Patterson, James - Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree

“More likely, the guy was available,” the FBI man said. “You can't be saying you're holding a terrorist killer to his word?”

“I'm saying precisely that,” I said. “I've been around pat-tern killers enough to understand them. There's a bond they make with us. If we can't take them at their word, why would we believe any of their messages? How would we confirm it's the same group behind their actions? They have to have total credibility.”

Thompson looked to Molinari for help. Molinari's eyes were on me. “You've still got the floor, Lieutenant.”

“The most important thing,” I said, “there's no signature. Both San Francisco killings were signed. He wants us to know it's him. You almost have to admire the ingenuity. A knapsack posing as a secondary bomb left outside the town house. Bengosian's own business form stuffed in his mouth.”

I shrugged at Molinari. “You can get every Ph.D. or foren-sic expert in the FBI or the National Security Council up here for all I care... but you brought me here. And I'm telling you, this ain't him.”

Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree

Chapter 49

“I'M READY to make that call.” The FBI man nodded to Molinari, completely ignoring everything I'd just said. That really burned me.

“I just want to be clear, Lieutenant,” Molinari said, focus-ing on me. “You think there's another killer, a copycat, at work here.”

“It could be a copycat. It could be some sort of splinter group, too. Believe me, I wish I could say it was murder num-ber three, because now we're left with a bigger problem.”

“I don't understand.” The deputy director finally blinked.

“If it isn't the same killer,” I said, “then the terror has started to spread. I think that's exactly what's happened.”

Molinari nodded slowly. “I'm going to advise the Bureau, Agent Thompson, to treat these cases as independent actions. At least for the time being.”

Agent Thompson sighed.

“In the meantime, we still have a murder to solve. The man's dead here,” the deputy director snapped. He looked around the room, his gaze ending up on Thompson. “Any-one have a problem with that?”

“No, sir,” Thompson said, flipping his phone back into his jacket pocket.

I was stunned. Molinari had backed me up. Even Hannah Wood mooned her eyes in his direction.

We spent the rest of the day at the FBI regional office in Portland. We interviewed the person Propp was meeting in Vancouver and his economist friend at Portland State. Moli-nari also brought me in on two calls back to senior inves-tigators at his home office in D.C., backing up my theory that this was a copycat crime and that the terror might be spreading.

About five, it dawned on me that I couldn't stay up there much longer. There were a couple of fairly prominent cases that needed my attention back home. Brenda informed me there was a Southwest flight back to San Francisco at 6:30.

I knocked on the gray, carpet-covered cubicle Molinari was using for an office. “If you don't need me up here any-more, I thought I'd head home. It was fun being `Fed for a Day.'”

Molinari smiled. “Look, I was hoping you might stay a couple of hours. Have dinner with me.”

Standing there, I did my best to pretend that it didn't mat-ter hearing those words, but my general rule about Feds notwithstanding, I was curious. Who wouldn't be?

But a few reasons why I shouldn't be popped into my head as well. Like the murder cases on my board. And the fact that Molinari was the second most powerful law-enforcement figure in the country. And unless I was misreading the little tingle bubbling up my spine, knocking down the old Chinese wall in the middle of a high-profile murder investigation wasn't exactly the best protocol.

“There's an eleven o'clock back to San Francisco,” Moli-nari said. “I promise I'll have you to the airport in plenty of time. C'mon, Lindsay.”

When I hesitated one more time, he stood up. “Hey, if you can't trust Homeland Security... who can you trust?”

“Two conditions,” I said.

“Okay,” the deputy director agreed. “If I can.”

“Seafood,” I said.

Molinari showed the outline of a smile. “I think I know just the place....”

“And no FBI agents.”

Molinari's head went back in a laugh. “That's the one thing I can definitely guarantee.”

Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree

Chapter 50

“JUST THE PLACE” turned out to be a caf‚ called Catch, down on Vine Street, which was like Union Street back home, filled with trendy restaurants and cutesy boutiques. The maŒtre d' led us to a quiet table way in the back.

Molinari asked if he could handle the wine, ordering a pinot noir from Oregon. He called himself a “closet foodie” and said what he missed most about a normal life was just staying home and puttering around the kitchen.

“Am I supposed to believe that one?” I grinned.

He laughed out loud. “Figured it was worth a try.”

When the wine came I held up my glass. "Thank you. For

backing me up today.“ ”Nothing to thank,“ Molinari said. ”I felt you were right." We ordered, then talked about everything but work. He

liked sports - which was all right with me - but also music, history, old movies. I realized that I was laughing and listening, that time was going by pretty smoothly, and that for a few moments all of the horror seemed a million miles away.

Finally, he mentioned an ex-wife and a daughter back in New York.

“I thought all the deputy-level personnel had to have a little woman back home,” I said.

“We were married fifteen years, divorced for four. Isabel stayed in New York when I started work in Washington. At first, it was just an assignment. Anyway” - he smiled wist-fully - “like many things, I would do it differently if I could. How about you, Lindsay?”

“I was married once,” I said. Then I found myself telling Molinari “my story.” How I was married right out of school, divorced three years later. His fault? My fault? What differ-ence did it make? “I was close again a couple of years ago.... But it didn't work out.”

“Things happen,” he said, sighing, “maybe for the best.”

No,“ I said. ”He died. On the job."

“Oh,” Molinari said. I knew he was feeling a little awk-ward. Then he did a lovely thing. He simply put his hand on top of my forearm - nothing forward, nothing inappropri-ate - and squeezed gently. He took his hand away again.

“Truth is, I haven't been out much lately,” I said, and lifted my eyes. Then trying to salvage the mood, I chuckled. “This is the best invitation I've had in a while.”

“It is for me, too.” Molinari smiled.

Suddenly his cell phone beeped. He reached in his pocket. “Sorry...”

Whoever it was seemed to be doing most of the talking. “Of course, of course, sir... ,” Molinari kept repeating. Even the deputy director had a boss. Then he said, “I understand. I'll report back as soon as I have anything. Yes, sir. Thank you very much.”

He flipped the phone back into his pocket. “Washing-ton... ,” he apologized.

“Washington, as in the director of homeland security?” It gave me a bit of a kick to see Molinari as part of a pecking order.

“No.” He shook his head and took another bite of his fish. “Washington, as in the White House. That was the vice pres-ident of the United States. He's coming out here for the G-8.”

Womans Murder Club 3 - 3rd Degree

Chapter 51

I CAN BE WOWED.

“If I wasn't a Homicide lieutenant,” I said, “I might believe that line. The vice president just called you?”

“I might press *69 and show you,” Molinari said. “Except that it's important we begin to establish more trust.”