Adam raised an eyebrow. “Unresolved issues? I love shrink talk,
Detective. Do tell us what that means.”
“He believes that she was obsessed with Governor Bledsoe, that
she had to have his attention, and that was why she made up these
stories about this guy calling her and stalking her, threatening to
kill the governor if she didn’t stop sleeping with him.”
Adam laughed. He actually laughed. “Jesus,” he said. “That’s
amazing.”
“I’m sure that old woman who was blown up in front of the
Metropolitan Museum didn’t think it was funny,” Detective Gordon
said, her jaw out, not ready to give an inch.
“Let me get this straight,” Adam said mildly. “You now think she
blew up that old woman to get the governor’s attention?”
“I told you the truth,” Becca said, cutting in before Letitia Gordon
could blast Adam. “I told you that he phoned me and told me
to look out my window, which happens to face the park and the
museum. He killed that poor old woman, and you didn’t do anything
about it.”
“Of course we did,” Detective Morales said, his voice soothing
and low. “It’s just that there were a lot of conflicting stories coming
in.”
“Yes,” Becca said. “Like the ones Dick McCallum told the cops
in Albany that made all of you disbelieve me. This guy probably
paid off Dick McCallum to lie about me, and then he murdered
him, too. I don’t understand why it isn’t clear to you now’
Detective Gordon said, “Because you ran, Ms. Matlock. You
wouldn’t come in and speak to us, you just called Detective
Morales from wherever you were hiding. You’re at the center of all
this. You, only you. Tell us what’s going on, Ms. Matlock.”
“I believe that’s enough for the time being,” Thomas said, and
calmly moved to stand between the two New York detectives and
his daughter. “I am very disappointed in both of you. Neither of
you is listening. You are not using your brains. Now, let’s get this
perfectly clear: Since you’re having difficulties logically integrating
all the facts, I want you to focus on catching the man who kidnapped
my daughter and shoved her out of his car right in front of
cop headquarters. I trust you people have been trying to find witnesses?
Questioning them? Trying to get some sort of composite
on this guy?”
“Yes, sir, of course,” Detective Morales said. As for Detective
Gordon, she wanted to tell him to go hire his damned daughter a
fancy lawyer, that Dick McCallum had been murdered, that she
could have had something to do with that, too, maybe revenge,
since McCallum had blown the whistle on her. She opened her
mouth, all worked up, but Thomas Matlock said quietly, “Actually,
detectives, I am a director with the CIA. I am now terminating this
conversation. You may leave.”
Both detectives were out of there in under five seconds, Detective
Gordon leading the way, Morales on her heels, looking both
apologetic and scared.
Becca just shook her head, back and forth, back and forth.
“They didn’t even want to know anything about him. Don’t they
have to believe me now that Dick McCallum was murdered, too?”
“One would think,” Adam said, his eyes narrowed, still looking
at the now-empty doorway. “New York’s finest aren’t shining in
this particular instance. Now, not to worry, Becca.”
“I think Detective Gordon needs to be pulled off this case,”
Thomas said. “For whatever reason, she made up her mind about
you early on and is now refusing to be objective. I’ll make a
call.”
“I want to leave this place, Adam. I want to go far away, forever.”
“I’m sorry, Becca, but there’s not going to be any forever
yet,” Thomas said. “Krimakov got what he wanted. I’m out in the
open now. The problem is that you still are, too. Now I’m going to
make that call.” Thomas walked out of the hospital room, his head
down, deep in thought, as he pulled out his cell phone.
The Feds arrived forty-five minutes later.
The first man into the room came to a fast stop and stared. He
cleared his throat. He straightened his dark blue tie. He looked as