Nora Roberts - High Noon

"You do good work, Detective."

"We're clear," Harrison announced.

He'd likely rented it furnished, Phoebe decided. The furniture was old, cheap but serviceable. He kept it tidy, she noted. No clutter, no fuss. The bed was made with military precision, and on the table beside it stood a framed photo of Angela Brentine and a single pink rose. Thought of himself as a soldier and a romantic, she concluded as she took notes.

"Second bedroom's locked," Harrison told her. "Window's covered. They're checking for booby traps before they take it down."

"Spartan, wouldn't you say? Military neatness. The bare bones of a field HQ. We should talk to the landlord, anyone in the houses and cottages round about." She moved to the closet. "His clothes are still here, neatly hung."

"Toothbrush, shaving cream, basic toiletries in the bath," Harrison told her. His face was hard, his eyes somber as they met hers. "He isn't running."

"No." She heard the crash of the second door going down. "But that doesn't mean he's coming back."

"Lieutenant?" A member of the tactical team came to the doorway. "I think you'll want to see this. Found his nest."

When she walked across the hall, her blood went cold. Photographs papered an entire wall. Her face, over and over, in every possible expression. Photos of her standing in front of her house, talking with Mrs.

Tiffany, walking with Carly in the park, standing with her mother on the veranda.

The whole family on what had to have been St. Patrick's Day. One of her moving into Duncan's arms the night they'd had dinner on his boat. Her sitting on the bench, like Forrest Gump, in Chippewa Park, alone, then with Marvella. Of her shopping, eating, driving.

A shudder ran through her before she looked away.

Across the room was a large head-and-shoulders shot of Angela, with candles and bud vases of pink roses crowded on the table below it. She studied the workbench, a long table, shelves. On them, meticulously arranged, were a laptop computer, a police scanner, chemicals, wires, what she thought must be timing mechanisms, tape, rope and tools. She spotted the shotgun, the rifle.

"He took his handguns."

"He's got a couple of wigs, glasses, false beards, makeup, face putty," Liz said as she crossed over. "No journal. Maybe on that," she said with a nod toward the laptop.

"Why didn't he take it? Why didn't he take what was important to him?" Because it shook her down to the bone, Phoebe kept her back to the wall of photos. "Switch locations at least. He knows we have his name, his photo, and someone's going to point us here."

"He couldn't have been sure we'd ID'd him until he talked to you."

Liz pointed out.

"He stays a step ahead. Why is he suddenly a step behind? Expensive equipment, easily portable, just left here."

She picked up a camera, turned it over, saw the painted pink rosebud. Angela's camera.

"He planned to come back for it."

Carefully, Phoebe set the camera back down. "I don't think so. I think he's done here, and that we're exactly where he wants us to be. But where is he?"

She stepped to another wall, covered with photos of Savannah. Banks, shops, restaurants, museums, exterior, interior.

"He doesn't waste anything. Everything has a purpose, even if it's thumbing his nose. So why does he take these?"

"And where are the others?" Liz wondered. "He's taken some down-you can see where he had other shots up."

"If he took them with him, he needed them. He takes pictures of places because the places have a purpose, or the potential of one. Targets. These are digital shots, aren't they?"

She turned back to the laptop. "We have to get in there, find the files, find the ones he took with him. That's the target." As it churned, she pressed a hand to her stomach. "I think he gave himself the go, the green light. Today. I think it has to be today."

She looked at her watch and felt the chill as she noted it was ten fifty-five. ". We've got an hour to find him."

Duncan shoved his hands in his pockets, jiggled loose change while the structural engineers, the architect and Jake swarmed over the warehouse. "We have to move this along, Phin."

"You set the meeting, the inspection."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, but that was before."

"If you think Ma's going to mind poking around a jewelry store on her own awhile if you're running late, you've forgotten who you're dealing with."

Duncan pulled his hand out of his pocket to check his watch. Eleven-ten. "Maybe I should call her, tell her to make it twelve-thirty."

"She's probably on her way, especially since she's meeting Loo."

Phin grinned at Duncan's blank look. "If you don't think Ma got on the horn and starting blowing the news the minute she hung up with you, you're not thinking, boy. Then again, I guess a man about to buy an engagement ring's not thinking."

"You did it."

"Yeah. Working out pretty well for me, too." He gave Duncan a slap on the back. "Business, Dune. Ma and Loo can entertain each other just fine if you're late. Loo said she was taking a full hour lunch, and was prepared to make it two if need be. So God help you."

Phoebe paced outside the computer lab. One step ahead, she thought. He was still one step ahead. "Somewhere that means something to him, in association with her. It's more personal than something associated with me."

Her family was safe, she reminded herself. Inside, guarded and safe. Hadn't she checked twenty minutes ago? Hadn't she talked to Carly, to her mother, even contacted the cops on duty?

"The bank where she was killed is under heavy surveillance. If he tries to get in, we'll have him."

She glanced over at Liz, nodded. "And he'd know that. Still, if that was his target, that wouldn't stop him. He'd assume he's far enough ahead of us to hit it before we're in place. But it's the obvious target, and that concerns me. I think it's somewhere else. A restaurant where they met, a hotel, motel, even one of the parks. It needs to be a statement, Liz."

Pacing, she tried to find the pieces. "Blowing up a man in Bonaventure, that's a statement. Attempting to do the same to a police captain mere blocks from the station, that's another."

"Big, splashy. I get that. And this is the biggest, the splashiest." Like Phoebe, Liz stared through the glass walls of the lab. "I get that, too."

"City Hall, courthouse, the station itself?"

"All on alert. But if it's personal, the way you're thinking, those don't fit."

"You're right. You're right. He can't get to Brentine, and Brentine isn't his issue, either. She was leaving him, Brentine's superfluous."

"Security's stepped up at his home and office in any case."

"How long is it going to take them to find those files? Even with him deleting them the way he did, they're still there somewhere. That's what they always say. Damn it, we've only got twenty minutes till noon."

At ten to twelve, Ma Bee and Loo strolled into Mark D's, anticipating an afternoon of shopping and a celebration lunch. Ma had donned her shopping shoes and a breezy purple dress. She had put on her goingoutspecial lipstick, and had spritzed on some of her favorite French perfume.

"I could've handled this expedition, you know."

Loo gave a snort. "You think I'm letting you have all the fun?

You've done this before with all your boys. But it's my first chance to have some input on an engagement ring. Don't you love this place?" She gave Ma a little elbow bump as they stopped to look around. "All these glitters, and everything all hushed and reverent."

"So they can charge more."

"Sure, but that little black-and-silver box from Mark D's? That says something. When Phineas gave me that bracelet from here last Christmas, I squealed like a girl. And he got awfully lucky that night."