“Not a day goes by that I don’t remember him. I’ll never be the man he was. But he wasn’t perfect, and what happened that night proved it. He shouldn’t have let it happen. What’s the most dangerous situation any police officer faces?”
“Family arguments.”
“Exactly. Because they’re so emotional and unpredictable. After my father knocked, he should have stepped to the side, away from the door and the windows. Or better yet, he should have stayed by his car and used his bullhorn to order the husband to step outside. If the guy had come out with a shotgun, at least my father would have had a chance to defend himself. It didn’t need to happen the way it did. But my father had a weak spot. He couldn’t stand bullies.” Costigan looked directly at Page. “Especially when they picked on women.”
“Okay,” Page said. “I get the point. But I told you, my wife and I aren’t arguing. This isn’t a domestic dispute.”
“So you say. But until I’m sure you’re not a threat to her, you won’t see her without me standing next to you.”
13
Although the sun was descending toward the horizon, its rays seemed unusually bright. In the passenger seat of the police car, Page put on his sunglasses. He pulled out his cell phone and called Margaret to let her know that Tori was okay and that he was on his way to see her. He promised to have Tori call but wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep that promise.
As they drove through Rostov, he glanced out the window at a muffler shop and a barbecue restaurant called the Rib Palace. Ahead, at the edge of town, a sign announced, TRAIL’S END MOTEL. A row of plain, single-story units formed a U, with the office in the middle.
“Your wife’s in number 11,” Costigan told him as the car crunched across the gravel parking lot, raising a cloud of dust.
But when they got to number 11, the parking space was empty.
Page felt hollow as he stepped from the cruiser. The drapes were closed, and he couldn’t see past them to tell if there was luggage inside.
They walked across the gravel, pushed open a screen door with a loud squeak, and entered the office, which had a soft-drink machine and a small television in a corner. On the screen, a reporter was announcing sports scores.
“Jake,” the police chief said to a gangly young clerk behind the counter, “the lady in unit 11. Did she check out?”
“Nope. Paid for the rest of the week. I saw her car go past twenty minutes ago.”
Costigan nodded, then gestured toward Page. “Better save a room for this gentleman.”
“No need,” Page said, annoyed. “I’ll stay with my wife.”
“As long as it’s her idea, but in case it isn’t, Jake, save him a room.”
The screen door squeaked again when Costigan opened it. Out- side, turning from the sunset, he debated for a moment. “She’s got a long night ahead of her.”
Whatever that means, Page thought. “You said your deputy found her early in the morning. What was she doing until then?”
“That’s something you need to see for yourself.”
“Chief, I’m getting tired of this.”
Costigan didn’t seem to hear him. “Maybe she went to get some- thing to eat. Let’s try the Rib Palace.”
They drove back to the restaurant, but Tori’s SUV wasn’t in the parking lot. Most of the clientele seemed to drive pickup trucks, Page noted. At the chief’s insistence, they went inside. Tori wasn’t among the early-evening crowd.
“Fred,” Costigan said to an aproned man behind a counter, “did a red-haired woman come in here about twenty minutes ago and buy some take-out food?”
“Sure did. A turkey-and-cheese sandwich, plus iced tea. Don’t get much call for turkey. She’s lucky we had some.”
“You might want to stock some more of it. I have a hunch she’ll be back. Give us a couple of burgers and fries to go.” Costigan looked at Page. “You’re not a vegetarian, I hope.”
Page just stared at him. “Burgers are fine,” he said. “I’m buying.”
The stuffed paper bag had a grease stain on one side. He carried it out to the police car. They got in and drove east. Patchy brown grass stretched in every direction. Cattle grazed in the dimming sunset.
On the right, they came to a barbed-wire fence beyond which lay the rusted ruins of collapsed metal buildings. Signs hung at regular intervals along the fence.
PROPERTY OF U.S. MILITARY
DANGER
HAZARDOUS CHEMICALS
UNEXPLODED ORDNANCE
“That used to be a military training airfield,” Costigan explained. “Back in the ’40s.”
“I saw it when I flew in. I wondered what happened to it.”
“They shut it down in 1945. Just left it. It’s been falling apart ever since.”
A short distance ahead, past what looked like a historical marker of some sort, Page saw a low wooden structure. It had a flat roof and resembled a roadside stand where vegetables might be sold. But in this case, the section that faced the road was closed, and the open side was directed toward a fence and the grassland that lay beyond. Try as he might, Page couldn’t figure out what it was for.
Tori’s blue Saturn was parked next to it.
“Yeah, she got here early,” Costigan said.
They pulled off the road and stopped behind the Saturn. The wooden structure had a sidewall that prevented Page from seeing if Tori was inside. At the same time, it prevented Tori from seeing the police car.
“I guess she figured waiting here was better than waiting in her motel room,” Costigan said.
“This is the observation platform you mentioned?”
“Yeah, where my deputy found her.”
Page reached to open the cruiser’s door.
“Wait,” Costigan said. “It won’t be long now. The sun’s almost down. As soon as it gets dark, you’ll understand.”
Page stared at him. “Why should I…”
“You’ve indulged me this far. Is ten minutes longer going to make a difference?”
“What’s so damned important about the sun going down?”
“Eat your burger before it gets cold. I promise you, this’ll be a long night.”
14
Earl Halloway sat in the air-conditioned control room, scanning the numerous monitors that showed closed-circuit images of the area around the observatory. Taggard sat next to him, chewing on a candy bar. The setting sun cast an orange tint over the array of dishes that towered aboveground. In a while, as darkness settled, the images would become green, indicating that the heat-sensing capability of the cameras had become active. Animals or people would show clearly as a glow, although at the moment not a single cow or even a rabbit was visible out there.
Halloway picked up the sports magazine that Taggard had been reading. Every minute or so, he glanced up at the monitors. Nothing was happening outside. Nothing ever happened outside, which of course was a good thing, especially compared to the ambushes and roadside bombs he’d dodged in Iraq. But God almighty, this assignment was boring.
Down the hall, Halloway heard a door close.
“I’ll be right back,” he told his partner.
Taggard nodded, taking another bite.
Halloway left the control room and walked along the hall to the door that he’d heard being closed. He knew which door it was be- cause each night it was always the same door, the one marked DATA ANALYSIS.
During the day, Gordon leaves the door open, but at night he always closes it, he thought. Why? What’s he hiding?
A renewed wave of boredom made Halloway reach for the handle, then open the door. The room was filled with the subtle hum of all the electronic devices that occupied the walls-and the even subtler vibration that he sensed everywhere in the facility and that interfered with his sleep enough to make him always feel on the verge of a headache.
Gordon wore a headset over his hairless scalp. Sitting at a desk that was turned away from the door, he studied rows of numbers accumulating on a computer screen.