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Pace began moving for the stairs. “Luckily for you, though, I’m not here to help.” He stopped and turned, faced the detective. “I’ve got nothing to give, but I want all your files, photos, conclusions. In return I’ll get out of your hair. That’s all.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding.”
“When I’m standing in the middle of a bloodbath with national security implications, I tend to leave my sense of humor outside.”
“Why would I give you—”
“Because your chief is waiting for you to call him, pissed off because I demanded access, and he’s ready to tell you, again, to shut the fuck up and play the fuck along.”
Casey fumed, said nothing for a moment, but when Pace continued looking at him, he responded with a gruff, “Well, get on with it.”
Casey followed the three government men to the stairs, where they looked over the blood splatter in the stairwell. A minute later they climbed higher, then looked over the scene there. Blood and brain matter remained on the bedsheets at the foot of the bed.
“This is where Halverson bought it,” the detective said. “Another dead security man was in the guest bath at the top of the stairs.”
Pace next spent a few minutes in Halverson’s home office, looking around, finding nothing that seemed relevant.
Finally, Casey said, “Do you know about Dr. Vera Ryder?”
Pace looked up. “I do not.”
“She’s Halverson’s ex-wife. Some sort of AI theorist herself.”
“She’s dead?”
“Nope. She’s alive.”
“Where is she?”
“They recently divorced, which is probably the only reason she’s still among the living, otherwise she’d have been here. She showed up first thing this morning after she was notified, but she just went home. I’ve cleared her. She’s got an alibi.”
“How does she have an alibi for where she was at one in the morning?”
“She was on a Zoom conference with a company in Taiwan, middle of the day there. It was recorded, time stamp checks out. We’ll double-check with others on the call, but it looks legit.”
“Don’t bother.” Pace stepped back into the bedroom and looked at all the blood. “His ex-wife didn’t do this.”
“No…she didn’t. A man in a security uniform showed up right before it happened. He was not one of the bodies at the scene.”
Pace knew this already, and he also knew it was almost certainly Scott Kincaid. He said, “You’ve posted patrol cars at his wife’s house?”
“Yeah, for the past three days. We doubled them this morning.”
“I’m gonna need her address, Detective Casey.”
Casey clearly didn’t like this. “She’s…she’s been through a lot. Nice lady, maybe you could come back later and—”
“I don’t have the luxury of gentleness right now.”
Casey looked like he was about to throw a punch, but Pace just waited him out.
Finally, the Boston cop said, “Five-minute walk from here. I’ll point you in the right direction.”
•••
Jim Pace sat on a barstool at the kitchen island in the home of Dr. Vera Ryder sipping tea just fifteen minutes later. Across from him, Dr. Ryder sat poised but tired. Her graying brunette hair was pulled back in a tie and she wore no makeup, her eyes dark circles from crying, the lids heavy.
She hadn’t poured a cup of tea for herself, but she had, at least, offered it to Travers and Takahashi, who’d both politely declined as they stood at parade rest back at the doorway to the living room.
