The Maze (29 page)

But she didn't know if she agreed. Marlin Jones was out there. She nodded though, saying nothing, and laid her cheek against his shoulder.

 

Her clothes went into his closet, her shoes on the floor beside his size-twelve wing tips and gym shoes. Her underwear went in the second drawer of the dresser. And when he was kissing his way down her body, finally holding her hips, his mouth against her, she forgot everything but him and what he was making her feel. The deep, tearing pleasure roared through her and she yelled and arced upward and told him between gasping breaths, “I love you, Dillon. Just in case you didn't hear me the first time, I'll marry you. You're the best.”

“Good. Don't forget it,” he said, staring down at her, and came into her.

It was nearly morning when Savich came slowly awake, aware that something strange was happening, something that was probably better than any pesto pasta he'd ever made, better even than having won a huge bet off one of his relatives. The something strange suddenly intensified and he lurched up, gasping. She was leaning over him, her tangled hair covering his belly, her mouth on him.

All he could do was moan, clutch her hair as he moaned, and twitch and heave.

And when he kissed her mouth, she said, “If you could do that to me, surely you had to like it too. It only makes sense, doesn't it? I've never done that before. Did I do it okay?”

“It was okay,” he said. “Yeah, I think just maybe it was okay. Really not bad for your first time.” She slid down his chest again. Then it was all over for him.

 

Ollie said, “Jimmy Maitland has a representative speaking to the media downstairs, sir. Sherlock, don't worry, they'll lay off, that was the deal Maitland struck with them.”

“Good,” Savich said.

“But there's lots of gossip, lots of innuendo,” Hannah said, tapping her pen against the conference table. “Marlin Jones's
lawyer is making hay with Sherlock here being one of the murdered women's sisters.”

“That's true,” Savich said. “Does anyone know how the media found out about that?”

No one said a word.

“Hannah?” Savich said, looking at her.

She looked right at Lacey. “No, certainly not. But I don't think it's bad that the media found out what she did. It's possible that the case against Jones could be tossed out as entrapment.” She shrugged. “You knew it was going to come out anyway. At least now there's time to get the media through chewing on it by the time Marlin Jones is recaptured.”

She was lying, but how could he prove it? Savich smiled at her, a smile cold enough to freeze water. He said, his voice so gentle it made the hair rise on the back of Lacey's neck, “I wonder that it didn't occur to the one who told the press that Sherlock wasn't the one who made the decision? That both the Bureau and the local cops all discussed her as bait for Marlin and okayed it?”

“I bet you talked him into it,” Hannah said to Lacey. The other agents were squirming, looking off, wishing, Savich knew, that they were anywhere but seated here at the conference table.

Savich raised his hands. “All right, that's enough. As most of you know, Sherlock is at my place. Not a word about this to anybody outside this room. Okay, we'll have our regular status meeting tomorrow. I just wanted everyone up to speed on this debacle. Hannah, I'd like to see you in my office.”

The meeting broke up. Ollie collared Lacey. “I've been working through MAXINE's protocols using a different slant with the Florida nursing home killings. Come and see where I'm at. I'd like your input. Besides, it'll get your mind off Marlin Jones. You're looking hunted.”

She wanted to go after Savich and Hannah. Then Hannah turned around and looked at her. Lacey changed her mind. She didn't want to get within spitting distance of Hannah.

In Savich's office, he waved his hand to a chair facing his desk. “Sit down, Hannah.”

She sat. He said nothing at all for a very long time, just looked at her, his head cocked to the left.

“You wanted to speak to me, Savich?”

“Oh yes. I know it was you who told the media about Sherlock's connection to one of the San Francisco murders. I'd like you to tell me why you did it.”

30

S
HE SAID
in a low voice that was hard as nails, “I told you already that I didn't do it.”

“You're lying. Understand this, Hannah. It wasn't Sherlock's decision to be used as bait. Sure, she wanted to do it, very badly, but it wasn't her decision. You're the last person who should have opened your mouth. The fact of the matter is that you talked to the press just to cause trouble. That's unprofessional and unacceptable behavior in a Special Agent.”

“I didn't do it. You can't prove that I did. Don't forget that it was a judge who ordered the removal of Marlin Jones's shackles. Why wouldn't a judge throw this out as well?”

“Because of the bloody evidence, that's why. Look, Hannah, I don't want you in this unit. I think a transfer is in order. You're a good agent, but not here, not in my unit.”

“That dowdy little prig is that good in bed?”

“Special Agents don't talk about other Special Agents that way. It's sexist. It's not acceptable. I won't have it.”

Hannah rose slowly, bent over toward Savich, splayed her hands on his desk, and said in a low voice, “Tell me what you see in her, just tell me so I'll understand. You swore to me that you'd never allow yourself to become serious over anyone who worked in your unit, yet you saw little miss prim and fell all over yourself.”

