THE RESTAURANT TURNED out to be one of those chain steak places you see a lot throughout the country once you leave New York City. That was fine with me. The steak was good, the portions big, the prices reasonable—and they served alcohol. All I needed to make me happy right now. Plus, I had Scott Manning with me.
I tried my best to keep the conversation about business while we ate and drank beer.
“What do you think?” I asked him about the long-ago Eckersville High student who Blanchard might have confessed his murder to.
“It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, Clare. No, worse than a needle in a haystack. With a needle in a haystack, you’ve at least got a chance of getting lucky. This seems hopeless.”
“So why are you even here looking for him with me?”
“You know the answer. It’s what we do in law enforcement on a cold case like this where there’s not many fresh leads. We check out everything no matter how much of a waste of time it might seem. Then we eliminate that possibility and move on to something else until we find the answers we’re looking for.”
I nodded. It was the same way I worked as a journalist.
“Even if we do find this guy, it’s probably crazy to hope that he turns out to be the one who committed the other murders like Bluso everywhere else,” I said.
“I’m not sure that part is so crazy. I’ve been thinking a lot about this scenario, and it does make a kind of weird sense. The murders all seem the same, except the DNA from the first one is different. But there must be some kind of connection between Becky Bluso and the other women who were victims.”
He took a big drink of his beer.
“All we have to do is find this guy, which is probably impossible. Then get him to confess he’s a mass murderer. Then we can wrap this all up and go home. Like you said, it should be easy.”
He smiled at me. I smiled back.
“And if that ever happens, let’s hope the FBI doesn’t leak it to another media outlet before I can go on the air with my own story, huh?”
Manning sighed. We hadn’t talked about that much. I knew Manning wasn’t responsible for the leak, it had been Wharton or someone else at the FBI. But I was still furious at the FBI because of it. And Manning was the only FBI guy here with me right now to complain to.
I asked him if he knew any more about what had happened.
“I don’t think it was Wharton who did it,” Manning said. “Oh, he didn’t want you as part of the investigation. And I know he didn’t like you. At least not at first. But I’ve talked to him and I think he’s gotten a certain amount of grudging respect now for the information you’ve given us.”
“Are you saying Wharton likes me?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say he’s not your enemy anymore.”
“Damn. I was hoping it was Wharton that was responsible. He’s so easy to hate.”
“My guess is it was one of the other people on the task force. Someone you met at one of those meetings. You didn’t make many friends in that room. A lot of people there didn’t like you.”
“I tend to have that effect on some people.”
We both had had quite a bit to drink. At one point, the conversation began moving away from pure business.
“Kind of interesting to see a small-town police department up close, huh?” Manning said. “I know Parkman probably envies my job as a big-city FBI agent. But I kind of envy his, too. Being the police chief of a little town can be very comfortable and rewarding. You know everyone, everyone knows you. There’s not a lot of crime to worry about. Must be kind of like an Andy Griffith of Mayberry life. Maybe even get to go fishing with your family like Andy did. I never had any time for fishing with my family. I’ve always been too consumed with my job.”
“Do you really think you could be happy in a small town like Eckersville?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe. My wife sure would be. She wanted me to get out of the NYPD, and now she wants me out of the FBI. She likes the quiet life where we live in Staten Island. I’m sure she’d love a town like this.”
His wife. There it was again.
I finished off the beer in front of me. “I think we should probably head back to the hotel now and get some rest. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Our rooms were on the same floor, several doors apart. He walked me to my door and waited while I used the key on it.
“Well, good night, Clare.”
“Good night.”
“I … I … well, I just want to say I’m glad we’re working together again like this. I know I was a bit difficult with you when you first came to me with the serial killer information, but I realize now that we’re both professionals. We’ve been able to move past all the personal things that went down between us and do our jobs. I’m happy about that.”
“Me, too, Scott.”
Then he began walking toward his own room. And I let myself into mine.
All very professional.
I got undressed, lay down on the bed, and tried to go to sleep. I couldn’t. I turned on the TV to a newscast, which showed a reporter talking about traffic jams on some bridge I’d never heard of. I thought about ordering something from room service, but I’d already eaten a big steak dinner and drank too much.
There was a knock at the door. I pulled my clothes on and walked over to it.
“Who’s there?”
“Scott.”
I opened the door.
I’m not really sure what happened next. All I remember is there was a lot of kissing, hugging, and taking off of clothes. I’m not sure which one of us started it, or if we both did it simultaneously. Then we were on the bed, making love. Mad, passionate love. The kind of love I’d remembered having with him the last time we were together.
So much for the Walls of Jericho.
When it was over, we both lay there in the hotel bed for a long time without saying anything.
He finally spoke first.
“About my wife and us … I want you to know …”
“Shh,” I said, putting my finger on his lips. “Don’t say it.”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me how you’re thinking about leaving her again. How you really want to be with me instead. How you feel guilty about doing this to her again, but you’re more attracted to me. Let’s not go there, Scott. Let’s accept this for what it is. A wonderful moment. You’re not going to leave her for me. You know that, and I know it, too. And, even if you did, you’d be so guilt ridden about it that you and I probably wouldn’t last any longer than any of my marriages did. We’ve got tonight, and this is a pretty good night. Let’s leave it like that.”
He fell asleep a while after that. I looked over at him and wondered if we’d ever be together like this again. I reached over, kissed him gently, put my arms around him, and hugged him. He stirred slightly in his sleep and moved closer to me. I held onto him as tightly as I could until the first rays of morning sunlight began coming through the window.