“Bingo,” I said. “So what’s the logical conclusion?”
“They’re using Wardell. They’re using him to do the one thing they know for certain he’ll do. Which is kill.”
“That has to be it,” I said. “That’s why they went to such lengths to break him out. That’s why they misdirected the media and the task force to guarantee his safe passage.”
“Wait a minute,” she said, holding up a hand to stop my flow. “Why does it have to be him? Hired killers are a dime a dozen.”
“Not professionals of Wardell’s caliber,” I said, “but point taken.”
“It’s a hell of a lot of trouble to go to when other options would be available.”
“Agreed,” I said. “For some reason, it’s important that it’s Wardell. We don’t know what that reason is yet, but that’s not the main problem with this theory.”
Banner played along, refusing to cave in and ask me straight out. She ran through the problem in her head again.
“Who’s the target?” she said after a few seconds, her tone conveying her full knowledge of the implications of that question.
“Exactly.”
“Whoever it is broke Wardell out because they wanted him to kill someone. They knew it would all look like a coincidence, like it was all fallout from the Russians’ ambush. It’s a great idea, when you think about it. You want someone out of the way, what’s the best camouflage? To have them fall victim to a crazed serial killer. Nobody looks for another motive.”
“It’s tried and tested,” I said.
“Sure,” she agreed. “People try it from time to time. They want their spouse offed, so they make it look like it’s part of a random series. The guys in Behavioral Sciences call it a ‘leaf in a forest killing,’ as in the best place to hide a leaf is in the middle of a forest.”
“But this would be even better. Not just making it look like a serial killer did it — actually having the serial killer do it for real.”
“Except there’s one big problem with that theory, Blake.”
I held up my hands. “Your killer is unpredictable,” I said. “You know he’s going to kill, but you don’t know who he’s going to kill.”
“So we’re left with this: Somebody broke Wardell out of death row to achieve an objective. The objective was to kill someone. That objective is not yet complete.”
“That’s about the size of it,” I agreed.
“Then we have to forget about the motive for just now and come at it from the other angle. Who might be next?”
“And as we said, we have some candidates, given what day tomorrow is.”
“Good candidates,” Banner said. “With money and power and influence. And one of them as good as challenged Wardell to a fight yesterday.”
I nodded. “So how do we get a meeting with the governor on election day?”
61
Banner and Blake touched down at O’Hare a little after nine p.m., the beginnings of a plan for the following day agreed. Blake had reclined his seat and caught a catnap, while Banner made a few more calls in-flight, talking to agents she trusted to keep quiet about her inquiries and getting updates on arrangements across the states in Wardell’s predicted path.
Unsurprisingly, the search had yet to turn up any sign of Wardell after the graveyard. Going by his track record so far, he could be traveling by bus or another stolen car. A car was the more likely option, given that they now had a much better idea of his current appearance and a pretty good composite had been splashed all over the news. They were chasing up all reported vehicle thefts within four hundred miles of Rapid City. No firm leads as of yet, although one report of a car stolen from a truck stop outside of Sioux Falls sounded promising.
The bulk of Banner’s phone time had been consumed securing a brief slot to meet with the governor. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d managed to get ten minutes with him before the rally. Naturally, she’d omitted to mention the fact that she was not officially on the case anymore.
They landed at one of the outlying runways, far from the terminal, and climbed into the back of a waiting sedan. The driver of the sedan was Kelly Paxon, who was officially off duty for the night. Banner made brief introductions, last names only. Paxon smiled thinly in acknowledgment and shut the hell up.
“You got a place to stay?” Banner asked as the sedan pulled out and headed for the security check.
Blake paused in the middle of fastening his seat belt, as though he hadn’t considered the matter, then said, “I think I’ll find someplace that serves coffee and doesn’t close, go through some of the background on Randall and the other guy. Congressional candidates too — I’ll see if anything chimes with Wardell. You should go home, get some sleep.”
Banner smiled and shook her head.
“The office, then?” he asked.
She shook her head again. “I’m on leave, remember? We’ll go to my place.” She paused. “Don’t worry. I have a comfy couch.”
62
As Banner turned the key in the lock of her apartment, she silently gave thanks that the cleaner’s day was a Friday and that she hadn’t been home since. It meant she avoided the embarrassment of empty pizza boxes in the kitchen and a teetering ironing pile.
She kicked off her shoes and turned on the lights in each room of the apartment — habit, ever since she’d been living apart from Mark.
“Nice place,” Blake said, hovering in the doorway.
“Thanks. Feels like I’m barely here, even in a normal week. Have a seat,” she said, indicating the living room.
She went through to the bedroom, quickly changing out of her suit and into sweatpants and a gray Northwestern University T-shirt. When she went back to the living room, Blake was on the leather couch by the window. Looking at him, she remembered it was only a two-seater, which meant that while it was indeed comfortable, it was probably better if you were five six or shorter. Blake had picked up the framed photo from the table beside the couch. The one that showed her — smiling, with her hair down — shoulder to shoulder with Mark — tall, serious-looking, dark suit — each of them with a hand on their daughter’s shoulders.
“That’s Annie,” she said.
He looked up. “She’s beautiful.”
Banner swallowed. All of a sudden an urge hit her like a physical blow, the urge to drop everything, to forget about Wardell and go and be with her daughter. Forget about protecting the city and focus on protecting Annie.
Blake caught the look on her face. “You okay?”
“Fine. It just feels like I’m barely here for her, either.”
“Is she with her father right now?”
Banner shook her head. “My sister. She’s been really great. Oh shit.”
“What?”
“I’m going to miss her school play. Calamity Jane. Annie’s playing Adelaid Adams. I said I’d try to be there.”
Blake looked sympathetic, but like he didn’t know exactly what to say. It was the look of someone who’d never had a family. Banner decided to test the waters again, see if he was ready to open up a little more.
“How about you, Blake? Any kids? Anybody special?” As she said the words, she remembered Blake’s involuntary smile four days before, when she’d asked him if there was anything he didn’t know. There was somebody special, all right. Somebody in the past, Banner thought. But if she was a memory, it was a fond one.
He didn’t answer for a second, thought about it, then shook his head and looked away again. “Nobody special. Free agent, remember?”