“I tell you I didn't even know who this Christie was!”
Sherlock sat forward, pinned him, her voice very quiet. “Were you frightened, Mr. Pallack? Were you cursing the vagaries of fate? You knew something would happen, realized someone would come. Did you watch your phone, waiting for it to ring?”
“I am frightened of nothing, Agent Sherlock, I have no reason to be. Now, I've been patient. I've cooperated, answered all your questions. I have nothing more to say. If you wish to continue with this insane inquiry, you will speak to my lawyer. I want all of you out of here now.”
“Good day, Mr. Pallack,” Cheney said as he ushered Julia out of the office after the others. He said to Mrs. Potts, who hovered protectively outside the big man's corner office, “We never got to see the fog burn off.”
Her hands were on her hips and there was fire in her eyes. “No, you didn't,” she said, “and I doubt you'll ever be here again to witness it.”
CHAPTER 41
Savich was about to turn the ignition in his father-in-law's big black BMW when Sherlock's cell phone burst into "The Sound of Music.”
"Sherlock here.
What?
You've got to be kidding me!”
Savich turned to face her. Both Cheney and Julia sat forward in the backseat, all eyes on Sherlock.
When she punched off her cell a few minutes later, she said, “Well, that was Ruth. She said the local news just reported the car chase and shooting through the park and on the beach, and that a psychic had warned Cheney and Julia that she'd seen it all in a vision, and this same psychic was helping the police now.”
“But she didn't, she's not,” Cheney said. “I mean it wasn't exactly like that.”
“Get a grip, Cheney,” Julia said, “we're talking the media here.”
Cheney said, “Please don't tell me the media identified the psychic.”
Sherlock said, “Unfortunately they did. They showed Kathryn Golden's picture.”
“But how did they know? We didn't tell a soul!”
Cheney said, “You didn't, Julia, but I told Frank Paulette all about her, about how her call early this morning had gotten us moving out of my condo. There were lots of cops around in that parking lot at the beach who, I suppose, could have overheard. Or it was a reporter who pried it out of one of the cops who thought it was all a big joke, who knows?”
Sherlock said, “Ruth said the reporter mentioned a source at the SFPD.”
Julia pounded Cheney's arm. “Oh no, Cheney, he'll go after Kathryn, you know he will.”
Cheney quickly dialed Kathryn Golden's phone. One, two rings, then, “Hello?”
“Ms. Golden? This is Agent Stone. Listen to me now. The media gave out your name on the news. I want you to leave your house right now, do you understand? Pick up your car keys and go get in your car. Drive to the police station, all right? Do you understand me?”
“Yes, yes, I understand.”
“Go, now! Leave your phone on. I want to be able to hear you.”
He heard her breathing, heard her footsteps as she ran through her house, heard her say, “Where are those damned car keys?”
He heard her breathing hitch, then the blessed rattle of a key ring, her feet pounding loud. She said, “I'm nearly out, leaving now.
Oh God!”
He heard the front door bang open, heard her scream. There was the sound of scuffling, and a thud, then there was nothing at all, only the silence of the open line.
“Oh God, he's got her. But how could Makepeace have gotten to Livermore so fast?”
Savich said, “He was hiding nearby, that's how. But why would he choose Livermore as his base?”
“I don't know why, but he got her, just that fast,” said Cheney, snapping his fingers.
Sherlock said. “Julia, call the Livermore Police Department, tell them to get over to Kathryn's house. I'm calling Dix and Ruth, she said they both wanted in on this.”
While Savich gunned Judge Sherlock's BMW, he imagined Dix driving his father-in-law's old black Chevy Blazer like a madman, Ruth giving him directions as best she could. Cheney called Captain Paulette.
“First David Caldicott disappeared, and now Kathryn's taken,” Sherlock said. “I surely do hate this.”
Cheney said into his cell, “It isn't good, Frank. I called her, told her to get out, told her to leave the phone line open. I heard him take her.”
