The Search

Tawney studied Perry on the monitor. He sat at the steel table, shackled, his eyes closed, the smallest of smiles on his face—as a man might when listening to pleasant music.

His prison-pale face, doughier than it had been seven years before, expressed quiet contemplation. Lines carved brackets around his mouth, more spiderwebbed from the corners of his eyes, only enhancing the appearance of an ordinary, harmless man who’d use his senior discount for the Early Bird Special at his local Denny’s.

The indulgent uncle, the quiet next-door neighbor who tended his roses and clipped his lawn meticulously. The simple Everyman people passed on the street without a second glance or particular interest.

“He used that the way Bundy used his charming looks and fake arm cast,” Tawney murmured.

“Used what?”

“His I’m-somebody’s-grandfather mask. He’s still using it.”

“Maybe. But he’s talking to us without his lawyer, and that has to be another device.” Mantz shook her head. “What’s he up to? What’s he thinking? Nobody knows him better than you, Tawney.”

“Nobody knows him.”

He kept his eyes on Perry’s face and thought, He knows we’re watching him. He’s enjoying it.

“He’s good at making you think you do, saying what you want to hear, or expect to hear. It’s the layers that trip you up with him. The ones he has already, the ones he adds on to suit the circumstance. You’ve read the files, Erin. You know it was mostly just his bad luck and the heroism of a canine cop that we caught him.”

“You don’t give yourself or the investigative team enough credit. You’d have bagged him.”

“He stayed in the wind nearly a year, a year after we had his face, his name. Fiona gave him to us, and still, it took months and the murder of a police officer before we took him down.”

And for that he’d never completely forgive himself.

“Look at him,” Tawney added. “A paunchy man past middle age, chained, caged, and still he finds a way. He found Eckle and lit the fuse.”

“You’re not getting enough sleep.”

“I bet that bastard’s sleeping like a baby. Every night, with that goddamn smile on his face just like he has on now. He’s got an agenda. He’s always got an agenda, a purpose to everything he does. He doesn’t need the lawyer to talk to us because he’s only going to tell us what he’s already decided to tell us.”

“He doesn’t know we’ve got a line on Eckle.”

“I wonder.”

“How could he? And telling him what we want to tell him is our leverage. Eckle’s screwing up the plan, and that’s going to piss him off.”

“Well. Let’s find out.”

When they entered, Tawney nodded to the guard on the door. Perry remained still, eyes closed, the little smile in place as Tawney read the names, date and time into the record. “You’ve waived your right to counsel during this interview?”

Perry opened his eyes. “Hello, Agent Tawney. Yes, no need for lawyers between old acquaintances. Agent Mantz, you’re looking lovely today. It’s so nice to have visitors to break up the monotony of the day. We’re chatting so often these days. I look forward to it.”

“Is that what this is about?” Tawney demanded. “The attention, the break in the monotony?”

“It’s certainly a nice benefit. How goes the hunt? I’m hungry for news. The powers that be have narrowed my access to the outside. Understandable, of course, but unfortunate.”

“You get your ‘news,’ Perry. I don’t doubt your abilities.”

Perry folded his hands, leaned forward a little. “I’ll say that before my current situation, I enjoyed the article that bright young woman wrote. Kati Starr? I suspect that’s a nom de plume, or a clever gift from fate. Either way, I enjoyed her slant, we’ll say, and was delighted to catch up a little with Fiona. You’ll have to tell her I’m thinking about her.”

“I bet you are. It’s hard to forget a woman who kicked your ass.”

“My face, actually.”

“She’ll do the same to your apprentice,” Mantz put in. “If he’s stupid enough to try for her.”

“You give me too much credit.” Perry’s chains rattled as he waved the comment away. “I’m hardly in any position to train anyone, even if I were inclined. Which I’m not. We’ve talked about this before, and as I said then, you can clearly see from my record in this institution, I’ve accepted the punishment the courts, and society, meted out. I obey the rules here. Rather than look for trouble, I avoid it. My life on the outside being what it was, I don’t have many visitors. My sainted sister, of course. Or maybe you think she’s taken up where I left off.”

