already in the killer’s weakened hands, and the fourth one being drawn into his web. “But tonight there’s live bait in Hyannis.”
FORTY-SEVEN
“YOU don’t need to waste time programming the GPS,” I said. “I know this part of the world like the back of my hand.”
It was close to midnight on Friday when we pulled out of the trooper headquarters.
“The back of your hand has gotten me lost more times than I can count.”
“In Brooklyn, maybe. But not on Cape Cod.”
“How long you figure?”
“No more than an hour and forty-five minutes at this time of night.”
After my brief conversation with Jeanine Portland, she had agreed to let the Hyannis police take her in to their station. She knew she would get no sleep in any event, and we would oversee a plan once we reached the famous resort town.
“Did the rev give you any more information about Chat?”
“Nothing new. She sounded drugged, terrifically frightened, and complaining that she was cold—and now, hurt. And in the company of a man who needed help.”
“That’s our best hope for believing he’ll keep Chat alive throughout this road trip,” Mike said. “What was she talking to Portland about that she wouldn’t confide in her own sister?”
“More of the same. She’s just very needy, is the way Portland described it. I don’t know if that’s the truth or she simply isn’t ready to offend Faith Grant yet with some deeper unburdening,” I said. “Did you bring Peterson up to speed?”
“I did. And he tells me that Yuri Zukov’s phone shows no calls from his brother since yesterday. Same cell zone as Chat.”
“Secaucus?”
“Yeah. So he’s backed off communicating, even with his family, for the time being.”
We had traded our hot caffeine for cold. I flipped open the tops of two soda cans and placed them in the cup holders between us.
“You’re going to take I-95,” I said. “Through Fall River and New Bedford. Then the Sagamore Bridge and on out to the Cape.”
“Keep talking, kid.”
“Sleepy? Want me to drive?”
“I just want you to concentrate on the territory, the geography. You were totally thinking outside the box when you hit on the idea of the circus train this afternoon. Now find me a perp.”
We were in a marked black-and-white car, so the fact that Mike was doing eighty on the highway wouldn’t get us stopped. We batted facts and theories back and forth, none of them particularly inspired.
“Is it twelve yet?” Mike asked.
“Quarter after.”
“Do me a favor, will you? Dial my mother’s number, okay?”
“It’s late for that.”
“Friday-night bingo at the church. One of her favorite forms of worship. She doesn’t leave there till after eleven.”
I found Mrs. Chapman’s number in the address book, pressed it, and passed my cell to Mike.
“Did you get lucky or what, Ma?” Whatever her answer, it made him laugh. “Next week I’m gonna get a Brinks guard to drive you home. You shouldn’t be walking around with fifty-six bucks in your purse at this hour of the night. Do me a favor and pour yourself a double—I’m grounded tonight.”
Mrs. Chapman chatted on with her favorite—and only—son.
“On my way to Cape Cod, Ma. Yep, she’s with me—my lucky charm, like you say.”
She had called me that since the first time we worked a case together. I smiled at the thought of their loving, good-humored relationship.
“Did you TiVo Jeopardy! for me?” Mike asked. “Great. Well, just leave the answer on my cell after you play it back. I’m looking to score on Coop tonight. You sleep tight, Ma. You tell Father Bernard we’re gonna catch this son of a bitch. You tell him that when you see him on Sunday, and no, I swear to you he won’t mind the language at all.”
He handed me back the phone.
“I meant to congratulate you on the great restraint you showed while we were on the train,” I said. “Not turning on the television, I mean.”
“I just lost track of time is all that was. Never meant to miss it. She’ll fill me in.”
“There’s practically no traffic. The only trucks I’ve seen are supermarket semis and gas tankers.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know.”
“When we get out on the Cape, you’re going to have to watch out for deer. They’re everywhere at this hour of the night.”
“So what did Oksana say about Fyodor’s juvenile record?”
“No specifics. Just enough to send him away to a school for troubled adolescents.”
“Peterson hasn’t been able to track anything yet.”
“If it’s juvie, it’s likely to be sealed. Who knows? She was just trying