Jeffery Deaver - The Devil's Teardrop

"Some kid. He said the Digger killed his father. The Digger brought him here with him. Don't ask me why. The boy just took off… Now answer one for me-who was the body on the bus?"

"The bus driver. We figure the Digger kept him alive and then made him run for the exit in the back. Then Digger shot him then the gas tank and when the fire started he climbed out one of the windows. Used the smoke for cover. Got away through the traffic jam. Smarter than he seemed."

But Parker shook his head. "No, it was Fielding. He told the Digger to do that. He wasn't going to sacrifice his boy at all. This wasn't going to be their last job. They probably had years of this ahead of them… But the house." Parker waved his arms. "How-?"

"That was Cage. He made a few calls."

The miracle worker.

"I don't know what to say."

"We got you into this mess. It's the least we could do."

Parker wouldn't argue with that.

"Wait… What did you call yourself? Jackie?"

She hesitated. "Nickname," she said. "It's what my family calls me. I don't use it much."

There were footsteps on the stairs, soft thuds as the children came down to the living room. Parker and Lukas could hear the voices through the kitchen door: "Mommy! Hey!"

"Hello, both of you," Joan said. "Here, here… This is for you."

Rustling of paper.

"Do you like them?" Joan asked. "Do you?"

Stephie's dubious voice said, "Oh, it's Barney."

Robby laughed out loud. Then he groaned. "And Big Bird."

Parker shook his head at his ex-wife's incompetence and gave Lukas a smile. But she didn't notice. Her head was turned toward the living room, drawn hypnotically toward the sound of the children's voices. After a moment she looked out the window and stared at the falling snow. Finally she said, "So that's your wife. You two don't seem much alike."

Parker laughed. What Lukas really meant was: How the hell did you end up with her?

A legitimate question and one he'd be happy to answer. But doing so would require a lot more time than they had right at the moment. And would also have to be part of a complicated ritual involving her sharing at least some of the answers to the puzzle of Margaret-or Jackie-Lukas.

And what a puzzle she was: Parker looked her over-the makeup, the jewelry. The softness of the white silk blouse, the delicate lace of the lingerie beneath it. And she was wearing perfume today, not just fragrant soap. What did it remind him of? He couldn't tell.

She glanced at his perusing eyes.

Caught once again. He didn't care.

Parker said, "You don't look like an FBI agent."

"Undercover," Lukas said, finally laughing. "I used to be really good at it. I played a Mafia hit man's wife once."

"Italian? With that hair?"

"I had Miss Clairol for backup." Neither said anything for a moment. "Ill stay until she leaves. Thought a hint of a domestic life might help you out with the social worker."

"It's above and beyond the call," he said.

She gave a shrug worthy of Cage.

"Look," he said, "I know you said you had plans. But the Whos and I were going to do some yard work."

"In the snow?"

"Right, Cut down some bushes in the backyard. Then we were going sledding? What it is, we don't get much snow here?"

He stopped speaking. Ending declarative sentences with interrogatory inflection? And he actually began a sentence with "What it is." The forensic linguist within him was not pleased. Nervous, are we? He continued. "I don't know if you'd be interested, but…" He stopped once again.

"Is that an invitation?" Lukas asked.

"Uhm. Yes, it is."

"Those plans I had?" she said. "I was going to clean up my house and finish sewing a blouse for a friend's daughter."

"Is that an acceptance?"

A tentative smile. "I guess it is." Silence for a moment. "Say, how's the coffee? I don't make it very often. Usually I just go to Starbucks."

"Good," he answered.

She was facing the window. But her eyes moved once more toward the door; she was listening to the sound of the children. She turned back to Parker. "Oh, I've figured it out."

"What?"

"The puzzle."

"Puzzle?"

"How many hawks were left on the roof. This morning, sitting here, I figured it out."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"It's a trick question. There's more than one answer."

"That's good," Parker said, "but that doesn't mean it's a trick question. It just means you're thinking the right way-you've realized that a legitimate answer is that there are several possible solutions. It's the first thing that puzzle masters learn."

"See," she continued, "you tend to think that all the facts you need are given in the puzzle but there are some that aren't stated."

Absolutely right. He nodded.

"And those facts have to do with the nature of hawks."

"Ah," Parker said, "and what does a hawks nature have to do with the puzzle?"

"Because," she said, pointing a finger at him and revealing a sliver of girlishness he hadn't seen before, "hawks might be scared off by a gunshot. But they might not. Because-remember?-they were far apart on the roof. That was a clue, right?"

"Right. Keep going."

"Okay, the farmer shoots one bird off the roof but we don't know what the other two do. They both might stay. So then the answer'd be there're two left. Or one might fly off and that'd leave one. Or both might fly off, which'd leave none. So. Those're the three answers."

"Well," Parker responded, "you were right to consider implied facts."

She frowned. "What does that mean? Am I right or not?"

"You're wrong."

"But," Lukas protested, "I have to be right."

"No, you don't." He laughed.

"Well, I'm at least partly right, aren't I?"

"There's no such thing as partly right when it comes to puzzles. You want to know the answer?"

A hesitation. "No. That'd be cheating. I'm going to keep working on it."

It was a good moment to kiss her and he did, briefly, then, as Lukas poured more coffee, Parker returned to the living room to hug his children and tell them good morning on the first day of the year.

In trying to solve Parker's puzzle, Jackie Lukas's mistake was in making an assumption: that the hawk the farmer shot would fall off the roof. It might not have. The question didn't ask how many "living hawks" were left on the roof, just how many "hawks." So the answer is this: Three hawks would remain if the dead hawk didn't fall off and the other two don't fly away. Two hawks, if the dead hawk didn't fall off and one flies away or if the dead hawk does fall off and the other two stay. One hawk, if the dead hawk falls and one of the others flies away or if the dead hawk doesn't fall and the others fly away. No hawks, if the dead hawk falls off the roof and the others fly away

The author would like to thank Vernon Geberth, whose excellent book Practical Homicide Investigation is a milestone work in police procedure and has provided invaluable information in researching this and the authors other books. The puzzles described in this book are variations on several contained in Perplexing Lateral Thinking Puzzles by Paul Sloane and Des MacHale.

JEFFERY DEAVER is the author of fourteen suspense novels. His books have been translated into a dozen languages. Universal Pictures will release The Bone Collector in September 1999, and HBO broadcast a film version of A Maiden's Grave (under the title Dead Silence). Deaver was born in Chicago, attended the University of Missouri and received his law degree from Fordham University in New York. In 1990 he quit practicing law to write full-time. He lives in California and Virginia.