Page 147 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

“But that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have family in thearea. I may do some research on him, too. After we’ve gotten through a lot ofother questions, of course.”

Jackson nodded, heading for the car. “I want to get thiscigarette butt I found to the lab. You drive. I’mgoing to put a call through to Patrick and ask him to get someone talking to Jefferson Moore. I want to speak to the man.”

“Of course.”

They returned to the car, and he called Patrick. He was withMark and Colleen and had already listened to the interviews they’d conductedthat morning. Now, the three of them were watching all the videos they couldfind on the big screen in the third conference room.

“You’re on speaker,” Patrick told him. “Did you getanything?” he asked.

“So are you,” Jackson said. “And, yes, we acquired a newfriend.”

“Ah. A dead one, I take it?”

“Colonel George Clayborn. He couldn’t tell us much, but Idon’t think Benjamin Robertson locked the vault when he left after his father’sfuneral,” Jackson said.

“Maybe that was it,” Patrick murmured.

“That was what?”

“I told you, I listened to the tapes of the interviews youdid with Benjamin Robertson and Debbie Nolan. There was just something in theway they were speaking. They weren’t lying, but they weren’t telling youeverything they were thinking, either. I couldn’t quite read what,though. Anyway, I think we should speak with them again. Maybe shake things up.One of us should maybe just drop in and tell them we’re reporting on what wehave—which right now isn’t much.”

“At least we know one thing. It doesn’t seem the key wasstolen and copied from the office, then. Not if the door has remained open forthe last three months,” Angela said.

“Ragnar went to the cemetery’s office. And while she’s notofficial, he took Megan with him. She read between the lines, so to speak, asthey talked with the people there, and it made it easy for Ragnar to say thathe wasn’t accusing anyone of anything. They were just stopping by on the way tolunch, hoping that maybe someone could help.”

The Law triplets—Colleen, Patrick, and Megan—each hadsomething a little bit extra. More than just the ability to speak with thedead. Colleen could hear a whisper a mile away. Megan, who never entered lawenforcement and was happy with her day job, had an uncanny ability to readbetween the lines of what a person was saying—just as she could read betweenthe lines of a book.

Patrick could read things in the human mind,which was why he had begun his collegiate education majoring in psychology andpsychiatry, using his talents with the Philadelphia Police Department beforebecoming entangled in a case with the Krewe. After that, he entered the academyto become a part of it.

“Thanks, Patrick. How is it going with the videos?”

“Interesting. We’re making our way through. It was abeautiful service, as I guess you’ve seen already. The singers were damned good. But there were a ton of people there. We’regoing bit by bit. We’ll see.”

“What about the writer? The guy who did the article on thecemetery. I understand he was there.”

“Yes, he was. I had to look him up online. Got a picture ofthe man. Young fellow, early thirties. While others were watching the singersor the priest, he was watching BenjaminRobertson.”

“I want to get him into headquarters. We’re on our way back.I’m going to run to the lab, but I’d like to talk to him soon. Apparently, hecalled Benjamin Robertson again after the bodies were discovered,” Jacksonsaid.

They heard a chair scrape.

“We’ve got an address. I’ll go on over and see if he’shome,” Mark said. “Colleen can keep at these videos with Patrick.”

“Wherever I’m most useful,” Colleen murmured.

“Thanks,” Jackson said.

“Colleen.” Angela motioned for him to bring the phonecloser. “If you guys take a break, will you start digging up information on anarchitect for me? The man who designed the tomb. A Gervais Conte.”

“Will do,” Colleen promised.

“Thanks. Jackson, my phone is ringing—”

“Got it.”

She had it sitting on top of her bag as she drove.

He frowned, seeing the name on the screen.