“What, Ty?”
“Oh, well, this is probably stupid—”
“Spit it out, Christie,” Sala said, “or I won’t give you my last bite.” There was a sliver of pie on his fork, and he waved it in her face.
“All right, but don’t call me crazy. What if Victor never knew where Jennifer Smiley hid the money, maybe Lissy never told him, or she herself didn’t know where her mother hid the stash. So maybe he
got his wad of cash someplace else or from somebody else.”
Savich said, “No, that’s not crazy at all. Actually, we checked all convenience store robberies around the time Victor escaped, but none in the area fit the bill.”
Sherlock said slowly, “Let’s say he didn’t rob anyone. It would be a huge risk for him. He escaped, he’s on everyone’s radar. What you said, Ty—what if someone gave him the money?”
“But why on earth would anyone give Victor money?” She smacked the side of her head.
“No, wait,” Savich said. “Victor didn’t have any friends, any benefactors, rich or otherwise. Maybe someone paid him money to do something for him.”
Everyone stared at him.
“You mean like commit a crime for him?”
They all considered that possibility.
Savich said, “It’s possible. Victor’s crimes garnered lots of publicity, and maybe someone paid attention. Regardless, I already have agents at the Smiley house in Fort Pessel in case Victor shows up.”
“Here’s for your twisted brain.” Sala handed Ty his fork with the final sliver of apple pie balanced on it.
Savich soon realized they were tapped out on Victor, and no wonder. Everyone was exhausted. He looked at his Mickey Mouse watch. “We’ve got some good ideas going, but you guys have an hour drive ahead of you. Let’s call it quits for tonight. I’m looking forward to bringing Dr. Hicks to the hospital tomorrow to hypnotize Leigh. If anyone can help her remember if she saw anything in the alley before she was struck down, it’s Dr. Hicks.”
“You’ll like Dr. Hicks,” Sherlock said. “He’s an Elvis impersonator. He stuffs a pillow in his pants because he’s skinny. He goes to all the events dressed like the King. He sounds like him, too.”
Savich said, “Let’s add that he’s the very best hypnotist we’ve ever worked with. If he really likes you, it’s possible you might get him to sing ‘Blue Suede Shoes.’?”
“I wish I’d thought of hypnosis,” Sala said. “I guess that’s why they pay you the big bucks, Savich.”
“Right now, I’d rather have more apple pie.”
61
* * *
WILLICOTT, MARYLAND
WEDNESDAY NIGHT
It hit her so hard, Ty took a turn too fast and skidded on the rain-slicked road. She couldn’t see clearly enough through the rain-fogged windows or the windshield to find a familiar landmark, so she prayed as she slowly, carefully managed to straighten her truck out of the skid. She stopped the truck in the middle of the empty road, briefly rested her forehead against her clenched hands on the steering wheel.
“Ty, are you all right? What happened?”
“My heart’s pounding out of my chest. Sorry about that. Sala, a thought just hit me, made me jerk the steering wheel. Listen, Haggersville is a lot like Willicott, and a lot of people heard us talking about Leigh Saks and her hypnosis tomorrow. Everyone who heard us tells someone else, and on and on it goes. The person who struck her down, maybe they’ll try again before she can be hypnotized. And there’s only one deputy guarding her.”
Sala punched a number on his cell. “Chief Masters? Ty and I are concerned there’s only one guard on Leigh.” Ty listened to him explain their concern, then, “Thank you, Chief. Good night. We’ll see you tomorrow at the hospital.”
“Neither of you questioned my judgment at all,” Ty said.
A dark brow went up, but Ty didn’t see it, she was watching a small Fiat pass. When they were driving again, he said, “That’s because you’ve got great instincts, Ty. I don’t know whether the hypnosis will help, but neither does the killer. And with Leigh more cognizant now, able to understand better, maybe she’ll be able to put something more together about what happened, with or without hypnosis. So you nailed it. Protecting her is our priority.” He turned to face her. “But next time you get inspired like that, try not to be driving in a downpour. You can stop worrying about it now. Chief Masters is on it.” He paused a moment, looking out into the rain. “You know, Ty, this still feels like a Serial to me, but maybe something more, too, something we’re not seeing, something we don’t yet understand. I still wonder if it comes back to the Sparrows.”
She whipped the steering wheel left to take the exit to Willicott, skidded, and straightened. She gave him a manic grin. “Sorry again. I nearly missed it. You’re right. But the Sparrows aren’t throwing their clients in Lake Massey, not those three people we met. Their parents? Nah, it doesn’t feel right, either. Well, I could be wrong, it’s happened on rare occasion, but not this time.”