“Doesn’t everybody struggle with their conscience?”
“Most everybody, of course,” she said. “But I believe now that Malone’s evil twin and Oz weren’t just right versus wrong concepts. They were literal.” She pointed to a sentence on the top sheet.
“Look. After our very first session, I wrote in my notes, ‘Patient has religious ambiguities. Referred to an evil twin (an alter ego) whom he described as handsome and charismatic, a “showman,” while Roland perceives himself to be ugly and off-putting.’ And here—”
Mitch interrupted her. “Hold the thought. My phone’s buzzing.” He removed it from his pocket, saw the readout, and his heart bumped. He looked at John. “This may be what we’ve been waiting for. Fingers crossed.”
Officer Clarence had been one of the first to respond to Nix’s call for backup. As soon as he’d arrived, he began boasting to any of the curious onlookers who’d been attracted to the police activity around the medical building that it was he who’d “cracked the case.”
Nix had thought he would never shut up.
However, by now the hubbub had died down, the gawkers had dispersed, and unnecessary first responders had left. Left without an audience, Clarence motioned toward EATS and said, “I’m going to get a piece of pie and a cup of coffee. Want to come?”
“No, I’ll stand sentry in case Bowie needs one of us.”
After she declined his offer to bring her back something, he started across the street, and she hoped the service in the diner was slow. The meeting in Bowie’s office prior to El Paso’s capture had yielded a lot of information that Oz needed to know, and this was her first opportunity to report it.
The rain had slackened to a drizzle, but she pulled the hood of her slicker over her head before making the call. He answered; she identified herself. “I have a lot to tell you, and I don’t know how long I’ll be alone. If I hang up suddenly—”
“I’ll understand. Start talking.”
“El Paso was captured about half an hour ago.”
“Where?”
“In Dr. Reede’s office. Haskell and Bowie are interrogating him now.”
“Haskell,” he said with distaste. “And the therapist’s condition?”
“Saved in the nick of time by Haskell. He fired a shot to subdue El Paso, but no one was injured.”
He said nothing for a moment, then, “Well, no real harm done. El Paso doesn’t know my identity.”
“There’s more. Right before all this, we had a meeting in Bowie’s office. Haskell reported that a big drug bust took place today. Drugs were seized. You and the Caballeros lost men.”
“Old news, Nix. The men I lost were more expendable than the product.”
“I’m sorry, sir. What’s worrisome is that Haskell knew about it ahead of time.”
“It was a DEA raid. How did he know?”
“I asked. He wouldn’t say.”
“He must have a friend inside that agency. I’d like to know who.”
“I’ll try to ferret that out. There’s also a snitch in the protective custody of the marshal’s service.” She gave him the skinny on that. “Haskell didn’t name him, either, but he wants to squeeze him for information on Malone, and, by extension, you.”
“He can try. But, again, it will be futile. Whoever that individual is, he doesn’t know who I am. Now that Malone has been silenced, no one does.”
“Haskell believes he knows.”
He took a sharp breath, but didn’t say anything.
She went on. “He claims he has a suspect, someone who is scheduled to fly out tonight in his private jet. Wheels up at six o’clock.”
She waited in anticipation of how he would respond. When he said nothing at all, she continued. “Haskell and Bowie had a shouting match over it. Haskell wanted to go after this suspect aggressively. Bowie was afraid of jumping the gun and being wrong. They went at each other.”
“Still having their tiff?”
