"Ah."
"I'll get some more coffee," Lukas said.
"I'll help you," Parker said.
In the kitchen he swung the door closed and turned to Lukas. He whispered, "How? How on earth . . . ?"
She laughed--undoubtedly at the expression on his face. "You called Detention last night. Said you were spooked. Night watch called me. I tried to call you. Bell Atlantic said your line'd been cut. Fairfax County SWAT got here around three-thirty on a silent roll-in and found a dead body downstairs and you in bed taking a nap. Who was the shooter who got the Digger? Wasn't you, right?"
"Some kid. He said the Digger killed his father. The Digger brought him here with him. Don't ask me why. The boy just took off . . . Now answer one for me--who was the body on the bus?"
"The bus driver. We figure the Digger kept him alive and then made him run for the exit in the back. Then Digger shot him then the gas tank and when the fire started he climbed out one of the windows. Used the smoke for cover. Got away through the traffic jam. Smarter than he seemed."
But Parker shook his head. "No, it was Fielding. He told the Digger to do that. He wasn't going to sacrifice his boy at all. This wasn't going to be their last job. They probably had years of this ahead of them . . . But the house." Parker waved his arms. "How--?"
"That was Cage. He made a few calls."
The miracle worker.
"I don't know what to say."
"We got you into this mess. It's the least we could do."
Parker wouldn't argue with that.
"Wait . . . What did you call yourself? Jackie?"
She hesitated. "Nickname," she said. "It's what my family calls me. I don't use it much."
There were footsteps on the stairs, soft thuds as the children came down to the living room. Parker and Lukas could hear the voices through the kitchen door: "Mommy! Hey!"
"Hello, both of you," Joan said. "Here, here . . . This is for you."
Rustling of paper.
"Do you like them?" Joan asked. "Do you?"
Stephie's dubious voice said, "Oh, it's Barney."
Robby laughed out loud. Then he groaned. "And Big Bird."
Parker shook his head at his ex-wife's incompetence and gave Lukas a smile. But she didn't notice. Her head was turned toward the living room, drawn hypnotically toward the sound of the children's voices. After a moment she looked out the window and stared at the falling snow. Finally she said, "So that's your wife. You two don't seem much alike."
Parker laughed. What Lukas really meant was: How the hell did you end up with her?
A legitimate question and one he'd be happy to answer. But doing so would require a lot more time than they had right at the moment. And would also have to be part of a complicated ritual involving her sharing at least some of the answers to the puzzle of Margaret--or Jackie--Lukas.
And what a puzzle she was: Parker looked her over--the makeup, the jewelry. The softness of the white silk blouse, the delicate lace of the lingerie beneath it. And she was wearing perfume today, not just fragrant soap. What did it remind him of? He couldn't tell.
She glanced at his perusing eyes.
Caught once again. He didn't care.
Parker said, "You don't look like an FBI agent."
"Undercover," Lukas said, finally laughing. "I used to be really good at it. I played a Mafia hit man's wife once."
"Italian? With that hair?"
"I had Miss Clairol for backup." Neither said anything for a moment. "I'll stay until she leaves. Thought a hint of a domestic life might help you out with the social worker."
"It's above and beyond the call," he said.
She gave a shrug worthy of Cage.
"Look," he said, "I know you said you had plans. But the Whos and I were going to do some yard work."
"In the snow?"
"Right. Cut down some bushes in the backyard. Then we were going sledding? What it is, we don't get much snow here?"
He stopped speaking. Ending declarative sentences with interrogatory inflection? And he actually began a sentence with "What it is." The forensic linguist within him was not pleased. Nervous, are we? He continued. "I don't know if you'd be interested, but . . ." He stopped once again.
"Is that an invitation?" Lukas asked.
"Uhm. Yes, it is."
"Those plans I had?" she said. "I was going to clean up my house and finish sewing a blouse for a friend's daughter."
"Is that an acceptance?"
A tentative smile. "I guess it is." Silence for a moment. "Say, how's the coffee? I don't make it very often. Usually I just go to Starbucks."
"Good," he answered.
She was facing the window. But her eyes moved once more toward the door; she was listening to the sound of the children. She turned back to Parker. "Oh, I've figured it out."
"What?"
"The puzzle."
"Puzzle?"
"How many hawks were left on the roof. This morning, sitting here, I figured it out."
"Okay. Go ahead."
"It's a trick question. There's more than one answer."
"That's good," Parker said, "but that doesn't mean it's a trick question. It just means you're thinking the right way--you've realized that a legitimate answer is that there are several possible solutions. It's the first thing that puzzle masters learn."
