Steven James - The Bishop

As she hung up the phone, she took a deep breath of both anticipation and hesitation.

Things were about to get very, very sticky.

Tessa stepped into the house.

Locked the doors.

Gave Detective Warren a call.

“I’ll be right over,” she told Tessa. “Do you need me to bring dinner?”

There was still some of Lien-hua’s leftover Chinese from last night, but Tessa decided not to suggest that. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

“No meat or meat by-products, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

Tessa hung up.

And set up the chessboard.

Black versus white.

The two colors every piece, every person, travels across at some point during the game.

Brad parked across the street from EAD Wellington’s house. From his research and prior excursions to the house, he knew the pass code to her security system.

No car in the driveway. The window to her garage revealed it was empty. But to be safe, he drew his gun and held it beneath his jacket while he crossed the street.

As he ascended the porch steps, he heard the jangle of Lewis’s collar just inside the door. The golden retriever gave a friendly bark.

Brad picked the lock.

Entered the house, and as Lewis watched him, he located the security touchpad control on the wall.

“Good doggie,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

2 hours left…

7:29 p.m.

I found no connections to Director Rodale in Basque’s files.

Figuring that Ralph and Margaret would be looking more closely into that tunnel, I turned my attention back to the relationships we were aware of.

I typed: Vice President Fischer is tied to Lansing. Lansing is tied to Basque. Basque is tied to Lebreau. Lebreau is tied to Rodale. Rodale is tied to…?

As I was puzzling over the list, I heard footsteps, light, quick. I looked up to see Lien-hua on her way toward me. She read the weariness, the frustration on my face. “You look whipped.”

“Well, at least my looks aren’t deceiving.”

“Did the custody meeting go all right?”

I realized I hadn’t spoken with her about it yet. “It was okay. I think things will work out. You heard about Basque? That he was there?”

“Yes.” She seemed distracted. Something was on her mind. “And I heard that Anderson lost him.”

I refrained from commenting, just nodded. “Ralph’s on his way back. Should get in a little after 9:00. Oh, and Rodale knows Lebreau.”

“I heard that too-listen, Pat.” She lowered her voice until she was speaking to me almost in a whisper. “I may have found out why the dog didn’t bark.”

“Go on.”

“Let me get my files. I’ll meet you upstairs. Room 413.”

Curious now.

Very curious.

“Why upstairs?”

“Trust me. Five minutes.”

She left, I checked my text messages and confirmed that Tessa was all right. As I was collecting my things, one of the agents dialed up the volume of a television screen mounted near the ceiling at the far side of the room.

“Unnamed sources,” the announcer was saying, “have confirmed that Congressman Fischer has made significant contributions to the Gunderson Foundation. In light of the Foundation’s application for government funding for controversial nanotechnology research, Republican lawmakers are calling the news ‘striking’ and ‘revealing.’ We’ll have more as things develop…”

Federal funding.

Nanotechnology research?

Interesting.

A cavern I hadn’t thought of.

I jogged up the stairs to hear what Lien-hua had to say.

“Natasha Farraday,” she told me.

“What?” We were in a vacant office on the fourth floor and she was spreading a stack of files across the table.

“I think we should take a closer look at her.”

“You think she might be one of the killers?” I was shocked. “And what? Cassidy is her partner?”

“I’m only saying they warrant a closer look.”

“Run it down.”

“Remember how earlier today I was looking into law enforcement connections? I started with the six names you gave me, but that didn’t take me anywhere.”

“And then you were going to explore the lack of DNA evidence.”

“Yes, but here was the problem: since we hadn’t found evidentiary DNA at the scene, we’d been assuming the killers hadn’t left any.”

I considered her words. “That assumption seems pretty well-founded.”

“I decided to assume the opposite.”

“You assumed that the killers did leave their DNA.”

Yes. Nice.

She pulled the lab analysis reports from the stack of papers.

“I had the lab rerun the samples, you know, in case the killers had tried to alter or fake the evidence, but it all came back with the same results, so I took a closer look at the evidence that we did have, the DNA that would naturally be present-”

“From those who worked the scenes.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s what led you to Farraday and Cassidy.”

As she spoke, she pointed to various notes she’d highlighted in the reports. “Take Natasha first. She’s worked every crime in this series, was the first to arrive at the hotel the day you were shot. She was the one who found the wheelchair in room 809, the one who cleared Mahan’s car and the handicapped van, and was even the agent who oversaw the evidence handling when the congressman went to identify Mollie’s body at the hotel.”

“The suitcases.”

“Yes.”

“So of course we would expect to find her DNA at every crime scene.”

“Yes. And we do.”

There had to be more. “What else?”

“The timing of her arrival at the primate center on Tuesday night would have given her just enough time to leave the facility in the guise of Aria Petic and then return with the emergency responders after Sandra Reynolds’s 911 call.”

Hmm.

An idea formed in my mind.

Some aspects of the Bureau’s personnel files are confidential, but some are not. I flipped open my computer, set it on a desk. “Still all circumstantial.”

“Her age fits, she has a build similar to Aria’s, knows forensics, has a submissive personality, and arrived in the DC area shortly before the crime spree began.”

Again, all circumstantial, but admittedly, each additional fact added weight to the possibility that Lien-hua was on to something.

Imagine it, Pat, the thrill of committing a crime, and then returning to process it. It would be overwhelming, the sense of power

…

And it would be very difficult to build a case against you based on the presence of your DNA at the crime scene since your DNA would naturally be present.

“Cassidy found the luggage claim tag,” I said, “but Farraday went through the car first.”

“She could have planted it.”

I shook my head. “But why take that chance if you were the killer? Why not just leave the claim tag when you left the laptop?”

“Hmm,” she said. “Good point.”

I tapped at my computer, brought up Natasha Farraday’s files.

Lien-hua watched me. “I checked, Pat. She lives less than a quarter mile west of the hot zone.”

One step ahead of me.

“So she fits both the psychological profile and the geoprofile.”

“Yes.”

“She’s a new transfer…” I mumbled. Now I was scanning Cassidy’s files. “And Cassidy is her superior, and his personality is more dominant…”

“I know it’s nothing solid,” she admitted. “Just a series of coincidences.”

“But apparent coincidences-”

“Always warrant closer inspection.”

“Very nice,” I said, “word-for-word from my book.”

“What can I say, I’m a fan.”