The FBI Thrillers Collection

by Catherine Coulter

  “You know now that you can’t expect to keep your affair with Erin under wraps for long, but they might let you keep your job, or help you get another one somewhere, if you tell them yourself. Think about it.

  “And you’re going to tell us all about your other affairs—the names of the students and how we can reach them. We can turn the records at Stanislaus upside down to find them if we have to. Don’t make us do that, Gordon.”

  Ruth pulled out a pen and a small notebook. “All right, I’m ready, Dr. Holcombe. Tell us about your talented Lolitas.”

  “It wasn’t like that! You make them sound like teenagers, and they weren’t. They were all accomplished musicians. No, it was never like that. I loved all of them, in their time.”

  “In their time,” Savich repeated slowly, his eyes steady on Gordon’s face. “Who lasted longest, Dr. Holcombe?”

  Gordon froze. “I don’t want to talk about this. Dix, make them stop. I haven’t done anything.”

  “Ruth has her pen ready, Gordon. Give her names. Who was before Erin Bushnell?”

  There was a moment of tense silence. Gordon drew in a deep breath and said to Ruth, “Before Erin, there was Lucy Hendler, pianist, lovely long reach, incredible technique and passion, perfect pitch.”

  A litany of attributes, nothing about Lucy Hendler the woman, the individual. “What were the dates?”

  “What do you mean, dates?”

  Ruth said, “Dr. Holcombe, surely Lucy wasn’t all that long ago.”

  “She performed Scarlatti exquisitely in a recital a year ago February. She got a standing ovation, difficult to do, let me tell you, in an audience of accomplished musicians. She told me later she actually hated Scarlatti, that he was dated and boring, far too predictable. I thought it amusing and sweet, her lack of historical context. I mean, how could anyone dismiss Domenico Scarlatti, for God’s sake? She was only twenty-one. What did she know?”

  Ruth said, “So you booted her because she wasn’t a Scarlatti aficionada?”

  “No, of course not. Our relationship deepened. I remember we got a little cross with each other before she graduated. It was May Day and we had a Maypole on campus. I thought it would be lovely if we had a choral group seated around the Maypole singing Irish folk songs, and other students could dance around the pole, dressed up in peasant costumes. She laughed at me. Can you imagine that?”

  “Where is Lucy Hendler, Dr. Holcombe?”

  “She graduated in June. She was accepted into our performing graduate program, but she didn’t stay.”

  “Let me guess, she changed her mind after the Maypole.”

  “No, I’m sure that had nothing to do with her decision to leave Stanislaus. She had a friend up in New York she went to visit and decided to stay. Last I heard she was enrolled at Juilliard.”

  Ruth nodded. “And do you feel responsible for Stanislaus losing a graduate student?”

  Dix kept his mouth shut. Ruth was handling this like a pro, reeling Gordon in, getting him to spill information Dix doubted he’d ever be able to get out of him.

  Gordon went on to tell them about Lindsey Farland, a student about two and a half years ago, a soprano with incredible range he met when she sang the role of Cio-Cio-San, the betrayed young wife in Madama Butterfly. She hardly looked the part, since she was black, but when he heard her sing and she hit the high C in “Un bel dì,” he fell in love.

  “That is one of my favorite arias,” Ruth said, and everyone at the table knew she meant it. She paused, then asked, “Where is Lindsey now?”

  “I don’t know. She graduated two years ago. She hasn’t kept in touch.”

  “It won’t take us long to find her.”

  Ruth got six names out of him but he remembered few facts about the women. His recollection of the dates was also sketchy. “I can’t remember anymore, Agent Warnecki. Wait, wait, there was one more. Her name was Kirkland. Her first name was unusual, something like Anoka. And then, there was . . . No, that isn’t at all relevant. Look, I’ll need to look through some school records, find out what her first name is exactly.”

  It was Sherlock who nailed him. “Tell us who you’re leaving out, Dr. Holcombe. Why don’t you want to tell us about her? Who is she?”

  Dix shook his head. “I know why he doesn’t want to tell us. She’s local, isn’t she, Gordon? She’s from Maestro.”

