The Target

think? Just maybe Mr. Shaker is a very thorough man?"

    "I don't appreciate your humor," Agent Anchor said. "I know all this. But she shouldn't have taken off to look for her daughter. She shouldn't have refused to return to Denver after she'd found her. She shouldn't have hindered my investigation." He stared at Molly, his thin nostrils flared wide with dislike. "And she shouldn't have insulted me when I walked in just now. Maybe if she'd done what I told her to, she wouldn't have ended up with a dead husband. But then, you got a live judge, didn't you?"

    Molly shot a quick look toward Emma, who looked to be glued to the TV cartoon. Then she stood up in one smooth motion and kicked Agent Anchor hard in the shin. He gasped, grabbed his leg, then very slowly, he straightened. "I'm arresting you for assaulting a federal officer," he said when he could speak again.

    "I don't think so," Ramsey said. "Actually, she beat me to it. Stop being an ass, Agent Anchor." He gracefully slid his hand to the man's elbow. He said close to his ear, "I think you're laboring under a severe misapprehension here. Listen up: She's not her father. You'd best get that right away. Now, why don't you put on your human clothes, sit down, and we can try to work together. If that isn't to your liking, then I'll call up your boss and Agents Savich and Sherlock, who worked the case with us in Chicago, and we'll all have a talk. Your call, Agent."

    Agent Anchor wasn't happy. On top of everything, the case of the murdered farmer in Loveland wouldn't ever officially get solved now. They hadn't even found the man who'd abused the little girl, and it had all started when she'd up and left Denver and gone out to hot-dog on her own. Ramsey Hunt was wrong about her. She was just like her father, he'd known it the minute he'd set eyes on her. She'd made the case go sour. And now this damned judge had taken her side. And he knew Savich.

    Detective Mecklin pushed back from the table and rose. There were cookie crumbs on his solid red tie and on the white shirt that gaped over his belly. "Listen, we're not getting anywhere with all this crap. Agent Anchor, sit down, if Judge Ramsey will let you."

    Molly said, "There's also my daughter, Agent Anchor. Children hear most things adults say. I think we've said enough."

    Agent Anchor looked over at Emma, who was chewing gum, too fast. He had two kids. He knew when a kid was hearing things she shouldn't. And now he had this judge in the mix.

    "Yeah," Agent Anchor said, and sat down.

    There was dead silence. Detective Mecklin picked up another oatmeal cookie and said as he took a big bite, "If all this is connected, it took power, men, and money, all of which this Mr. Shaker has in abundance."

    Molly said, "Why do you think they trashed my house? Just for the fun of it?"

    "Say it happened two or three days ago, Mrs. Santera," Detective Mecklin said. "That was about the same time your ex-husband was getting blown up. Maybe it was all part of the same puzzle. The word is that you and your daughter were the intended victims, to bring Mr. Santera in line. Yeah, it's gotta all be part of the same effort."

    "All that," Molly said. "All that for some money, or to get Louey for his daughter? It sounds crazy."

    Agent Anchor poured himself a cup of coffee. He hadn't said a word. He drank a bit, then poured in some cream. Finally, he said, "People like Shaker can't allow anyone to stiff them for a million bucks. He relies too much on people being afraid of him. God knows the money was there to hire the best."

    Detective Mecklin said, "Shaker did it, all right. Trust me on this. It's over."

    "You're probably right," Ramsey said. "There is no other answer." He turned to Agent Anchor. "Unless you can come up with something?"

    Agent Anchor shook his head. "No, it's just my gut. Did Savich discover anything on that damned laptop?"

    "Nothing solid yet," Ramsey said.

    Agent Anchor shook his head. He had a buzz haircut, which was just as well since he was mostly bald. "I remember once when I was in Washington, I got to be in a meeting with Savich, and the person recording the minutes asked him what sex the laptop was currently enjoying. Nobody laughed."

    Ramsey didn't particularly like to have a person start to turn human on him when he'd made the decision that the person was a jerk. Still, maybe the guy would relapse again.

    Ramsey saw that Emma had curled up on the sofa, her piano clutched to her, sound asleep. One