"I will," Eileen said, and headed for the door.

The drive out was one of the longer ones in Eileen's life. She wished she'd trusted Art. Why had she told him to clear out of the Gaming Center? How often had she wished she'd made Bernie tell her what was going on? Or that young detective, Stan Jabowski, the one who'd been killed so quickly on Nevada Avenue, how often had she wished she'd been nicer, shown the boy the ropes a little better? Eileen made the last turn onto the long stretch of Highway 94 and thought about Art's hurt expression when she made him leave the Gaming Center.

"What did you think of, Art?" Eileen said to herself, and struck the wheel with the palm of her hand. "What did you do? Who did you call?"

Or was Art a suicide? Did he kill Terry and then kill himself out of remorse? Major Blaine said Art was dead, didn't he? Or did he say he was murdered?

Eileen chewed on her lip. She was driving as fast as the Jeep could go.

"Nine seven oh four, this is CXO, please come in."

Eileen took the phone from its hook. "This is Reed."

"This is Rosen. I've contacted Sharon Johnson at her home. She was apparently asleep. I've instructed her to remain in her home and ask a neighbor to come over, since she is alone except for her children. I've also contacted Doug Procell, also apparently asleep, also at his home. He will stay at home as well."

"Thank you."

"I'll let you know as I contact more. Out."

Schriever loomed in the distance, brilliantly lit in the dark plain. Eileen spun the wheel and took the exit off Highway 94 with a long squeal of her tires.

"Nine seven oh four, this is CXO."

"Reed here."

"I've contacted Roberto Espinoza, also at his home. He claims he was in a cla.s.s this evening, until nine or so. He's given me the names. Evidently it was a church meeting. I'll verify."

"Nelson Atkins? Lowell Guzman? Joe Tanner?"

"No response."

"Call Sharon Johnson. Ask her if she knows where they are." Suddenly that heavy feeling was back in Eileen's throat.

"Affirmative. Out."

Eileen pulled up to the guard gate and showed her badge. The guard waved her through and she drove toward the lighted building of the retinal scanners. There was a flashing military police vehicle waiting on the other side of the scanners. Blaine sat inside, head lowered and forehead resting in one hand.

Eileen scanned her way through the gla.s.s booth and walked up to Blaine. She carried her police phone with her.

"Nine seven oh four, this is CXO."

"This is Reed." Blaine sat up and looked at Eileen, his eyes bloodshot. Eileen held up a hand as Blaine opened his mouth to speak.

"Sharon Johnson said that Joe Tanner's cla.s.s didn't get out until nine-thirty. He is possibly on the UCCS campus in the computer lab. It stays open all night. I've sent a patrol car to check."

"Copy," Eileen said. The heavy thing wouldn't let go of the back of her throat.

"Nelson Atkins is not responding to phone. I've sent a car to check his home. I have contacted Lowell Guzman. He is disoriented and said he didn't hear the phone because of medication."

"He's the husband of the first murder victim," Eileen said.

"Okay. He is at home and says he has been there all evening. No witnesses. Maybe neighbors, but he's not sure. We'll verify. Out."

"We're checking on the Gamers," Eileen said to Blaine. "We've contacted almost all of them."

"Art's in the Center," Blaine said. "The night guard thought he heard something but didn't have the key combination to get in the door. Loud voices, he said. Then a shout, like a scream." Blaine gestured for Eileen to get in the police car. Eileen held on as Blaine turned the car on the soft sod of the lawn and headed toward the s.p.a.ce Command center.

"They called me at home. I'm the only one with the combination besides the Gaming staff." Blaine's voice was flat.

"Why doesn't anyone but you have the combination? What if there were a fire?"

"Anyone in that room would have the combination," Blaine said dully. "Anyone else couldn't get in. This is a compartmentalized base. That means n.o.body has access to particular rooms unless they have the right need to know."

"Did you touch anything?"

"No. I saw it was Art and I saw he was dead, and I got out."

"Are you sure he was dead?"

"I'm sure," Blaine said, and swallowed hard. He stopped the car in front of the building, and they got out.

"CXO, this is nine seven oh four," Eileen said before she entered the building. She remembered Procell's speech on the building's construction, how it was made to block out electronic signals.

"This is CXO."

"I am entering a shielded building. You can reach me at-" Eileen looked at Blaine.

"Oh, uh, the Center number is 344-8814."

"344-8814, got that?"

"Copy."

"Anything on Atkins or Tanner?"

"Negative."

"Copy," Eileen said, and turned off her phone.

"Let's go," she said, and thought of Joe Tanner. She wondered if Art had asked him to help do whatever he had done to get himself killed. She wondered if Joe Tanner had killed Art. Or if he was lying in some darkened corner of the Center, as dead and still as Terry.

19.

Great Falls, Virginia.

The phone rang in the darkness. Ted Giometti sat up, instantly awake, instantly afraid. Who was dead? He picked up the phone.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"I need to speak to Lucy Giometti, please," Steve Mills said crisply. Ted sighed, and his shoulders slumped. He'd completely forgotten his wife, the warm hump of covers at his side. His aunt and his cousin had been in a car wreck when Ted was thirteen, and the doctors hadn't known if they were going to live or die. His aunt Mary did die, after the first long week. The phone became the family's enemy. The phone was still the enemy, even though Wilson recovered completely. He was happily married now and had a child of his own. Still, Ted never forgot the feeling when the phone rang, and he never forgot his mother's face when they told her about her sister.

"Sure, Steve," he said. "Hang on." Ted shook his wife's shoulder gently. Mills was such an a.s.shole. Couldn't he just ask to speak to Lucy? What, did he think there were two Lucy Giomettis at this address at three o'clock in the morning?

