“Yes,” said Loscarso. “She has good and bad days, but lately she’s started thinking I’m her sister. So far it’s harder for my pop, my brother, and me than it is for her. My mom doesn’t show any signs of being disturbed by it.”

“Long may that continue, for her sake.”

“Amen.”

“Here’s the thing,” said Pascal. “I might need your help on the Alzheimer’s front.”

“You mean, help you talk to someone who has it?”

“No,” said Pascal, “I was thinking more along the lines of taking advantage of them.”

MINUTES LATER, PASCAL WAS thanking Sabine Drew for her time and help, and telling her that she could go.

“What are you planning to do?” she asked.

“We’re going to attempt to search this man’s property.”

“Attempt?”

“What you’ve shared with me isn’t even close to enough for a warrant. We’ll have to find another way, but you’ve given us information that may prove crucial.”

Sabine remained seated.

“Lou,” she said.

“What?”

“That’s the only detail I’ve kept back. Verona thought his first name might be Lou. Someone called him on the phone, while she was in the trunk. It came over the speaker in the car, and she heard the caller use that name.”

Pascal experienced the sharp, familiar pain of disappointment. All his doubts threatened to flood back. He was about to expend a great deal of effort, and possibly endanger his career, by pursuing an elderly, vulnerable woman and her son on the evidence of a psychic. Sure, the names Lester and Lou both started with the letter L, but—

Ah, Jesus.

“Boo,” he said.

Sabine Drew buttoned her cardigan and put on her coat.

“Not Mr. Boulier. Just Boo.”

“Excuse me?”

“Boo,” Pascal repeated. “That’s what his friends call him. He told us, back when we first spoke to him.”

“Boo,” she said. “You clever girl, Verona.”

CHAPTER XXXVII

The discussion about how best to handle Lester Boulier and his mother took place behind closed doors; officially, it never took place at all. Present were Pascal; his partner McCard; Loren Noyes, deputy chief of the Augusta PD; and Rodd Turin, the commander of the Bureau of Criminal Investigations, who had served as Pascal’s mentor when he first joined the force. Pascal shared with them exactly what Sabine had told him, leaving nothing out, not even his own qualms, including the possibility that he was interpreting what he had heard in a manner that would justify targeting Lester Boulier. He wanted Boulier to be the culprit, he knew, because he, as much as the Walters family, needed closure.

When Pascal was done, Turin turned to McCard. “What do you think of all this?”

“I only just got here,” said McCard.

“You brought your ears. I can see them on the sides of your head.”

McCard jerked a thumb at Pascal. “Then whatever he said.”

“You know how many psychics contact us for major cases?” asked Noyes. “We could open a touring show, we got so many of them on the books.”