Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [685]
Pakula introduced himself, and like Kasab, was cordial and polite, treating Keller like some visiting dignitary. When Pakula made a motion to introduce Maggie she stepped forward, preempting him.
“No need for introductions,” she said. “Father Keller and I are old friends. Isn’t that right?” She looked Keller in the eyes, but didn’t offer her hand as Pakula had. Instead, she set her cup of tea at the end of the table and took a seat.
“I’d like to believe that we certainly are not enemies, Agent O’Dell,” he said with that same smooth, deep voice she remembered so well. “Do you mind if I call you Maggie?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, I do mind.” She sipped her tea while the three men stood silently and stared at her in the same way they’d stare at someone who stood up in the middle of a wedding ceremony and said, “I object.”
She could already feel the tension crawl into the room like fog over a cold lake. So she’d be the party pooper, the curmudgeon, the spoiler of this ever-so-cordial gentlemen’s agreement. She didn’t care. As far as she was concerned Keller was no gentleman and certainly couldn’t be trusted. She only wished the hot tea would dull the chill that had settled deep inside her. She opened a small notebook and started tapping her pen, ready to begin.
“I’ll be in the lobby if you need anything,” Kasab said to Pakula, finally breaking the silence. Pakula gave him a nod and Kasab left, closing the door behind him.
Maggie didn’t take her eyes off Keller, almost daring him to see if he could lie his way past her.
Pakula cleared his throat and shot her a look. They had known each other only a few days and she could already read his warning. He was telling her to cool it. Then he picked up his coffee mug and wandered over to the service butler for a refill.
“Can I get you some coffee, Father Keller?”
Maggie wanted to tell him to stop being so damn polite.
Keller pointed at her cup and said to Pakula, “May I have a cup of hot tea instead?”
“Oh sure. Do you take anything in it?”
“Do you have any of those little sugar cubes?”
Pakula poked around the service butler, lifting lids. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Plain is fine, then.”
Maggie wanted to yell this wasn’t a frickin’ tea party. Jesus!
Finally the three of them settled around the long table—Maggie at the head so she purposely didn’t have to sit across from Keller—Pakula to her right and Keller to her left with his box and his cup of hot tea.
It had been Keller’s request that he meet only with Maggie. At least Ramsey and Cunningham had the good sense to insist Detective Pakula be here at the meeting. Though Maggie couldn’t help wondering if Cunningham had insisted on it because he was concerned for her safety or if it was Keller’s safety he had considered.
Maggie watched Keller taking in everything about him. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks a bit sunken. She was pleased to see beads of sweat on his upper lip. He wore khaki pants and a plain white cotton shirt, a sleeveless white T-shirt visible underneath. Other than wet circles forming under his arms, his clothes looked crisp and clean and freshly pressed. Although on closer inspection she could see that the shirt’s collar had become a bit threadbare.
She paid particular attention to his hands. Despite his haggard appearance his hands had been well taken care of—smooth and without a single callus or unsightly cuticle, short but clean and neatly trimmed fingernails, straight long fingers. He seemed to use them with careful deliberation, almost with a reverence, everything they did was ceremonial. Even the way he picked up the teacup, slowly and delicately, bringing it to his lips as if it were a chalice. It reminded her how he had used those hands to consecrate the butchering of little boys and even try to turn that into a gruesome ritual.
He sat straight-backed and calm