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“Disbelieve my abilities—many do—but I tell you, I’ve found the Departed want those still alive, those they loved, to understand why they did what they did. Good or bad, it seems to be very important to them.” She shrugged. “But I doubt he will come back to me again.” She gave him a cold smile, then yet another sneer at full bloom.
She rose slowly, her hands fisted on the table, and looked Savich in the eye. “I wish to leave now, Agent Savich. May I?”
Savich studied her. He found her self-control amazing. She didn’t fidget, didn’t say anything more. She simply stood patiently and waited. He really couldn’t guess what she was thinking.
“Do you know Mrs. Gemma Clarkson, John Clarkson’s widow?”
“No, I do not. I only know what Rebekah and her grandfather said about her, nothing more. May I leave now?”
“Did you know Rebekah and her grandmother weren’t on good terms? That they’ve never been close?”
“No, there is no way I could possibly know that unless Rebekah told me, and she didn’t.”
“How old are you, Zoltan?”
She cocked her head at him. “What sort of question is that? You want to find that out, Google me.”
“Whatever your age, Zoltan, you are too young to die.” He said nothing more and nodded to Ollie, who opened the interview room door. He and Ruth fell into step on each side of her. Savich stood in the open doorway and watched them walk with her to the elevator, stolid and silent.
Savich walked back to his office, sat down, thought a moment, and pulled out his cell phone.
