The Bellingham was busy that night, and it was only by calling ahead and saying that it was a special occasion that Verraday was able to reserve the two wingback chairs by the fireplace. Out of sheer curiosity, he had arrived four minutes before the appointed time. But as he looked down the length of the bar, he could see Maclean’s Burberry coat already draped over the back of the chair. How she always arrived first was one mystery that he’d have to wait for another occasion to solve.
Maclean smiled as she saw him approaching. She looked more relaxed than he’d ever seen her before. She was wearing a cowl-neck sweater dress over black leggings, and her hair was down. She was definitely off duty. The same waiter who had served them the other night came by their table as Verraday took his seat.
“The usual, folks?” he asked with that easygoing, confident smile.
Maclean nodded. “Please.”
“Sounds good,” said Verraday, happy to be recognized and treated like a regular on his second visit.
“Coming right up,” said the waiter as he left to get their drinks.
“So?” asked Verraday. “You look like the cat that swallowed the canary. You have stories to tell. And I want to hear them.”
Maclean grinned broadly.
“Well . . . the captain and chief are pretty pleased. I’ll be doing a press conference with them tomorrow morning to announce that Jason Griffin has confessed to the killings. And they’re already talking promotion.”
“Well, they should be. You’re the best homicide detective they’ve got. Congratulations. Did Jason have anything more to say?”
“Yeah. I pumped him for everything he had to make sure that the confession stuck. He was even more devious than I realized. That empty apartment had been empty since the day that Cody arrived in Seattle. Jason kept it as a dummy address so that he could stall if anyone ever tried to interview Cody. The apartment we searched was Cody’s real home. Though all the evidence was planted there only after Jason killed him. He didn’t miss a thing. When Helen Dale pleasured Cody in the cockpit of the plane, it wasn’t just a generous boss handing out employee benefits. He retrieved the semen from the tissue that Helen used to clean up and put it on Rachel Friesen’s panties so that he could implicate Cody if he ever needed a scapegoat. As for Alana Carmichael, Jason had the Cupid’s arrow hidden away just like you said he would. The kill room was the office. Soundproof and quite chic looking, as you are aware. He had a Berkley horse with soft leather restraints hidden in the ceiling. And the radiator repair tubs were where he washed his victims. Then he used the van to dump their bodies afterward. End of story.”
“And thank God it is,” said Verraday. “Well done.”
“You too. Great work, James. You’re a mind reader.”
“You flatter me, Detective. But I’m no mind reader. Just a neurotic, hypervigilant guy who’s found his niche.”
The moment he said it, he regretted uttering those words. He realized he didn’t want her thinking of him that way, even in jest.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, smiling. “Not completely anyway. So what’s up for you after this?”
“Got the big midterm exam coming up,” replied Verraday with a hint of sarcasm. “And that’s about it in the way of excitement. Things are going to seem dull going back to university life after being around you. Other than that, you know what they say about academia. It’s publish or perish. I’m doing some new research on psychopathy and memory. I’m wondering if a psychopath’s memory function works differently than it does for the rest of us. I’ll have to devise some tests, then find some willing psychopaths. Fortunately or unfortunately, there’s always a ready supply of them on hand. So that’s my life. What about you? After the press conference, what’s next for the newly promoted Detective Maclean?”
“I don’t have any new cases. Not as of tonight anyway, and I hope it stays that way at least until tomorrow. But working with you on this has piqued my interest in some cold cases. We have three hundred on file. I think I’ll dust a few of them off and see what I can find out.”
“What about Fowler?”
“Word is he’s being bumped off homicide. They’re going to do a Robson with him, bury him someplace in the department where he can’t cause any trouble. Some minor administration role. I would have preferred that he’d been kicked off the force, but that’s not going to happen. Not yet anyway.”
“Well, it’s a start. Maybe there’s karma after all. So does your mom know that you busted a serial killer?”
