An hour later, Marlene again found herself in Dr. Aronberg's office. She'd called his office and learned that he was treating a patient but would meet her as soon as he was done. She was still looking at the photographs on his wall when he entered.

"Ms. Ciampi, this is both a pleasant surprise and a bit of serendipity," he said.

"Why is that?"

"Well, I was going to call you when I finished my rounds this morning," he said. "I've been giving a lot of thought to what you told me yesterday, particularly regarding the life insurance scam. I just couldn't see how a company would have issued a policy for Natalie Hale or Micah Ellis, not once they'd looked into their medical records."

"And?"

"And I decided to play Sherlock Holmes," Aronberg said lightly, though his smile then faded into a frown. "When I was at the hospital, I tried to pull up their records and they weren't there."

"What do you mean they weren't there?"

"They don't exist. They've been expunged," Aronberg said, his voice growing angrier.

"You're sure they existed?" Marlene asked. "Or that they wouldn't have been moved to some storage facility because the children weren't being treated, or had died?"

"I'm absolutely positive they were there," Aronberg said. "One of my a.s.sistants and I made numerous entries from diagnosis through treatment. In fact, I have copies of those records in my own computer. As for some special storage area for the files of children who stop treatment or are deceased, there's no such thing to my knowledge. And besides, I did a search of all hospital records; those names don't exist in the hospital's database."

"Who would have access to those computer files?"

Aronberg shrugged. "There are a number of people. Doctors, such as myself, but generally only to their own patients' files. The tech guys, of course, and some of the administrative staff."

Marlene's brow furrowed and she quickly filled the physician in on her conversation with Detective Winkler. "So who would know which children and families to target?"

"If what you're telling me about how this LaFontaine works is right," Aronberg said, "he not only would have to know which children have been diagnosed with potentially fatal diseases, he would need at least a basic understanding of the disease and how it progresses. Apparently, part of how the parents get sucked into his scheme relies on his knowing that the child will appear to be getting better, which often occurs once the effects of chemo and radiation wear off and the body begins to heal itself."

Aronberg pondered for a moment. "I'd say we're looking at a medical professional, probably a physician."

Marlene suddenly recalled something Nonie had told her about how LaFontaine seemed to know so much about the family. "This person might also have access to some family history, such as their religious affiliations and employment records. I guess that's the sort of thing a professional con man would be able to pull out of his hat; one of the characteristics of a grifter is having good intuition. But it also might be a clue."

Aronberg nodded. "When they come in, the parents fill in a pretty extensive form that covers family history, including questions about religious affiliations-we do try to meet their spiritual as well as physical needs through the hospital's ministerial staff. And many of our patients' families can't afford the treatments and have to apply for financial aid, so there's a lot of that information as well."

"All right, let's narrow it down," Marlene said. "Who would have the medical knowledge, and access to the computers and this personal information?"

Aronberg thought about it and then a lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind. His face fell and tears came to his eyes. "I can think of one person for sure," he said. "But I have a hard time believing it. He's a friend and a colleague, a good doctor, though he's an administrator now." He paused and shook his head. "I can't fathom why he would do such a thing."

"I'm sorry," Marlene said. "But people do things out of character for all sorts of reasons."

Aronberg's face had grown gray and grim. "I'm sorry, too. But I can't think of anything more evil than preying on a sick child and that child's parents. If he partic.i.p.ated in this, then he's not the man I thought I knew, and he needs to pay for it."

"His name?" Marlene asked.

"Dr. Maury Holstein. He's my brother-in-law."

As soon as Marlene got out of Aronberg's office and into her car, she called the Memphis detective. "Hey, Wink, you able to get Monique Hale?" she asked.

"I went by and n.o.body was home," the detective answered. "I got an unmarked car sitting down the block, so when she shows we'll get her. What about you? What did Doc Aronberg have to say?"

Marlene told him about her conversation with the doctor.

Winkler whistled. "That's a h.e.l.l of a thing. You think Aronberg will warn him?"

Marlene thought about it. She had a plan in mind and it would fail if Aronberg decided to warn his brother-in-law. Not this guy, she told herself, not the guy who still cries over a child he couldn't save ten years ago. "No," she said. "I think we're safe there. I asked him if he'd be available to give a statement when Guma and Fulton arrive and he said yes. In the meantime, I have a plan to get this Dr. Holstein to lead us back to LaFontaine."

"What are you thinkin'?"

"Well, I'd like to know how he reacts if a certain Memphis police detective comes nosing around, asking questions," she said.

