Dead Hunt Part 8

"Clymene O'Riley escaped from Greysfort Prison shortly after your visit," said Deputy Marshal Dylan Drew. There was enough expression in his stony stare to convey the impression that he might think Diane had something to do with it.

Diane and Kingsley both sat dumfounded, even though Diane had an inkling of what their presence might mean as soon as she learned they were U.S. Marshals. That was because Clymene was the one thing she, Kingsley, and U.S. Marshals might have in common. But it was still a surprise to hear it stated as real.

Kingsley found his voice first. "How did she escape?"

Drew glanced over to Merrick, who nodded, and back to Kingsley. "As nearly as we can tell at this point in the investigation, she feigned illness and was taken to the infirmary, which is outside the maximum security section. From there the picture is a little hazy, but prison staff thinks she escaped on a delivery truck."

"That seems rather common," said Kingsley. "I would have thought prisons have pretty much blocked that escape route by now. How was she not detected?"

"They have not been able to establish that," said Drew. He turned his attention to Diane. "According to prison records, you were her last visitor. Why were you there?"

"She asked me to visit her," said Diane.

"And you just dropped everything and obliged?" asked Drew.

"No, not at all," said Diane.

"I asked her to go," interjected Kingsley.

"You're the FBI profiler?" said Merrick as if profilers were the academics of the law enforcement world, and who knew what silly things they might be up to.

Kingsley nodded.

"What did she want to see you about?" Merrick asked Diane.

Diane told them about the content of the letter and repeated her conversation with Clymene for the second time that day. The marshals took notes and listened with interest and what looked like a good deal of skepticism.

"And you didn't think it suspicious that she claimed to be motivated by concern for one of her guards?" asked Merrick. The look on his broad, fair face plainly said he did not believe that could be her real motive.

"It didn't matter," said Diane. "She could have wanted to tell me the warden was possessed by aliens and it wouldn't have mattered. It was a rare opportunity to see what she had to say."

"Why was that important?" asked Drew. This time he directed his question to Kingsley.

"Because she shows signs of being a serial killer that we know almost nothing about. She appeared seemingly from nowhere and killed in a very calculated fashion. We don't even know her true ident.i.ty," Kingsley said. "We're searching for clues."

"What does that mean?" asked Merrick. "She's not Clymene O'Riley?"

"We don't know who she is. The murder investigation found no record of her existence prior to her marriage to Robert Carthwright-the husband who died in a tragic accident before she married Archer O'Riley," said Kingsley.

The two deputy marshals exchanged worried glances. Diane understood-they just realized the object of their hunt was a lot more sophisticated than they had imagined and their job was going to be much harder than they expected.

"No match on her prints, I a.s.sume," said Merrick.

"None," said Diane. "She was run against every available database."

"I see," said Merrick. He looked around the room, then back at Diane. "Let's back up for a moment. I'm aware that the crime scene unit is in this building and you are director of the unit. Why are we in the main office of the museum? Do they give you a key?" "Yes, they do," said Diane. "I'm director here too."

Merrick raised his eyebrows. "We thought you were just having dinner here." He smiled for the first time. "Is there anything you can tell us that might help us apprehend Clymene O'Riley? Any place she might have mentioned that we could look for her? Any person she might turn to? Do you think she will go to see this guard"-he looked at his notes-"Grace Tully?" He seemed to be asking either of them.

"I don't know," said Diane.

Kingsley was shaking his head. "No. I don't think she would."

"Why?" asked Drew.

"Because you would think to go there. Clymene is a planner. She's probably been planning this escape since she was incarcerated and got a good look at her prospects. She already knows where she is running to, and it isn't anyplace we are likely to know about."

"You're saying she's smart," said Merrick.

Kingsley nodded. "Yes. Very high IQ. And very detail oriented. That's one of the things that makes her so dangerous."

"She's fluent in French and Spanish," said Diane.

"That expands the possibilities," said Drew. "Anything else?"

