InSight

airborne, apart from the floor, soaring above it. The tendrils of a living, breathing entity touched her burning face, still stinging from Collyer’s assault. She reached out her hand, only to clasp her other hand, separate from her body, disconnected. One hand, she didn’t know which, moved to clear the blood crusting her swollen nasal passages so she could breathe better, but her face wasn’t there. It had disappeared like all the colors that had temporarily filled her vision. Like all the light that once illuminated her life.
    * * * * *
    “One of the men found a property in the name of Mark Cavanaugh in the general location Barnette described,” Norm said.
    Luke didn’t catch the name. “Who’s that?”
    “Carlotta Gentry’s son-in-law.”
    “The missing link,” Jeff said.
    “Matt said a lawyer had to be involved,” Luke said. “He gave the nod to the son.”
    Norm scoffed. “All Martin Junior cares about is golf. He hasn’t the interest or the brains to be his mother’s consigliere . Cavanaugh, however, is ambitious, very low key. If you didn’t know he came from a working class family, you’d think he spit out a silver spoon at birth. Never flaunts his wealth, or his wife’s wealth, more specifically, although he does fine in the Gentry law firm. Mrs. Gentry did right to home in on him.
    “Come on, let’s go. You guys take your own car. I don’t want any glitches because I brought civilians along on police business.”
    Luke grabbed Norm’s arm. “But I’m a cop.”
    “Not here, you aren’t.” Norm got in his car and made a U-turn in front of the precinct.
    Luke and Jeff got into their car and followed close behind. Jeff tugged on Luke’s shirt, but Luke didn’t care what he was saying. He didn’t care which lawyer pimped for Mrs. Gentry or whether he was her son or son-in-law or the man in the moon. All he cared about was finding Abby before something happened to her. He brushed aside any thought that it had already happened. He could handle anything now, except losing her. Jeff tapped him on the arm, forcing him to look.
    “A detective in Norm’s squad stopped one of the license plates on the list right near where we’re going. Norm said from the description, it’s Scanlon. We’re five minutes away.”
    Five minutes. A lifetime. “The little ghost trembled like Barney Fife when I saw him at his clinic. With cops all over him, he’ll fold.”
    “Let’s hope so,” Jeff said. “We need someone to talk. You know it ain’t gonna be Collyer. Guys like him don’t rat. He’d rather go stoically to his grave.”
    Jeff spoke from experience. Luke knew he’d been captured in the Afghanistan mountains by the Taliban. His friend never spoke of it, but the men imprisoned with him did. Shackled and tortured, he somehow managed to overpower his captors and free his fellow prisoners. Jeff spent two months in a hospital recovering from his wounds and six months in rehab. He’d never relinquished any information to the enemy and never received recognition for his bravery because he worked for an underground organization not sanctioned by the United States government. Yes, Jeff knew the Collyers of the world. He used to be one of them.
    Jeff smacked Luke’s arm and pointed, but Luke’s sights were already riveted on the three police cars, lights flashing, that had pulled over Herbert Scanlon’s car. Jeff maneuvered behind Norm’s car, but neither he nor Luke got out. Scanlon sat hunkered into himself, trembling like the coward he was.
    “He’s a weird little guy,” Jeff said after another whack on Luke’s arm. “Looks like one of the crazies in a comic book to screen movie.”
    “He is. I can’t stand it; I’m getting out.”
    Luke escaped Jeff’s attempt to grab him, and he bounded from the car. He saw Scanlon mouth the word lawyer , studied Norm’s mouth as he walked toward him .
    Norm looked around to see if anyone heard, nodding to Luke as he approached. He stood so Luke could read him. “Dr. Scanlon, I’m asking you politely to tell me what I want to know, or I can take you to the station and let you sit until someone gets around to you. If you choose the latter and innocent people die, I’ll see you’re held as an accessory to murder. Now, one more time—where are Abigael Gallant and Stewart Gentry?”
    “Do you know who I am?” Scanlon blustered. “I’m Dr. Herbert Scanlon. I want a lawyer; it’s my civil right.”
    “Absolutely, Doctor.” Norm