"Hope I can say the same to you on Election Day."
Peter Simesky, the aide, stepped up to Dance once more. He shook her hand. "You have my card. If there's anything else you need, please, just let me know."
Kinesics is a skill that doesn't shut off when you leave the office. The instant he'd made eye contact with her earlier, she knew that Simesky wanted to get to know her better, if circumstances allowed. She gave him credit: He wore no wedding ring and his first glance had been at her left hand; he might very well be one of those men who was not interested in an extramarital affair.
He also exuded a comfortable but not blunt self-confidence. He wasn't put off by the two inches of height she had on him or abashed about his small frame and thinning hair (ironically her present romantic partner, Jon Boling, shared those attributes). But with Kathryn Dance's complicated personal life, there was no room or inclination for expansion.
She nodded politely to Simesky and made sure the handshake was brief and professional. She couldn't tell if he got the message.
Then Davis, followed by Simesky and Myra Babbage, left the house and made their way to the SUV. The security man opened the doors for them. In a minute they were speeding down the dirt and gravel driveway.
Then Kayleigh's eyes flashed in shock and she began to cry. "Wait, he burned them?" she whispered.
"That's right."
"No, no! This's my fault too!" Her shoulders rose, jaw tight. She angrily wiped away tears. "My song! He's using another one of my songs."
Dance pointed out, "The crime scene's by the river, just like the second verse."
"No, the fire! First Bobby and now these other people. Edwin sent me an email, well, a bunch of them, saying how much he liked my song 'Fire and Flame.'"
She picked up the CD of Your Shadow and showed Dance the liner notes.
Love is fire, love is flame
It warms your heart, it lights the way.
It burns forever just like the sun.
It welds two souls and makes them one.
Love is fire, love is flame.
Bishop said to his daughter, "Hey, KT, don't go blaming yourself. You can't take into account all the damn crazies out there. That boy's a sicko and nothing but. If it wasn't you it'd be somebody else." The sentences were wooden. He wasn't adept at offering solace.
"He burned those people to death, Daddy!"
Bishop didn't know what to say and he walked to the kitchen and got himself a glass of milk. Sheri stood uneasily beside one of the guitars. Dance called Harutyun again but there'd been no new developments.
When Bishop returned he looked at the watch on his big, ruddy wrist. "Hey, you heard from your sister?"
"Well, I talked to her this morning. I called her about Bobby. Why?"
"They shoulda been here by now. Or maybe--"
Kayleigh's mouth actually dropped. "What do you mean, Daddy?"
"Maybe she's headed to our place."
"No, what are you talking about? 'Been here'? Why would she be here?"
Bishop looked down. "I thought it'd be good for her to come. Moral support, with Bobby. Called her this morning. They flew up, landed an hour ago."
This would be how he delivered important news. Tossed out casually like a softball.
"Oh, Christ. Why didn't you tell me? She has no business ... Wait, you said 'them.' Is the whole family coming?"
"Uh-uhn. Roberto's working. It's just Suellyn and Mary-Gordon."