"Wha-?" Lucy said. She didn't wake easily.

"It's Mills," Ted said. Lucy brushed a sheaf of her silky dark hair away from her face and took the phone.

"Lucy here," she said. "What? Okay. Yeah, okay. I'll be in at eight A.M., Mills." There was a silence, and Ted could hear the tiny buzzing of Mills's voice.

"Steve, I don't know why you would want me in at"-she paused and glanced at her clock-"three A.M. I'd be a useless wreck by two o'clock in the afternoon. I'll be in at eight and I'll get right on it. Bye." She hung up the phone and lay back in the bed.

"What an a.s.shole," she said to her husband. He leaned over and kissed her.

"Hmm, three A.M. until eight A.M. Just enough time," he said.

"What?" she protested, laughing. "That's what got me fat and sick in the first place, you brute." She fought against his hands, giggling, then relaxed under him. Her face grew serious as she looked into his eyes.

"Kiss me," she said as his hands caressed her. "It's the middle of the night and I think I hate my boss. Kiss me and make me forget what he just told me."

Gaming Center, Schriever Air Force Base.

The Gaming Center door was attended by a familiar-looking guard. After a moment, Eileen realized it was the same guard who'd been there the previous morning. It seemed like days ago. This must be the night guard.

"At ease, Airman," Blaine said.

"Where's the SID unit?" Eileen asked. Blaine looked at her blankly for a moment, as though Eileen were speaking in a different language and he was translating in his head. "The Special Investigations Division guys. Crime Scene. Dr. Rowland. Photographer. You know?"

"They're on their way," he said. "Dr. Rowland didn't want to get out of bed."

"Are you all right, Major?" Eileen asked.

"I'm fine," Blaine said. "Let's go inside."

Eileen didn't feel that Blaine was fine. Blaine looked like a man who'd just been woken up. Or he was stoned. Or he hadn't slept in days. Anything was possible.

"Okay, let's go," Eileen said heavily. They walked up the sloping hallway, and she felt the tightness in her chest she always felt when she knew the victim personally. Most times it was another cop. Once a neighbor, an older woman Eileen used to speak to occasionally when she brought in her mail. Seeing a body like that was the ultimate indignity. In most cultures the family members would bathe and prepare a body before visitors were allowed to see. Eileen knew why, after the first time she'd seen the sad sprawled form of a person she knew. Her instincts were to cover the poor person, to arrange their clothing, to give them some dignity that murder robbed. She wanted to close their eyes, and say good-bye, and she had to leave their bodies in disarray, in their own blood and wastes. She hated to see the body of someone she knew.

Art was lying on his side near the door. It had been a hard death. The wheat-colored hair was matted and dark with sweat and blood. He'd been trying to crawl to the doorway after the murderer had stabbed him. The murder weapon was lying on a table, set carefully there, almost contemptuously left out in the open. It was wiped clean. A sharpened screwdriver. Eileen took a handkerchief from her pocket and flicked the main banks of lights to brightness, using the handkerchief so she wouldn't disturb prints. A useless exercise. Blaine, standing in her shadow in the doorway, winced at the light and looked away from Art.

"There's no one else here," Eileen said. "Check anyway, behind these desks, look around."

"Okay," Blaine said.

"Don't touch anything. You see something, you call me."

"Okay," Blaine said again.

Eileen looked down at Art.

"I'm sorry, Art," she said softly. She started to bend down when the phone rang. Eileen spent an endless minute searching before she found the phone in the television studio room.

"I need to speak to Detective Reed," a voice said crisply.

"This is Eileen, Rosen," Eileen said.

"We've located Joe Tanner. He was in the UCCS computer lab with several members of his cla.s.s. They had some a.s.signment due that they were all working on. He didn't leave the lab."

Eileen had to swallow twice before she spoke.

"Nelson?"

"No contact. We have verified with Roberto Espinoza's church group that he was attending a Catholic Youth Organization meeting until nine-thirty. He teaches eighth-graders. He was there since six o'clock this evening. He said he went straight home, fixed a microwave dinner, and went to bed. We have verified with Lowell Guzman's neighbors that he was in his family room watching television. They could see him through their living-room windows."

"After you contact Atkins, when you do, I want you to visit each Gamer's house. You shouldn't need a search warrant; they are all willing to cooperate. Or at least, they're supposed to cooperate. I want you to look for one thing. Look in the trash, on the floors, in the backyard."

"What do you want me to look for?"

"Metal shavings. He-or she-had to sharpen that screwdriver somewhere."

"I understand."

"Watch yourself, Dave," Eileen said, and looked over at Art's body. "Whoever this is, he's getting very desperate. And he's getting very good at killing people."

"Understood. Out."

Eileen hung up the phone and turned again to Art Bailey's body. There were two stab wounds, one in the back and one in the neck. The neck was the fatal injury. Eileen could see how the murderer struck once, pulled the screwdriver free, and slashed at Art as he struggled to rise from his chair. The slashing, second strike was the one that tore open Art's neck and finished him. Art saw the murderer before he died. The wound was in the front.

Eileen felt tired. Had Art seen a friend? His surprise was his undoing. He didn't expect the second blow. There were no marks on his hands from warding off strikes. There were no other signs of a struggle. Art stood in amazement, and let himself be killed. Eileen remembered Tanner mentioning Art's gentle nature, and for a moment she had to struggle with a choking feeling of rage and frustration. Art was dead. Eileen Reed hadn't been able to stop it from happening. She felt sick.

"There's nothing else here."

"Any clothing? The blood would have spattered this time."

"No clothing."

"Anyone see someone leave this room?" Eileen knew the answer before Blaine shook his head no.

"d.a.m.n it!" Eileen said explosively. "How about the base? You keep a record in those scan things?"