The Target
Page 71
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"Yes," Molly said, handing Sherlock a glass of water, "but it also means that they-whoever they are-wanted Emma alive, and they continued the disguise so she wouldn't be able to identify that man later."
"It still doesn't make sense," Ramsey said, picking a big chunk of walnut out of the bread. "Then why the attempts on our lives? Believe me, Savich, someone wanted Emma, alive? Dead? I'm not sure which."
Sherlock took another sip of her coffee, then shuddered. She said, "This coffee is delicious but I think it's trying to kill me."
"You shouldn't drink it in any case. You're pregnant. It's not good for you."
"Thanks for announcing it," Sherlock said, grabbed her stomach, and flew through the door Miles quickly opened for her. "Just down the hall on the left," he shouted.
Savich shook his head. "I forgot. You won't believe this, but usually she's just fine. But when I mention the word pregnant in front of her, she has to heave."
Ramsey started to say something, then shook his head, smiling. "I'm not going to go there, Savich." He stuck out his hand. "Congratulations."
"Me too," Molly said.
"She'll be just fine when she gets back, and I'll try harder to watch my mouth. Poor Sherlock. She hates it ' when she loses control."
"She married you," Ramsey said. "She can't hate losing control all that much."
Savich laughed. "Point that out to her and see what she has to say."
Molly said, "You're both FBI agents, you're married, and she's pregnant. You have a transgender laptop and you took a week off to come and help us. Why?"
Suddenly serious, Savich leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands, his elbows on the table. "I've known Ramsey for a while now. We were both in law enforcement, Ramsey with the U.S. Attorney's office in San Francisco, and I with the FBI. We found we had a lot in common.
"We've kept in touch. I admire him, Mrs. Santera. I don't like what's happening. As for Sherlock, she's been a special agent less than a year now, but she's tough and bright, and although she's pregnant, she wouldn't have dreamed of not coming. Uh, if you could not mention the word pregnant in front of her, both of us would appreciate it."
"So it's anyone who says the word pregnant?"
Savich grinned at Ramsey. "As in she blames any messenger or just the guy who got her in this condition?"
"That's it."
"I don't know. I thought it was just me. Maybe you could drop the word by accident and we'll run a small scientific experiment."
"I wouldn't do that to another woman," Molly said. "Thank you both for coming."
"No problem. This is a royal mess. Sherlock doesn't like what's happening to you guys, either. So, this guy was either wearing a Clinton mask or he was a master at makeup and disguises. But it'd have to be a really good mask for Emma not to have realized it was a mask. I vote for a guy who's really good at disguises."
"Yes, that sounds more reasonable," Molly said. "Emma even put bad teeth in Clinton's mouth. Emma's bright."
Ramsey said, "I'm not her mother, but she's right. Emma's three dozen points sharper than Molly's razor."
"I told you not to use it."
"I was lucky not to cut my throat." He turned to Savich. "Did you mean it? You're not here to take over the case from the locals?"
"Nope. Sherlock and I are off for a week. But I've got MAXINE-"
"MAX experienced another sex change just three days ago," Sherlock said from the doorway, a wet washcloth in her hand. She daubed at her forehead, but she was smiling. "It's happened twice since I've known Dillon."
"I might have thought it meant MAX didn't know how to relate to her," Savich said. "That he was trying to make an accommodation since he knew she was here to stay. But the fact is he's gone back and forth now for about four years."
Ramsey said simply, "Molly and I both appreciate your help."
"We know that, Ramsey." He smiled up at his wife. "You okay, Sherlock?"
She nodded. "Just a brief brush with the devil." She turned to Molly. "That's what Dillon calls it every time I'm sick. Now, we'll put every scrap of information we can get our hands on into MAXINE and see what she comes up with." She saw that Molly didn't understand. "Dillon is the chief of the Criminal Apprehension Unit or CAU at the FBI. We don't do profiling, but we work with the profilers and with local law enforcement to catch serial killers. We use a number of programs that Dillon's developed. We plug in all the information we can get our hands on, including everything from the local police, the forensic reports, the autopsy reports, witness statements, you name it. MAXINE isn't better at figuring things out than real people, but he or she, depending on the month, is faster and looks at the data in many different ways. In just the first year, we solved six cases along with the local cops. We think we can apply that experience to help us catch this monster."