“Yeah, Cheney, the wife told me how the damned media bleated it all out. I've got some calls to make, then I'm on my way out there. Damnation, I'm going to kick some major butt about the leak. Let's hope you're wrong, but of course you're not.”
Since Savich didn't have a siren and he didn't want to get stopped by the Oakland cops, he kept the Beemer right at the speed limit.
Julia grabbed Cheney's arm. “You know he's killed her, Cheney, you know it, the moment he burst through her front door.”
“Not necessarily, I didn't hear a gunshot.”
“But you have his gun! He could have strangled her or stabbed her or hit her on the head.”
“No, I didn't hear anything like that.” A lie, but it wouldn't help her to hear about the thud. “Hang in there, Julia, we don't know, simply don't.”
Sherlock turned in the front seat to face them. “What should we know about Kathryn Golden?”
“Sorry, let me give you guys some quick background.” And he did. “âand when she called me this morning, she told me she'd had another vision, that Makepeace was coming in a car. I rolled my eyes, I'll admit it, but it made me look in my rearview every other second, and I spotted him.
“I would have sworn most everything from the so-called vision she treated us to yesterday, any of us could have known or guessedâand for the rest, she probably had a source inside the SFPD.”
“What do you think, Julia?”
“Kathryn's always bragged about all the insiders she knows. A cop too? Why not?”
“Savich, you've got maybe twelve more minutes,” Cheney said. He paused, looked down at his cell and punched in Kathryn Golden's number. A man answered on the first ring. “Is this you, Agent Stone? A little late, aren't you? Too late. Oh yes, tell the bitch you'll be too late for her too. I'm coming for her,” and he punched off.
“Makepeace answered,” Cheney said. “I don't know Golden's status. I heard a bit of an English accent this time, which means he wasn't trying to hide it.”
Sherlock said, “Or he's rattled and he couldn't control it.”
Savich looked at Julia's face in his rearview mirror and pushed the Beemer to eighty miles per hour. They streamed around cars and drivers' startled faces. He grinned. “Okay then, let the cops chase us to the psychic's house if they want.”
They pulled into Kathryn Golden's driveway behind three local cop cars, Dix and Ruth right behind them.
“Julia, stay in theâ”
“Don't even think it, Cheney Stone.”
Captain Paulette, siren blaring, screeched to a stop at the curb. He waved at the cops spilling out of the house. “Stay back, guys,” Frank said over his shoulder as he jogged up to the Livermore police, and showed his badge. He was back in a moment.
“The front door was open, nobody home. The local cops want to know what's going on. When their lieutenant gets here, I'll have to tell him. I told them it's a kidnapping, or a murder. They're calling in their forensic people to dust for prints, and that's fine. Damn, you know, you guys are sure keeping me pumped.”
“I'd like to go inside,” Savich said. Frank ran interference for them, and when Lieutenant Draper drove up three minutes later, Frank filled him in. Draper sent some of the cops who had come out of the house to spread out and question all the neighbors. There was no clue to what Makepeace was driving.
When Savich stepped into the entrance hall, there was a dead, queasy silence, a layer of fear in the air.
Sherlock said beside him, “You can feel how empty the house is.”
Savich nodded, and thought,
And the fear, your fear, that fear is still here. But he didn't kill you here, in the house. He took you.
“I wondered how he got here so fast, as I'm sure all of you have as well,” Frank said, “and so I checked and guess whatâRuth, you heard the second special media report, my wife did too. The first one was over an hour before.”
Cheney said, “So that makes him as much as an hour away. He could have killed her right here, but he took her. What does that tell us?”
Dix said, “Maybe he was afraid the cops would drive up any second, so he got in and got out fast, taking her with him.”
Julia said, “Maybe he took her because the news said she was working with the police to help find him. They talked about her visionâmaybe he believes she really did see him driving after Cheney and me.”
Savich said, “If he does believe she's psychic, then he'd want to take her out of the mix.”
Dix thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, I can buy that. Why not?”
Julia said, “I agree. It would make sense from his point of view. Maybe he thinks she knows where to find me.”
