Agent Bender through them, she punches in the number.
A recording says, “If this is an emergency please hang up and call 911.”
She paces while the voice continues listing numbered options. But she does not want to report a crime, she does not know her party’s extension, and so she disconnects, mocking, “If you’d like to report a wild-ass guess, please hang up and get a life.”
NINE
West Seattle, Washington
F or the first time in many years, Daryl Wayne Flint sleeps late, awaking in a comfortable, king-sized bed. A momentary disorientation dissolves as he stretches, enjoying the luxurious sheets. Then he sits up and looks around, taking in the elegance of Dr. Terrance Moody’s master bedroom in the soft morning light.
He hums three notes of approval in quick succession and climbs out of bed. He goes first to the window and peeks through the drapes to admire the view: a stretch of blue water dashed with white boats. He watches the clouds smudge across a green island in the misty distance.
“Well, yes, Terrance, your home will do just fine, thank you very much,” he says aloud.
The master bathroom is larger than Flint’s entire room at the hospital. Every surface gleams. Flint urinates, puts on a plush terrycloth robe, and heads downstairs to the kitchen, where he manages to figure out the coffee machine.
While the coffee is brewing, he rummages through the pantry, examines the contents of the fridge, and helps himself to a large glass of orange juice. Next, he makes a simple ham-and-egg sandwich on a toasted poppy seed bagel. It is by far the best meal he’s had in seven years, so he fixes himself a second bagel sandwich, this one with cream cheese and lox, which he eats while roaming around the house, leaving a trail of seeds and crumbs.
He turns on the television in the living room and finds a news station, but there’s nothing interesting at the moment, so he leaves it blaring while he heads back upstairs.
The robe falls to the floor. The oversized shower draws a flicker of interest, but after sniffing the fancy soaps, Flint decides he prefers his own scent. He enters Moody’s walk-in closet. The choices make him smile. Ignoring the wool suits and crisp shirts, he selects a pair of jeans. He is not as tall and long-limbed as Moody, but the fit isn’t bad, so he grabs several more items and piles them onto the bed.
What else?
Back in the closet, Flint eyes Dr. Moody’s collection of hats. He tries on a few, laughing at his reflection, and adds two to the pile. Halloween is coming, after all.
Next, he runs his fingers along a selection of leather belts and lifts out three, each of which he snaps in the air. One does not snap to his satisfaction, so he replaces it and finds another.
He leaves the closet and approaches a large chest of drawers, where he finds underwear and socks, plus a Rolex watch, a diamond ring, and a wallet containing six crisp hundred-dollar bills. He tosses these onto the bed as well, then stands there with his hands on his hips, realizing that there’s no way he can fit all this into the backpack he brought with him.
He finds a black rolling suitcase in a closet, sets it on a chair, opens it, and discovers a neat toiletry bag that contains an assortment of stuff, including vials of pills. He reads the labels with a smile. Viagra! He doesn’t anticipate any problems in that department, but, hey, it might be fun.
Flint returns to the bathroom and searches the medicine cabinet, which yields a few more medications worth bringing. After adding them to the suitcase, he checks out Moody’s shoes. Most are too big, too fancy, but the sneakers will be okay. And these soft, woolly slippers? Why not?
He tosses everything into the suitcase, zips it closed, and carries it downstairs to the den.
Files, notebooks, and papers are still strewn across the desktop where he left them. He hurries over to gaze at the evidentiary photographs of the girl’s back. His fingertips hover
A recording says, “If this is an emergency please hang up and call 911.”
She paces while the voice continues listing numbered options. But she does not want to report a crime, she does not know her party’s extension, and so she disconnects, mocking, “If you’d like to report a wild-ass guess, please hang up and get a life.”
NINE
West Seattle, Washington
F or the first time in many years, Daryl Wayne Flint sleeps late, awaking in a comfortable, king-sized bed. A momentary disorientation dissolves as he stretches, enjoying the luxurious sheets. Then he sits up and looks around, taking in the elegance of Dr. Terrance Moody’s master bedroom in the soft morning light.
He hums three notes of approval in quick succession and climbs out of bed. He goes first to the window and peeks through the drapes to admire the view: a stretch of blue water dashed with white boats. He watches the clouds smudge across a green island in the misty distance.
“Well, yes, Terrance, your home will do just fine, thank you very much,” he says aloud.
The master bathroom is larger than Flint’s entire room at the hospital. Every surface gleams. Flint urinates, puts on a plush terrycloth robe, and heads downstairs to the kitchen, where he manages to figure out the coffee machine.
While the coffee is brewing, he rummages through the pantry, examines the contents of the fridge, and helps himself to a large glass of orange juice. Next, he makes a simple ham-and-egg sandwich on a toasted poppy seed bagel. It is by far the best meal he’s had in seven years, so he fixes himself a second bagel sandwich, this one with cream cheese and lox, which he eats while roaming around the house, leaving a trail of seeds and crumbs.
He turns on the television in the living room and finds a news station, but there’s nothing interesting at the moment, so he leaves it blaring while he heads back upstairs.
The robe falls to the floor. The oversized shower draws a flicker of interest, but after sniffing the fancy soaps, Flint decides he prefers his own scent. He enters Moody’s walk-in closet. The choices make him smile. Ignoring the wool suits and crisp shirts, he selects a pair of jeans. He is not as tall and long-limbed as Moody, but the fit isn’t bad, so he grabs several more items and piles them onto the bed.
What else?
Back in the closet, Flint eyes Dr. Moody’s collection of hats. He tries on a few, laughing at his reflection, and adds two to the pile. Halloween is coming, after all.
Next, he runs his fingers along a selection of leather belts and lifts out three, each of which he snaps in the air. One does not snap to his satisfaction, so he replaces it and finds another.
He leaves the closet and approaches a large chest of drawers, where he finds underwear and socks, plus a Rolex watch, a diamond ring, and a wallet containing six crisp hundred-dollar bills. He tosses these onto the bed as well, then stands there with his hands on his hips, realizing that there’s no way he can fit all this into the backpack he brought with him.
He finds a black rolling suitcase in a closet, sets it on a chair, opens it, and discovers a neat toiletry bag that contains an assortment of stuff, including vials of pills. He reads the labels with a smile. Viagra! He doesn’t anticipate any problems in that department, but, hey, it might be fun.
Flint returns to the bathroom and searches the medicine cabinet, which yields a few more medications worth bringing. After adding them to the suitcase, he checks out Moody’s shoes. Most are too big, too fancy, but the sneakers will be okay. And these soft, woolly slippers? Why not?
He tosses everything into the suitcase, zips it closed, and carries it downstairs to the den.
Files, notebooks, and papers are still strewn across the desktop where he left them. He hurries over to gaze at the evidentiary photographs of the girl’s back. His fingertips hover
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