“Imagine you’re about to die,” Kerry said. “Do you choose a six-thousand-foot drop into the cold sea as a means of dying or an instantaneous death from the explosion?”
“Apart from the airplane door, what evidence do you have that Fay might have jumped?”
“It’s the evidence we don’t have,” Kerry replied. “We don’t have any fragment of a corpse, and not only is there no explosive residue on the pilot’s door, there’s no Teddy residue, either. No blood and guts.”
“We both know that a highly fragmented body in the sea would be eaten by some assortment of creatures very quickly.”
“True.”
“Do you have anything else from shore that might point to Fay’s survival?”
“There is one thing,” Kerry said, “but it’s not much.”
“Tell me”
“As part of the shoreside search, we entered and searched a number of houses, most of them closed for the season.”
“And?”
“And we found a bicycle in the garage of one of them.”
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry, what I mean to say is, we found a woman’s bicycle, but we contacted the owner, and he told us there was also a man’s bicycle in the garage. It’s gone.”
“Any other evidence in the house?”
“One anomaly: the water in the hot water heater, which was turned off, was slightly warm, indicating to us that someone might have heated it in order to take a bath or shower. It would take several hours, at least, for it to cool to the same temperature as the inside of the house. The owner of the house is being transported from his home in Boston as we speak, so that he can tell us if anything besides the bicycle is missing or out of place.”
“I want to hear about that as soon as you speak to him.”
“Of course.”
“If you were Teddy Fay and you had escaped from that airplane with your life, what would you do?”
“I’d search for dry clothes and transportation,” Kerry said.
“And where would you go?”
“The nearest town was Kennebunkport? From there I’d go to Kennebunkport, then find a ride to Boston. It’s a transportation hub, and he could have taken a train, plane or bus anywhere, even overseas. Ireland might be a good guess. We know Fay had access to all sorts of apparently genuine information documents.”
“I suppose you’re already checking on passengers?”
“I’ve got a team on the phones right now, checking every mode of transportation.”
Helen knocked on the door and opened it. “Kerry, there’s a Mr. Taylor on the phone for you from Kennebunkport ”
“That’s the owner of the house,” Kerry said, picking up the phone on the conference table and pressing a button. “Hello? Yes, Mr. Taylor thanks for calling. Have you had an opportunity to look around the house?” He listened for perhaps two minutes. “Thank you, Mr. Taylor. Our agents will see that you’re transported back to Boston, and we’re grateful for your help. All right, put him on.” Kerry covered the phone with his hand. “The agent in charge there wants to speak to me again.” He turned his attention to the phone again. “Yes, I’m here.” He listened intently for ten seconds. “Thanks.” He hung up.
“Tell me,” Kinney said.
“Mr. Taylor is missing some clothing: a couple of shirts and some underwear, a gray suit and a Burberry raincoat, in addition to his bicycle.”
Kinney nodded.
“And the agent told me they dug up Mr. Taylor’s garden and found a parachute.”
Kinney exhaled loudly. “The son of a bitch is alive.”