Saying nothing, Tawney opened a file, took out a photo. He tossed it on the table.

“May I?” Perry picked up Eckle’s photo, examined it. “Now, he looks very familiar. Give me a minute. I never forget a face. Yes, yes, of course. He came to teach here, several times. Literature and writing. You know how interested I am in books—and I do miss my work in our library. I took his courses. I hope to take more. Incarceration shouldn’t preclude education.

“I found him an average teacher. No spark, really. But beggars can’t be choosers, can we?”

“I bet he found you a better teacher,” Mantz said.

“That’s sweet of you. Is that your way of saying you believe I inspired him? That would be fascinating, but I can’t be held responsible for the actions of others.”

“You don’t owe him anything either,” Mantz pointed out. “We’ll stop him. We’ll put him in a cage just like yours, but you have an opportunity, and that should appeal to you. Give us information that leads to his arrest, and we can make things a little less monotonous for you.”

A thin shell of hard slid over his face. “What? You’ll see I’m served ice cream every Sunday, given an extra hour a week in the yard? There’s nothing you can do for me, or to me, Agent Mantz. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this place. I accept that. If beggars can’t be choosers, I choose not to be a beggar.”

“When we catch him, he’ll talk. Just like the minister you conned talked,” Mantz added. “It didn’t take us long to persuade him to admit he smuggled letters in and out for you, for more than a year.”

“Correspondence with my prayer group.” Perry folded his hands piously. “Reverend Garley sympathized with my need for spiritual comfort—and privacy for my soul, which the system fails to respect.”

“Everyone in this room knows you don’t have a soul.”

“Eckle will roll on you,” Mantz continued, “and you’ve already considered that. When he does, your life in here will get a little more—how did you put it?—narrow. You’ll be charged with multiple counts of conspiracy to murder. The years added to your time won’t mean a damn, but we’ll see to it your time in here is a f**king misery.”

Perry only continued to smile at her in his calm, pleasant way. “You think it’s not already?”

“It can be worse,” Tawney promised. “Believe me when I tell you I’ll make sure it’s worse. And for what, Perry? For this.” He flicked a hand at the photo. “He’s a screwup. Impatient, careless. You stayed ahead of us for years. We’re breathing down his neck within months. He’s not worthy of you.”

“Flattery.” Perry sighed. “I am susceptible to flattery. You know my weaknesses, Don.”

“He tied a red scarf to Fiona Bristow’s mailbox.” With her eyes trained on Perry’s, Mantz saw the quick flicker of irritation in his. There was something he hadn’t learned yet. “He’ll never get her for you now, never finish it for you.”

“That was . . . immature of him.”

“You know what he did to Annette Kellworth, beating her half to death before he ended it.” Tawney shook his head with a disgust he wanted Perry to see, a disgust he understood Perry would share.

“Not your style, George. Not your class. He’s losing control, and showing off. You never stooped like that. If we get him without your help, you’re going to pay a heavy price for his mistakes.”

“You know my weakness,” Perry repeated after a moment. “And you know my strengths. I’m an observer. I observed Mr. Eckle. Took an interest in him as there’s so little of interest here. It may be those observations would be helpful to you. I might have theories, speculations. I might even remember certain comments or conversations. I might remember something helpful, but I’d want something in return.”

“What flavor ice cream?”

Perry smiled at Tawney. “Something a little sweeter. I want to speak with Fiona. Face-to-face.”

“Forget it,” Mantz said immediately.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Perry kept his eyes on Tawney. “Do you want to save lives? Do you want to save the life of the woman he’s stalking even now? Or will she die? Will others die, all for the lack of a single conversation? What would Fiona say to that? It’s her choice, isn’t it?”

“WE SHOULD PUSH him harder,” Mantz insisted. “Dig under his skin. He responded when you said Eckle wasn’t worthy of him. It fed his ego.”

“It only affirmed what he’d already concluded himself.”

“Exactly, so we push that button. Let me do it. I’ll work him alone. Flattery and fear from a woman may turn it.”