"Yes," said Kingsley. "I'm guessing she's a master at disguises."

"You guess?" said Drew.

"I don't know very much for sure. It was whatI... we were working on-finding out about her. We believe that Archer O'Riley was not her first victim."

The two marshals were quiet for a moment. Diane guessed they were absorbing the information- thinking about their next move.

"You've given us some leads to work with," said Merrick. "We thank you for your time." He put two business cards on the table. "If you think of anything helpful, call us."

They were rising to leave when Drew turned and asked, "What do you think she will do if she's cornered?"

"Give up to fight another day," said Kingsley.

"You don't think she'll want to shoot it out?" said Merrick.

"No. She would always have the hope of escape, I think. Clymene is very pragmatic," said Kingsley. "If you do find her, your biggest problem will be to not be seduced by her."

"What?" said Drew. The two of them gave slight, derisive laughs. "What do you mean? I've seen her mug shot. Not what I'd call a babe."

"The mug shot isn't representative of her looks. But it's not just her looks. She has a special gift," said Kingsley. "She knows how to appeal."

"What do you do?" said Merrick. "Wear tin foil on your head when you go see her?"

Diane laughed. Deputy Marshal Chad Merrick had a sense of humor after all.

Kingsley smiled and scratched his head. "We get special training," he said.

"Sure you do," said Drew.

"If all you have is the mug shot," said Diane, "the local paper will have photos from the trial."

"Have you spoken with Rev. Rivers, the counselor at the prison?" said Kingsley.

"He had gone for the day," said Drew.

Diane and Kingsley exchanged glances. "That's how she got out," said Kingsley.

"What?" said Merrick. "You're saying the prison chaplain helped her escape?"

"It's a very good possibility," said Kingsley. "I would look at him."

The two deputy marshals left, turning down Diane's offer to walk them to the door, saying they remembered the way out. Diane and Kingsley stayed in her office.

"I didn't expect this," said Diane.

"No. Now we really need to find out who she is. I know the U.S. Marshals have had a lot of experience at this, but in this particular hide-and-seek contest my money's on Clymene," he said.

"And here I thought she was planning her appeal," said Diane. "Listen, we need to find out if there are any family movies of her-Archer's son might have some. I'd like to get a recording of her speaking."

"If you want to try a forensic linguist," said Kingsley, "we have one. Michael loves to a.n.a.lyze voices."

"That's a good place to start. I have some other ideas too. Jin will love it. Jin is another member of my crime scene crew. He just finished calibrating a new DNA lab here in the forensic unit."

"How is her DNA going to help?" said Kingsley. "I don't see how that will locate her, or where she's from."

"I'm not going to look for her. I'm going to look for a relative."

Chapter 14.

Ross Kingsley looked at Diane for a moment with a blank expression, then smiled.

"People with similar DNA to hers," he said, "Like siblings or cousins?"

"Right. I'm hoping the DNA profile of someone related to Clymene is in one of the many databases we have access to. If we can find a relative, then we have a link to who she is and where her family is from. That would give the marshals places to look and give us family history we need."

"I like that. Any more ideas?" asked Kingsley.

"A few. a.n.a.lyzing her speech should give us some clues. And I need to talk to David. He's my king of databases. I think we can do something with our face recognition software. She may have made her face look a little distorted in the mug shot, but that would not have changed the indexes used by the software. We also have photographs taken by the media during her trial."

"Not many. She kept her face covered entering and leaving," said Kingsley.

"We only need one to find a match," said Diane. "Even the bad mug shot we have will do if worse comes to worst."

"You thinking she's been arrested before? That there's a picture of her in a database someplace from a previous arrest, maybe under another ident.i.ty?" asked Kingsley.

"Maybe. Perhaps someplace where the fingerprints from old records have not yet been digitized. But we have lots of databases we can comb through-missing persons, for instance, or driver's license records."

"See, I knew it was a good idea to get you to track down her ident.i.ty," said Kingsley, grinning broadly.

