Sea of Crises by Marty Steere Page A

strangest thing,” she continued. “Mason acted like there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary going on. I’ve never known what to make of that. I’d like to believe they were forcing him to do things he didn’t want to do. That he was as much a victim as we were. But it sure didn’t seem like it.
    “And the way he went on, as if he really was a doctor? Come on. He was always smart, but not doctor smart. He was the kind of guy who was just smart enough to get out of doing things. You know what I mean?”
    She shook her head. “I loved my brother, sort of. But I’ve never been able to accept any of it.” She opened her mouth to say more, but then, apparently changing her mind, she remained silent.
    After a moment, she laughed, but it was a bitter laugh. “How does that happen, anyway? One day, he’s dead. The next day he’s alive?”
    Peter looked at Matt. “Yeah, how does that happen?”
    Matt turned to Patricia. “Did you ever tell anyone this story before?”
    She shook her head adamantly. “Never. We were so afraid.” She looked down at the table. “After the, you know, tragedy, we got a package in the mail. It was supposed to be perishable items. ‘Open immediately,’ it said. So we did.”
    She paused, a bleak expression on her face. “Inside was a human finger. It was disgusting. And it was so frightening. We,” she hesitated, “we threw it away.” She looked embarrassed.
    “So, no, we kept our mouths shut. The press tried to get us to talk, but we wouldn’t. They called us ‘very private.’ And, after a while, they just left us alone.
    “I thought it was all over, and then,” she paused, looking between Matt and Peter. “And then you called,” she said to Peter. “Or you,” she said, looking at Matt.
    Matt held up a finger, then pointed it at Peter.
    Peter looked suddenly embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I had no idea.”
    There was an awkward silence. Matt asked, “Do you still have that picture?”
    For the first time since they’d met, Nate saw the fleeting hint of a smile on Patricia Gale’s face, though it did not reach her eyes. She nodded. “I do. Something told me I should hang on to it. Just in case. And I did. For all these years.”
    “I wouldn’t mind seeing that,” Matt said.
    With the vestige of a humorless smile still playing on her face, Patricia reached around and pulled her handbag from the back of her chair, where she’d hung it when they sat down. She opened it, reached in and unsnapped an interior pocket. She pulled from the pocket an envelope that appeared to have at one time been white, but had yellowed with age.
    “I haven’t looked at this in at least thirty years,” she said. “But, for reasons I don’t think I can explain, I’ve always had it with me.”
    She handed the envelope to Matt. He lifted back the flap, slid out the small snapshot and scrutinized it carefully. After a moment, he said quietly, “I’ll be damned.” He looked up at Nate. “I know this guy.”

6
    Ozaki pulled the car up in front of the Gale house, and Raen and Dacoff, wearing suits and carrying briefcases, emerged and walked to the front door. To anyone observing them, they would have appeared to be lawyers or accountants, likely visiting the Gale women to review their wills or estate plans.
    They knew from the surveillance team that the older of the two women was home alone. Patricia Gale had taken the car and left an hour earlier.
    At the front door, Raen set down his briefcase and made a show of knocking with his right hand. His left hand, shielded by his body from the view of anyone who might be watching, slipped the duplicate key into the lock. He pushed the door open and went through a pantomime of speaking to someone just inside, introducing his colleague. Then, looking to all the world as though the two had been asked to enter, Raen picked up his briefcase and walked in, followed by Dacoff. They closed the door and locked it behind them.
    The