“I saw the movie.”
“Not the same.” He pushed it into her hand. “It’s good. Anyway, unless you’ve got other plans or want to think about it, I can get Kevin thinking about office space and a wall of books.”
“Other than the darkroom, I didn’t and don’t have any plans for the basement.”
“Good. We’ll get on that. Worrying about what you’ve gotten yourself into?” he asked her.
“No. More wondering why I’m not. And I guess since I have some actual furniture coming tomorrow, we could scatter some books. Or at least consider their final location.”
She stuck the book in the back pocket of her jeans for later and would have picked up a tub, but he beat her to it. “They’re heavy,” he said.
“The little sitting area off the living room. That’s a good start.”
She led the way through the quiet house. Just the man and the dog, with all the workmen gone for the day. It didn’t seem smaller, she realized, now that she lived with a man and a dog. It seemed that was always what the house had in mind.
It seemed natural.
She mentally rearranged the sitting room furniture she’d yet to buy as she studied the spaceadded a funky plant stand with some interesting houseplant. And . . .
“There’s this open cabinetfour shelvesin the basement. I was going to use it outside for plants, but it would work right here for a bookcasewith knickknacks worked in. Books and maybe a couple of photos, some whatever. Metal frame, wood shelves.”
“I guess you want me to get that.”
“What’s the point in having a man around if he doesn’t get things from the basement?”
“Right.”
“Oh, you know, now that I see it herein my headCecil has this old radio. You know, the dome-shaped vintage style. How cute would that be on the top of the case? It doesn’t work, but . . .”
“Doesn’t work doesn’t mean it can’t work.”
“And what’s the point in having a mechanical man around if he can’t fix a vintage radio that would be perfect in the sitting room? I think, yes, I think I’m getting used to it already.”
“I’ll get the case. How about if I see if I can get used to drinking your wine while we set it up?”
“An excellent idea.”
They drank wine, loaded books on shelves.
“Did you talk to Loo?”
“Yeah. She’s pissed. Not at you,” he said, reading Naomi’s face clearly. “Jesus, give her some credit. She’s pissed this bastard’s been stalking you since college. Pissed he killed Donna. And now she’s aware. A lot of people go into Loo’s. A lot who aren’t local, who stop in for a drink, some easy food. Or like they will Friday night to listen to the band. She’ll be looking.”
For a thirtyish guy with an average build in Wolverines, Naomi thought, but let it go.
“Mason’s going to West Virginia, to the prison, with someone from the BAU.”
“It couldn’t hurt.”
“They have some names.”
Xander dropped the book he’d just picked up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t recognize any of them. But they’re going to interview anyone who sends up a flagwho’s corresponded with or visited Bowes multiple times, or whose correspondence sends up those flags.”
She picked up the book, set it on the shelf. “They’ll look into all of them. Lifestyle, travel, occupation.”
“Good. Nobody’s ever looked for himnot like this. And I’m not buying he’s so damn smart he’ll slip through now that they are.”
“Mason agrees with you. I’m working on getting there, too. He could be gonefrom here, I mean. He could have moved on, at least for now.”
But when they found the body of Karen Fisher, part-time waitress, part-time prostitute from Lilliwaup, on the side of the road a half a mile from Point Bluff, they knew he hadn’t gone far.
The best thing about a press passand his was legitwas how it got you where you wanted to go. The little whore from nowhere stirred things up again, brought reporters from Seattle back. Even some national stringers.
And he was right there with them. Hell of a story that would be, he thought. If he wrote it himself he’d win the fricking Pulitzer.
Up yours, New York Times, Washington Post, and all the other creaky dinosaurs who wouldn’t give him the time of day when he’d wanted a job.
Now papers were the dodo of news, and blogging was the way to go.
He could work anywhere, and did. He’d actually doubled back and covered some of his own work before, but this marked the first time he’d been right on the spot before, during, after.