The more I was around Betsey and the more we talked, the more I liked her; and I had liked her before we went to the Four Seasons. What wasn’t there to like? Only once on Saturday did we talk briefly about the Mastermind case. Betsey asked if I thought we were in any danger. She wondered if he might be stalking us. Neither of us had an answer for that one, but we had both brought our guns.
Around ten Sunday morning, we had breakfast served to us at the pool. We sat on chaise lounges cushioned with fluffy blue and white towels. We read the Washington Post and the New York Times. We got an occasional curious look, but the Four Seasons is a sophisticated hotel chain and the people who stay here, especially at the hotel in Washington, have seen it all — and much, much more. Besides, I’m sure Betsey and I looked content and happy together.
I should have seen it coming. I don’t know why, but suddenly I was thinking about the person behind the robberies, murders, and kidnappings: the Mastermind. I tried to will the thought away. It wouldn’t go. The Dragonslayer was back; the job was back.
I looked at Betsey. Her eyes were shut, and she seemed perfectly relaxed. That morning she’d done her nails a bright shade of red. She’d done her lips the
same color. She didn’t look like an FBI agent anymore. She was sexy and beautiful, and I was loving our time together.
I hated to bother her. She had earned some time off, and she was lying so peacefully on her chaise lounge.
“Betsey?”
Her lips formed a smile. She kept her eyes shut tight. She wriggled her body slightly to get a better position on the chaise lounge.
“Yes. I’d love to go back to the room with you. I’d even give up this toasty feeling on my neck and back for it. We can leave our towels on the chairs. Maybe they’ll still be here when we get back.”
I smiled, then I lightly massaged her back. “I hate to do this, Betsey. Can we talk about the case? About him?”
She opened her eyes. They had become narrowed and focused. Just like that, Betsey was all business. I was amazed at the transformation. If anything, she was worse than I was. “What about him?” she asked. “What are you thinking?”
I moved over to the edge of her chair. “We’ve spent the last two weeks digging around MetroHartford. Then questioning Macdougall. During all that time, we’ve ignored the banks he hit earlier. Betsey, I want to look through all the old files again. Even the personnel files.”
She was a little puzzled. “Okay. I guess. Sure. You’ve lost me, though. What are you thinking, Alex? What would we be looking for?”
“Four employees were killed at the First Union Bank. There was no rhyme or reason for it. We always assumed he was making an example of them. Why four? It doesn’t track for me.”
She shut her eyes again. I could see the wheels turning — fast; I could almost hear the gears shift. “He wanted revenge against that particular bank, and he wanted his money.”
“Sounds like him, doesn’t it? He’s thorough and efficient. Doesn’t miss a trick. He’d want it all.”
Betsey opened her eyes again. She stared at me. Pursed her shiny red lips. “There’s just one thing, though. It’s important.”
I lightly kissed her lips. “What’s that?” I asked.
“I still want to go back to the room with you. Then we can go through all the dusty, musty files on the banks.”
I laughed. “That sounds like a very wise plan. Especially the first part.”
Chapter 109
WE WERE BACK at the FBI field office by three that afternoon. Betsey had called ahead, and the First Union files were waiting in her office. We dug into the files. And dug, and dug. We ordered sandwiches and iced tea from the deli on the corner.
Twice.
“Why are the two of us so driven to do this?” Betsey finally looked over and asked me.
“He probably killed Walsh, and maybe Mike Doud. He’s a really sick puppy and he’s out there somewhere and that’s scary as hell.”
She nodded solemnly. “We’re sick puppies, and look where it got us. Pass me that stack, will you? God, it was so nice and restful and sunny at the Four Seasons.”
Around eleven o’clock I held up a small black-and-white photo. I was deep into the personnel files from First Union.
“Betsey?” I called out.
“Mmmm?” She was deep into her own stack of files.
“This guy was a security executive at the bank. Betsey, he’s a patient on Five at Hazelwood. I know who he is. I’ve talked to him this week. There’s no record at the hospital that he ever worked at First Union. This is our guy. He has to be.” passed her the picture.