  “No, there isn’t anyone else. Now, Dix, I assume you’ll be calling these ladies to verify what I’ve told you. May I contact them first to make it less alarming for them?”

  “Not yet, Gordon. I’ll be with you when I decide it’s the right time to make any calls.

  “Now, I want you to stay here and think about the woman whose name you’re not telling us. Of course she’s local. Is she married? Did she swear you to secrecy? I want her name, Gordon. You’ve got until tomorrow morning or I’m coming after you.”

  “There isn’t another damned woman!”

  Dix said flatly, “You give me her name or I’ll arrest you.”

  “How can you say that, Dix, for pity’s sake, I’m Christie’s uncle!”

  Dix slowly straightened. “Maybe that’s why I’m making the mistake of not arresting you right now, Gordon, and taking your Italian-suited self to my nice warm jail. As for now, B.B. will keep an eye on you. I hope you don’t disappoint me.”

  CHAPTER 25

  BUD BAILEY’S BED & BREAKFAST

  MAESTRO, VIRGINIA

  LATE THURSDAY AFTERNOON

  “I NEED A shower and a shave before we head over to Dix’s house.” But Savich didn’t move to get up. He nuzzled Sherlock’s neck, loving the feel of her hair against his face.

  “Since I don’t have any bones, you can go first.” She bit him lightly on his shoulder, kissed him, then breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of him. “I’m thinking maybe I’m not through with you yet.”

  “You think?”

  Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock was doing stretches, her mind automatically working the angles, thinking about the people they’d interviewed, wondering if Gordon Holcombe had told them everything.

  She smiled when she heard Dillon singing “Baby, the Rain Must Fall” in the shower in his beautiful baritone. She was about to join him, to see if he was interested in some more quality time, when his cell phone played “Georgia on My Mind.” She picked it up.

  “Hello?”

  No answer, only the sharp sound of breathing.

  “Who is this?”

  “My oh my, what an unexpected surprise this is. My lucky day.”

  A woman—no, a girl, a bouncy young voice. “Claudia? Is this Claudia Grace?”

  “You win the prize, girlfriend. I was actually calling to speak to your man—you know, get him all hot and bothered with some of my great phone sex, but hey, I can do him later. It’ll be fun talking to you. Cool name, Claudia Grace, don’t you think? Maybe I should go ahead and marry Moses and make it legal. He’s a cutie, no doubt about that, but the thing is, he has a tough time getting it up, even when I walk around in the buff for him. I fed him some of that Viagra, but even that didn’t stiffen him up. So he got bored and went out and got this phone to call you guys with. I figured why should he have all the fun?”

  Sherlock heard voices in the background. So they weren’t driving around this time. Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Where are you, Claudia?”

  Sherlock heard the shower turn off. She walked to the bathroom door, opened it to see Dillon stepping out of the shower stall. He frowned at the phone at her ear.

  She mouthed, Claudia.

  He nearly dove at her, his hand out to take the phone, but she shook her head and mouthed, Not yet.

  Dripping, he walked past her to MAX, pressed several keys, and plugged a wireless earphone into his ear.

  “Where am I? Question is, where are you guys? Moses says you’re hiding from us. Are you?”

  “No, Claudia, not in this lifetime.”

  “Come on now, sweet cakes, how is Moses going t
o give you the business if you disappear, and we can’t find you? Hey, is your man there? We could get together if you’re close by.”

  “Sure, my man’s right here.”

  “Well now, that’s good because Moses wants him close. Did Moses tell you what he’s planning for you?”

  “I really don’t care, Claudia. Where are you and Moses, by the way? Under an extra-big rock so you can hide together?”

  “We don’t do no rocks, you little bitch. We’re in a nice big Hilton, in a suite. I can hardly throw a football across the living room it’s so big. I’m going to make you scream through that smart mouth of yours. I told your gorgeous husband that I’d have you watch while I screw his brains out. Then he can watch what I do to you, that brain of his all mushy. Every man I do ends up grinning like his brains have melted.”

  “I’ve got to tell you, Claudia, I’m surprised you’re that experienced with men at your tender age. Shouldn’t you be in school learning how to read? How old are you, fifteen?”