He rose to face her. “Listen to me, just let it go. Sherlock's never done anything to you. If you want a target, I'm right here, really big, right in front of you. Take your best shot. Leave Sherlock alone. Oh yeah, I know too that you called
the media in San Francisco and told them where Sherlock lived.

“You have compromised this case, Hannah, you've mud-died the waters because of your stupid jealousy. Now, if you want to stay in the Bureau, you'd best be very careful from here on out. I'll call Colin Petty in Personnel. You can discuss transfer options with him right now.”

“Tell me why. Why her?”

Sherlock's face was vivid in his mind's eye. He looked bemused as he said slowly, “You know, I really can't answer that. Lots of things, I guess. Good day, Agent. I'll be calling Personnel right now.”

She called him a shit, but it was low enough so he could ignore it. At least he hoped he was the shit and not Sherlock. He'd never meant to hurt Hannah, never meant to do anything to encourage her. He called Colin Petty, then buzzed Hannah to go see him.

He sighed, turned on MAXINE, and was soon in another world, one that he controlled, one that answered only to his siren's song, one that never let him down. He reviewed everything on Marlin Jones.

Where was he? Hiding? On the run? Was he alone?

MAXINE brought up the driver's license photo of Marlin's father, Erasmus Jones. Were they together? Did Erasmus play any role at all in any of the murders in Denver or San Francisco or Boston? Was it actually he who rented the Ford Taurus and not his son? If he had, then they were probably together.

He reviewed the reports, completely immersed until Jimmy Maitland finally said from the open doorway, “Maitland to Savich and MAXINE. Are you two hovering anywhere close?”

Savich blinked, forcing himself to look up. He rose. “Hello, sir. What can I do for you? Have they caught Marlin Jones?”

Jimmy Maitland shook his head mournfully. “No, not yet, but it won't be much longer. All the major corridors out of Boston are covered with agents and locals. Oh yeah, Big John Bullock is hassling the Bureau office in Boston big-time. He wants to see Agent Sherlock. He wants what he's calling a predeposition. He wants to make some hay now before the
cops have Marlin in custody again. What do you suggest we do?”

Savich sat back in his chair. Jimmy Maitland lowered himself into one of the chairs facing Savich's desk. “This isn't easy, is it? That opportunistic jerk, I wish Marlin had hit him harder.”

“Too late. Come on, Savich, do you think Big John will make hash out of Sherlock?”

“No. Besides, we'll have a person from Justice with us. I think Sherlock is incidental. What he wants is to have the media crawling all over her, making her look guilty, and thus exonerating Marlin Jones, which is impossible. The guy's spitting in the wind.”

“And if that doctor dies, it's more than just impossible. They just might launch him into space. Last I heard, it's still too close to call.”

“If the doctor dies, I can see Big John going for manslaughter or murder two. No premeditation, an act of passion by an insane man, a man out of control, a man terrified about what was going to happen to him.” Suddenly Savich sat upright in his chair, his hands clasped in front of him. “Let's do it. I think Sherlock can handle herself just fine. Let's face that bastard down. Who knows? We just might get something out of it.”

Jimmy Maitland said very slowly, “You think just maybe Marlin will find out about her being in Boston? He'll try to get to her?”

Savich was very still. “Yeah, bottom line, that's why I think we should go.”

“It's a real long shot. Next to impossible.”

“Yeah, but even if there's a remote chance it'd be worth it. But it's not just my decision to make. I'll speak to Sherlock. But you know something? I just don't think Marlin would even find out about her going to Boston—unless we let it loose to the media. Also, even if he does find out, he'd really have to be crazy to come after her.”

“Maybe, but I just don't know. Big John will leak it to the media, count on it. I will too. But you're right, it's got to be Sherlock's decision. But you already know the answer, don't you, Savich?”

“Oh yes.”

• • •

“The media are out in force, thicker than fleas on a one-eared dock rat,” Jimmy Maitland said, blew his nose, then stuffed the handkerchief back into his coat pocket. He drew away from the window in the twenty-third-floor office of Big John Bullock. He wasn't happy with all this, but he knew that with the leak, there was no way in hell Marlin Jones didn't know about Sherlock being here in Boston. He wouldn't be surprised if Sherlock had called the media. She really wanted Marlin Jones, badly.

Buzz O'Farrell, the SAC of the Boston Bureau office, was just shaking his head. “It amazes me how they don't just send one reporter, no, it's four dozen with eight dozen mikes, enough cameras to film World War II, and everybody screaming. I wanted to shoot that damned judge, but the media? A nice deadly virus just might be the answer for them.”

“They ain't got no manners, that's for sure,” Savich said, grinning down at Sherlock, who looked both stoic and furious, an interesting combination he would have liked to explore with her in private. Which, unfortunately, wouldn't be an option this morning.

