The Sleeping Doll

a really long day.
    Then he said, “Nothing,” in a tone she understood to mean: There is something but I don’t want to talk about it yet. He returned to Middle Earth.
    She asked, “Where are the hobbits?” A nod at the book.
    “In the Shire. The horsemen are looking for them.”
    “Fifteen minutes.”
    “ ’Night, Mom.”
    Dance slipped the Glock into the safe. She reset the lock to a simple three-digit code, which she could open in the dark. She tried it now, with her eyes closed. It took no more than two seconds.
    She showered, donned sweats and slipped under the thick comforter, the sorrows of the day wafting around her like the scent of lavender from the potpourri dish nearby.
    Where are you? she thought to Daniel Pell. Who’s your partner?
    What are you doing at this moment? Sleeping? Driving through neighborhoods, looking for someone or something? Are you planning to kill again?
    How can I figure out what you have in mind, staying close?
    Drifting off to sleep, she heard in her mind lines from the tape she and Michael O’Neil had just listened to.
    “ And I don’t have any children myself, either. That’s a regret, I must say. . . . But I’m a young man. I’ve got time, right?”
    “Oh, if you get your act together, Daniel, there’s no reason in the world you couldn’t have a family of your own.”
    Dance’s eyes opened. She lay in bed for a few minutes, staring at a configuration of shadows on the ceiling. Then, pulling on slippers, she made her way into the living room. “Go back to sleep,” she said to the two dogs, who nonetheless continued to watch her attentively for the next hour or so as she prowled once again through the box that Morton Nagle had prepared for her.

T UESDAY

Chapter 21
    Kathryn Dance, TJ beside her, was in Charles Overby’s corner office, early-morning rain pelting the windows. Tourists thought the climate in Monterey Bay tended toward frequent overcasts threatening showers. In fact, the area was usually desperate for rain; the gray overhead was nothing more than standard-issue West Coast fog. Today, however, the precipitation was the real thing.
    “I need something, Charles.”
    “What’s that?”
    “An okay for some expenses.”
    “For what?”
    “We’re not making any headway. There’re no leads from Capitola, the forensics aren’t giving us any answers, no sightings of him . . . and most important I don’t know why he’s staying in the area.”
    “What do you mean, expenses?” Charles Overby was a man of focus.
    “I want the three women who were in the Family.”
    “Arrest them? I thought they were in the clear.”
    “No, I want to interview them. They lived with him; they’ve got to know him pretty well.”
    Oh, if you get your act together, Daniel, there’s no reason in the world you couldn’t have a family of your own . . . .
    It was this line from the police interview tape that had inspired the idea.
    A to B to X  . . .
    “We want to hold a Family reunion,” said cheerful TJ. She knew he’d been partying late but his round face, under the curly red hair, was as fresh as if he’d walked out of a spa.
    Overby ignored him. “But why would they want to help us? They’d be sympathetic to him, wouldn’t they?”
    “No. I’ve talked to two of them, and they have no sympathy for Pell. The third changed her identity, to put that whole life behind her.”
    “Why bring them here? Why not interview them where they live?”
    “I want them together. It’s a gestalt interviewing approach. Their memories would trigger each other’s. I was up till two reading about them. Rebecca wasn’t with the Family very long—just a few months—but Linda lived with Pell for over a year, and Samantha for two.”
    “Have you already talked to them?” The question was coy, as if he suspected her of pulling an end run.
    “No,” Dance said. “I wanted to ask you first.”
    He seemed satisfied that he wasn’t being outmaneuvered. Still, he shook his head. “Airfare, guards, transportation . . . red tape. I really doubt I could get it through Sacramento. It’s too out of the box.” He noticed a frayed thread on his cuff and plucked it out. “I’m afraid I have to say no. Utah. I’m sure that’s where he’s headed now. After the scare at Moss Landing. It’d be crazy for him to stay around. Is the USP surveillance team up and running?”
    “Yep,” TJ told him.
    “Utah’d be good. Real good.”
    Meaning, Dance understood: