Point Blank
Page 85

 Catherine Coulter

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“But the best information is from a waiter who was outside smoking a cigarette when Moses and Claudia left the restaurant. He was yelling at her, shaking the cell phone in her face before he shoved her into a van.
“The waiter had Claudia in his sights until the van disappeared from view. She waved at him from the passenger-side window. He doesn’t remember much about the van—thinks it was a Ford, real dirty. He was focused on Claudia. We might get something more from him. I’d bet my next paycheck on it.”
Savich said, “Our Denny’s waiter is all set up to have Dr. Hicks hypnotize him tomorrow morning at Quantico, and we need to be there. I’m not certain if we’ll be back tomorrow evening, depends on what shakes loose.
“Moses isn’t stupid. He might have figured we could locate them even with a prepaid cell phone, as long as Claudia stayed on the line.”
Sherlock picked it up. “And that would mean we’d speak to people at the restaurant who saw them. So they might lie low for a while. Still, every squad car in the area will have Claudia’s picture by morning.”
Ruth clapped. “Dillon didn’t tell us what you’d managed to do when he called earlier. This is great, Sherlock. Keep it up and you’ll break the whole thing wide open.”
Sherlock said to Ruth, “Claudia wanted to talk to Dillon, Ruth. She wants to have sex with him, actually. Dillon was upset because he thinks I’m too delicate to hear the dirt Claudia dishes out.”
Two pairs of female eyes went to Savich.
“There’s more to it than that, Ruth, and Sherlock knows it.”
“Ah,” Dix said, sat back on the sofa, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Ah, what?” Savich asked him, never looking away from his wife.
“So maybe all of this boils down to the fact that you want to protect her.”
Sherlock turned on him. “From a crazy child on a cell phone? Dillon has no right—”
Dix spoke over her. “I’d probably feel the same way if Ruth were my wife. It’s simply the nature of the beast—both of you must know that by now. It’s just instinct.”
Sherlock went on point, and Dix felt lucky Savich was sitting between them. “Women have the same instinct, macho man.”
Dix cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad we cleared that up without bloodshed. Would everyone look at the time. Is it late, or what?”
There was a sprinkling of laughter, most of it from Ruth, Dix thought, then a pound of silence.
Ruth jumped in to tell them she and Dix had spent the rest of their afternoon with Gordon Holcombe. “We searched every space in his office, house, and studio, every record. He was cooperative, I’ll say that for him. We even spoke to three of his former lovers on the phone. They were fine, all of them elsewhere at the time of the murders.”
Dix said, “I’m going to talk to Gordon again tomorrow.” He frowned down at his clasped hands. “I can’t get past the fact that two of the victims were his lovers. Maybe he’s told us all about the students, but Helen wasn’t a student, now was she?”
CHAPTER 27
QUANTICO
FRIDAY MORNING
AT TEN O’CLOCK Dr. Emmanuel Hicks walked into Savich’s small office in Quantico’s Jefferson Dormitory and sniffed. “Pepperoni.” He looked at the young black man slouched in a chair beside Savich. “From the Boardroom?”
The young man nodded. “Double pepperoni, Doc.”
“Ah, my favorite, sometimes even for breakfast. My name is Dr. Hicks and I’m harmless.” He shook the young man’s hand. “This will be very easy for you, Dewayne, no discomfort at all as I’m sure Agent Savich has told you. We’re simply going to help you remember all the details you’ve already got stored away on your hard drive.” Dr. Hicks tapped his head, to which Dewayne answered, “Cool.”
Ten minutes later, Savich pulled his chair closer to Dewayne’s and laid his hand lightly on the young man’s forearm. “I’d like you to think now about the first time you saw the old man and the young girl in Denny’s yesterday, Dewayne. You have them in your sights?”
Dewayne nodded.
“Good. Tell me what you see.”
“She’s taking off those big sunglasses and looking around. She’s something—pretty, real pretty, and she knows it. She’s flirting with everybody.”
“What about the old guy?”
“He’s sitting back in the booth, his arms crossed over his chest, and he’s grinning. I don’t think he does anything but grin. He’s real old, you know, his face is all seams and wrinkles. She’s maybe his great-granddaughter, I’m thinking, he’s that old. She’s looking through the menu, taking her time. The old guy, he doesn’t even open the menu, just orders a hamburger.”