“I tell you I didn’t even know who this Christie was!”

Sherlock sat forward, pinned him, her voice very quiet. “Were you frightened, Mr. Pallack? Were you cursing the vagaries of fate? You knew something would happen, realized someone would come. Did you watch your phone, waiting for it to ring?”

“I am frightened of nothing, Agent Sherlock, I have no reason to be. Now, I’ve been patient. I’ve cooperated, answered all your questions. I have nothing more to say. If you wish to continue with this insane inquiry, you will speak to my lawyer. I want all of you out of here now.”

“Good day, Mr. Pallack,” Cheney said as he ushered Julia out of the office after the others. He said to Mrs. Potts, who hovered protectively outside the big man’s corner office, “We never got to see the fog burn off.”

Her hands were on her hips and there was fire in her eyes. “No, you didn’t,” she said, “and I doubt you’ll ever be here again to witness it.”

CHAPTER 41

Savich was about to turn the ignition in his father-in-law’s big black BMW when Sherlock’s cell phone burst into “The Sound of Music.”

“Sherlock here. What? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Savich turned to face her. Both Cheney and Julia sat forward in the backseat, all eyes on Sherlock.

When she punched off her cell a few minutes later, she said, “Well, that was Ruth. She said the local news just reported the car chase and shooting through the park and on the beach, and that a psychic had warned Cheney and Julia that she’d seen it all in a vision, and this same psychic was helping the police now.”

“But she didn’t, she’s not,” Cheney said. “I mean it wasn’t exactly like that.”

“Get a grip, Cheney,” Julia said, “we’re talking the media here.” Cheney said, “Please don’t tell me the media identified the psychic.”

Sherlock said, “Unfortunately they did. They showed Kathryn Golden’s picture.”

“But how did they know? We didn’t tell a soul!”

Cheney said, “You didn’t, Julia, but I told Frank Paulette all about her, about how her call early this morning had gotten us moving out of my condo. There were lots of cops around in that parking lot at the beach who, I suppose, could have overheard. Or it was a reporter who pried it out of one of the cops who thought it was all a big joke, who knows?”

Sherlock said, “Ruth said the reporter mentioned a source at the SFPD.”

Julia pounded Cheney’s arm. “Oh no, Cheney, he’ll go after Kathryn, you know he will.”

Cheney quickly dialed Kathryn Golden’s phone. One, two rings, then, “Hello?”

“Ms. Golden? This is Agent Stone. Listen to me now. The media gave out your name on the news. I want you to leave your house right now, do you understand? Pick up your car keys and go get in your car. Drive to the police station, all right? Do you understand me?”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“Go, now! Leave your phone on. I want to be able to hear you.”

He heard her breathing, heard her footsteps as she ran through her house, heard her say, “Where are those damned car keys?”

He heard her breathing hitch, then the blessed rattle of a key ring, her feet pounding loud. She said, “I’m nearly out, leaving now. Oh God!”

He heard the front door bang open, heard her scream. There was the sound of scuffling, and a thud, then there was nothing at all, only the silence of the open line.

“Oh God, he’s got her. But how could Makepeace have gotten to Livermore so fast?”

Savich said, “He was hiding nearby, that’s how. But why would he choose Livermore as his base?”

“I don’t know why, but he got her, just that fast,” said Cheney, snapping his fingers.

Sherlock said. “Julia, call the Livermore Police Department, tell them to get over to Kathryn’s house. I’m calling Dix and Ruth, she said they both wanted in on this.”

While Savich gunned Judge Sherlock’s BMW, he imagined Dix driving his father-in-law’s old black Chevy Blazer like a madman, Ruth giving him directions as best she could. Cheney called Captain Paulette.

“First David Caldicott disappeared, and now Kathryn’s taken,” Sherlock said. “I surely do hate this.”

Cheney said into his cell, “It isn’t good, Frank. I called her, told her to get out, told her to leave the phone line open. I heard him take her.”

“Yeah, Cheney, the wife told me how the damned media bleated it all out. I’ve got some calls to make, then I’m on my way out there. Damnation, I’m going to kick some major butt about the leak. Let’s hope you’re wrong, but of course you’re not.”