I'm glad you think it's such a good idea, thought Diane. She wasn't so sure she would have any time to devote to the search for Clymene after dealing with what was becoming a major scandal at the museum. Diane stood up and stretched, kneading her lower back muscles.

"Why did Clymene ask me to come see her?" asked Diane. Ever since she'd learned of Clymene's escape, Diane had been wondering what the point of the visit had been.

Kingsley shrugged. "She knew she was escaping; maybe she just wanted to mess with your life a little. Maybe she really was concerned about Grace Noel and wanted to take care of those concerns before she left. Maybe receiving a visitor put her in the right place or got her out of prison duties that would have delayed her. I have no idea, but it's interesting. We'll be sure to ask her when we catch her."

"Do you think the marshals will find her?" asked Diane.

Kingsley shook his head. "No, but I think we will."

"You have a lot of confidence in my abilities," said Diane.

"I do. But you saw the looks on Merrick's and Drew's faces. They can't conceive of anyone who can outsmart them. A lot of law enforcement personnel have the notion that people in prison are stupid or they wouldn't be in prison. And I'll be the first to admit that quite a few prisoners are a couple of standard deviations left of the mean on intelligence. But quite a few are also like Clymene-very smart and very cunning."

Diane stood up. "I need to go to the other side of the building to my other job. David's probably wondering if I was carried off in chains by the U.S. Marshals."

She looked up at the clock on the wall. It was past quitting time for the museum staff, but Andie would be in her office waiting for her. Diane needed to speak with her so Andie could go home. The m.u.f.fled ringing of the phone in Andie's office had been continuous while she and Kingsley were being questioned by the marshals. Andie must have had an onerous day herself, fielding calls from concerned, irate contributors, not to mention the media.

"Do you have a night crime scene team?" said Kingsley, standing up and smoothing his jacket.

Diane grinned. "Yes. It's the same one as the day team. We have a night receptionist who receives requests and forwards them to whoever is on call. We take turns. So far the crime rate has been low enough to allow us some sleep." Diane yawned. "Which I'm in need of. The DA has probably worn out his carpet waiting for my call. You going to speak with him tonight?"

"Yes, I will. He'll probably blame both of us for breaking Clymene out," said Kingsley. "I'll have to put on my FBI att.i.tude."

Diane walked Kingsley through Andie's office on his way out.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow," he said, waving as he left.

Diane turned her attention to Andie. "I heard the constant ringing of the telephone. I hope things haven't been too bad for you today."

"Me?" said Andie. "How about you? I didn't have the U.S. Marshals after me. What was that about?" She looked more than ever like Orphan Annie when her eyes were large and round like they were now, staring up at Diane.

"It wasn't about the museum," she said.

"Oh, dark matter," said Andie. "That's a relief."

Not really, thought Diane. "What's been going on here? What have the calls been like?" thought Diane. "What's been going on here? What have the calls been like?"

"That DA is a pest. I tell you, come next election he doesn't get my vote. We've been getting some calls from people asking about the scandal. I tell them that it's being looked into. Some of them say they are contributors and they want to know what's being done. I just tell them that you are on top of it. Of course, then they want to talk with you and I have to tell them you are busy being on top of things. Some want to give Kendel a piece of their mind. Really, people can be so mean. I want to tell them, like they've got a piece of mind to spare." Andie stopped to take a breath.

"I'll work on an e-mail tomorrow to send to the contributors," said Diane. When I think of what to tell them When I think of what to tell them, she thought. "Go home, Andie. I'll see you tomorrow."

Andie grabbed her purse. "Things will be better tomorrow," she said. "I'm sure of it. You always fix things."

"I hope so," said Diane. She didn't feel as though she could fix anything right now. She felt weary to the bone.

Diane walked from her office to the bank of elevators in the center of the museum and rode to the third floor. From there she walked to the west wing. She waved at the night guard as she entered her code in the keypad and opened the door to the crime lab.