“He was a good son. Smart. Devoted.”
“Was he happy with you?”
“Yes. I saved him from a desperate future.”
“What was the falling-out you two had?”
“That’s not for me to discuss.”
“We could find Robbie. Give him a message.”
Smith smiled. “You’d never find him, and he’d never believe you. Actions, not words, matter, Dr. Granger.”
“Why tell me about him?”
“It’s the only way I can really reach him.” He closed his eyes, and for a moment she thought he might have fallen asleep.
“What does that mean?”
Instead of answering her question, he said, “Thank you for coming today, Dr. Granger. But I am tired.” Smith lifted his hand as a signal to the guard that he was ready to leave.
Jo gripped the phone, knowing a window was closing forever. “Tell me more about Robbie.”
As if she hadn’t spoken, he smiled. “I do appreciate your coming, Dr. Granger. I truly do. But the day grows late and you must understand that I have little energy to draw upon.”
She leaned closer to the window, resisting the urge to touch the glass. “There must be more about Robbie.”
“I’ve given you all that I have.” Gingerly, he leaned back in his wheelchair, wincing. “It’s been nice meeting you, Dr. Granger. And I’m glad you are doing well.”
She rose, still gripping the phone. “Why me, Mr. Smith? It makes no sense that you’d single me out for this interview.”
He stilled as if he wouldn’t answer but then said, “You are a smart woman. If you look deep inside yourself, you’ll unravel the puzzle.”
“What puzzle?” Frustrated by the subterfuge, her anger sparked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Once you figure yourself out you’ll find Robbie.” He hung up his phone.
Jo pressed her phone to her ear as if willing him to return. But without a backward glance he left the interview room.
For several seconds, Jo stood there, not sure what had happened. She hung up the phone and carefully brushed the creases from her skirt, as if somehow the action would also diminish her deep sense of unease.
“He likes rattling people.” Brody stepped toward her, stopping behind her. “Don’t let him get to you.”
She faced him. “I’ve interviewed my share of bad men. I can handle Smith.”
“Really? How many bad guys have asked you to look deep inside yourself for the answers?”
None. Smith’s question could have been a cheap manipulative trick, but it still troubled her for reasons she couldn’t explain. What did he see? Feigning calm, she said, “You’d be surprised what my interviewees have asked me. I can promise you they can be graphic.”
Brody frowned.
“Shouldn’t you call someone about the information Smith gave us? Some of it could be genuine.”
He opened the door to the interview room and waited until she passed. “Making a phone call is next on my list, Dr. Granger.”
She stared down the gray hallway, suddenly anxious to be out of this suffocating place. Smith had tapped into a deep worry she’d harbored for years. “Of course, sure.”
His head tilted. “You sure you’re okay?”
She offered him a cool, polite smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
If he’d not been watching her closely, he’d have missed the subtle stiffening of her spine and the flash of green in her eyes that Smith had called her Tell. Smith had gotten inside her head.
Brody was annoyed that she guarded her thoughts as closely with him as she had with Smith. When they’d been together fourteen years ago, she’d been open. She’d liked to talk to him and to joke. During one tutoring session, he’d teased her about talking so much. She’d blushed, tucked a stray curl behind her ear and laughed. He’d liked her openness, and he’d liked listening to her talk.
Now her demeanor was pure ice. Though she had a reputation for professionalism, colleagues in the Rangers had often referenced Jo’s kindness and approachability. He supposed she’d never again offer him that openness and candor.
That shouldn’t bother him. But it did.
He dialed the Rangers’ office in Austin and asked for Sergeant James Beck. Brody had transferred back to Austin three weeks ago. Though he didn’t know all the Rangers personally, he knew Rangers had each other’s backs and when called upon, help arrived without question.
The phone rang twice. “Sergeant James Beck.”
“Jim, this is Brody Winchester.”
“Brody. You in West Livingston now?” Brody had briefed Jim as soon as the request from Smith had made it to his desk.