Savich breathed in the dead heavy air again. He felt Kathryn, felt her fear, her terror, and he felt something else, something cold and deadly.
Dix said, “Fact is, we really have no idea why he grabbed her so quickly.”
Savich said, “No, we don't. Captain Paulette, we'll go back to San Francisco. You'll let us know if the police find any witnesses, all right?”
When they'd stepped outside Kathryn Golden's house into the late afternoon heat, Julia's cell phone rang. She stepped away. “Wallace? Yes, I know, but have you heard about Kathryn being kidnapped? No, no, unfortunately the police have no idea where she is. Whatâ? There are six of us in all. Yes, three are FBI agents and one is a sheriff. Really, Wallace, whatâ”
She listened, then slowly punched off, and said, “That was Wallace Tammerlane.” To Dix and Ruth, she added, “He's a psychic medium, one of August's best friends. The thing is, he's asked that all of us come to his house, as soon as we can get there. He said it's urgent.”
Cheney said, “But what does he want?”
“He didn't tell me, only said it was about Kathryn and it's urgent.”
Ruth looked from one face to the next. “We don't have much of a choice, do we? So, let's go see the psychic.”
Dix said, “Why do I think I'm about to take a bus to never-never land?”
CHAPTER 42
When all of them arrived at Wallace Tammerlane's beautiful Victorian an hour and ten minutes later, Wallace's black-garbed butler, Ogden Poe, greeted them at the door and ushered them into the living room. Wallace and Bevlin were seated in chairs facing each other in front of a roaring fire.
“What are you doing here, Bevlin?” Julia asked.
Bevlin shrugged. “Wallace wanted me to come over. It's better with more people, you know.”
What was better, Sherlock wondered, but she knew a showman when she saw one and was willing to wait. “Some digs,” she said to Julia as she stepped into the living room. “Look at all those little teacups and saucers. I've seen similar ones in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. And all the old photos of the Crimean War, I wonder where those come from?”
Bevlin said to Sherlock as he rose, “I don't like Victorian fuss. I like space and views.”
“You're a hippie philistine,” Wallace said. “Red beanbagsâ just saying it makes me shudder.”
“Those red beanbags represent small vibrant areas of being,” Bevlin said, whatever that meant, Cheney thought.
“All of this is very interesting,” Julia said, aware that the three FBI agents and Sheriff Dix Noble were getting more impatient with each passing minute, “but we have more important things to do. Wallace, since you demanded that all of us come, let me make the introductions.”
Wallace shook hands with the three FBI agents, pausing briefly in front of each of them. To Sherlock, he said, “Sometimes people look at you and smile, and don't see your substance. That's always a very bad mistake to make, isn't it?”
“Yes,” Sherlock said, “one would think it is.”
He turned to Ruth, looked at her closely, then slowly nodded. “You are extraordinarily good at your job, Agent Warnecki. You see so very much, don't you?”
“We all see too much sometimes, don't you think?” Ruth said.
When he reached Dix, he became very still. Finally, he said, “I see a nearly desperate man, Sheriff Noble, about what I don't know, but it's clear to me that you're frustrated and angry.”
“You think?” Dix said. “You're a whiz at reading people, aren't you?”
“Yes, I am. Sheriff Noble, you're here, in a psychic's house, plainly, because you can't see any other options. I would say you are perhaps the most determined of all your colleagues to discount anything I may say or do. I ask you to be patient.”
Dix looked at him, stony-faced.
Wallace lightly laid a hand on Dix's shoulder. “In the end, you will do what needs to be done, I imagine,” he said, and stepped back. And that made Dix think of Charlotteâhe'd forgotten to call her.
Wallace smiled at Julia, who stood very close to Cheney. “The two of you,” he said, and shook his head. “Life continually surprises me.”
When Wallace's eyes rested on Savich, he slowly nodded, but said nothing. He finally said, “I asked Bevlin to come over as well. As I told Julia, the more people here, the better for our efforts. ”
“What efforts?” Cheney asked. “Come on, Wallace, enough dancing around. Tell us why you wanted us to come.”