Blowout (23 page)

Mr. Harper opened his mouth, then shut it. He studied Savich’s face and slowly nodded. But when Mrs. Harper spoke, her tired voice was full of anger. “How could this have happened, Agent Savich? We knew Danny, we liked him. He was a fine young man—a law clerk for the United States Supreme Court for heaven’s sake—and you let a Supreme Court Justice get murdered in the Supreme Court Building itself where there must be a hundred police, and what did they do? Nothing. And now everyone is saying that Danny was killed because he was involved somehow in Justice Califano’s murder or knew something about it. I’m telling you, Danny liked Justice Califano, do you hear me? Liked him, respected him, and yet everyone is saying he did something wrong! This can’t be true.”

Annie Harper answered her mother, and Savich was pleased to hear some vitality in her voice. “Mom, I loved Danny, but the thing is, we don’t know what’s true. I want to know, don’t you see? No matter how it turns out, I’ve got to know.”

Savich said, “It’s possible the murderer assumed Danny knew something.”

Annie Harper shook her head, and looked down at her hands. “That’s kind of you to say, Agent Savich, but I know you don’t believe that.” Her voice was tired. There was no anger in it, only infinite weariness.

Savich said, “I understand your frustration, Mrs. Harper. We will find out who did this and we will find out exactly why it was done.” He held her eyes until finally Mrs. Harper sagged against her husband’s shoulder. Mr. Harper put his arm around her and hugged her close to him. “Speak to Annie, Agent Savich. Her mother and I would feel better staying, if that’s all right with you.”

“That’s not a problem.” Savich turned back to Annie, who’d pulled the nightgown back up over her shoulder. Perhaps her eyes were a little brighter now. He wanted to take her mind off her parents, who were standing only six feet away, get her to focus on him, so he took her hand to give her comfort with the feel of human contact. He saw from the corner of his eye that her mother was watching his hand, holding her daughter’s. He positioned himself between them and their daughter, and turned his back to them. There was another bed in the room. Thankfully it was empty.

“I understand you picked Danny up from the Supreme Court on Friday evening.”

Annie nodded. “Yes, he was stuffing some things into his briefcase—it was a Gucci, I gave it to him for Christmas, just last month.” Her breath hitched, and she fell silent. Savich wondered how many drugs were still in her system. But her words had seemed coherent, so he waited.

“Danny loved that briefcase, always carried it around with him even though usually he’d have nothing of any importance in it. We took my car, and he locked the briefcase in the trunk. We laughed about how he shouldn’t take it into the movie theater with him—you know, a bomb, something like that.”

Savich saw Mrs. Harper make a move toward her daughter, but Mr. Harper held her in place.

“We went to dinner first, at Angelo’s over on Spreckels Street. Danny loved the olive, onion, and anchovy pizza there. Angelo’s was his favorite restaurant in Washington.”

“Where was the movie playing?”

“At the Consortium, over in Georgetown, you know, that arty theater that’s usually half empty.” She looked at her hands, and he felt hers move in his, burrow in a bit. “Whenever I said that, Danny would say no, it’s half full.” Good, she’d given him a small joke, and that meant she was beginning to trust him. Her other hand lay open on her lap on top of the thin sheet that covered her, her fingers curved inward, a bit like claws. “I didn’t want to see the film. I didn’t share his enthusiasm for them, but—” She sighed. “Danny had been talking about it for a week and a half. I kept putting him off, hoping the thing would close, but it was still playing and I couldn’t put him off any longer. We went to the nine o’clock show. The film was in Croatian, with subtitles, and the translation was so bad the dozen or so people in the theater were laughing. Danny didn’t, though. It was like he was watching a different film, sitting forward, his eyes glued to the screen. It was filmed in Split, that city on the Dalmatian Coast where that Roman emperor built this huge palace that’s still used today.”

“When you were at Angelo’s, did you talk about your day?”

“Not really. Danny didn’t want to. He was always talking about Justice Califano, about Eliza and Fleurette, but Friday night, he just ate, listened to me talk mostly, or so I thought. You know what? I was jealous. I was thinking about Fleurette and how he thought she was so cool, and I was jealous. I wasn’t very nice to him. I was going through the motions. I wanted to drive away with that Gucci briefcase I spent nearly a week’s salary on, and throw it in a dumpster.”