  “I can read, bitch, and I’m eighteen.”

  “Yeah, right. From what I’m hearing you sound barely fifteen. I’ll bet your mama had you when she was real young, and you ended up on the street, and that’s where Moses found you. And here you are, a little girl acting all grown up, hooked up with that creepy old man.”

  “Shut up! You won’t think you’re so smart when Moses gets to you.”

  “Okay, if he didn’t find you shooting up on the street, then how’d you meet him, Claudia? He follow you home, maybe butcher your mama?”

  “I’m not fifteen and my mama was over forty when she died, you hear me? She was smart, a schoolteacher, but some tattoo-tongued gangbangers raped and beat her because she wouldn’t screw their leader. She died.”

  “I’m really sorry about your mother, Claudia. You said she was a schoolteacher?”

  “Yeah, a math teacher, and she was real smart. I was sorry when she died, I really was. I mean, she could have flushed me down the john, right? But she didn’t. You hear me, bitch?”

  “You’re screaming so of course I hear you. You’re out of control, like a little kid throwing a tantrum. Why would she have flushed you? Where was your daddy?”

  “My mama slept with this jerk who left her. There wasn’t any daddy.”

  “Where’d you learn to talk so dirty, Claudia? From your mama or from that saliva-dripping old man you’re with now?”

  “My mama didn’t cuss!”

  “After she died, what did you do?”

  “I took off. I wasn’t going to let those freak social service people take me. And I picked up Moses, not the other way around. He was standing over this filthy old tramp, blood all over his hands and his old army fatigues, and those black boots he wears, and he was laughing his head off. I asked him why he beat the bum like that, and he told me the guy wouldn’t share his Ripple. I figured someone like that could protect me, so I offered him some of my bourbon. All I remember is waking up in a motel room in the morning.”

  “What were you doing in Atlanta, Claudia? Running from juvie?”

  “Nah, it wasn’t Atlanta, but what do you care? I’m going to hurt you, lady, more now for dissing me and my mama.”

  Sherlock laughed. “Sure you are, Claudia. You sound like one of those playground bullies who’s all mouth. Why don’t you tell me where you are, and we can get together and talk things over before Moses gets you killed, or you end up in a state prison until your hair turns gray?”

  “Next time we get together, I’m going to pull your tongue out.”

  “Now there’s a real grown-up threat. You’re young enough to still have a chance, Claudia. Stay out there and you’ll end up a drugged-out hooker. All that booze will make you look as old as Moses in a few years. Is that what you want for yourself?”

  “I’ll tell you what I want, bitch. I’ll tell Moses to do you first, to do whatever he wants, just for me. And I’ll be there to watch.”

  Sherlock heard a man’s voice, and a scuffle. “What are you doing, Claudia? Who is that?”

  “Don’t you hit me, Moses!”

  There was a crackling sound, and the phone went dead.

  Savich looked at her, watched her punch off the phone. “I’m going to call the Hoover Building, see if they’ve located these two specimens.”

  “I heard noise in the background. Lots of voices. Maybe they were in a restaurant.”

  Savich nodded. He was talking with the communications chief a few seconds later. “We did much better this time, Savich. It was a third-party provider, using a wireless prepaid card, but Sprint was able to track down the directory number and get us a location about twenty seconds before you lost the connection. It was a good, fixed signal from a GPS-equipped phone, so we have his location within ten meters. It’s a Denny’s on Atherton Street in Milltown, Maryland. Units should be there any minute.”

  Savich punched off the phone. “Cops are on their way to Moses’s location. You were right, it is a restaurant, a Denny’s. We’ll know soon if they arrived in time. It sounded like Moses didn’t know she was using his new phone. You can bet they headed right out.” Savich sighed.

  Sherlock gave him a long look. “You didn’t tell me Claudia plans to screw your brains out.”

  “She’s certifiable, and what makes it worse is that she’s so young. Why would I tell you something that disturbing?”

  “Marlin Jones was disturbing, Tyler McBride was disturbing, Günter Grass was disturbing. But Claudia? I feel sorry for her, because of her age. But you should have told me.”