“Erin, he barely acknowledges you.” Because it was his turn to drive, Tawney slid behind the wheel. “As far as he’s concerned, you’re not even part of this. You weren’t around during the investigation that brought him down, and this is all about that. All about him. Eckle’s just his vehicle, his conduit.”

Mantz slammed the buckle of her seat belt into the lock. “I don’t like being the ones making the down payment.”

“Neither do I.”

“Will she do it?”

“A part of me’s sorry to say, yes, I think she will.”

WHILE THE FBI flew east, Francis Eckle stepped in line a few places behind his prey. She’d worked late tonight, he thought. Just an hour or so, but it pleased him to know she was hard at work. Pleased him that, as usual, she made the stop at Starbucks for her evening pick-me-up.

Skinny latte, he knew, double shot of espresso.

Tonight was yoga class, and if she hurried, she could fit in twenty minutes on the treadmill in the upscale fitness club she treated herself to.

He’d noted, thanks to his thirty-day trial membership, she rarely did more than twenty, and often skipped even that.

Never touched the weights, never bothered with the other machines. Just liked to show herself off in one of the tight outfits she changed into.

No different from a street-corner whore.

Afterward, she’d walk the three blocks back to work, get her car from the parking lot, then drive the half mile home.

She wasn’t f**king anyone at the moment.

Career-focused. Self-focused. Nobody and nothing mattered as much to her as herself.

Selfish bitch. Street-corner whore.

He felt the rage rising up. It felt so good. So good. Hot and bitter.

He imagined pounding his fists into her face, her belly, her br**sts. He could feel the way her cheekbone would shatter, smell the blood when her lip split, see the shock and pain in her eye as it swelled and closed.

“Teach her a lesson,” he murmured. “Teach her a lesson, all right.”

“Hey, buddy, move it up.”

His hands shook and fisted as he whirled on the man behind him in line. His rage quivered, and his pride spread as the man took an instinctive step back.

Paying attention now, he thought. Everyone’s paying attention now.

You have to blend, Frank. You know how. As long as they don’t see you, you can do anything you want. Anything.

Perry’s voice murmured in his ear. He made himself turn back, cast his gaze down. He was sick of blending. Sick of not being seen.

But . . . but . . .

He couldn’t think with all this noise. People talking about him, behind his back. Just like always. He’d show them. Show them all.

Not yet. Not yet. He needed to calm down, to remember the preparations. To focus on the goal.

When he glanced up again, he saw the prey already moving toward the door, her take-out cup in her hand. His face burned with embarrassment. He’d nearly let her walk away, nearly lost her.

He stepped out of line, kept his head down. It couldn’t be tonight after all. Discipline, control, focus. He needed to calm down, to calm himself, to box in the excitement until after.

She’d have one more night of freedom, one more day of life. And he’d have the pleasure of knowing she was unaware she had already stepped into the trap.

FIONA CONSIDERED a voodoo doll. She could probably get one of Sylvia’s artists to make a doll in Kati Starr’s likeness. Sticking pins in it, or simply bashing its head against a table, might be childish, but she had a feeling it would also be therapeutic.

Simon didn’t seem to be concerned about the latest story with Starr’s byline. He was probably right. Probably. But the idea that she claimed to have sources stating the FBI was looking for a “person of interest” in the RSKII investigation grated.

She didn’t just pull that out of the air.

Someone was leaking information, and she was confident enough of the source to print it, and to have traveled to Orcas, again.

To have pushed Fiona’s name forward, again. And this time linking her with Simon. The hunky artist who traded Seattle’s urban flair for a quiet inlet retreat on Orcas.

The paper had even printed a sidebar on him, relating his work in the medium of wood, his practical applications with a creative flair, its organic center.

Blah, blah, blah.

She had a few dozen things she’d like to say to Kati Starr, which of course was just what the reporter wanted.

The continued publicity put her in a tenuous position with clients. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—answer questions, and they couldn’t help but ask them.

And because the questions, and the crazies, were popping up on her blog, she had to close the comments section and rerun old entries.

Desperate for something to keep her mind occupied, she focused on a new project. And hunted Simon down in his shop. Whatever he was making involved the lathe and the use of a small carving tool—and looked as though it required precision and focus.