"It still doesn't make sense," Ramsey said, picking a big chunk of walnut out of the bread. "Then why the attempts on our lives? Believe me, Savich, someone wanted Emma, alive? Dead? I'm not sure which."
Sherlock took another sip of her coffee, then shuddered. She said, "This coffee is delicious but I think it's trying to kill me."
"You shouldn't drink it in any case. You're pregnant. It's not good for you."
"Thanks for announcing it," Sherlock said, grabbed her stomach, and flew through the door Miles quickly opened for her. "Just down the hall on the left," he shouted.
Savich shook his head. "I forgot. You won't believe this, but usually she's just fine. But when I mention the word pregnant in front of her, she has to heave."
Ramsey started to say something, then shook his head, smiling. "I'm not going to go there, Savich." He stuck out his hand. "Congratulations."
"Me too," Molly said.
"She'll be just fine when she gets back, and I'll try harder to watch my mouth. Poor Sherlock. She hates it ' when she loses control."
"She married you," Ramsey said. "She can't hate losing control all that much."
Savich laughed. "Point that out to her and see what she has to say."
Molly said, "You're both FBI agents, you're married, and she's pregnant. You have a transgender laptop and you took a week off to come and help us. Why?"
Suddenly serious, Savich leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands, his elbows on the table. "I've known Ramsey for a while now. We were both in law enforcement, Ramsey with the U.S. Attorney's office in San Francisco, and I with the FBI. We found we had a lot in common.
"We've kept in touch. I admire him, Mrs. Santera. I don't like what's happening. As for Sherlock, she's been a special agent less than a year now, but she's tough and bright, and although she's pregnant, she wouldn't have dreamed of not coming. Uh, if you could not mention the word pregnant in front of her, both of us would appreciate it."
"So it's anyone who says the word pregnant?"
Savich grinned at Ramsey. "As in she blames any messenger or just the guy who got her in this condition?"
"That's it."
"I don't know. I thought it was just me. Maybe you could drop the word by accident and we'll run a small scientific experiment."
"I wouldn't do that to another woman," Molly said. "Thank you both for coming."
"No problem. This is a royal mess. Sherlock doesn't like what's happening to you guys, either. So, this guy was either wearing a Clinton mask or he was a master at makeup and disguises. But it'd have to be a really good mask for Emma not to have realized it was a mask. I vote for a guy who's really good at disguises."
"Yes, that sounds more reasonable," Molly said. "Emma even put bad teeth in Clinton's mouth. Emma's bright."
Ramsey said, "I'm not her mother, but she's right. Emma's three dozen points sharper than Molly's razor."
"I told you not to use it."
"I was lucky not to cut my throat." He turned to Savich. "Did you mean it? You're not here to take over the case from the locals?"
"Nope. Sherlock and I are off for a week. But I've got MAXINE-"
"MAX experienced another sex change just three days ago," Sherlock said from the doorway, a wet washcloth in her hand. She daubed at her forehead, but she was smiling. "It's happened twice since I've known Dillon."
"I might have thought it meant MAX didn't know how to relate to her," Savich said. "That he was trying to make an accommodation since he knew she was here to stay. But the fact is he's gone back and forth now for about four years."
Ramsey said simply, "Molly and I both appreciate your help."
"We know that, Ramsey." He smiled up at his wife. "You okay, Sherlock?"
She nodded. "Just a brief brush with the devil." She turned to Molly. "That's what Dillon calls it every time I'm sick. Now, we'll put every scrap of information we can get our hands on into MAXINE and see what she comes up with." She saw that Molly didn't understand. "Dillon is the chief of the Criminal Apprehension Unit or CAU at the FBI. We don't do profiling, but we work with the profilers and with local law enforcement to catch serial killers. We use a number of programs that Dillon's developed. We plug in all the information we can get our hands on, including everything from the local police, the forensic reports, the autopsy reports, witness statements, you name it. MAXINE isn't better at figuring things out than real people, but he or she, depending on the month, is faster and looks at the data in many different ways. In just the first year, we solved six cases along with the local cops. We think we can apply that experience to help us catch this monster."
