The Devils Teardrop

isolation. He told Evans, “One thing you should know—this might not be the first time the Digger and his accomplice have done this.”
    Lukas said, “A free-lance writer contacted us. He’s convinced the shootings’re part of a pattern of similar crimes.”
    “Where?”
    “Boston, the New York suburbs and Philadelphia. Always the same—larceny or extortion were the main crimes with tactical murders to support them.”
    Evans asked, “He was after money?”
    “Right,” Parker said. “Well, jewelry once.”
    “Then it doesn’t sound like there’s any connection with Barnstall. His diagnosis was probably paranoid schizophrenia, not generalized antisocial behavior—like your perpetrator here. But I’d like to know more about the crimes in the other cities. And find out some more about his MO today.”
    Hardy said, “What we’re doing here is trying to find his safe house. It could have a lot of information in it.”
    Lukas shook her head, disappointed. “I was hoping the name Digger meant something. I thought it might be the key.”
    Evans said, “Oh, it still might—if we get more data. The good news is that the name isn’t more common. If the accomplice —the dead man—came up with the name Digger, that tells us something about him. If it was the Digger’s nickname for himself then that tells us something about him . See, naming—designating—is very important in arriving at psych profiling.”
    He looked at Parker. “For instance, when you and I describe ourselves as ‘consultants’ there’re some psychological implications to that. We’re saying that we’re willing to abdicate some control over the situation in exchange for a certain insulation from responsibility and risk.”
    That’s one hundred percent right, Parker thought.
    “You know,” Evans said, “I’d be happy to hang around for a while.” He laughed again, nodded at the morgue picture. “I’ve never analyzed a corpse before. It’ll be quite a challenge.”
    “We could sure use the help,” Lukas said. “I’d appreciate it.”
    Evans opened his backpack and took out a very large metal thermos. He opened the lid and poured black coffee into the lid cup. “I’m addicted,” he said. Then he smiled. “Something a psychologist shouldn’t admit, I suppose. Anybody want some?”
    They all declined and Evans put the thermos away. The doctor pulled out his cell phone and called his wife to let her know he’d be working late.
    Which reminded Parker of the Whos and he took out his own phone and called home.
    “Hello?” Mrs. Cavanaugh’s grandmotherly voice asked when she answered the phone.
    “It’s me,” Parker said. “How’s the fort?”
    “They’re driving me into bankruptcy. And all this Star Wars money. I can’t figure out what it is. They’re keeping me confused on purpose.” Her laugh included the children, who would be nearby.
    “How’s Robby doing?” Parker asked. “Is he still upset?”
    Her voice lowered. “He got sort of moody a few times but Stephie and I pulled him out of it. They’d love for you to be home by midnight.”
    “I’m trying. Has Joan called?”
    “No.” Mrs. Cavanaugh laughed. “And funny thing, Parker . . . But if she were to call and I happened to see her name on the caller ID, I might be too busy to answer. And she might think you were all at a movie or Ruby Tuesday for the salad bar. How would you feel about that?”
    “I’d feel really good about that, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”
    “I thought you might. That caller ID is a great invention, isn’t it?”
    “Wish I had the patent,” he told her. “I’ll call later.”
    They hung up.
    Cage had overheard. He asked, “Your boy? He okay?”
    Parker sighed. “He’s fine. Just having some bad memories from . . . you know, a few years ago.”
    Evans lifted an eyebrow and Parker said to him, “When I was working for the Bureau a suspect broke into our house.” He noticed Lukas was listening too.
    “Your boy saw him?” Evans asked.
    Parker said, “It was Robby’s window the perp tried to break into.”
    “Jesus,” C. P. muttered. “I hate bad stuff when it happens to kids. I fucking hate that.”
    “PTSD?” Lukas asked.
    Posttraumatic stress disorder. Parker had been worried that the boy would suffer from the condition and had taken him to a specialist. The doctor, though, had reassured him that because Robby had been very young and hadn’t actually been injured by the Boatman he probably wasn’t