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She sank back against the pillow and closed her eyes.
JAMISON AND DECKERdropped Kelly off at the police station and drove back to their hotel.
Along the way Jamison said, “We’ve got three people dead, two murdered and one suicide, including the coroner who did the post on the other two and screwed them both up because he was possibly being blackmailed for sexual indiscretions. And the guy who found the first body is missing and presumed dead. What a mess.”
“And an old man in a nursing home who knows a lot but won’t tell us anything,” added Decker, gazing moodily out the window.
“I agree that Cramer came here possibly because of what Brad Daniels told her. But if he won’t reveal to us what he might have told her, what do we do? We can’t waterboard the guy.”
“We can threaten him with obstruction and put him in prison,” pointed out Decker.
“A ninety-something-year-old war veteran in a nursing home? Really? Do you see the FBI or a court doing that?”
The phone that Robie had left him started to vibrate.
He pulled it out of his pocket and hit the green button. “Yeah? Robie?”
Robie said, “Be at this address in a half hour.” He gave the destination and clicked off.
Decker looked at Jamison, who said, “What?”
“Change of plan.”
He punched the address into his phone, and they set off.
* * *
It was fifteen miles outside of town at what looked to be an abandoned apartment building.
“I guess this was a casualty of the last bust,” said Jamison as she pulled their SUV to a stop in front of the structure and they climbed out. “So where’s this Robie guy?”
Robie stepped out from the shadows of the front entrance and called out softly to them. “Follow me.”
He led them down a covered walkway that led to the rear of the building.
He opened a door there and motioned them inside.
As she passed him Jamison said, “Nice to meet you, Robie.”
He simply nodded.
Inside, Robie closed and locked the door and led them past an empty, stained pool and down an interior corridor, illuminating the way with a small tac light. He opened another interior door and motioned them in.
When he closed the door behind him, a small light came on in the room, brightening it, if feebly.
In a chair sat Blue Man, dressed in a regulation suit and tie that would have allowed him to blend in at most any event in Washington, DC, but made him stick out conspicuously in London, North Dakota.
“Mr. Decker, Agent Jamison, please sit,” said Blue Man.
“Who the hell are you?” said Decker.
“A wise question. Your phone should be buzzing any moment, ah.”
Decker lifted out his vibrating cell phone and hit the answer button.
“Ross? What’s going—? What?” Decker glanced at Blue Man. “Yeah. We are. Okay. You’re sure? Right. Thanks.”
He clicked off and looked at Jamison. “Bogart says this guy is on the up-and-up, and we should listen to him.”