She stood back and kept her mouth shut until he turned off the machine.

“What?”

“Can you make this?”

He tossed the protective goggles aside and studied the photo.

“It’s a window box.”

“I know what it is.”

“It’s actually Meg’s window box. I asked her to take a picture and upload it for me. Simon, I need something to do.”

“This looks like something for me to do.”

“Yes, initially. But I’ll plant them. If you could make four of them.” She caught the wheedling edge in her voice and hated it enough to change tones. “I know maybe you don’t actually want window boxes, but you have to admit they’d look good, and they’d perk up the front of the house. You could even decorate them for Christmas with—or not,” she said as he only stared.

“Okay, I guess I won’t mention an idea for some raised beds on the south side of the house. Sorry. Sorry. One look around here and anyone could see you’re already busy enough without me dreaming up more to keep myself occupied. What’s that?”

She gestured toward the tarp that covered the wine cabinet.

“That would be none of your business.”

“Fine. I’ll go clean something and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Fiona.”

She stopped at the door.

“Let’s go for a walk.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re in the middle of something, and my problem is I’m not. So I’ll get in the middle of something.”

“So, I’ll go for a walk by myself, and you can go in and sulk.”

She heaved out a breath before crossing over and putting her arms around him. “I was planning on sulking, but I can put it off.” She tipped her face up. “I’m restless, that’s all. I’m used to coming and going when I please. Heading off with the dogs, or jumping in the car and driving into the village. Stopping by Sylvia’s, or going by to see Mai. I promised I wouldn’t go anywhere alone, and I didn’t realize how stir-crazy I’d get when I couldn’t. So now I’m a pest, and it annoys me. Probably more than it annoys you.”

“Doubtful,” he said, and made her laugh.

“Go back to work. I’m going to go take some new pictures of the boys and update the website.”

“We’ll go out later. Go out for dinner or something.”

“I feel sanity returning. I’ll see you when you’re done.” She walked back to the door, opened it. Stopped. “Simon.”

“What now?”

“Agents Tawney and Mantz just pulled up.”

She tried to be optimistic as she walked across the yard. Tawney greeted the dogs, and was immediately offered a rope by Jaws as Mantz stayed several cautious steps back.

“Fiona. Simon.” Despite his dark suit, Tawney gave Jaws a quick game of tug. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

“No. In fact I was just complaining I had too much time on my hands today.”

“Feeling hemmed in?”

“A little. Lie. A lot.”

“I remember how it was for you before. We’re making progress, Fee. We’re going to do everything we can to close this case and get things back to normal for you.”

“You look tired.”

“Well, it’s been a long day.” He glanced over at Simon. “Is it all right if we talk inside?”

“No problem.” Simon started toward the house. “You’ve seen the latest in U.S. Report,” he said. “It upsets her. She doesn’t need that added on. You’ve got a leak to plug.”

“Believe me, we’re working on it.”

“We’re no happier about it than you are,” Mantz added as they stepped inside. “If Eckle gets the idea we’re looking for him, he could go under.”

“That answers the top question. You haven’t found him yet. Do you want anything?” Fiona asked them. “Coffee? Something cold?”

“Let’s just sit down. We’re going to tell you as much as we can.” Tawney sat and, leaning forward, linked his hands on his knees. “We know he was in Portland on January fifth because he sold his car to a used-car lot on that date. There’s no other vehicle registered in his name, but we’re checking on purchases in the Portland area on or around that date.”

“He could have bought something from a private seller. Not bothered to register it.” Simon shrugged. “Or had fake ID. Hell, he could’ve taken a bus to anywhere and bought a car off Craigslist.”

“You’re right, but we check, and we keep checking. He needs transportation. He needs lodging. He needs to buy gas and food. We’re going to turn over every stone and use every means at our disposal. That includes Perry.”

“We spoke with him earlier today,” Mantz continued. “We know he and Eckle communicated, using a third party to smuggle letters in and out.”

“Who?” Simon demanded.

“The minister Perry bullshitted at the prison. The minister took Perry’s letters out and mailed them—they were to different names, different locations,” Tawney explained. “Perry claimed they were to members of a prayer group his sister belonged to, and the minister swallowed it. He brought Perry the responses, mailed to him, again from different names and locations.”

