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and corporations for future robberies? Scaring the shit out of everyone so there would be no resistance? Or did the murders have to do with revenge? It made sense that one or more of the killers might have worked at a bank. We were chasing that lead with everything we had.
    I peered around the overcrowded crisis room inside the FBI field office. Several partitions on one wall had been allotted to write-ups and photos of suspects and witnesses. Unfortunately, none of the suspects were particularly hot. Not even lukewarm. The partitions were titled “Fat Man,” “Manager’s Wife,” “Husband’s Girlfriend,” “Mustache.”
    Why didn’t we have a single good suspect? What should that be telling us? What were we all missing?
    “Hi and good morning. I want to thank everyone in advance for giving up your weekend,” Agent Cavalierre said with just the right amount of irony and humor. She was wearing khakis and a light purple T-shirt. There was a tiny purple barrette in her hair. She looked confident and surprisingly relaxed.
    “If you don’t come in on Saturday,” an agent with a droopy mustache spoke up from the back of the room, “don’t bother to come in on Sunday.”
    “You ever notice how the wiseasses always sit in the back?” Cavalierre cracked, and then smiled convincingly. She was as cool as they come.
    She held up a thick blue folder. “Everybody has a big bad file like this one, containing past cases that might relate. The Joseph Dougherty robberies through the Midwest in the eighties were similar in some ways. There’s also material on David Grandstaff, who masterminded the largest single bank robbery in American history. Of some interest, Grandstaff was caught by the Bureau. However, in our zealous efforts to take him down, questionable tactics were used. After a six-week trial, a jury deliberated for all of ten minutes, then let Grandstaff off. To this day, the three million from the Tucson First National Bank job hasn’t been recovered.”
    There was a hand wave and a question from the front of the room. “Where is Mr. Grandstaff now?”
    “Oh, he’s gone underground,” said Agent Cavalierre. “About six feet. He isn’t involved in these robberies, Agent Doud. But he may have helped inspire them. The same goes for Joseph Dougherty. Whoever did these jobs might be aware of their handiwork. As I’ve heard them say in the movies, ‘He’s a student of the game.’”
    About half an hour into the meeting, Agent Cavalierre introduced me to the other agents.
    “Some of you already know Alex Cross from the D.C. police. He’s Homicide, with a Ph.D. in psychology. Dr. Cross is a forensic psychologist. He is a
very good
friend of Kyle Craig, by the way. The two of them are tight. So whatever you might think of the Metro police, or ADIC Craig, you’d better keep it to yourself.”
    She looked over at me. “Actually, Dr. Cross discovered the bodies of Brianne and Errol Parker in D.C. That’s as close as we have to a break in the case. Notice how I’m careful to kiss Dr. Cross’s butt.”
    I stood up and looked around the conference room as I spoke to the agents. “Well, I’m afraid the Parkers have gone underground, too,” I said, and got a few laughs. “Brianne and Errol were small-timers, but had served time for bank jobs. We’re checking on anyone they knew at Lorton Prison. So far, nothing has come of it. Nothing much has come of anything we’ve done, and that’s disturbing.
    “The Parkers were competent thieves, but not as organized as whoever brought them in — and then decided to kill them. The Parkers were poisoned, by the way. I think the killer watched them die, and the deaths were gruesome. The killer may have had sex with Brianne Parker after she was dead. This is just a guess right now, but I don’t think this mess is just about bank robberies.”

Chapter 34
    THE MASTERMIND COULDN’T SLEEP!
Too many unwelcome thoughts were buzzing around like a swarm of angry wasps