‘I’ve been inside his compound. He has fertilizer bombs in the shed, and in his basement there’s a batch of homemade explosives – plastic explosives. We can use them to create a diversion to get to Rachel.’
‘You want to bomb the hospital?’
‘When a bomb goes off, it creates instant chaos. People will think it’s a terrorist attack – they’ll be reliving nine-eleven all over again. While everyone’s running around, nobody will be paying attention to us. One of us can slip inside and kill Rachel, pump some air through her IV line and she’ll go into cardiac arrest. It will look like she died of natural causes.’
Richard didn’t answer. Good. He was thinking about it.
‘If we bomb the hospital, not only will we kill Rachel, we can bring the FBI into this sooner,’ Boyle said. ‘Once Slavick’s DNA profile finds its match on CODIS, the FBI will be here at lightning speed to take over the case.’
‘You’re right about that. If Slavick’s identity makes it into the press, the feds will have a PR nightmareon their hands. Where’s Slavick now? At home?’
‘He’s in Vermont for the weekend, interviewing potential members for his movement,’ Boyle said. The GPS unit is still attached to his Porsche. I can tell you where he is right now, if you want.’
‘If we go ahead with this, you’ll have to move – quickly.’
‘It’s time I move again anyway. I’ve been thinking about heading back to California.’
‘You can’t go back to Los Angeles. They’re still looking for you there.’
‘I was thinking of La Jolla, someplace upscale. We should use this opportunity to get rid of Darby McCormick. Make it look like an accident. I have some ideas.’
‘We’ll talk some more when I get there.’
‘What about Carol? Can I keep her?’
‘For the moment. Don’t let her out of the cell yet.’
‘I’ll wait for you,’ Boyle said. ‘We can play with her together.’
Chapter 24
Darby had set up a temporary work space in her old bedroom. The bed was gone, replaced by her father’s desk. It faced the two windows overlooking the front yard.
Before leaving work, she made copies of the evidence report and the pictures. She tacked the pictures on the corkboard above the desk and then settled into the chair with the evidence file.
For awhile, she was aware of every sound – the tick of the grandfather clock from downstairs, her mother’s soft snoring from down the hallway. Then she was lost in the file.
Two hours later, her head felt crowded, thoughts tripping over one another. It was closing in on eleven. She decided to take a break and went downstairs to make some tea.
The box of clothing was still by the door. She saw the pink sweater and had a new memory – alone in the house at fifteen, the weekend after her father’s funeral, his down vest with its smell of cigars pressed against her face.
Darby pulled the sweater from underneath the pair of ripped jeans and sat on the floor. The hum ofthe refrigerator filled the kitchen. She rubbed the cashmere between her fingers. Soon this would be all that was left of her mother – her clothes with their fading whispers of perfume, memories frozen in pictures.
Darby stared at the spot where Melanie had stood begging for her life. She stared at the wall with its coat of paint that hid Stacey’s blood. Victor Grady was sealed between these walls, now and forever, along with memories of her father, and Darby couldn’t understand how Sheila could move through these rooms day after day competing with these two totally separate but equally powerful ghosts.
A car raced by, blaring rap music.
Darby found she was standing. Her hands trembled as she bent to pick up the sweater. She didn’t know why she was sweating.
It was closing in on midnight. Best to get some sleep. Tomorrow morning she and Coop were going to head out early to the Cranmore house. With a few hours of sleep and a fresh eye, she was hoping to find something she might have
‘You want to bomb the hospital?’
‘When a bomb goes off, it creates instant chaos. People will think it’s a terrorist attack – they’ll be reliving nine-eleven all over again. While everyone’s running around, nobody will be paying attention to us. One of us can slip inside and kill Rachel, pump some air through her IV line and she’ll go into cardiac arrest. It will look like she died of natural causes.’
Richard didn’t answer. Good. He was thinking about it.
‘If we bomb the hospital, not only will we kill Rachel, we can bring the FBI into this sooner,’ Boyle said. ‘Once Slavick’s DNA profile finds its match on CODIS, the FBI will be here at lightning speed to take over the case.’
‘You’re right about that. If Slavick’s identity makes it into the press, the feds will have a PR nightmareon their hands. Where’s Slavick now? At home?’
‘He’s in Vermont for the weekend, interviewing potential members for his movement,’ Boyle said. The GPS unit is still attached to his Porsche. I can tell you where he is right now, if you want.’
‘If we go ahead with this, you’ll have to move – quickly.’
‘It’s time I move again anyway. I’ve been thinking about heading back to California.’
‘You can’t go back to Los Angeles. They’re still looking for you there.’
‘I was thinking of La Jolla, someplace upscale. We should use this opportunity to get rid of Darby McCormick. Make it look like an accident. I have some ideas.’
‘We’ll talk some more when I get there.’
‘What about Carol? Can I keep her?’
‘For the moment. Don’t let her out of the cell yet.’
‘I’ll wait for you,’ Boyle said. ‘We can play with her together.’
Chapter 24
Darby had set up a temporary work space in her old bedroom. The bed was gone, replaced by her father’s desk. It faced the two windows overlooking the front yard.
Before leaving work, she made copies of the evidence report and the pictures. She tacked the pictures on the corkboard above the desk and then settled into the chair with the evidence file.
For awhile, she was aware of every sound – the tick of the grandfather clock from downstairs, her mother’s soft snoring from down the hallway. Then she was lost in the file.
Two hours later, her head felt crowded, thoughts tripping over one another. It was closing in on eleven. She decided to take a break and went downstairs to make some tea.
The box of clothing was still by the door. She saw the pink sweater and had a new memory – alone in the house at fifteen, the weekend after her father’s funeral, his down vest with its smell of cigars pressed against her face.
Darby pulled the sweater from underneath the pair of ripped jeans and sat on the floor. The hum ofthe refrigerator filled the kitchen. She rubbed the cashmere between her fingers. Soon this would be all that was left of her mother – her clothes with their fading whispers of perfume, memories frozen in pictures.
Darby stared at the spot where Melanie had stood begging for her life. She stared at the wall with its coat of paint that hid Stacey’s blood. Victor Grady was sealed between these walls, now and forever, along with memories of her father, and Darby couldn’t understand how Sheila could move through these rooms day after day competing with these two totally separate but equally powerful ghosts.
A car raced by, blaring rap music.
Darby found she was standing. Her hands trembled as she bent to pick up the sweater. She didn’t know why she was sweating.
It was closing in on midnight. Best to get some sleep. Tomorrow morning she and Coop were going to head out early to the Cranmore house. With a few hours of sleep and a fresh eye, she was hoping to find something she might have
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