“I sent her a quick e-mail to tell her we’d cracked a big case. I’m going to see her tomorrow after the press conference. I’ll give her the details then.”
“She’ll be proud of you.”
Maclean laughed, almost shyly. “Oh, yeah. Everybody on her floor at the hospital will hear about it. That’s my mom.”
“You two are close.”
“Yeah. I see her at least once a week. She’s one of my best friends. How about you and your dad?”
“I don’t see him that often,” said Verraday. “It’s hard to explain, but he keeps a distance between himself and everybody else. I mean, we love each other, though he’s not the type to say so. He’s old school, you know? He was never the same after my mom was killed. I mean, he kept it all together. Made sure that Penny got physio and that we both went to school and had lunches and clothes and everything. But he became withdrawn. Spent most of his evenings drinking down in the man cave. Still does.”
Maclean nodded.
“He must have loved your mother a lot though, for it to have affected him so much.”
“He never talks about it, but yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“How about you and your sister?”
“We’re close. Though she does the ‘big sister’ routine with me a bit, you know? But she means well, and she’s smart as hell. Got her own place. Plays wheelchair basketball. Won a regional archery championship last year.”
“She sounds interesting. I’d like to meet her some time.”
“You’d like her. You have any siblings?”
“No,” replied Maclean. “Maybe that’s why my mom and I are so close.”
“She must be a strong person to have held it all together like that after your father died,” said Verraday.
“Yeah, she is. My mom is amazing. There’s nothing I can’t talk about with her.”
“You’re lucky.”
Maclean took a sip of her drink then looked up at him thoughtfully. “Thank god we still have who we have,” she said.
“Yeah,” agreed Verraday quietly.
Maclean raised her glass. “Here’s to the ones taken from us too soon.”
Verraday raised his glass and thought about what Maclean had said. “And here’s to the ones who carried the extra burden and kept the lights on,” he added.
Verraday and Maclean clinked glasses and took a sip of their drinks. Verraday resolved to call his father the next day and find an excuse to get together.
Maclean was gazing into the fireplace. He watched her silently, not wanting to disturb the moment. He enjoyed seeing the firelight playing across her cheeks and the tiny constellations of light reflecting in her eyes, eyes that somehow seemed to be both faraway yet fully present.
At last, Maclean looked away from the fire and turned to Verraday. “In all the excitement, I forgot to ask. Did you tell your dad about Robson?”
“Not yet. Kind of trying to figure out how. Penny and I are still strategizing.”
“How did she handle it when you told her?”
“It was . . . interesting.”
“Is that all you’re going to tell me?”
“We visited Robson’s gravesite up in Everett.”
“Holy shit, that’s not something you hear of victims doing very often. Let me guess. Penny’s idea?”
“Yeah. I didn’t want to at first, but she talked me into it.”
“What was it like?”
“Actually, it was kind of cathartic. We both pissed on his grave.”
Maclean burst out laughing, covered her mouth with her hand, not quite quickly enough to stop a line of vodka and soda from dribbling out.
“Hey, not fair to tell me something that funny just when I’m taking a sip!” she said, wiping away the rivulet. “Don’t you know that’s illegal?”
“What, making a cop laugh when they’re drinking?”
“You know what I mean,” said Maclean.
“Well, I didn’t want to lie to you about it,” Verraday replied. Then he leaned forward. “Hold still. You missed a spot on your chin.”
Maclean held her face motionless while Verraday reached over with his index finger and gently wiped away the droplet.
“Thank you. Lucky for you, Everett is outside my jurisdiction. Making me laugh while I’m sipping a drink, however, is not.”
Maclean signaled for the check.
“Well, it’s late,” she said. “I should go. The press conference is at ten in the morning, and I don’t want to be too foggy for it.”
The waiter brought the check and began to hand it to Maclean.
Verraday signaled for it and took out his wallet.
“My turn, Detective. But only because they’re not paying you overtime.”