The bastard took the photo in LA. Dane couldn’t believe it.

“So you recognized the priest’s brother?”

“Oh yeah, heard people talking about how he and Father Michael Joseph looked identical and it really shook some people up. Everybody was real quiet, you know? Everyone was focused on that guy and what he was saying. Lots of them were crying just listening to him. Then she had the nerve to move-no reason that I could see, she just lowered her head right when I pulled the trigger. Jesus, I could have killed her, but thank the good Lord that it went just like it was supposed to. Yeah, the bullet just grazed her.”

“Tell us more about this guy from LA.”

“I don’t deal with people I don’t know, at least usually, and neither does Mickey Stuckey. He said he knew the guy, knew he was good for the money. Hey, he gave me five thousand up front. He told me his name was DeFrosh-I already told you that. Really weird, man.”

Milton McGuffey put his head down on his folded arms and began to cry again. Everyone heard him say over his sobs, “I don’t want to go to jail, but now I’ll have to do time just because I put a little crease in the broad’s forehead.” He raised his head. “I want Stuckey to go down. I never should have agreed to do it in the church.”

Delion said, “You didn’t realize there would be cops there?”

“Stuckey told me there’d probably be a couple there, but if I got my timing right, I’d get away, no problem. Damned bastard, that Stuckey. I really want him to go down, he set the whole thing up.”

Savich said as he himself smiled down at McGuffey, “Yes, he’ll go down, all right, Milt, just as soon as we catch him.”

McGuffey’s jaw literally dropped open. He stared at Savich for a very long time.

He said, “Shit, man.”

Then he yelled at the top of his lungs, “I want a lawyer!”

Delion looked over at Savich, who was speaking to Lieutenant Purcell. They heard her say she’d already put out an APB on Mickey Stuckey, aka Bomber Turkel, the most creative of all his aliases. Delion said, “That guy is something else, Dane. He’s your boss?”

“Yeah, I’ve been in his unit for about five months now.”

“Smooth as butter,” Delion said. “I was thinking about letting you have a go at Milton, but he knew you, knew you weren’t a cop, so that wouldn’t have worked. And there was Savich, looking ready, even smiling a little, and I knew he had something up his sleeve. He did good, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yes.”

“His wife, her name is really Sherlock?”

Dane nodded, smiled. “Yes, they’re quite a team.”

“You know,” Delion said, “I’ve been in court with Sherlock’s dad. Now there’s a tough, high-powered dude. Defense lawyers hate his guts. They bitch about having the rotten luck to end up with the only law-and-order judge in San Francisco. Cops love him, needless to say.”

“Yes,” Dane said. “Too bad that Milton McGuffey isn’t a bit more stupid. The DA’ll have trouble proving attempted murder. We need Stuckey. At least Milt verified-and it’s probably the only thing he said that was true-that the guy who hired him lives in LA and his name’s DeFrosh. Damn, Milton isn’t the killer, Delion.”

“Yeah, I know, but we’re getting there, Dane. I’m going to call Flynn, tell him what happened. He’s gonna love it that the creep who set this all up told Milton his name was DeFrosh.”

Dane said, “Maybe he thinks we’re slow-DeFrosh even rhymes with DeLoach. What is he trying to prove? Is it his goal to get up close and personal with us? Or maybe he just wants us to believe that Weldon DeLoach is the killer?” Dane stopped when he saw Nick leaning against a wall, actually against a gray file cabinet since there was no wall showing. “Hey, you okay, Nick?”

She said as she lightly touched her fingertips to the bandage on her forehead, “In this case, it really does look worse than it really is. I’m okay, just resting a bit.”

Delion said, “I don’t know, Nick. I think you look kind of cute. In a pathetic sort of way. If you want a safe house now, I’ll bet the lieutenant will spring for it.”

Dane said, “No, I’m keeping her with me. Are you in, Delion? We’re all going to LA tomorrow.”

“I’m ahead of you, boyo,” Delion said. “I already called Franken. He said there was still no sign of Weldon. He’s got everybody looking for him, but he doesn’t hold much hope of finding him. Since the police are looking, too, maybe someone will see him. Franken’s going to meet us at the studio at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. He’s got some video of Weldon DeLoach.”

“We’ll finally see what the man looks like,” Nick said.

“Yep,” Delion said. “And there’s lots of stuff to go over with Flynn. He’s got a small army of people working on the personnel lists, interviews, checking alibis, possible motives. We’ve got a lot to tell him as well.”

He looked over at Savich and Sherlock and rolled his eyes. “More Feds. It always starts with a single Fed-sort of like reconnaissance-then you look up and the Feds are converging, multiplying like rabbits until soon they’re everywhere and they’ve taken over. Hey, FBI Director Mueller will be out here before long. He comes from here, you know. Hey, you guys coming with us to LA?”

“Count us in,” Sherlock said, coming to stand by Nick.

Savich said, “What’s this about the gun that killed Dane’s brother being like the two possible guns in the Zodiac killer case? What was that-some thirty years ago?”

“Ain’t that a kick?” Delion said. “It’s got our ballistics guy, Zopp, nearly drooling he’s so excited, telling one blonde joke after another.” At Sherlock’s raised eyebrow, he grinned. “Yeah, Zopp says blonde jokes help his synapses fire. But you know, it has to be a coincidence, has to be.”

“Hmmm,” Sherlock said. “Yeah, it’s a coincidence, but it’s a strange one.”

Delion said, “Hey, Sherlock, you as tough as your daddy?”

“He likes to think so,” Sherlock said, and smiled real big. There were three other inspectors standing close by, grinning like loons at her.

“Local cops really like her,” Savich said, and just shook his head, and Delion thought, Boy, that guy’s proud of her.

Savich said, “So you don’t mind if we tag along to LA with you, Delion?”

“More the merrier,” Delion said. “Hey, Lieutenant, any word on Stuckey yet?”

“Not yet, but we’ll get him.” Lieutenant Linda Purcell looked around at all the assembled homicide inspectors and said, “Everyone saw how Savich worked the guy around? How he got Stuckey’s name out of him?”

There were boos and hisses from the cops. A couple of inspectors threw some peanuts.

Before Dane left, Delion motioned him aside to tell him that Nick’s fingerprints weren’t on file.

“Hey, at least we know she’s not a criminal.”

“I already came to that conclusion for myself,” Dane said.

Jon Franken, assistant director of The Consultant, said, “We couldn’t find any photos, but as I told you on the phone, Inspector Delion, we did find something every bit as good.” He flipped a switch on the video feed and pointed. “That’s Weldon-second guy on the left, the one just standing off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, watching everyone be idiots. He watches a whole lot, just stands back in the shadows, claims it gives him ideas. Whatever, he does have brilliant ideas.”

“Freeze it,” Dane said and looked at Nick as the screen held the image. The fact was she already looked frozen. She had to be afraid, looking at the man who very possibly hired Milton McGuffey to murder her, the man who might have killed his brother. Dane lightly touched his fingers to her forearm. “Nick?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t know.” She turned to look up at Dane. “Maybe the bone structure is similar.” She shrugged. “It’s pretty scary.”