Savich said slowly, “No, hold off. I think the person sending the red boxes doesn’t believe anyone will recognize the location until the puzzle’s complete. This might give us an edge.” He smiled at Sherlock, who’d told him about Cinelli. She’d said they’d sweated together a couple of times in the gym at Quantico, practicing martial arts. She’d told him Cinelli was smart, focused, and as fit as, maybe even stronger than, Sherlock was. She was, Savich thought, just the ticket.
“Let me give your chief a call, see if I can spring you from Financial Crimes for a couple of days. You interested?”
“Yes, sir, I’m very interested. I finished up a case only two days ago, so maybe—” She was nearly dancing in place, her eyes sparkling.
Savich held up a hand. “Everyone, I’m sure we’ll meet here again when the third red box arrives, probably on Monday. Agent Cinelli, come with me. Happy Halloween tomorrow night, everyone.”
Sherlock gave a little wave as Pippa followed Dillon into his glass-fronted office. Savich pointed Cinelli to a seat, sat behind his desk, and called her unit chief, Jessie Tenley, a hard-nosed veteran, and proceeded to negotiate the quid pro quo for lending Cinelli to the CAU.
A deal was struck and it wouldn’t cost Savich a thing, but Agent Griffin Hammersmith probably wouldn’t be too happy to hear about it. Savich grinned. He would tell Griffin to suck it up and take himself to a surprise birthday party for Jessie’s nearly eighteen-year-old daughter, Paige. She’d seen Griffin and begged her mother to introduce her. Well, Griffin could deal with a smitten eighteen-year-old, a whole roomful of eighteen-year-olds. He’d be the highlight of Paige’s birthday party Sunday afternoon. At least Griffin liked cake.
Savich turned back, studied Cinelli a moment, then stuck out his hand and shook hers. “Agent Cinelli, you’re now a temporary member of the CAU.”
Pippa’s cell sang out the Black Keys’ “Lo/Hi.” “It’s Agent Tenley.”
“She’s calling to give you a pep talk. Go ahead and speak to her, and I’ll check on the chief of police to see if he’s still there. Barnabas Cosby, right?” He called the police station in St. Lumis. When he punched off his cell, Pippa had already slipped hers back into the breast pocket of her white shirt.
Savich said, “Did Jessie give you the gung ho speech?”
“She told me I was representing her and the unit and suggested I shine bright. The ‘or else’ was unspoken, but understood. Even when Jessie doesn’t say it out loud, she’s still very clear.”
He grinned. “Here’s the deal in St. Lumis. Chief of Police Cosby retired three years ago. The new chief is Matthew Wilde. Now, Agent Cinelli—”
“Please, call me Pippa.”
“Call me either Dillon or Savich.”
Pippa cocked her head to the side, sending her thick French braid swinging over her shoulder. “Dillon, if that’s okay. It’s what Sherlock calls you. Now, I’ve never heard of a local family called Wilde. He must be an import from outside, new to St. Lumis.”
“I didn’t ask to speak to him. His dispatcher sounded bored. Give me a minute.” Savich typed Wilde’s particulars into MAX. When he looked up, he was silent a moment. “Matthew Carlton Wilde, age thirty-three. He was a detective in the Philadelphia Police Department for three years, resigned three and a half years ago after one of his team members and his best friend was shot when Wilde was in Cleveland bringing a prisoner back to Philadelphia. To date the murderer has not been identified.”
Pippa shuddered. “Imagine carrying that memory around with you. I bet he investigated his team member’s killing, couldn’t solve it, and ended up leaving. I wonder how that works, teams rather than partners? No matter. How long has he been chief of police in St. Lumis?”
Savich looked down, read. “About three years.”
“Talk about making a big change, not only his responsibilities, but the atmosphere, the people, the smallness of St. Lumis compared to Philadelphia.” She paused, then, “Like I told you, when I left, St. Lumis was a quiet town. Seemed like half the people there were visitors during the summer months, but they caused few problems.” She shook her head. “I imagine nothing’s changed. St. Lumis is about as different from Philadelphia as Paris is from Bermuda.”
She was so hyped, she was very nearly vibrating. Savich could practically see her nerves firing. He said, “Pippa, I want you to go in as a civilian there for Halloween, a short holiday. You can make up your