Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [84]
“Are you going to publicly connect the Landry murder to Al Unger’s?” Miranda asked.
“Not yet.” He shook his head. “Hey, not my decision. I don’t think it matters, but there are those who think it will make the Bureau look really stupid. And we all know how much the higher-ups at the Bureau like to avoid looking stupid at all costs.”
“But his picture is going out, right? So that people in Ohio will see it . . .” Miranda grabbed his arm.
“There’s going to be a press conference at seven tonight, then again at nine in the morning. We’re going to have Archer Lowell’s picture in every newspaper on the East Coast,” John assured her. “Someone has to have seen him.”
“Ohio is not on the East Coast,” Miranda reminded him.
“Figure of speech. Don’t worry, Archer Lowell’s picture will be every place you want it to be.”
“Great. Things should start to heat up real soon.” Miranda nodded. “Maybe, with luck, we’ll be able to track him down and—”
“Not we.” John shook his head.
“What do you mean, ‘not we’?” She frowned.
“I’m taking you off the case,” he told her.
“What?” she said, stricken.
“Too dangerous,” John said.
“John, if you’re thinking about what Josh Landry said, about me possibly being the third victim, I appreciate that you’re concerned—”
“Don’t even try to talk me out of it. I want you as far from the action here as I can get you. This guy has turned out to be so much smarter than anyone gave him credit for. He got to Unger; he got to Landry. I can’t take the chance that he’ll find a way to get to you, too.” He set his jaw. “I’m sorry, Miranda. You’re off the case.”
She opened her mouth to protest, and he said, “Besides, I need you someplace else right now.”
“Sure you do,” she said dryly. “Counting incoming flights at Reagan International, no doubt.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, he continued, “I just heard from Genna.”
Her head shot up.
“Is she out of the compound?”
“Yes. She should be leaving Wyoming as we speak.” He paused for a moment, then added, “With the Douglas girl. This is going to be really hard on everyone. Annie, her sister, and even harder on the child. For seven years, this girl has been told that her mother was dead. This isn’t going to be a pretty reunion.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Jules Douglas has gone to great pains over the past seven years to hide that girl. He’s not going to give her up now without a fight.” John’s voice was tight. “I want you and Will on Mara and her daughter like white on rice. Aidan’s already on the scene. Douglas will be coming after her, and I want him taken down and brought in. Preferably alive. But if not, well, do what you have to do.”
Will’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket to check the caller ID.
“Excuse me,” he said to John, “but I need to take this. . . .”
He held the phone to his ear, listening to the caller, then paced five or six steps off to the right, then back again. After he’d disconnected the call, he turned to Miranda and John.
“That was Evan Crosby,” he told them.
“He’s figured out where Channing, Giordano, and Lowell hatched their plan?” Miranda asked.
“He found the deputy who put them all in the same room while the courthouse was on lockdown. He told Evan that the men were in there for hours, alone. Plenty of time to work out a plan like theirs.”
“Did he mention a fourth man?” Miranda looked hopeful.
“No. He was adamant there were just the three of them. Later that day, the charges against Channing were dismissed and he was released.”
“He was brought in on a warrant that turned out to be a different Curtis Channing, if I recall correctly?” John asked.
“Right. But Evan had other news for us as well.” Will paused. “The bullet used to kill Unger had a match in drugfire.”
“To . . . ?” Miranda asked curiously.
“To the bullets that killed Vince Giordano’s wife and sons.” Will nodded slowly. “Think about that for a long minute.”
“I am.” Miranda crossed her arms over her chest. “How the hell could that be . . . ?”
“I think we need to ask Vince Giordano that question.” Will turned to John. “That is,