5 hours left…
4:29 p.m.
Two twisting, serpentine caverns came together.
So, that’s why Basque’s in DC.
Because of you.
For a moment, the cannibalistic killer gazed around the room with his usual air of gentle confidence, the blue-green depths of his eyes reminding me of dark, arctic water. As he took a seat, I quickly ran through how Paul Lansing might have made the connection between me and Basque.
When Tessa and I visited Paul last month, Basque’s retrial had only recently come to an end. At the time, the story of how I’d managed to thwart the attempt on his life was all over the news-as was my admission in court that I’d punched him-wait, technically, physically assaulted him-during his apprehension.
After Basque’s release, Lansing could’ve easily contacted him and asked him to tell the family court judge that I had a violent streak. And considering our history, I could only imagine how glad Basque would’ve been to accept the invitation. What better way to repay me for sending him to prison for thirteen years than by destroying my family?
But what’s this about threatening his life?
Missy recognized Basque. “This meeting is over.” She stood.
“Just listen for a second,” Wilby said.
“No.” She was on her way to the door. “Come on, Dr. Bowers, we’re leaving.”
“Agent Bowers indicated to me,” Basque called, his voice remaining calm, resonant, “at Dr. Werjonic’s funeral last month, that he was intent on-”
Missy spun around. “Intent on what? Last month Agent Bowers saved your life when a gunman tried to kill you during your trial. Now you’re claiming he wants you dead?”
“Ask him.” He turned his gaze to me. “He won’t lie.”
Oh.
The room went quiet.
Everyone’s attention turned to me.
No, no, no.
Not good.
I hadn’t told Basque I wanted to kill him, but I had thought it.
Yes, I had.
Preemptive justice.
I took a moment to consider carefully what to say, but before I could respond, Missy exploded, “Did you say he won’t lie? Well, you’re absolutely right. Dr. Bowers is not the kind of man who would sit here and lie to you. However…”
She pointed to Paul. “Mr. Lansing lied to my clients about his previous job. He lied to Tessa about his reasons for coming to DC, lied about why he lives in Wyoming, lied about his friendship with a sculptor whose work appears in the Hirshhorn museum, and lied about his role in stopping the assassination attempt against Vice President Fischer six years ago. You are right, Dr. Bowers is not a liar. But in his dealings with my clients, Mr. Lansing has shown very little regard for the truth.”
Nice.
Well played.
She eyed the people in the room one at a time. “If Mr. Lansing comes anywhere near my clients or continues to harass Tessa with his emails, we will get a restraining order-and considering the pattern of deception and intimidation he has already engaged in, I can guarantee you that no judge would deny that request. I suggest you drop this ridiculous custody suit and save yourself the embarrassment of having all of this made public.” She swiveled on her heels, went for the door. “We’re done here.”
Wilby rose. “Agent Bowers is an angry, violent man who uses unnecessary force when arresting suspects-and he threatens innocent people’s lives. Tessa needs a more emotionally balanced father than that.”
I ignored him, looked at Basque. “Richard, where is Professor Renee Lebreau?”
He did not reply.
“Is she here in DC?”
Nothing.
“Did you harm-”
“This is not about Mr. Basque!” Wilby whined at me.
I glared at him, then at Lansing and Basque, and barely managed to hold back a rather pointed response, but I knew that if I said what I was thinking, it wouldn’t be in Tessa’s best interests; that it would only serve to reinforce Wilby’s claims about my allegedly bad temper.
So instead, I followed Missy into the hallway, and although I was tempted to close the door rather decisively behind me, I let it drift softly shut instead.
In the hallway, before we reached Tessa, I told Missy, “Good job.”
She was quiet.
“You did a good job in there, Missy.”
“I heard you.”
As we entered the reception area, Tessa approached us. “So? What happened?”
Missy did not reply but headed straight for the exit doors; I was punching a number into my cell phone. “I’ll explain when we get outside,” I told Tessa.
“What’s going on?”
“Please, wait with Missy. I’ll be right there.”
She gave me a disparaging look: I can’t believe you! You’re totally reneging on your promise to tell me everything that happened in there!
I was waiting for Doehring to pick up.
“It’s all good,” I said to her. “I think Paul might drop this thing.”
“Honestly?”
“Yes. Now, outside. I’ll be right there.”
Hesitantly, she obeyed.
Doehring answered, and I asked him to get an undercover officer over here ASAP to tail Basque as he left the meeting. “And call Ralph Hawkins.” I gave him the number. “Tell him we know where Richard Basque is.”
Then, I went outside and joined my stepdaughter and our lawyer on the sidewalk.
Missy was upset.
And I had a feeling that her anger wasn’t just directed at the people who’d been sitting across the table from us.