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Chief Wilde handed Pippa his cell. She picked up a paper napkin, wrapped it around her bloody hand, and dialed.
“Chief Wilde?”
“No, Dillon, it’s me, Pippa. I had to borrow Chief Wilde’s cell.”
“You’re all right, Pippa?”
“Yes, a bit on the ragged side, but okay. I’m at Chief Wilde’s cottage. It looks like I’ve stirred up the hornet’s nest, though I have no idea how anyone could have found out who I am or why I’m here so fast.”
“Tell me what happened. Put it on speaker so the chief can hear everything, too.”
As she spoke, Chief Wilde listened and Gunther moved closer, snuggled his head on her leg, and looked up at her with unwavering eyes, his waving tail metronome steady on the wooden floor. “I checked the police station and saw the dispatcher working a crossword puzzle, bundled up to his ears. Since you weren’t there,” she added, looking up at Wilde, “I came here.” She gave no hint of the grinding fear she’d felt, of running until she thought she’d vomit, her side on fire.
Savich heard Wilde say, “Davie always feels cold, even in July, drives everyone nuts.”
Savich said, “You’re still with me, and that’s what’s important. I didn’t expect you’d be attacked. I’m on my way to you. Chief, be honest and tell me how bad her injuries are.”
Pippa started to reassure him, but Wilde shot her a look. “Her hands are bloody from cutting herself loose from some ropes, and her head’s bloody from being struck. I’ve just started examining her and cleaning her up. She doesn’t want to hear about any doctors. Yes, I already looked around outside and didn’t see anyone, and I’ve got Davie cruising the neighborhood. You should come directly to my house, 107 Upper Marlin Road.”
Pippa said, “I’m all right, Dillon, I promise. No dizziness, no nausea, only a headache. After the chief bandages me up, I imagine he’ll want to know what the FBI is doing here in St. Lumis. Do you want me to tell him? From the beginning?”
A pause, then, “Yes, there’s no way to keep him out of it now. If Chief Wilde believes you should visit the hospital, then you’re going, and that’s an order. All right, Pippa?”
“Yes, but really, I’m okay. And I’m sorry, Dillon, I messed up—”
“Be quiet, Pippa. You were right to involve the chief. He had a good close rate as a homicide detective at the PPD, so he’s competent.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Wilde said, “but it seems you know a hell of a lot more about me than I know about your agent here.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you’ll back it up,” Savich said. “Go ahead, Pippa, tell him everything. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Pippa punched off Wilde’s phone and handed it back to him. “Agent Savich drives a Porsche. Now he has a good reason to speed all the way from Washington to St. Lumis. I bet he’ll use his flashers.”
“A cop drives a Porsche? That’s something I haven’t heard before.”
“It’s red.”
He didn’t laugh. He filled a stainless-steel bowl with hot water and opened a fresh bar of soap. She could tell he was pissed even though he was gentle when he lifted her hands into the water and washed both hands and wrists.
“You’ve got a dozen small nicks from the very likely rusted blade. And your wrists are bruised from the ropes. Hang in there, I know this hurts. I hope you’ve had your tetanus shot.”
She nodded, but otherwise she didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. She saw the water turning red with her blood. She drew a deep breath and looked up at Wilde. “I’d have thought you’d drive a truck, say a Silverado or an F-150.”
“I traded in my truck when I came to St. Lumis. Now I drive that old compact outside. Easier to park, draws less attention. I’m going to call a doctor I know, see if he’ll think you need some antibiotics. No, be quiet.” When he finished cleaning both hands, he wrapped white gauze bandages around her palms and wrists, but left her fingers free. “Now, talk, Agent Cinelli, while I clean those bloody bumps on your head.”
Pippa moved her fingers, stiff but workable. “Thank you. I don’t need a doctor poking around. Really, I’m fine, only banged up a bit. Listen now, it all started when a red box addressed personally to Agent Dillon Savich arrived at the Hoover Building on Thursday, filled with puzzle pieces.” She repeated how she’d recognized St. Lumis when the second red box had arrived on Friday and that was why Agent Savich had assigned her to come here. “Agent Savich wanted me to find out what was going on. I planned on cozying up to people who knew me back when, striking up conversations and asking questions, finding out if anything unusual has been happening here in St. Lumis. I haven’t met many people who remember me yet, but I’ve only been here two days. Here’s the thing, though: someone already knows I’m an FBI agent and came after me. That’s what’s surprising. I don’t know how anyone found out I’m FBI so quickly.”
Wilde said, “Not much of a stretch with the Internet and social media. Someone could have looked you up, saw you’re FBI.”
“When I was accepted to the FBI, I was told to keep who I was and what I did under the radar. I laid down the law with my friends and relatives. As far as I know, no one has posted anything about my being an agent. I certainly haven’t. I’m also a lawyer, and that’s what anyone would find if they looked. Sure, they could have looked deeper, but why would they?”
He said nothing and began pulling her hair away from where the gun had struck her. She felt warm water run over the bumps, felt him pressing against them lightly with a wet towel. Her breath caught, and her eyes watered. He said, “Sorry, I’ll be more careful. Keep talking, it’ll be a distraction.”
Pippa gritted her teeth and told him about what she’d found in Maude’s Creepy Puzzles. “If the third installment of puzzle pieces arrived today, I’ll bet Major Trumbo is hanging out that window, looking just as nasty and mean, but changed somehow. I still have no idea how all this fits together. But obviously there’s someone playing with the FBI, with Savich in particular, and this someone is very serious. Look how they found out about me”—she snapped her fingers—“that fast.” She sighed. “We’d hoped to have a leg up when I identified St. Lumis early.” She looked up at him. “It didn’t work out that way.” She flinched.
“Sorry. Hang in there. I’m going to daub some antibiotic ointment on your scalp. There’s only a little blood left in your hair. If Dr. Salovitz thinks it’s all right, you can soap it out. Keep talking, Cinelli.”