“But he wasn’t thinking about Fleurette.”

She shook her head. “No. When we got back to his apartment, he—” She looked over at her parents. Thankfully they were still six feet away, facing the window now, their backs to Savich and their daughter.

She lowered her voice and Savich had to lean down to hear her. “He jumped on me the instant we got through the door. Danny was always horny, but this time it was different. He was excited, not just about sex, but about something else. And it wasn’t Fleurette. How could it be?”

Savich’s heart began to pound slow steady beats.

“We made love on the living room floor.” She said this in an even lower whisper, her eyes on her mother’s back. “Then Danny got up and ran to the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine, and poured us each a glass. He toasted me, grinning like a loon. I’ll never forget the look on his face. He said, ‘Annie, I’m going to be rich.’ And I said, well, sure, Danny, you’re smart and blah blah blah—I don’t remember the rest of it. I said something about was he going to take a client on the side. Truth is, I was cold and wanted to put my clothes back on. But there he was, expecting me to drink the wine, and so I did.”

She might be twenty-three, Savich thought, but she was still so very young, so insecure in her youth.

“Danny shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, ‘this is something else entirely.’ But he wouldn’t say what. And he grabbed my hand and dragged me into the bedroom.” Again, her voice was a whisper. “We did it again before he finally fell asleep.”

“He said nothing about what this something else might be? No hints? Nothing else at all?”

Annie shook her head. “No, I was lying there listening to him snore. When I woke up the next morning, it was late. I put on one of his T-shirts and went into the kitchen. He was standing there, looking at the TV, and he was saying, ‘My God, my God, my God’—over and over. We stood there and watched the news about Justice Califano’s murder. I couldn’t believe it. Danny looked like he’d been kicked in the gut, like his world had ended. But then everything changed on his face, and his posture became really straight. He got taller, I swear it, he stood there and got taller.”

“You realize now that he’d come to a decision of some sort? That he realized he could use what he knew?”

“Yes, I can see that now. Poor Danny. It sure didn’t take him long, did it?”

“Evidently not.” Savich knew there was more, but not in her conscious mind, not yet.

“Then what did he say?”

“I asked him what the hell was going on with him, but he shook his head at me and said I had to leave, he had stuff to do, real important stuff.”

“I was so mad. I yelled at him that I wasn’t going to do his laundry for him anymore. I went in the bedroom, got dressed and left, didn’t say another word to him.”

“Where was he when you left?”

“I heard him moving around in the kitchen. I think he was on his cell phone.”

“You didn’t hear anything he said on his cell?”

She frowned, clasped his hand even harder, but slowly shook her head. “No. I remember how his voice fell, then it rose, but I was really so mad that I just slammed out of his apartment and went back to mine.”

“But you went over again Sunday morning.”

She was chewing on her lips. They were chapped. “Yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

“I guess I wanted to know what was really happening with him. I suppose I was worried about Fleurette again. Have you ever seen Sonya McGivens, Justice Wallace’s law clerk? Have you seen how she dresses when she’s outside the Court?”

He was hard-pressed not to smile. “Yes, I have.”

“She works out,” Annie Harper said. “She really works out hard. Over at Interior, nobody works out.” And she turned her face away from him, squeezed his hand until she was nearly cutting off the circulation, and began to weep.

Savich waited, trying to comfort her, when her mother turned toward them, the tortured look on the woman’s face painful to see. He nodded to her and mouthed, “Annie will be all right.”

When Annie quieted again, Savich said, “I would like to hypnotize you, Annie.”

“No, there’s no way you’re going to do any hocus-pocus on my daughter! She’s been through enough!”

Savich looked up at Mrs. Harper. “It’s a very safe way for me to help her remember things she can’t recall right now. Please remember, Mrs. Harper, Danny O’Malley was brutally murdered like Justice Califano. If Annie can remember more, it could help us immensely. You and your husband could be present, of course.”

But again, it was Annie who answered. “That’s fine with me, Agent Savich. I want to know who did this to Danny more than you do.”

