35
IT WAS CLOSE to midnight before Sherlock and Savich were tucked in bed at Gerald’s Loft, snuggled close because the temperature had plummeted the instant the sun had fallen behind the mountains. Despite the late hour they’d turned up, Mrs. Daily, bouncing with excitement, wanted to feed them.
Sherlock reared back and punched him in the arm.
“What? Hey, what’s that for?”
“I don’t care what you say—you took a big chance, looking that madman in the face.”
Savich pulled her down on his chest. “You know I had no choice.”
“Yeah, that gets you off the hook, but I know you, Dillon, you were testing it out.”
She knew him well, he thought. He said mildly, stroking his hand through her hair, “It really wasn’t all that big a risk, Sherlock.”
“Yeah, right. You jerk.” She punched him again, but she didn’t have any leverage because he was holding her against him.
He laughed, grabbed her hands, and kissed her. “That roasted corn on the cob was delicious, particularly the couple of ears snuggled down in the coals for a long time. The kernels just fell off into my mouth—no gnawing at all.”
She said against his mouth, “Yeah, make me laugh, try to distract me. That only works with Sean, and then it only works sometimes.” She bit his neck, then kissed him. “Now that Blessed is safely put to bed at the hospital, so to speak, what’s next, Dillon?”
“I want to check in on Blessed tomorrow, see when he might be stable enough for transport to Quantico. I want him where we’re really in control. Then I figure we’ll go down to Bricker’s Bowl, Georgia, meet Sheriff Cole, Mrs. Backman, and brother Grace. Children of Twilight. I wonder, are the Backmans running this cult with Whistler? Or are they subordinate? And where does the money come from, and flow to?”
Sherlock said, “I hope those bodies they buried weren’t cult members they’d finished bleeding dry of what they owned, or who wanted out.” She sighed, drummed her fingertips on his chest. “Dillon, there’s so much going on. We’ve got to attend to Lissy and Victor.”
“I think we’ve got some time, two, maybe three days while Lissy’s still mending from surgery, before they show up again. I’ve been working with MAX, checking out any possible real estate they could have access to outside of Winnett, North Carolina. The cops are looking for them there, along with the FBI and the state police. Not much else to do until they come out of hiding.”
“Happy thought. You know she’ll come dancing to Georgetown to kill you.” She tapped him lightly on the nose. “You know what I’m thinking?”
That was not a business tone of voice. Savich stared up at her and waited.
“I’m picturing fractal art in my head—all wild colors and chaos and unpredictability, so I’m thinking a smart woman should take her opportunity while all the bedlam’s still outside the door.”
“Yeah? What opportunity?”
She leaned down and kissed him.
36
ROCKINGHAM COUNTY HOSPITAL
NEAR TITUSVILLE, VIRGINIA
Wednesday morning
“Sheriff Merriweather, I simply don’t understand any of this. You say this man—who, by the way, is not only older than I am but is also too weak to even open his eyes—is so dangerous he has to be blindfolded at all times or he will somehow hypnotize me?”
“If he wants to, yes. You and anyone else who looks at him.” And, Ethan thought, I’ve told you this three times now, you idiot.
“And I’m telling you it’s simply not possible for a person to somehow take over another person’s mind. And keeping his hands strapped down to his sides so he can’t pull off the blindfold—come on, Sheriff Merriweather, don’t you think this is a little over the top?”
Well, yeah, the blindfold and the tied wrists did look like they were over the top, or maybe they looked just plain crazy, but he had to try to make this man understand, or what chance did they have of keeping Blessed in the hospital, much less ever getting him to trial? “Dr. Truitt, listen to me. You need to trust me. We must take every precaution with this guy. I can tell you I’ve already seen him hypnotize three different people—he took them over completely.”
A gray eyebrow went up a good two inches, and Ethan’s frustration burst into the stratosphere. If he couldn’t convince this doctor, how could he convince anyone of the monstrous danger that was Blessed Backman? “I know you think I’m exaggerating, I wouldn’t believe me either, but the fact is, I’ve seen what he does with my own eyes. You’ve spoken to Dr. Spitz, heard the stories my deputies told him. This man was this close to making Mrs. Backman kill herself.”