Brody explained the situation to Jim, including Smith’s reference to a new gravesite and Jo’s presence. “Jo doing all right?”
“She’s fine.”
“Can I speak to her?” Jim said.
Brody hesitated, much like an animal who sensed his territory had been invaded. “Sure.” He held out his phone to Jo. “Jim Beck wants to talk to you.”
She took the phone, careful not to let her fingers touch his. “Jim.” For several seconds she didn’t speak but listened. Her face softened and this time when she smiled it reached her eyes. “Thanks. Great. No. No. I’m fine. Yes, I’m looking forward to it. See you then.”
Brody accepted the phone back, watching as she turned away from him. “What’s the weather look like in Austin?”
“Pissing rain,” he said. “No one is complaining. God knows we need it. It’s supposed to let up in an hour, but the whole region is a muddy mess. There is no way we’re going to get a crew out to Smith’s site today. It’s too rural. Not many paved roads up that way.”
Impatience bit. “We’ve waited this long. Another day won’t matter.”
“You take the plane to West Livingston?”
“Yeah.”
“You should have clear skies our way in an hour.”
“By the time we get out of here and back to the airport it’ll be at least that, if not more.”
“We’ll have a full team ready to hit Smith’s site at first light.”
“See you then.”
Brody rang off and glanced toward Jo who seemed lost in thought. “We need to brief the warden.”
“Do you think Smith told the truth? I know he likes games.”
“He was a hell of a lot more forthcoming this time. He’s revealed more today with you than he has with all our investigators over the years.”
“He appeared to like or, at least, respect you,” she said.
“I suspect it’s because I’m the one who arrested him. I bested him at his game, and for that I get extra points.”
“You couch your emotions well around him.”
He hooked his thumb in his belt, sensing she was trying to gauge him. “I never forget for a moment I’m dealing with a monster.”
She pursed her lips, and he could almost hear the wheels in her brain grinding. “I don’t understand his last comment. The answers to finding a killer are in mysel
f? Is he talking about my research? My work with the Rangers?”
Brody motioned to the guard who opened the cell block’s heavy door. “I don’t know, but remember Smith is an expert at deception.”
“If his goal was to knock me off balance, he’s done it.”
“No one walks away from an interview with him unscathed. Let’s get out of here.”
He took her by the arm and led her away from the interview room. Minutes later they were in Warden Maddox’s office.
Maddox gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk. They all sat. “How did it go?”
“He gave us new information,” Brody said. He fully briefed him. “We won’t know if it’s true until we can follow up.”
“No one’s obtained a damn bit of information out of him in the time he’s been here.”
“Has his behavior changed in any way over the last weeks?” she said. “Anything to make you wonder why he chose to talk now?”
Maddox leaned back in his chair. “Since he’s been here, he’s stuck to a strict routine until lately when his illness became grave. He spends most days in the prison hospital.”
“But he still reads the paper,” Brody said.
“That’s right. Reads it like it were the Bible.”
“And he’s had no visitors or mail?” Brody said.
“He gets fan letters. We screen them all, of course, before we give them to him, but he’s not responded to a one. If he’s not getting treatment in the infirmary then he’s reading books in his cell. We can search his cell again.”
“Wouldn’t hurt.”
“Let me know what you find.”
“Will do.”
Brody and Jo’s ride back to the airport was strained and tense. Brody made small talk with the officer driving them, but she barely commented, choosing instead to stare out the window.
By the time he’d done a preflight check of the plane and they’d boarded, the rain had passed. The sun now hung low in the horizon, casting a fiery light on the landscape.
“I’d like to go with you tomorrow,” she said as he’d closed the hangar door on the plane in Austin just after seven. “I want to know if Smith was telling us the truth or not.”
The rain had cleared, but the air was heavy with moisture. Moonlight bounced off puddles. “There’s no reason for you to go. It’s going to be a long day and could well be a wild-goose chase. No sense wasting your time.”