"And maybe he'll panic and start making calls to a certain flimflam man in New York?" Winkler said with a chuckle. "I'll want to get a subpoena for that phone record, and any others he may have made back when LaFontaine was still in town. But I know a friendly judge and between what you've got, your boys coming in from New York, and a little arm-twisting, I think that won't be a problem. In fact, I think I'll go chat with Dr. Holstein right now and set this in motion."

Before Marlene could answer, her cell phone buzzed and indicated she had a text message from a Memphis area code. "Hold on a second," she said. "Maybe this is Monique."

Instead the text read: "Will talk. Meet me at the club at 6. Sarah."

Marlene told the detective about the text. "I'll never make it," she said. "I have to pick up my guys."

"Maybe I should meet Sarah," Winkler suggested. "We could all get together after that at headquarters."

Marlene thought about it. "No. She's expecting me," she decided. "A cop shows up instead and she may lawyer up. She's not the big fish here; LaFontaine, or Westlund, or whatever his real name is, he's the big one we don't want to get away. Guma and Fulton will just have to cool their heels."

"Tell you what," Winkler said. "I'll go roust Holstein and then pick up your guys myself. We can get a statement from Aronberg and hopefully Monique Hale will show up by then. Maybe you can get Sister Sarah to give up the whole shebang."

"Yeah, maybe," Marlene replied. "I'll stay in contact."

23.

NED BLANCHETT PULLED LUCY CLOSER AS THEY WALKED with arms around each other's waists. "I still don't think this is a good idea," he said, looking around at the dark shadows beneath the trees of Central Park.

"Don't worry, baby, we're being watched," Lucy replied. She, too, had been studying the shadows that took over the areas between the lampposts and had seen the figures flitting from tree to rock to tree.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Blanchett groused.

"What? I thought my knight in shining armor wasn't afraid of anything," Lucy said, stopping to rise up on her tiptoes to kiss her fiance.

"Um, meeting at night in a park with a serial killer who commands an army of street people and lives underground will pretty much do it," Blanchett argued. "Especially when I got my girl to watch out for, too."

"Your girl is probably the safest person in this park tonight," Lucy said.

"So you don't have a problem with the fact that your friend has murdered more people than Ted Bundy?"

Lucy stopped and frowned. "I don't mean to make light of David's actions," she said. "But it's complicated. The people he's killed-"

"Yeah, I know, all bad men who deserved it," Blanchett said.

"What about the fact that we-meaning our agency-sometimes kill people without the benefit of a trial?" Lucy retorted. "Does it make it okay just because we get a pa.s.s from the government?"

"They're enemy combatants," Blanchett said.

"Some have been U.S. citizens," Lucy replied before sighing. "I don't want to get into this argument and it's not really relevant to how I see David Grale. He also saved me when I was being tortured and s.e.xually a.s.saulted by a man who had murdered and raped women and children for pleasure."

"And for that I will be forever grateful," Blanchett said. "But I can't condone one man being judge, jury, and executioner."

"I understand, sweetheart," Lucy said softly, patting him on the cheek before turning to continue their stroll. "But he asked to speak to me, and so I'm going to listen."

They walked on without talking for several more minutes until they'd pa.s.sed the Loeb Boathouse in the heart of the park. Lucy pointed ahead. "There's our man. Hmmm, I didn't know David had a dog."

Blanchett squinted at the dark figures who had materialized out of the surrounding shadows and waited beneath a lamppost: a tall man with a dog on a leash and two more large men behind them. But as they drew closer, he suddenly whispered, "I don't think that's a dog."

The young couple came to a halt when they were ten feet away from the others. "Oh G.o.d, David, now what?" Lucy asked, her hand covering her mouth.

David Grale smiled. "Good evening, Lucy. I believe you've met my pet," he said, yanking on a leash he had attached to the collar of the man at his feet. "Come here, dog, show your face."

A man crouching next to him on all fours snarled and looked up at Lucy. Even in the dim light she thought she saw a moment of recognition on the creature's face, but then it was gone, replaced by a look of insane rage. He snarled at her like a junkyard mongrel and then cringed as if he expected to be beat.

"Kane!" Lucy cried out as she looked down at the ravaged face of the man. She hated him, and yet felt pity and tried to move toward him. When Blanchett stepped forward to follow her, the two men with Grale jumped forward to intercept the pair.

"That's far enough, Lucy," Grale warned her.

"This is wrong," she replied.

"Wrong? It is merely the beginning of the eternal torment he will be suffering for his crimes," Grale said, his dark eyes seeming to be on the edge of insanity as well.

"He's a human being," Lucy argued.

