Now, the pause was on Lloyd's part, as he a.s.similated the question and its possible meanings. "Yeah-I think it was. How did you know that?"

"It connects to something we're looking into. What was she like? Wendy, right?"

"Yeah-Wendy. Gee, I don't know. Nice enough lady-a little older than me . . . kind of wired. She laughed a lot, talked too much. I remember her father asking if she was all right."

"What did she say?"

"Just that she was in a really good mood. She seemed more nervous to me."

"And after she got back from the bathroom?" Sammie asked.

"Kind of the same."

"She carrying a bag or purse?"

"Purse."

"And she kept that with her at all times?" Joe asked.

"Yeah."

"Officer Lloyd," Joe continued. "This is important. Think back and tell us if her body language concerning the purse was any different after her trip to the bathroom."

There was a thoughtful hesitation before the young cop said, "She wore it slung across her body when she came back. And it was slid forward, so that it rested less to her side and more across her stomach."

"Great," Joe told him. "You're really good at this. One last question: Did anything at all happen when the three of you pa.s.sed the supply room?"

"Not really."

"What's that mean?"

"Well," Lloyd answered, "neither one of them did anything, but I noticed that the door was open and Aho was gone."

"Nothing was said?"

"I might've said, 'Huh-wonder where Matt is?' or something like that. It surprised me, 'cause Matt's a real stickler about keeping that area secure."

"The Leppmans didn't say anything?"

"He asked me what the room was, and I told him, but that was it."

"Could you see anything through the open door?" Sam asked him.

They could almost hear him shrug over the phone. "Usual junk-ticket books, pads, a few Taser cartridges, bundles of those plastic envelopes they use for parking tickets, maybe some pens." He thought some more. "I don't know. There might've been a couple of those Cordura equipment pouches, like for cuffs or OC spray, for our duty belts. Guys are always asking for things like that."

Joe glanced around the room to see if anyone had any more questions. "Okay, Officer Lloyd. Appreciate your time. This has been a big help."

"Sure. My pleasure."

The line went dead and Sam hit the Disconnect b.u.t.ton on the phone console.

"No question Wendy swiped the cartridge," she said before asking rhetorically, "but was Dad in on it?"

Joe was staring at the floor, buried in thought. "We better find out," he responded, adding, "and I'm not so sure I'm going to like the answer. Something's making me think maybe Leppman's used his daughter for more than just that Taser cartridge."

"What d'you mean?" w.i.l.l.y wanted to know.

"Something Hillstrom discovered," Joe answered him. "Remember? She said the chemicals that killed Nashman were mixed in with a cookie he'd just eaten."

"Yeah?"

"Well, how does that fit? The guy checks in, takes his two key cards, goes to the room, sticks one of the keys to the outside of the door in an envelope, and waits for his date. Where's the cookie come in?"

"With the date," Lester said simply.

"I'm not gonna open my door to you, big fellah," w.i.l.l.y told him, seeing Joe's point. "Not if you're carrying a G.o.dd.a.m.n cake with candles."

Sam and Lester looked at him.

"He's a guy guy," w.i.l.l.y said with eyes wide. "I'm expecting a girl, for Christ's sake."

"My point exactly," Joe said with a smile. "But there's more. He is is expecting a girl-a young girl. And what he sees walking through the door-which is why there had to be a key outside, or he might not have let her in-is a woman in her twenties." expecting a girl-a young girl. And what he sees walking through the door-which is why there had to be a key outside, or he might not have let her in-is a woman in her twenties."

"b.u.mmer number one," w.i.l.l.y chimed in, playing Joe's second fiddle.

"Correct," Joe resumed. "So, she's got some seductive one-liner or something to stall him, and a cookie as a peace offering. He eats because that's what you do for a pretty girl when she's caught you off balance."

"And then you die," w.i.l.l.y concluded. "b.u.mmer number two."

"Which," Sam suggested, dragging out the word for emphasis, "now means you have a one-hundred-and-ninety-pound body on your hands."

"So what?" w.i.l.l.y asked. "Nashman wasn't moved."

Sam laughed. "Exactly. Metz was. Why? Same basic m.o., same motive, same people."

"Because with Metz, you had more than one person in on it," Joe suggested.

"Yeah," she agreed. "So, who was stuck alone with Nashman?"

He looked up at them. "I think it's time for that chat with the Leppmans."

Chapter 26.

The initial sound was slight to almost unnoticeable, making Joe look up from his paperwork for no reason he could fathom. Its source, once revealed, however, held no mystery whatsoever. A woman was standing like a wraith at the office door Joe had left open for circulation. Her features were indistinct, the only lighting coming from Joe's desk lamp, but her intent seemed clear. She had a gun in her hand.

Joe had seen only one photograph of this woman-from a brochure that Sam had collected while visiting her medical practice-and it was hardly reflective of the person standing before him now. But it seemed reasonable when he asked, "Dr. Gartner?"

"Don't move." John Leppman's wife's voice was a taut monotone.

