trouble. I figured I’d help the guy out.”
“What’d it look like? The package?”
“Well, it wasn’t a letter. It was in one of those brown puffy packages,
you know.”
“The ones with the bubble packing inside,” Jackson suggested.
The sergeant pointed at him. “That’s right, I could feel it through the
outside.”
“How big was it?”
“Oh, well, not big, about yea wide and yea long.” The sergeant made an
eight-by-six-inch shape with his bony hands. “It was going first-class
mail, return receipt requested.”
Sawyer again put both hands flat on the counter and looked across at
him, his heart racing at a fever pitch. “Do you remember the address on
the package? Who it was sent from or going to?”
Again the man resumed his drumming. “Don’t remember who sent it; just
assumed it was Fisher. But it was going up to, uh, Maine, that’s right.
Maine. I know because the wife and I just went up in that part of the
country, fall a year ago. If you ever get a chance, you should go,
absolutely breathtaking. You’ll wear out your Kodak, that’s for darn
sure.”
“Where in Maine?” Sawyer was trying his best to be patient.
The man shook his head. “Something Harbor, I think,” he finally said.
Sawyer’s hopes plummeted. Off the top of his head he could think of at
least a half dozen towns in Maine with that word in the name.
“Come on, think!”
The sergeant’s eyes popped wide open. “Were there drugs in that
package? That Fisher fellow a dealer? I thought something was funny.
That why the Feds are interested?”
Sawyer shook his head wearily. “No, no, it’s nothing like that.
Look, do you at least remember who it was sent to?”
The man thought for another minute and then shook his head.
“I’m sorry, fellows, I just don’t.”
Jackson said, “How about Archer? Was it going to anyone with that last
name?”
“Nope, I’d remember that one. One of the deputies here has that last
name.”
Jackson handed him his card. “Well, if you think of anything else,
anything, give us a call immediately. It’s very important.”
“I’ll sure do that. Right away. Count on it.”
Jackson touched Sawyer on the sleeve. “Let’s go, Lee.”
They headed toward the exit. The sergeant went back to his work.
Suddenly Sawyer whirled around, his thick finger pointing across the
room like a pistol directly at the sergeant, the vision of a MAINE
VACATIONLAND bumper sticker on a Cadillac firmly planted in his mind.
“Patterson!”
The sergeant looked up, startled.
“Was it going to someone named Patterson in Maine?” Sawyer asked.
The sergeant brightened and then snapped his fingers again.
“That’s right. Bill Patterson.” His smile was cut short as he watched
the two FBI agents sprint out of the police station.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Bill Patterson looked over at his daughter as they drove through the
snow-covered streets. The snow had grown much heavier in the last half
hour. “So you’re saying this guy from your off’ice was supposed to send
a package up to me to hold for you? A copy of something on a computer
disk Jason sent you?” Sidney nodded. “But you don’t know what it is?”
“It’s in code, Dad. I have the password now, but I had to wait for the
package.”
“But it never came? You’re sure?”
Sidney sounded exasperated. “I called FedEx. They have no record of
the package being picked up. Then I called his house and the police
answered. Oh, God.” Sidney shuddered as she thought of Jeff Fisher’s
possible fate. “If anything’s happened to Jeff…”
“Well, have you tried your answering machine at home? He might have
called and left a message.”
Sidney’s mouth dropped open at the brilliant simplicity of her father’s
suggestion. “Christ! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’ve been running for your life the last two days, that’s
why.” Her father’s voice was gruff. He reached down and gripped the
shotgun that lay on the floorboard.
Sidney pulled the Cadillac into a gas station and stopped near a phone
booth. She ran over to the phone. The snow was pouring down so fast
she didn’t notice the white van that drove past the station, turned down