It was four thirty when Debbie called. "Matt," she said, "I couldn't sleep. I went into the newspaper archives for northern Alabama, and came up with something that I thought you might be interested in."
"Shoot."
"A couple of years ago, when Simmermon was really getting his revivals into the big time, he got into a pissing match with a Methodist minister in Birmingham."
"What about?"
"Mostly theological issues. The minister didn't think Simmermon was staying true to the Bible. Said he was preaching hate wrapped up in Christian principles. The preacher took the position that Christian principles are about forgiveness, and Simmermon said that they were about exclusiveness. In other words, if you want to go to heaven, you need to listen to Simmermon."
"How does that fit into the problems we're facing?"
"Well, you haven't exactly told me what problems you are facing. I know you're in Orlando, and you're there because of Simmermon."
"Sorry, babe. That's all I can tell you."
"Well, anyway, the connection I see is that the minister from Birmingham is now the pastor of the Lakeside Methodist Church in downtown Orlando."
"Uh-oh. What's the minister's name?"
"Carlton Tarlington."
"I'll be damned. Thanks Deb. Get some sleep."
"Yeah, right." She hung up.
I turned to Jock and Logan. "Jock," I said, "when you had Simmermon drugged up, could he have been saying `Tarlington' instead of `Arlington'?"
"Maybe. Why?"
I relayed Deb's findings.
"That could be it. Do you know the church?"
"Yeah. It's a big one. The sanctuary probably seats a thousand people."
"That's got to be his target," said Logan. "Can't we warn Tarlington and get his people out of harm's way?"
Jock shook his head. "We can't take that chance. The bomber would just hit another target. We've got to take him out."
Jock's phone rang, and he stepped outside to take it. When he came back, he was smiling. "That was the director of the Witness Security Program. He was at home and plugged into his agency computers. Amazing what wonders a little juice will work in bureaucracies."
"What did he find out?" I asked.
"Not enough. He's going to dig a little deeper and call me back. But, Edinfield and Thomas were in the program. So was Clyde Varn. They set Edinfield up with a new name, Robert William Simmermon, and tried to manufacture a past for him. It was pretty good, and would have been enough if Debbie hadn't gotten curious."
"What about Varn and Thomas?" Logan asked.
"Varn was sent to Topeka and became Jake Yardley. About a year ago, he disappeared. The Marshals say it isn't that unusual. The witnesses get bored or miss their old life and just leave the program. The government doesn't spend a lot of manpower looking for them."
"That's about when he showed up in Bradenton," I said. "Is there any evidence that he knew Edinfield in the program?"
"Some. While Edinfield was in Key West he was working for some pretty bad folks. He was crazy, but he somehow got tied in with the same drug-running group that Varn was associated with. Edinfield worked on some fishing boats, and apparently he was bringing drugs into Key West.
"The Marshals think he might have met Varn there. Varn was muscle for the drug importers that Edinfield worked for. When the whole thing fell apart, Varn and Thomas testified, but Edinfield was too crazy to be a witness. They put him in the program anyway, and manufactured the Simmermon persona. The three of them spent some time together in a safe house the marshals maintain in Miami."
"That's probably the connection," I said.
Jock nodded his head. "Probably. The Marshals didn't expect their man to find the Lord and become an evangelist. There wasn't anything they could do about it though. He dropped out of the program and became a little bit famous."
"What about Fats?" I asked.
"He was the accountant for the drug mob. He went into the program too, but the director is going to have to get back to me on him. There was some sort of computer glitch. They're working on it."
My phone rang.
"I'm sorry to wake you, Matt." It was Jeff Timmons.
"No problem, Jeff. I wasn't asleep."
"There's no other way to say this," he said. "Laura wanted me to tell you how much she appreciated your finding Peggy. She said to tell you she loved you. She died about ten minutes ago."
I was expecting it. When I heard Jeff's voice on the phone, I knew it had happened. But nothing really prepares you for the death of a loved one. Tears welled in my eyes. I choked down a sob. "Shit, Jeff," I said. "I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry too, Matt. She loved both of us, you know. I always knew that, and I've always been okay with it. You gave me back my daughter. Peggy was with Laura at the end. I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. Please stay in touch." He hung up.
I put the phone in my pocket. Tears were running down my cheeks. I knew it, and didn't care. The radioman was out of the room, so it was just my two best friends and me. They'd understand.
"Laura's dead," I said, and walked out of the room.
I left the building and stood on the front steps. The city lights partially obscured the night sky, but I could see stars shining through the glare. Maybe Laura was one of them.
An elevated highway, Interstate 4, ran in front of the police headquarters. Traffic was light, a few late-night revelers headed home. I heard a dog bark nearby, a lonely sound in the wee hours. Soon, another dog took up the conversation. In the far distance, I could hear a siren, its faint wail gently caressing my ears.
My mind was flooded with memories of Laura. The day I met her, our wedding day, the day she left me. Mostly, I saw her that morning ten days earlier on the deck of the Longboat Hilton, staring at the Gulf, her face squeezed by worry. Her smile, her embrace, her teasing banter. I'd give the rest of my life to go back to those minutes beside a placid sea, drinking in the essence of my life's love.
I wiped my eyes. I didn't have time for grief. There were a lot of people in Orlando who were about to be grief stricken. We had to stop the bomber. There was enough pain in the world brought about by events beyond human control. We didn't need to add to that by letting the crazies loose on an unsuspecting nation.
I said good-bye to Laura, and walked back into the building.