  “You feel sorry? She and Moses dug out Elsa Bender’s eyes, Sherlock. She helped pose Pinky’s body over that skeleton at Arlington National Cemetery. She’s a psychopath. The thought of her anywhere near you scares the sin out of me. There was no reason to tell you about their ridiculous fantasies. You shouldn’t have talked to her, Sherlock. It was unprofessional.”

  “Unprofessional? Me? This ought to be good. Do tell me what you mean, Dillon.”

  “First of all, you answered my phone, knowing full well it could be Moses. That phone is our only link to him, and you should have asked me first. At the very least, you should have given me the phone when I stepped out of the shower.”

  “I happen to be a Federal agent who’s on the case with you. You could treat me like a partner, like I’m someone you respect as a fellow agent. Hey, on a good day, maybe even all of the above.”

  “Dump the sarcasm. Of course we’re partners. Well, actually, I’m your boss, and I’m your husband.”

  Whenever she got angry, Sherlock’s face turned as red as her hair. She could feel the heat rising from her neck, that miserable red stain creeping over her skin, and that made her even angrier because she knew he could see it. “Oh, you want to protect the helpless little wife? The meek little thing who should keep her precious ears unsullied by prurient threats from a crazy teenager?”

  “Stop, Sherlock, and listen to me. You are my wife and I would protect you with my life.”

  “And you’re my husband, you moron, I’d protect you with my life, too. What does that have to do with this?”

  “Because you enraged her, you baited her, and you have her promising to come after you. How could you do that? I can’t believe you would pull something like that without discussing it with me first.”

  “Oh, I see. I was to say, ‘Excuse me, Claudia, but I’ve got to ask my husband what to say before we talk.’ That is so infuriating.” She shoved him hard on his bare chest, muttering under her breath, “The old double standard. That garbage coming out of your mouth burns me, Dillon. Stop being a macho ass.”

  “Well, if I’m a macho ass, you’re just going to have to live with it.” He gave her a look of frustrated dislike, then stomped back into the bathroom.

  She yelled through the door, “Because I’m a good cop, I goaded her into telling us about her mother, how she hooked up with Moses. You were listening, boss. And I would have kept her talking longer if Moses hadn’t grabb
ed the phone from her.”

  Towel wrapped around his waist, Savich stomped back through the door, stopped right in front of her, and crossed his arms over his chest. He was doing it because he knew he looked tough and intimidating, something he was very good at. “I never said you weren’t a good cop, but you crossed the line on this one. This was an ill-advised stunt. I’m saying that as your boss, so suck it up. Let’s get dressed and get to work.”

  She fluttered her hands. “Goodness, do you think I can manage that without fainting dead away? Maybe I should have a glass of water first, put my head between my knees, maybe call Dix so the two of you muscle-bound yahoos can go out and chop some wood while you decide what to do.”

  He dashed his hand through his wet hair. “This is ridiculous. Sherlock, close it down or I’ll beat your butt.”

  She assumed a martial arts position and beckoned him with her fingers. “This is no time to mess with me, macho boy. Try it and I’ll flatten you.”

  She was wearing a thick oversized hotel bathrobe, wrapped nearly twice around her. Her feet were bare and her hair curled wildly around her head. Her face was red with rage. And she wanted to fight him. How had it come to this? He laughed even as he wrapped his arms around her waist, threw her over his shoulder, and tossed her onto the bed. He fell on top of her, pulled her arms over her head, and held her down.

  He said an inch from her nose, “Stop sneering at me. I know threats don’t work with you, so I won’t bother. Why don’t you tell me where you think we should start with all the info you extracted?”

  It was terrible that she couldn’t indulge her anger at him, but she recognized the olive branch—really more of a twig—and the fact was, business was business. She saved her anger for later.

  “Get off me, you baboon, so I can breathe.”

  Savich rolled off to the side, but kept one leg on top of her.

  “All right. My guess is that all that stuff Claudia told me probably happened in the past year or two. We have a number of details about Claudia’s mother that must have led to an investigation. And maybe Claudia is her real name. So you need to fire up MAX and get on it. Now let me go before I get seriously upset and hurt you.”