Roadside Crosses

it.”
    There were two senior women agents in the Monterey office of the CBI. It would be easy to find out who the “she” in question was.
    Oh, you son of a bitch, Charles.
    She heard another reporter ask, “Agent Overby, what do you say to the fact that the town, the whole Peninsula’s in a panic? There’ve been reports of homeowners shooting at innocent people who happen to walk into their yards.”
    A pause. “Well, that’s not good.”
    Oh, brother . . .
    Dance shut the TV off. She called the MCSO and learned that, yes, another cross, with today’s date, had been found near China Cove. A bouquet of red roses too. Crime Scene was collecting the evidence and searching the area.
    “There were no witnesses, Agent Dance,” the deputy added.
    After she hung up, Dance turned to TJ. “What do the Swedes tell us?”
    TJ had phoned the proxy service company and left two urgent messages. They had not returned his call yet, despite it being a business day in Stockholm and only past lunchtime.
    Five minutes later Overby stormed into the office. “Another cross? Another cross? What the hell happened?”
    “I just found out about it myself, Charles.”
    “How the hell did they hear?”
    “The press? Scanners, contacts. The way they always find out what we’re doing.”
    Overby rubbed his tanned forehead. Skin flakes drifted. “Well, where are we with it?”
    “Michael’s people are running the scene. If there’s evidence they’ll let us know.”
    “ If there’s evidence.”
    “He’s a teenager, Charles, not a pro. He’s going to leave some clues that’ll lead us to where he’s hiding. Sooner or later.”
    “But if he left a cross that means he’s also going to try to kill somebody today.”
    “We’re contacting as many people as we can find who might be at risk.”
    “And the computer tracing? What’s going on there?”
    TJ said, “The company’s not calling us back. We’ve got Legal putting together a foreign warrant request.”
    The head of the office grimaced. “That’s just great. Where’s the proxy?”
    “Sweden.”
    “They’re better than the Bulgarians,” Overby said, “but it’ll be a month before they even get around to responding. Send the request, to cover our asses, but don’t waste time on it.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Overby stormed off, fishing his mobile out of his pocket.
    Dance snagged her own phone and called Rey Carraneo and Albert Stemple into her office. When they arrived she announced, “I’m tired of being on the defensive here. I want to pick the top five or six potential victims—the ones who’ve posted the most vicious attacks on Travis, and the posters who’re themost supportive of Chilton. We’re going to get them out of the area and then set up surveillance at their houses or apartments. He’s got a new victim in mind and when he shows up, I want him to get one big goddamn surprise. Let’s get on it.”

Chapter 26
    “HOW’S HE HOLDING up?” Lily Hawken asked her husband, Donald.
    “James? He’s not saying much but it’s got to be tough on him. Patrizia too, I’m sure.”
    They were in the den of their new house in Monterey.
    Unpacking, unpacking, unpacking . . .
    The petite blonde stood in the middle of the room, feet apart slightly, looking down at two plastic bags of drapes. “What do you think?”
    Hawken was a bit overwhelmed at the moment and couldn’t care less about window treatments, but his wife of nine months and three days had taken on much of the burden of the move from San Diego and so he set down the tools he was using to assemble the coffee table and looked from the red to the rust and back again.
    “The ones on the left.” Remaining ready to retreat at a moment’s notice if that was the wrong answer.
    But it was apparently correct. “That’s where I was leaning,” she said. “And the police have a guard at his house? They think the boy is going to attack him?”
    Hawken resumed assembling the table. Ikea.Damn, they have some pretty clever designers. “ He doesn’t think so. But you know Jim. Even if he did, he’s not the sort to head for the hills.”
    Then he reflected that Lily didn’t really know James Chilton at all; she hadn’t even met him yet. It was only through what he’d told her that she had an understanding of his friend.
    Just as he knew about many aspects of her life from conversation and hint and deduction. Such was life under these circumstances—second marriages for both of them; he,