HOOVER BUILDING

FIFTH FLOOR

LATE MONDAY MORNING

“I
DON*
’*
T BELIEVE IT
,” Frank Halley said, looking through the sheaf of papers in his hands. “MAX gives recommendations? You’ve got an alien inside that laptop, don’t you, Savich?” Savich, who’d just slipped quietly into the big conference room, merely nodded at Sherlock, who was at the head of the room, in charge of the meeting.

Sherlock said, “Nope, Frank, Dillon programmed it. Maybe he’s an alien. But I’ve never before met an alien that good in bed.”

Savich grinned at his wife and felt his chest expand. He knew some of the agents had already seen him and were hooting and giving him high fives. When the laughter died down, Savich realized Sherlock had already handed out all the updated assignments five minutes before he’d gotten there. There was optimism in the air now, not the stark confusion that had reigned in yesterday’s meeting. From listening to the other agents talk, Savich realized Sherlock had covered everything perfectly.

When the meeting broke up at last, Savich said, “Sherlock, you’re coming with me.”

“Where are you going, Savich?” Frank Halley still wasn’t over his snit, given the aggression in his voice.

Savich said mildly, “We have a date with Dr. Emanuel Hicks out at Quantico. He’s going to hypnotize Annie Harper for me.”

“O’Malley’s girlfriend?”

“The very same,” Sherlock said. “You want to come along? You can deal with Annie’s parents while Dr. Hicks and Dillon work with her.”

“No, now that I think about it,” Frank said quickly, “I’ve got more than enough to go over with my team.”

“You do that so well,” Savich said, kissed Sherlock’s ear, and whispered, “I’m better in bed than any alien you’ve ever met?”

“So far,” she said, and gave him a wicked smile over her shoulder as she walked out of the conference room.

JEFFERSON DORMITORY

QUANTICO

S
HERLOCK SAT WITH
Mr. and Mrs. Harper, having directed them to the farthest side of Savich’s office. Savich heard her soothing low-pitched voice, the same voice she used when she was trying to talk Sean into doing something he really didn’t want to do.

He turned when Dr. Hicks sauntered into the room. Dr. Emanuel Hicks always sauntered, it was one of his trademarks. His other trademark was the three very long hairs he combed from near his left ear over the top of his bald head. The three hairs didn’t go all that well with the saunter, but since he was so gifted, Savich wouldn’t have cared if he danced the salsa when he came into a room wearing a pink turban. He’d admired Dr. Hicks since he’d been in the academy. He’d realized what a valuable resource he was.

He rose and shook hands. “Thank you for coming, Dr. Hicks. Anything else you need to know about this situation?”

“No, Savich, you covered it well.” Dr. Hicks nodded toward the parents and without pause pulled a chair up to Annie’s. He smiled at her. “I’m Dr. Hicks and I promise you that none of this is going to hurt. It was part of the oath I had to take to work for the FBI. How are you feeling, Ms. Harper?”

“Okay. Well, I really feel bad, like I want to cry all the time, but there aren’t any more tears.”

“No wonder, you’ve been through a terrible experience.”

“I’m not the one dead, Dr. Hicks.”

“The dead don’t care anymore, Annie, only the living,” Dr. Hicks said. “Now, you think you’re ready?”

“I’ve never done this before. Don’t you want me to lie down or something?”

“No, that’s not necessary. Just get yourself comfortable in the chair. May I call you Annie?”

She nodded.

“Okay, now, I’d like you to look closely at this silver dollar. It originally belonged to my great-grandfather. Look at it, nothing else. That’s right, follow it with your eyes.”

While he gently swung the silver dollar on its chain about four inches from Annie’s face, he began talking about the people he knew who worked at the Department of the Interior—there were at least a dozen of them. His voice was soft, without inflection. Within four minutes, Savich thought she was under. Dr. Hicks slipped the silver dollar back in his vest pocket and said in his slow soft voice, “Annie, how do you feel?”

Annie was still looking at the place where the silver dollar had been swinging. “Cold. On the inside. Could Agent Savich hold my hand?”

Savich clasped both of her hands between his. The three of them were very close now. He saw from the corner of his eye that both the Harper parents were staring toward them, but thankfully, Sherlock was keeping them under control.

“Better now, Annie?”

“Yes,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice. “I wish Danny could have been more like Agent Savich. This wouldn’t have happened if he’d been like Agent Savich, but Danny was an opportunistic jerk.”