The Sleeping Doll

with the horror he’d experienced today—perhaps less the kidnapping itself than the degradation of Pell’s deal.
    She thought again of Morton Nagle; Billy had escaped with his life, but was yet another victim of Daniel Pell.
    “Should I tell Overby about Utah?” TJ asked. “He’ll want to get word out.”
    She was interrupted, though, by a phone call. “Hold on,” she told the young agent. She answered. It was the computer specialist from Capitola prison. Excited, the young man said that he’d managed to find one site that Pell had visited. It had to do with the Helter Skelter search.
    “It was pretty smart,” the man said. “I don’t think he had any interest in the term itself. He used it to find a bulletin board where people post messages about crime and murder. It’s called ‘Manslaughter.’ There’re different categories, depending on the type of crimes. One’s ‘The Bundy Effect,’ about serial killers. You know, after Ted Bundy. ‘Helter Skelter’ is devoted to cult murders. I found a message that had been posted on Saturday, and I think it was meant for him.”
    Dance said, “And he didn’t type the URL to Manslaughter dot com directly, in case we checked the computer and would find the website.”
    “Right. He used the search engine instead.”
    “Clever. Can you find out who posted it?”
    “It was anonymous. No way to trace it.”
    “And what did it say?”
    He read her the short message, only a few lines long. There was no doubt it was intended for Pell; it gave the last-minute details of the escape. The poster of the message added something else at the end, but, as Dance listened, she shook her head. It made no sense.
    “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”
    He did.
    “Okay,” Dance said. “Appreciate it. Forward me a copy of that.” She gave her email address.
    “Anything else I can do, let me know.”
    Dance disconnected and stood silently for a moment, trying to fathom the message. O’Neil noticed her troubled face but didn’t disturb her with questions.
    She debated and then came to a decision. She called Charles Overby and told him about the camper park in Utah. Her boss was delighted at the news.
    Then, thinking about the conversation with Eddie Chang about her imaginary date with Pell, she called Rey Carraneo back and sent him on another assignment.
    As the young agent digested her request he said uncertainly, “Well, sure, Agent Dance. I guess.”
    She didn’t blame him; the task was unorthodox, to say the least. Still, she said, “Pull out all the stops.”
    “Um.”
    She deduced he hadn’t heard the expression.
    “Move fast.”

Chapter 14
    “We’re getting sand dabs.”
    “Okay,” Jennie agreed. “What’s that?”
    “These little fish. Like anchovies, but they’re not salty. We’ll get sandwiches. I’m having two. You want two?”
    “Just one, honey.”
    “Put vinegar on them. They have that at the tables.”
    Jennie and Pell were in Moss Landing, north of Monterey. On the land side was the massive Duke Power plant, its steam stacks soaring high into the air. Across the highway was a small spit of land, an island really, accessible only by bridge. On this strip of sandy soil were marine service companies, docks and the rambling, massive structure where Pell and Jennie now sat: Jack’s Seafood. It had been in business for three-quarters of a century. John Steinbeck, Joseph Campbell and Henry Miller—as well as Monterey’s most famous madam, Flora Woods—would sit around the stained, scarred tables, arguing, laughing and drinking till the place closed, and sometimes until much later.
    Now Jack’s was a commercial fishery, seafood market and cavernous restaurant, all rolled into one. The atmosphere was much less bohemian and volatile than in the forties and fifties, but in compensation the place had been featured on the Food Channel.
    Pell remembered it from the days when the Family lived not far from here, in Seaside. The Family didn’t go out to eat much, but he’d send Jimmy or Linda to buy sand dab sandwiches and fries and coleslaw. He just loved the food and he was real happy the restaurant hadn’t closed up.
    He had some business to take care of on the Peninsula but there’d be a little delay before he could proceed with that. Besides, he was starving and figured he could take a chance being out in public. The police wouldn’t belooking for a happy tourist couple—especially here, since they believed he was halfway to Utah