“Big John leaked it,” Jimmy Maitland said, “we didn't. Actually, we'd decided to keep our noses clean. And yes, we know he leaked it. He's still counting on coming out smelling like a rose in all this and that's why he did it.”

“If he hadn't, then I probably would have,” Lacey said. “Sorry, sir, but there it is. Anything to give us another shot at Marlin Jones.”

“Well, good morning to all you good law enforcement representatives,” Big John Bullock said, walking into the immense walnut-paneled conference room in his law offices. He homed in immediately on Sherlock. “Good to see you again,” he said.

She smiled at him. “I must say you're looking a bit more fit than the last time I saw you. Marlin sure did a number on your head, didn't he?”

“Poor boy, he was frantic to get out of that torture chamber. Shall we get down to business now?”

“That's fine with us,” Savich said, all calm and cool, in that FBI voice of his.

“Do tell us exactly what you want,” Georgina Simms, the attorney for the Justice Department said, sitting forward. “This is on the unusual side. But we certainly want to cooperate all we can.”

“Well, I really wanted to know what Agent Sherlock has to say about all her unethical behavior in the case to date.”

Savich rose. He walked slowly up to Big John and said not two inches from his face, “Agent Sherlock doesn't have anything to say. Now, if you can't come up with something worth our while, then we're out of here. You heard Ms. Simms. We've got a murderer to catch. Maybe you think it's funny that at least eight women were brutally murdered and a doctor is hanging on for his life as we speak, but we don't.”

Big John sobered immediately, nodding to the stenographer to begin as he sat down and opened a thick file. “All right, then. Agent Sherlock, here's the problem you've created for the state. Your sister is one of the women allegedly killed by my client. Is this true?”

“Yes.”

“So the reason you became an FBI agent was to get in on the inside so you'd have a better chance of catching him?”

“Yes, initially.”

“Was it your idea, your plan, that resulted in the capture of Marlin Jones?”

“It was a plan developed by the local BPD and the FBI. It was also a plan approved by the local BPD and the FBI. I was merely the bait.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew his profile very well. I knew better than any other female officer or agent exactly how to play him, how to work him. I was simple bait, Mr. Bullock. All he had to do was ignore me. There was no entrapment.”

“That will be up to the judge, won't it?”

Georgina Simms, said, her voice easy and slow, “This is all a waste of time, Mr. Bullock. If you have a point, make it now or we're leaving.”

“My point is, just exactly how did you know how to ‘play' Marlin Jones so well, Agent Sherlock?”

She didn't pause. She saw Dillon tense up, then consciously relax. He was worried. Well, she wasn't. She'd thought about
this a whole lot. “I've studied everything about the killer for the past seven years, Mr. Bullock. I felt that I knew him. He cut out the women's tongues, thus it was assumed that the women he'd picked to walk the walk through his maze needed to be punished in his mind. His first marker was cursing. If he heard a woman using language unbecoming to a woman—and of course he was the judge of how bad the language was—that was half of his decision. The other half was whether or not she bad-mouthed her husband. This one was more iffy, but again, I felt I knew Marlin Jones, I'd studied him so closely for seven years and through my course work in undergraduate and in graduate school. As you know, he's now claimed that he slept with most of the women he murdered, though we don't have any confirmation on that. It's really very straightforward. That's all there is to it, Mr. Bullock.”

“So your sister cursed and bad-mouthed her husband. Did your sister also sleep with her killer, Agent Sherlock?”

“Since she's been dead for seven years, stabbed many times, her tongue cut out, I don't think we have much hope of getting the answer.”

Savich could have kissed her. It had been a question meant to inflame, meant to incite rage and thus to gain an untempered response. She'd held firm. He could tell that Jimmy Maitland was impressed as well.

“That sounded all rehearsed, Agent Sherlock.”

She merely shrugged.

Big John said, “It sounds to me like you're one obsessed little lady, excuse me, one obsessed little Special Agent. I would have thought that the FBI interviewers and psychologists would have spotted all this and not given you the time of day. That's scary.”

“No, sir, what's scary is a judge who presents Marlin Jones, a vicious murderer, with a perfect chance to escape.” She sat forward in her chair. “And you're scary, Mr. Bullock. You're doing this all to enhance your career—in other words, for fame and profit. If I am obsessed or have ever been obsessed, sir, then you are unethical, another word for basic slime.”

Big John roared to his feet. “You can't talk to me like that, Agent Sherlock.”

“Why not, sir?”

Georgina Simms just smiled. “It's a good question, an excellent point actually, but we'll let it go. Anything else you wanted to know, Mr. Bullock?”

“No judge is going to accept that she was just another well-trained agent doing a job. She taints the case. She's a self-interested participant, not an objective law officer.”