Lie, lie, no choice. “No, but I thought it could be the ring I remembered my grandmother screaming about, the ring she stabbed her husband to death over, when he took it from her.” Her words hung between them. He said, “And he left it in a safe-deposit box, specifically for you?”
“Yes.”
He waited a beat, then, when she didn’t say anything, he said, “What did you do this afternoon?”
He was giving her that steady sort of questioning look now, one that made her want to fling herself at his feet and confess every sin she could remember committing since the age of three. “I slept some. I didn’t feel too well, and then I had bad dreams, about my grandfather.”
Savich sat back, pushed away the remains of his dinner. He looked again at the ring on his palm. “This ring must have meant something significant to both of them. Isn’t that ironic? She killed him, put him in that steamer trunk, covered him with a white towel, never imagining that he’d put this ring in a safe-deposit box for you. And that’s a question, isn’t it, Lucy? You weren’t yet six years old when he went missing, yet what he’d done was save the ring for you. How did you discover it was there, waiting for you?”
“Our old family lawyer called me, told me my grandfather’s instructions were to give it to me after the death of my father.”
She knew this raised a lot more questions in his mind, but to her relief, he said, “The ring looks very old, doesn’t it? Is that a triangle of dull rubies set on top of it?”
“It is very old, and yes, it’s ugly, too, Dillon, not worth much, I don’t think. The stones aren’t rubies; I’m thinking carnelians. I have no clue why Grandfather bothered to save the ring for me.”
Yeah, right. You’re really a bad liar, Lucy. But what are you lying about? Savich wanted to shake her, but trust was a funny thing.
He said, “These symbols, I don’t recognize them. Do you?”
“No. I’ve never seen them before.”
“They could designate some society, or sect, or cult of some kind. And that inscription, ‘SEFYLL.’”
Lucy froze. He was holding the ring when he said the word, but he had no reaction. He would have known, he would have been shocked, as she had been, if everything had happened again for him, starting eight seconds ago, or would all he feel be a shimmer in the light? Or was that what her grandfather meant by her having a gift? Could no one else experience what she had?
She had to ask, had to. “Do you know the word, Dillon?”
“Easy enough to find out.” He pulled out his cell phone.
A couple minutes later, they were reading that the word was Welsh.
He said, “It means to stand, to be or become stationary, to stop moving. Why inscribe that on a ring?”
She said absolutely nothing.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a couple of photos of it with my cell. MAX and I can do some research later, maybe make some phone calls.”
Great, just great.
After he’d snapped his photos, he looked at her pale face. “You need to turn in now. Too much has happened in too short a time.” He saw that she was holding out her hand, and so he gave her the ring, watched her thread it back onto the gold chain and put it inside her shirt again.
“Yes, I’m awfully tired, but I’d like to come back to work tomorrow, help set up the manhunt for Bruce Comafield with Coop. I don’t want to get too far behind on Kirsten Bolger’s case.”
Savich gave her a long look, wondered what she hadn’t told him, wondered what specifically she’d lied to him about, then nodded. “All right, I’ll see you in the morning.” He said good night, then returned to an empty house, which he hated. Sean and Astro were doing a sleepover with Marty at the Perrys’ house. He realized he missed Astro barking his head off as soon as he walked up the flagstone steps to his front door.
CHAPTER 36
Hoover Building
Wednesday morning
Lucy slipped into Gloria’s passenger seat, waited for Coop to seatbelt himself in. “So, we’re off to the Willard. I hope we can find out more about Bruce Comafield. Can you believe Dillon pulled ID photos of everyone in that meeting with Lansford and passed them around? Sometimes you want to punch him when he pulls tricks like that. And there was payoff—Sherlock recognized Comafield right away.”
“We already know everything about him, from the mole behind his right knee to the C he got in poly sci—pretty funny for an aide to a wannabe lawmaker, or should I say former aide.”
“Former wannabe lawmaker, too.”
Coop looked over at her. “Do you mind if after we visit the Willard, we drive by my mom’s so she can see what a hot tootsie I picked up in Gloria? Ah, you’d be the first hot tootsie I ever brought around, by the way.”
“Yeah, yeah, I believe you. Tootsie?”
“All right, hot chick. That better?”
“Yeah, tons better. Now fill me in, Coop.”
When they reached the Willard hotel, they learned Mr. Lansford had checked out a couple hours before, on his way to Dulles, to fly back to San Francisco to close down his campaign and officially withdraw from the congressional race. They tried to call him but were sent directly to voice mail.
Coop and Lucy spoke to the bellman, the waitstaff, the desk people, the housekeeper, all of whom had said they hadn’t seen Bruce Comafield since early Monday. They found a confiding young woman in the gift shop who’d sold Comafield some shaving cream on Monday morning. He told her he’d been fired. It was weird, she said to them; he wasn’t down about being fired, he seemed excited about something.
When Coop called Mr. Lansford’s executive assistant in San Francisco, he confirmed that Mr. Comafield wasn’t with Mr. Lansford; indeed, he’d been let go, since there was nothing more for him to do.
It appeared Bruce Comafield had fled right to Kirsten, to New York City. And he’d been excited about it. There was still no word on the APB out on him.
As Lucy and Coop rode the elevator back up to the CAU on the fifth floor of the Hoover Building, she found herself grinning at him. “Would you really have driven us to your mom’s house if we hadn’t been pressed for time?” She paused a beat. “Tootsie?”
“I’m now thinking chickie.”
“That’s sick. I like it.”
“Tell you what, we’ll go see my mom as soon as we can break free today. How about around seven o’clock this evening? I can try out both tootsie and chickie on her, see which she prefers.”
He’d swear he saw disappointment in her eyes, but then it was gone, replaced by—what? Resignation? “I’m sorry, Coop, but I can’t.”
“That’s okay. I can stick with you, see what you’re up to, help out. I’m a pretty useful guy to have around, Lucy.”
She lightly laid her hand on his arm. “Believe me, Coop, you don’t want to be around me.”
They weren’t six feet from the CAU when Coop’s cell rang. “McKnight here.”
She watched his face as he listened. She saw ferocious delight. He’d scarcely rung off when she said, “What?”
“Savich got a call from a waitress in Baltimore at the Texas Range Bar and Grill. She swears she saw Ted Bundy’s daughter in the bar last night.”
“Hot diggity. I was hoping this would happen. Every worker in every bar in the U.S. must know Kirsten’s face by now.” Lucy highfived Coop. “We’re all heading to Baltimore, right?”