“So much for maximum security,” Simon muttered.

“Perry managed to get a letter out a few days after Kellworth’s body was found, but there’s been no correspondence to him for over three weeks.”

“Eckle’s distancing himself ?” Fiona glanced from agent to agent. “Is that what you think?”

“It plays. Eckle’s gone off script now,” Tawney added. “And that’s something Perry’s not pleased about. Now that he knows we’ve identified Eckle and we’re focused on him, Perry’s not pleased about that either.”

“You told him?” Simon interrupted. “So he’ll have a chance to confirm the damn news story with his pen pal?”

“Short of ESP, Perry’s not getting any more messages out or in,” Mantz insisted. “We’ve blocked his conduit. He’s been locked down, and now he’ll remain locked down until we have Eckle in custody. Eckle’s not living up to his standards, and Perry’s feeling the squeeze of losing some of the privileges he gained through good behavior.”

“You think he’s going to tell you, if he knows, how to find this Eckle?” Fiona demanded. “Why would he?”

“He wants to cut the cord there, Fee. He’s not happy his protégé is making mistakes, going his own way. Perry knows, because we made sure he knows, those mistakes will make it impossible for Eckle to get to you.” Tawney waited a beat. “You’re still his one failure, and the reason he’s in prison. He still thinks about you.”

“That’s not particularly good news.”

“We don’t have much to bargain with. Perry knows he’s in prison for life. He’s never getting out. Eventually, his pride will push him into telling us what we need, or we’ll take Eckle without him.”

“Eventually.”

“He’s offered us information. He’s careful enough to couch it as observations, speculations, theories, but he’s ready to turn on Eckle with the right incentive.”

“What does he want?” She already knew. In her gut she already knew.

“He wants to speak with you. Face-to-face. You can’t say anything I haven’t already thought,” Tawney said as Simon surged to his feet. “Nothing I haven’t already said to myself.”

“You’d put her through that, ask her to sit down with the man who tried to kill her so maybe he might toss you a few crumbs?”

“It’s up to her. It’s up to you,” Tawney said to Fiona. “I don’t like it. I don’t like asking you to make this decision. I don’t like giving him squat.”

“Then don’t,” Simon snapped.

“There are plenty of reasons not to do it. He may lie. He may get what he wants and claim he knows nothing after all, or give us information that sends us in the wrong direction. But I don’t think he will.”

“It’s your job to stop this bastard. Not hers.”

Mantz shot him a single hard look. “We’re doing our job, Mr. Doyle.”

“From where I’m standing, you’re asking her to do it.”

“She’s the key. She’s what Perry wants, what he’s wanted for eight years. The reason he recruited Eckle, and she’s the reason he’ll betray him.”

“Stop talking around me,” Fiona murmured. “Just stop. If I say no, he’ll shut down.”

“Fiona.”

“Just wait.” She reached up for Simon’s hand, felt the anger through his skin as clearly as she heard it in his voice. “Wait. He’ll say nothing. He’ll hold out for weeks, maybe months. He’s capable of that. He’ll wait until there’s another. At least one more, so I’ll know she’s dead because I wouldn’t face him.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It’s how I’d feel.” She squeezed Simon’s hand, hard. “He took Greg to hurt me, and he could do this. He’d like to do it. He expects me to say no. He probably hopes I do until someone else is dead. It would appeal to him. That’s what you think, too.”

“I do,” Tawney confirmed. “He can wait, and the waiting gives him more time to think. He considers us inferior. We wouldn’t have caught him but for a fluke, so he’d calculate Eckle may have time for one or two more.”

“There wouldn’t have been a fluke if he hadn’t killed Greg. He wouldn’t have been driven to kill Greg if I hadn’t gotten away. So it comes back to me. You need to make the arrangements. I want to do this as soon as possible.”

“Goddamn it, Fiona.”

“We need a minute.”

“We’ll be outside,” Tawney told her.

“I need to do this,” she said to Simon when they were alone.

“The f**k you do.”