"I'm not. What do you want?"

"That you leave us alone."

"Am I bothering you?" Joe's brain was working overtime, trying to bridge the gaps between what she knew, what he knew, and what she thought he might know. Incongruously, he also made a mental note to address the building's lax security-the door downstairs had no metal detector, and a lock so flimsy, Joe himself had popped it open one night when he forgot his keys.

At the time, that had been a good thing.

"Spare me. You people have been digging into every corner of our lives."

"Are you surprised?" Joe switched to considering his own survival. No one rational walked into a cop's office with a gun-not that someone hadn't done precisely that in his home just twenty-four hours earlier. But what was this one hoping to gain? Joe doubted that it was her own self-preservation. Sandy Gartner was here for her sole surviving daughter.

"Nothing wrong was done by anyone."

"Those two men deserved to die," Joe suggested.

"They were hoping to rape teenage girls-children."

"So, you wanted to be helpful."

After a moment's pause, Gartner said, "Yes."

Joe was torn between the conversation and its context. The gun was no prop, and its eventual use depended on the depth of Gartner's self-delusion. On the other hand, if he played this right, her very words could close the case, here and now.

He decided to try inching her back toward reality, while fantasizing that if the movies were right, a sudden leap by him-as he whipped out his own gun in midair-would result in a full confession and his not lying dead on the floor.

"And you did that by using the stolen Taser on the first man, and the chemical cookie on the second. You know, according to our lab, the DMSO probably wasn't needed. The fentanyl would've worked on its own."

Sandy Gartner took a few paces toward him, revealing more of her face to the light. Joe could tell from the confusion in her eyes that his comment had hit home. The problem was that he was now approaching the very edge of his knowledge and had already taken a huge, albeit calculated, risk. He and his squad had a.s.sumed that those two drugs had materialized via the horse vet route, despite the vet clinic's having told them that none had gone missing. But as Joe had uttered Gartner's name out loud, it occurred to him for the first time that the easiest, least complicated source of both chemicals could have been a doctor's office.

But what about Wendy? Joe had convinced himself that she'd delivered the cookie to the second victim and stolen the Taser cartridge used on the first, both with her father's involvement.

The woman with the gun suggested otherwise.

"Did you know their names?" Joe asked her, hoping her answer would start to clarify who had done what.

Her eyebrows rose slightly. "They don't have names."

"These two did. One of them even had a wife and child."

Gartner held out the gun and sighted along it. Joe watched her eye floating just above the black hole of the barrel as she aimed at his face. Her hand was trembling slightly.

"They were monsters," she said. "I saw them."

Maybe now's the time to jump, he thought. I might get lucky.

A soft male voice floated into the room. "Sandy? Sweetheart? Put the gun down."

She startled. Joe winced, surprised that, in fact, she didn't fire and he didn't jump.

But the gun didn't go off. Nor was it lowered.

A second shadow entered and stood quietly by the door.

Gartner shifted her weight. The gun wavered.

"Go away, John," she said. "This doesn't concern you."

"Of course it does," he said gently.

Joe slipped his oar into the water, hoping to normalize the mood. "Mr. Leppman? Your wife and I were starting to sort all this out. My name's Joe Gunther."

Leppman picked up his cue. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Gunther. Sorry about the intrusion."

"That's okay. I was planning to talk with you both anyhow." He made the smallest of gestures with his hand. "Would you like to sit down?"

That was too much. Sandy Gartner poked the gun at him. "Don't move. I told you."

Joe remained silent. Leppman took two silent steps farther into the room. "Sandy? I wouldn't mind sitting down. I'm very tired. I bet you are, too. There're two chairs-one right beside you."

She glanced to her side, which Joe took as a good sign. Apparently, so did her husband, since he finished approaching, grabbed the other chair, and sat down. In a typical mental aside, so often rued later, Joe hoped this shrink knew his business and wasn't acting without a single thought toward Joe's survival.

Gartner hesitated, seeing her husband unb.u.t.ton his coat and get comfortable. She glanced at Joe, who did his best to appear the genial host, and finally folded at the knees, perching on the chair's edge. The gun stayed pointed at Joe.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Leppman.

"I followed you," he said simply. "I overheard the phone call you got from the stable, telling you the police had been asking questions, I heard you say the same had happened at your office, and I saw you take the gun."

"Where's Wendy?"

"She's at home," he rea.s.sured her. "She doesn't know anything. She's fine, Sandy. Like I want you to be."

Gartner looked down at the gun and watched it slowly lower to her lap as if it belonged to someone else.

"What did you want to have happen here?" her husband asked her.

With her left hand, she reached up and touched her forehead fleetingly. "I wanted some peace and quiet. I thought maybe we could talk this out."

Joe saw what he hoped was his opportunity. "I'm listening," he said.

"I am, too," her husband echoed, which struck Joe with its implied ignorance.

"You had your police consulting," she said to him, her eyes fixed on the floor. "You had a way to channel losing Gwennie."