towels and a big shower stall. She was grateful Dillon hadn’t said anything even though she knew he’d seen her stare fixedly at the queen-size bed.
They met Griffin and Carson for lunch at Jenny’s Café. There was only one empty booth in the large room, kept open by Aimée Rose for them. They were aware of stares from the locals, and even the tourists began to realize something was different about their group.
Griffin and Carson had told them pretty much all they knew by the time they finished their burritos. When the last piece of apple pie was eaten, Griffin said, “Let’s go pay a visit to Rafer Bodine.”
Carson said, “I can’t wait to see how he plays this,” and she popped her knuckles.
31
* * *
LEXINGTON, VIRGINIA
LEXINGTON COMMUNITY HOSPITAL
THURSDAY AFTERNOON
Everyone piled into Griffin’s Range Rover for the short ride to the community hospital near Lexington. The skies were blue, dotted with cumulus clouds. The temperature wasn’t quite as brutal, dialed back a bit by a fresh breeze, and the AC in the Range Rover worked like a champ. Griffin told them about his meeting with Booker Bodine that morning. “Of course, he wanted to shoot me, but he’s not a stupid man, he knew he had to at least appear to cooperate. I didn’t rub his nose or his deputies’ noses in any of it, didn’t accuse him of taking evidence from Rafer’s house or calling Rafer’s family so they could take care of it. I didn’t think it would be worth it, not without real proof. I told him and his deputies to talk to law enforcement in Marion and Radford, let them know what’s happening, bring back copies of their files, which, amazingly, Booker hadn’t read and didn’t have. We’ll see if he does as he’s told. My guess is he won’t do anything overt to mess up the investigation since one of the girls is from Gaffer’s Ridge. As for how he’ll deal with me, we’ll see.”
Carson nodded. “Yes, a tire iron at night to the back of your head has probably occupied his thoughts. But you know, I’m thinking he has to at least wonder if Rafer did kidnap the girls.”
Griffin looked at Sherlock in his rearview mirror. She was pale, silent, looking out the window. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but caught Savich’s eye and kept quiet. He asked instead, “Savich, do you think we could get Dr. Hicks out here to interview Rafer Bodine?”
“Sure, Dr. Hicks would love it, but I strongly doubt Rafer Bodine would allow him to pull out his gold watch.”
Sherlock listened only vaguely as they discussed how to move forward with the investigation, how to best utilize Slick and DeAndre, the two agents from the Richmond Field Office now taking turns guarding Rafer Bodine. Finally, the two aspirin she’d taken at Jenny’s Café got her headache under control.
It was as if he knew. Savich turned in his seat. “Better now, Sherlock?”
She nodded. “I was thinking about bringing Sean here before it gets cold. Camp out in the forest, go for hikes, cook him hot dogs over a fire.” She hoped her enthusiasm didn’t sound put on because it wasn’t.
Savich said, his eyes on her face, “Sean loves s’mores. Maybe after we’re through here and Carson’s had a chance to run over Rafer Bodine a couple of times with her rental car, we can visit for a weekend.” He was pleased to see she smiled.
They pulled into the parking lot of the community hospital a few minutes later. The hospital was a square three-story concrete building built in the eighties, surrounded by parking lots on all sides. It was framed by distant tree-covered mountains and set in a forest of the ubiquitous pines and oaks, and an occasional chestnut and beech, a beautiful setting, soothing for both body and soul. Inside it was bustling, since it was the only hospital in a sixty-mile radius.
They were directed through the lobby to a bank of elevators to take them to the third floor. “I know it’s strange,” the grandmotherly woman at information had said, “that room 415 is actually on the third floor, but what happened is the hospital CEO had them skip the three hundreds because of a scary dream he considered a portent, so there you have it.” She shrugged, rolled her eyes. “We all make do.”
They spotted Slick, aka Special Agent David Foxx, halfway down the wide corridor, sitting outside the partially open door, a Sports