“You didn’t know me when Greg was killed. You wouldn’t have known me in those weeks, months even, afterward. I shattered. My broods? They’re a shadow of it. They’re nothing compared to the guilt, the grief, the depression, the despair.”

She took both his hands now, hoping to transmit her need through his rage.

“I had help through it. The counseling, sure, but it was friends and family that pulled me out. And Agent Tawney. I could call him, day or night, talk to him when I couldn’t talk to my mother, my father, Syl, anyone else. Because he knew. He wouldn’t ask me if he didn’t believe. That’s one.”

She took a breath, steadied herself. “If I don’t do this, don’t try, and someone else dies, I think it’ll break something inside me. He’ll have won after all. He didn’t win when he took me. He didn’t win when he killed Greg. But, Simon, God, you can only take so many beatings and get up again. That’s two.

“Last. I want to look him in the eye. I want to see him in prison and know he’s there because of me. He wants to use me, he wants to manipulate me.”

She shook her head, the gesture as fierce as the sudden fury that lit her face. “Fuck him. I’ll use him. Maybe, I hope to God, he’ll tell them something that leads them to Eckle. I hope to God. But whether he does or not, I’ll have used him, and done what I needed to do to live with whatever happens after. I’ll be the one who wins. I’ll be the one who beats his sorry, motherfucking ass again. And when it’s done, he’ll know that.”

He pulled away, walked to the window, stared out, then walked back to look down at her. “I love you.”

Knocked sideways, she lowered to the arm of the couch. “Oh my God.”

“I’m so pissed off at you right now. I don’t think I’ve ever been more pissed at anyone in my life. And I’ve been pissed at plenty.”

“Okay. I’m really trying to keep up, but with my head spinning it’s hard to focus. You’re pissed off because you love me?”

“That’s a factor, but not the main thrust. I’m pissed off because you’re going to do this, because you, being you, have to do it. I’m pissed off because short of tying you to the bed, I can’t stop you.”

“You’re wrong. You could. You’re the only one who could.”

“Don’t give me the opening,” Simon warned. “I’m pissed at you. And I think you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known, and my mother sets a damn high standard for amazing. If you cry,” he said when she teared up, “I swear to God . . .”

“I’m having a hell of a day. Give me a break.” She got to her feet. “You don’t say what you don’t mean.”

“Goddamn right. What’s the point?”

“Tact, diplomacy, but we won’t get into that. Simon.” Needing to touch, she ran her hands over his chest. “Simon. Everything you just said to me—all of it—there’s nothing you could have said or done that could have made me feel better or stronger or more able to do what I need to do.”

“Great.” A few grains of bitterness came through. “Glad I could help.”

“Would you tell me again?”

“Which part?”

She rapped a fist on his chest. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I love you.”

“Good, because I love you. So we’re balanced. Simon.” She laid her hands on his cheeks, and when she kissed him it was strong and sweet. “Try not to worry. He’s going to try to mess with my head. It’s the only power he has now. And he can’t because I’m going in armed with something he’ll never have, and never understand. When I do what I need to do, and walk away from him, I know I’m coming back here. I know you’ll be here, and you love me.”

“You want me to buy that?”

“I’m not selling it. I’m giving it, and it’s truth. Let’s go out and make this deal. I want it done and over, so I can come back to the good part.”

They walked outside. “How soon can we go?” Fiona asked.

Tawney took a moment to study her face. “We’re cleared for tomorrow morning. Agent Mantz and I will see about getting a hotel here on Orcas, and we’ll fly out of Sea-Tac at nine-fifteen. We’ll escort you all the way, Fee. There and back, and be with you throughout the session with Perry. We’ll have her home by midafternoon,” he said to Simon.

Over and done and back, Fiona told herself. “I’ll have someone cover my classes tomorrow morning and afternoon. You don’t need a hotel. You can stay at my place. It’s there, it’s empty,” she added before Tawney could decline. “And it’ll save you some time.”

“We appreciate that.”

“I’ll get the keys.”

Simon waited until Fiona went back inside. “If he screws her up, you’ll pay for it.”

Tawney nodded. “Understood.”