“ONE SECOND, DETECTIVE.” ERICA CUPS the phone and calls to Jenny and Susan, “You go ahead, I’ll be right over.” They turn and look at Erica and then smile at each other conspiratorially as Jenny says, “Take your time, Mom.”
How sweet. But Erica has bigger fish to fry than her three-headed maternal monster.
It is bigger, isn’t it? Well, it’s safer anyway. At least emotionally.
“I’m eager to hear your thoughts, Detective.”
“I’m going to send you a copy of the photograph that I enhanced. Will you be able to look at it?”
“On my phone.”
“That’s better than nothing . . . Did you get it?”
“. . . Okay, I’ve got it.” On first glance, it looks exactly the same to Erica, but then she begins to see what looks like an outline of some object, a tiny portion of some large object; is it tube-shaped?
“Can you see the delineation about a third of the way up in the black part of the picture?”
“Yes, I do, I do see it. It looks round to me.”
“Yes, it is. It’s the base of an object. Now you probably can’t make it out on your iPhone, but there are some barely discernible numbers and letters on the side of the object.”
Erica can feel her adrenaline kick into overdrive. She loves nothing more than taking a step toward the truth.
No, that’s wrong, of course. She loves Jenny more. Doesn’t she?
“I can’t see any letters or numbers.”
“They’re very faint. I can’t read them right now, but I’m going to try and enhance them further. I’m pretty sure they’re identifying numbers. And that the object is a ballistic missile.”
Erica grabs the top of the nearest seat and then sits down in it, absorbing the words. She was expecting evidence that Oil Field Solutions, the Bellamys’ company, was violating environmental laws. But this? A ballistic missile?
“Detective, can we talk confidentially?”
“Of course. And call me Chester.”
“Do you know how I came into this scrap of a photograph?”
“Yes, Moira Connelly told me. Ugly murder. Of course, it’s hard to find a pretty one.”
“Joan Marcus was trying to tell me something. Something about a . . . missile.”
“I think the next step, Erica, is to try and track down this missile. If we can discern the identifying marks, we’ll be well on our way.”
“It must be in North Dakota, don’t you think?”
“Probable, but by no means definite.”
Chester Yuan is both matter-of-fact and dynamic, and talking to him is just what Erica needs. “Do you have any thoughts on how I could trace the missile?”
“I have a couple of contacts in the Pentagon. Let me see what I can do.”
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“This is a big story, Erica, and a dangerous one. If this missile has fallen into the wrong hands . . .”
Something occurs to Erica, and it sends a fear rat scurrying up her spine. “Do you think this missile is capable of delivering a nuclear warhead?”
There’s a pause before Chester Yuan says, “Yes, I do.”