Split Second - Catherine Coulter [37]
Mr. Carpenter was staring at Lucy. “Why did you ask me if Arnette was an artist?”
“I think it might be our tie-in, Mr. Carpenter. Did Kirsten Bolger mention Arnette’s art? Did she say she painted as well?”
“No, not that I remember. Wait, when she said good-bye to me, she said she was off to Post Street to visit the art galleries. I remember I was standing there on the sidewalk, not knowing what to say, and she patted my face and kissed my cheek. I was so surprised I didn’t move. Then she gave me a little wave, pulled her black wig over her head, and sauntered off, whistling. I remember thinking she was crazy. I guess she is.”
“Close enough,” Lucy said.
CHAPTER 19
Washington, D.C.
Sunday afternoon
Savich gave Sean and Marty each a cup of cocoa, told them a third time not to spill it. He said to Sherlock, “That was Delion I was talking to in the kitchen. Kirsten’s trail has gone cold. He said the Porsche Lansford gave her is long gone, no transfer of title, nothing, so she probably sold it for cash. She emptied out her bank accounts the week before the first murder in Chicago. Lots of cash, so it isn’t difficult for her to survive. As for any credit cards, she must have also thrown them away. He can’t find anyone in San Francisco who’s seen her since then.”
Sherlock said, “At least having her identity blared on every TV in the country can’t send Kirsten Bolger any deeper underground.”
“Let’s hope not. There really isn’t an option anymore, now that the Drudge Report posted that leak. No way to keep Ted Bundy out of it, either, too juicy. So now every talking head gets to rock and roll with this crazy killer. I need to get dressed if I’m going to make it to the news conference. Director Mueller wants me front and center when he releases her name to the media.”
Sherlock felt a niggling fear at having Kirsten Bolger focus her mad attention on Dillon. “You want backup?”
Savich watched Sean very nearly tip his cocoa cup. “No, you don’t have to come. Sean, don’t wave your cocoa around while you chase Astro.”
His cell sang out Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli singing “Time to Say Good-bye,” Sherlock’s favorite song of all time. Savich didn’t answer right away, because Sherlock and the two children seemed to be listening to it.
“Savich.”
When he cut off his cell a few minutes later, he said, “That was Lucy. Mr. Maitland asked both her and Coop to be at the news conference.”
“Go make yourself look tough and professional; I’ll watch the cocoa.” But Sherlock simply couldn’t help worrying. That was part of her job description.
The press conference was attended by every media hound inside the Beltway. Savich looked out over the media room, chaotic and noisy, with scores of reporters and TV people setting up their cameras.
Director Mueller outlined the process by which they’d discovered the real identity of the Black Beret. He closed, saying, “I cannot emphasize enough how dangerous this woman is. Just to remind yourself, simply think of her father, Ted Bundy. Being identified like this may make her even more ruthless and desperate. We know all of you will help with publicizing her photo. Please encourage your readers and your viewers to contact the FBI if they see her. No one but law enforcement should attempt any direct contact with her.” He ended with the hotline number, and turned it over to Savich as the questions began.
Savich, as was his habit, said nothing at all, simply waited until there was silence again. He introduced Lucy and Coop, and paused again, focusing every face on him. He pushed a button on the lectern, projecting Kirsten’s photo behind him. “Five days ago, Kirsten Bolger was in Philadelphia. We do not know if she is still there or has gone to another city. We do not know if she will continue to dress as you see her in this photo.” He waited, then put up two more large photos of Kirsten Bolger. In one she had long blond hair and black clothes, and in the second, she was