going to get her into sure trouble one day.