"See," she continued, "you tend to think that all the facts you need are given in the puzzle but there are some that aren't stated."
Absolutely right. He nodded.
"And those facts have to do with the nature of hawks."
"Ah," Parker said, "and what does a hawk's nature have to do with the puzzle?"
"Because," she said, pointing a finger at him and revealing a sliver of girlishness he hadn't seen before, "hawks might be scared off by a gunshot. But they might not. Because--remember?--they were far apart on the roof. That was a clue, right?"
"Right. Keep going."
"Okay, the farmer shoots one bird off the roof but we don't know what the other two do. They both might stay. So then the answer'd be there're two left. Or one might fly off and that'd leave one. Or both might fly off, which'd leave none. So. Those're the three answers."
"Well," Parker responded, "you were right to consider implied facts."
She frowned. "What does that mean? Am I right or not?"
"You're wrong."
"But," Lukas protested, "I have to be right."
"No, you don't." He laughed.
"Well, I'm at least partly right, aren't I?"
"There's no such thing as partly right when it comes to puzzles. You want to know the answer?"
A hesitation. "No. That'd be cheating. I'm going to keep working on it."
It was a good moment to kiss her and he did, briefly, then, as Lukas poured more coffee, Parker returned to the living room to hug his children and tell them good morning on the first day of the year.
Author's Note
In trying to solve Parker's puzzle, Jackie Lukas's mistake was in making an assumption: that the hawk the farmer shot would fall off the roof. It might not have. The question didn't ask how many "living hawks" were left on the roof, just how many "hawks." So the answer is this: Three hawks would remain if the dead hawk didn't fall off and the other two don't fly away. Two hawks, if the dead hawk didn't fall off and one flies away or if the dead hawk does fall off and the other two stay. One hawk, if the dead hawk falls and one of the others flies away or if the dead hawk doesn't fall and the others fly away. No hawks, if the dead hawk falls off the roof and the others fly away.
Acknowledgments
The author would like to thank Vernon Geberth, whose excellent book Practical Homicide Investigation is a milestone work in police procedure and has provided invaluable information in researching this and the author's other books. The puzzles described in this book are variations on several contained in Perplexing Lateral Thinking Puzzles by Paul Sloane and Des MacHale.
JEFFERY DEAVER, a former attorney and the New Y
ork Times bestselling author internationally hailed as "the best psychological thriller writer around" (The Times, London), has most recently added to his myriad literary achievements as the author of the new James Bond novel, Carte Blanche. He is the originator of the acclaimed detective hero Lincoln Rhyme, featured in nine hit novels including The Bone Collector--which became a Universal Pictures feature film starring Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie. A six-time Edgar Award nominee, Deaver's numerous stand-alone novels include the "ingenious" (Library Journal) page-turner Edge; The Devil's Teardrop, which became a Lifetime Television movie; and The Bodies Left Behind, winner of the 2009 Best Novel of the Year award from the International Thriller Writers organization.
Visit www.jefferydeaver.com.
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COVER DESIGN BY JAE SONG * COVER PHOTOGRAPH BY CHRIS HARTLOVE / GETTY IMAGES
AUTHOR PHOTOGRAPH BY JERRY BAUER
ALSO BY JEFFERY DEAVER
Carte Blanche
Edge
The Burning Wire*
Best American Mystery Stories 2009 (Editor) The Watch List (The Copper Bracelet and The Chopin Manuscript) (Contributor) Roadside Crosses**
The Bodies Left Behind
The Broken Window*
The Sleeping Doll**
More Twisted: Collected Stories, Volume Two The Cold Moon*/**
The Twelfth Card*
Garden of Beasts
Twisted: Collected Stories The Vanished Man*
The Stone Monkey*
The Blue Nowhere
The Empty Chair*
Speaking in Tongues
The Devil's Teardrop
The Coffin Dancer*
The Bone Collector*
A Maiden's Grave
Praying for Sleep
The Lesson of Her Death
Mistress of Justice
Hard News
Death of a Blue Movie Star Manhattan Is My Beat
Hell's Kitchen
Bloody River Blues
Shallow Graves
A Century of Great Suspense Stories (Editor) A Hot and Sultry Night for Crime (Editor) Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (Introduction) *Featuring Lincoln Rhyme and Amelia Sachs **Featuring Kathryn Dance
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Copyright (c) 2003 by Jeffery Deaver
Originally published in hardcover in 2003 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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ISBN 978-1-4516-4735-8
ISBN 978-0-684-85659-9 (ebook)
Jeffery Deaver, The Devil's Teardrop
(Series: # )
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