“He’s pissed?” she asked, equally unnecessarily.
From Castle’s answering expression, she knew that was an understatement.
“He wants the red van, and Wardell, half an hour ago. Do you realize how many red Ford E-Series vans there are registered in Iowa?”
“Actually yes, there are eight hundred and sixty-seven. We’re working through the list as we speak, and we’ve got every cop in the state running stop-and-searches on them.” She paused. “Are we going to give this to the media? About the van?”
Castle put his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands in front of his mouth. “I think so. Donaldson thinks they’re going to skin us alive for this priest shooting. He keeps bitching about resources, manpower, like that’s my fault.”
Banner knew that this was the real issue for Donaldson: his own personal public standing. Better that someone like Wardell killed ten victims in secret than one victim that everyone knew about. That had been the real reason for the news blackout: not to free up the investigation, but to cover Donaldson’s ass, along with that of the director. Nobody would blame the FBI for the initial escape, of course, but they’d certainly blame them for not catching him quickly enough. And they couldn’t assign blame on an operation they were unaware of.
“You think they will?” Banner asked.
“Skin us alive? I don’t know. We’ve been keeping them in the loop since the story leaked. They knew we were focusing here in Chicago, but nobody had any reason to think he’d show up in Fort Dodge.”
“Blake did.”
Castle’s complexion darkened a shade. “Thanks for reminding me. Just make sure that never gets out. We don’t need a lucky guess making us look even worse.”
“Come on, Castle. You know that’s bullshit. Blake called it exactly right. The only reason we don’t have Wardell accounted for right now is because we didn’t back him up.”
Castle kicked his chair back and hauled himself up to his full six feet two inches. “You’re out of line, Agent Banner.” His voice was just a notch below shouting. “We’re chasing a military-trained killer who thinks the entire Midwest is his playground. I don’t have the manpower to waste chasing up every goddamn hunch brought to me by every asshole that walks in off the street.”
“Off the street? This is what we brought him in for. This is what he does.”
“I didn’t bring him in!”
There was a moment’s silence, during which both of them became very aware that the main office chatter outside had dropped away. Only the periodic ringing of phones pierced the quiet.
Castle sat back in his chair and lowered his voice again. “We don’t need another Ashley Greenwood on our hands just because you think you know best.”
The words hit Banner like a slap in the face, but she didn’t show it. She moved in closer, leaned on his desk with both hands. “I’m going to Lincoln.”
Castle shook his head, his voice calmer after the outburst. “We coordinate from this office until we get a lead on—”
“He’s headed for Lincoln,” she said. “I don’t care which direction the red van was or wasn’t going; the target is the father. Fort Dodge is practically on a straight line to him.”
Castle held her gaze, waited for her to finish. “The father is a possibility,” he admitted. “But we have agents in the field looking for Edward Nolan. We need to be here, because nobody really knows where this son of a bitch is going to strike next. Not you, not me, and not Blake.” He spoke the other man’s name with mild contempt. “And somebody needs to be manning the helm.”
“Not much good manning the helm when the ship’s sinking.”
Castle just looked back at her. Didn’t reply.
After twenty seconds of silence, Banner said it again. Quietly but firmly. “I’m going to Lincoln.”
Castle’s phone rang. He ignored it for the first three rings, holding the stare, then picked it up and turned back to the window. Banner strode back to her own office, picked up the phone, and dialed her sister’s number, steeling herself.
Helen’s voice betrayed an undercurrent of disappointment when Banner asked the favor, even though she said it would be fine. Banner had known she’d say that, but she hated to take advantage of her yet again.
“It’s just for a day or two,” she said, hoping she wasn’t promising something she couldn’t deliver.
“It’s fine, I guess,” Helen said. “And compared to the rest of the brood, Annie is no trouble.”
Banner believed that. Helen already had four boys and a girl, with another on the way, and as a group they seemed to get more boisterous with each new addition. Annie could be as much of a handful as any seven-year-old, but she usually behaved herself impeccably at her aunt’s.
“You’re sure? I really hate to ask again.”
Banner heard Helen sigh and then a pause a little too long for comfort. When she spoke again, she’d lowered her voice. “It’s not me, Elaine. Annie’s growing up. She’s big enough to understand that she’s being off-loaded.”
“Helen, I promise—”
“Stop promising. That’s part of the problem. I know about the job. I get that what you do is important. But Annie was really looking forward to going home tonight. I mean, between you and Mr. Big-Shot Ex…” She paused, and there was another sigh. “I’m sorry, Elaine.”
Banner swallowed. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say in this conversation.
“Can I talk to her?”
“Sure. Hang on.”
Helen put the handset down. In the background, Banner could hear her yelling at one of the boys to put that down immediately, and a moment later another voice appeared.
“Mom?” As usual, Annie’s voice was level, serious for her age. Banner felt a pang in her stomach as she realized she couldn’t remember when Annie had started calling her that instead of “Mommy.”
“Hi, angel. Did Aunt Helen tell you?”
“Yes. You can’t come and get me tonight.” Annie’s voice was matter-of-fact. Did she just expect this now?
“I’ll try to be back as soon as I can. How about we go for ice cream when I’m back?”
“Daddy says you give me too much ice cream.”
Banner bit her tongue. She was surprised Mark had time to monitor his daughter’s junk-food consumption, given how rigidly he resisted seeing her outside of his regular time, every other weekend.
“He’s probably right,” she said. “Movie instead?”
Annie considered this carefully. “That would be nice,” she agreed finally. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you coming to see my play on Tuesday?”
Banner closed her eyes and fought the easy urge to say yes and hope it would be true. “I don’t know, Annie. But I’d really like to go if I can make it.”
There was a pause while Annie absorbed this. “Will you come if you catch the bad man?”
“I’ll do my best, sweetheart,” Banner said, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve got to go now.”
“Okay, Mom.”
“Be good for your aunt Helen.”
“I will be.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
25
There were two signs. The first one was the approved size and shape and shade of green mandated by federal regulations, and it advised drivers that the town of Stainton was a half mile off the highway at the next exit. That wasn’t the sign that caught Wardell’s attention, though. The second sign was big and colorful and unconstrained by any style guidelines, and it advertised:
juba’s x-press stop