“But once in the house, could someone posing as a maid have gotten access to a key, made a copy of it, and used it to enter the house later?”

“But how would they know he’d even hired a maid?”

“If they were watching the house they could see the car or van pull up. They usually have signs on them.”

“But how could they impersonate a maid?”

“Call the service and ask them if someone posing as you or Earl called and canceled them coming on one of their workdays.”

“Decker, do you really—”

“It’s just a phone call, Mary. And it might be a break for us. You said you wanted to be working the case. So work.”

She slipped out her phone and called the maid service. From the words she spoke, Decker knew the answer before she hung up.

“You were right, Amos. They got a call saying not to come.”

“So that’s when the fake maid came and made an impression of the key. You keep your keys where?” said Decker.

“On hooks by the side door.”

“I saw a calendar on your fridge. It has everybody’s schedule?”

“Yes.”

“So that’s how they knew Earl and Sandy would be out that night.”

“I can’t believe the person who did all this was in my house,” said Lancaster, staring at her hands. “I just can’t believe it.” She glanced up. “That means Earl has seen the killer. Maybe—”

Decker shook his head. “The person won’t look anything like Earl’s description now. They’re too smart for that, Mary.”

Decker rose and looked down at her. Jamison followed suit. “Will you be okay here?” he asked.

“We’ll be safe, if that’s what you mean.”

“Right now, that’s what I mean.”

“I’m lucky, Amos. My family is alive.”

“This was a warning, Mary. A warning to me. I didn’t do what they wanted me to do. There will be no more warnings. Which means I have to get to them, before they get to anyone else.”

He turned to leave with Jamison.

“Where are you going now?” Lancaster stared at him like he was the last person left on earth except for her. If Decker could have felt sympathy, he would have been deeply moved.

“To look at a video one more time.”

“What video?”

“Of someone getting out of a car.”

Chapter

51

DECKER HAD WATCHED the video on the laptop a dozen times, both at regular speed and in slow motion. Then he had sat back in his chair, closed his eyes.

She had come over.

The order given.

The beer delivered.

She had walked away.

He had seen her once more sauntering along the bar, slender hips twitching enticingly, before disappearing into the rear of the place.

Then he had seen her once more. Here. On the screen.

Getting out of the car. Over and over and over.

Everything he had seen replayed in his head. He went up and down her body over and over again. His mind focused on the little part of the face that he had seen.

And then it clicked. His DVR had finally come through for him.

He opened his eyes to see Agent Bogart standing there.

He and Jamison were in the library at Mansfield.

“You went to see Lancaster?” asked Bogart.

Decker nodded, his thoughts still on the images in his head.

“How’s she doing?”

“Do you still have your jet handy?”

Bogart looked surprised by this. He perched on the edge of the table.

“Yes, why?”

“Can I get a ride on it?”

“If I say you can. What’s up?”

Decker rose. “We need to get to Chicago.”

“You were just there.”

“I need to go again.”

“You have a lead?” Bogart glanced at the laptop screen. His eagerness was palpable.

“I have a lead.”

“Can I come too?” asked Jamison quickly.

Bogart looked at her and then at Decker. The latter shrugged.

Bogart said, “Okay, but keep in mind that the FBI is not running a freaking airline service. And not one word of anything gets printed.”

“I quit my job at the paper.”

“What?” said Decker. “Why?”

“I’m working this case full-time now. And I couldn’t do my other reporting duties. And, quite frankly, it was time to move on.”

She got up and snagged her bag. “So, let’s go. Chop-chop.”

She walked out of the room.

Bogart looked at Decker. “A real piece of work. What’d you do to deserve her?”

“I can’t process that right now,” said Decker.

*  *  *

The jet flew them to a private airstrip south of the Windy City and they took an SUV to the new headquarters of the Cognitive Institute. It was in a three-story building in a campus-style office park about an hour outside of Chicago.

Bogart flashed his FBI credentials at the receptionist, which started a chain reaction that ended with their being escorted to a conference room in the back of the building outfitted in soothing earth colors.

A man in a dark three-piece suit with a pink shirt and yellow bow tie with green dots came in.

He looked at Bogart, who flashed his badge and introduced himself. Then Darren Marshall saw Decker.

“Amos Decker?”

Decker rose and shook his hand. “Dr. Marshall.”

“It’s been, what, twenty years?”

“Plus two months, nine days, and fourteen hours,” said Decker automatically. The calculation came out of his head so fast he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It didn’t seem weird to him anymore. It just…was who he was now.

“Of course, I will take your word for it,” said Marshall. He glanced at Bogart. “Amos was quite an exceptional case.”

“I’m sure. But I know nothing about it.”

Marshall next looked at Jamison. “And are you also with the FBI?”

“No. I’m just an interested citizen trying to help.”

Marshall looked a bit startled by her comment.

“Exceptional case?” prompted Bogart.

Decker said tersely, “I suffered a head trauma. It changed how my mind worked. Made it more efficient in some ways.” He paused. “A manufactured savant, as it were, unlike your brother.”

Bogart nodded, studying him closely. “Okay. Right, I get that.”

“Can you tell me what all this is about?” asked Marshall.

Decker explained the situation to Marshall, who slowly nodded before he was finished.

“I had heard about poor Sizemore of course, but I didn’t know it was part of this…this awful event in Burlington.”

“We had mentioned it to Dr. Rabinowitz,” said Decker.

“So that’s why he was calling,” said Marshall. “I’ve been so busy I haven’t called Harold back yet.”

“It’s connected to even more awful events,” said Bogart. “None of which we need to get into at present.” He glanced expectantly at Decker.

Decker said, “Our killer is almost certainly a male, a male who has partnered with someone calling himself Sebastian Leopold.”

“Never heard of him. But you think it has a connection to the institute?”

“Considering that it was their carefully placed clues that led me back here, yes. And add the fact that Dr. Sizemore has been murdered.”

“And you know they’re connected for certain? I mean, Sizemore’s death and the others?”

“Another message was left at his home. Again, for me.”

Marshall slumped back in his chair looking highly unnerved. “My God, I can hardly believe it.”

Decker said, “There was a woman in my group at the institute, Belinda Wyatt.”

“Yes, I remember her.”

“She was one of Dr. Sizemore’s protégées.”

“Well, we don’t encourage such attachments here.”

“But that doesn’t mean they didn’t happen. In fact is it correct to say that Dr. Sizemore was let go from here because he had formed an attachment with patients more recently? Perhaps female patients?”

“I really can’t get into that.”

Bogart leaned forward across the width of the table. “Dr. Marshall, we are hunting a killer who murdered more people than I care to mention, including a slew of high school students and one of my agents. This person has to be stopped before he kills again. So while I respect that you have confidences to maintain, any help you can give us will be much appreciated.”