"He's a demon in a human body," Grale responded. Then, as if they'd been discussing the weather, he turned to Blanchett and held out his hand. "And this must be your fiance. You're a lucky man."

Blanchett ignored the proffered hand. "I'm aware of that," he said. "But Lucy's right. No man-and he is a man-deserves to be treated so cruelly. In fact, no dog deserves such a fate either."

"David, please, Kane could be very useful to our agency," Lucy pleaded. "He could be the key to destroying the Sons of Man once and for all. Turn him over to us."

Grale dropped his hand and looked down at Kane, who sat on his haunches staring at the ground and gibbering to himself. "That might have been an option if he was capable of anything but what you see now," he replied. "But he is quite insane. We all know he was a liar and deceiver even when he was capable of rational thought; now his mind is gone and nothing of use comes from him."

"He could be treated and then questioned," Lucy said. "Let us lock him up and find out."

"Lock him up?" Grale said scathingly. "Your father, who I trust more than almost any other man, had him in custody and yet he escaped. And remember what Kane's agents were willing to do in order to accomplish that ... or have you forgotten the children and police officers who were murdered in cold blood? They will stop at nothing to free him again, and the Sons of Man have infiltrated everywhere, including the federal prison system."

"David, you are better than this ...," Lucy said.

"Enough! I didn't ask to meet with you to argue the fate of Andrew Kane. He is my dog and will remain so until his soul is sent back to his dark master."

Lucy's face fell. "Then what is it you sent Warren for?" she asked angrily.

Grale's own face softened. "Well, I'd like to think you may have come just to see an old friend. It's been a long time."

"I would have preferred to do it under different circ.u.mstances," Lucy replied.

"Undoubtedly," Grale said, "but the circ.u.mstances are what they are."

"Then what?"

"I wanted to let you know, so that you can pa.s.s it on to whoever needs it, that Nadya Malovo is in some way mixed up in a plot planned for Halloween in the Village involving your dad and family," Grale said.

When Lucy didn't reply, he nodded and smiled slightly. "I see that this information is not entirely new to you."

"Is that it?"

"No," Grale said. "Maybe you don't know that whatever the plot involves, Malovo arranged it with Boris Kazanov. She claims that she was trying to call it off, though I doubt it was for any n.o.ble reason."

"Maybe she thought it would mess up her deal," Blanchett suggested.

"So that was you on the boardwalk in Brighton Beach," Lucy interjected. "I should have known. The papers were saying it was a gangland killing, but the arrows and knife work ... who else but David Grale and company."

Grale started to speak but was interrupted by one of his bodyguards' sudden coughing fit. His face changed from grim satisfaction to one of compa.s.sion as he reached out and patted his man on the back. "Are you all right, Brother Harvey?" he inquired.

Harvey continued to gasp for breath before nodding. "I'll be okay," he said.

"That doesn't sound good," Lucy commented.

"He and I both share a common affliction with Myco-bacterium tuberculosis," Grale answered. "We seem to be in a race to see who will meet our Maker first."

"You need to go to a hospital," Lucy said. "Both of you."

Grale shook his head. "It appears to be a particularly virulent strain and resistant to all antibiotics," he said. "It's all right. Harvey actually looks forward to shuffling off this mortal coil. Rather than feeling pity for my dog here though, you might save it for this good man instead. His wife and child were raped and murdered eight years ago by an evil man who'd just been let out of prison after serving only four years for a similar crime, the result of your justice system's plea bargaining. Unable to cope, he turned to alcohol and lived on the streets, which is where we met. He hasn't had a drop in four years, and you want to know what cured him? I'll give you a hint: it wasn't Alcoholics Anonymous or rehab. It was justice, true justice."

"True justice?" Lucy asked.

"Yes," Harvey answered. "Father David helped me hunt down the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who butchered my family when the parole board let him go after eight years. You want to know what he was doing? He was shacking up with a thirteen-year-old girl he had so drugged up that she couldn't stand up to leave after I slit his throat."

"But is that justice or revenge?" Lucy questioned.

"Both," Grale said. "Justice and a large dose of revenge. But at the end of the day, one more s.e.xual predator who will never harm a woman or child again. But we digress. I've let you know what I've learned about Malovo."

"I'll pa.s.s on the information about the Kazanov connection," Lucy said. "Thank you for that."

For a moment, a sad look crossed Grale's face. "Whatever our differences in how we deal with evil men, we are all on the side of good," he said. He smiled, though the look remained. "So, I hear the two of you are getting married."

"Next spring," Lucy said, looking up at Blanchett.

"I'm happy for you," Grale said. "I still remember the gangly teenager who helped me feed the homeless at the shelter."