Page 84 of Return of the Spider
Soneji walked back into his class. An inner voice told him that he was flirting with disaster, being this close to a Secret Service agent. So far, though, Flanagan seemed unaware of his dark side.
Then again, he had done everything he could think of to keep the lives of Gary Soneji and Gary Murphy separate. He flashedon an image of Missy admiring Bunny Maddox’s engagement ring and felt perverse pleasure. The memory of Bunny bound and drugged in the back of the van made him yearn to do it again.
He allowed himself a glance at Cheryl Lynn, who was chatting with a girl across the aisle. She was right there. And she was famous. Her father was, anyway.
Before the fantasy of taking the daughter of the White House chief of staff to the Pine Barrens could completely seize his attention, the interior warning voice told Soneji to slow down, that his cover needed to be deeper and broader before he took that kind of risk.
For a second, Soneji was confused as to how to deepen and strengthen his cover. And then he wasn’t. He just needed time and patience and a—
“Mr. Soneji?” one of his students called. “Are you okay?”
Soneji realized many of his students were watching him.
“Just thinking about a dear friend of mine,” he said, and laughed as he picked up a stick of chalk and turned to the blackboard. “Let’s continue with another look at how an operating system works.”
CHAPTER
69
Ten days later, theTuesday before Thanksgiving, Sampson and I finally got a return call from Pennsylvania police detective Tommy French.
We were at our desks, and John put the call on speaker. “Anything good, Tommy?”
“I asked folks in the DMV in every county in the commonwealth to look in their files for Pennsylvania plates beginning withTNZorTNS,” French said. “Right now we’ve got forty-two with theZand one hundred and seventeen with theS. We have nine that have a three behind both variations and sixty plates that have an eight. Not one of them is registered to an older white Ford Econoline van.”
“So it sounds like the plates were stolen,” I said, feeling one of our leads dying.
“I thought of that,” French said. “And I had them all cross-reference plates reported as stolen with my list. Struck out again.”
Sampson said, “Is it possible that the plates aren’t stolen? That maybe he’s taking them off one vehicle and putting them on the van when he’s using it?”
“Very possible,” French said.
We thanked the detective and went in to update Chief Pittman about our trip south last week and the video clips of the white van present at the sites of multiple crimes in the DC and Richmond area. We also told him about the issue with the plates.
The chief thought about that for several moments before saying, “Call French back. Ask him if it’s possible to search expired plates with those letters against old registrations.”
“See if a white van pops up,” I said. “Can’t hurt.”
Sampson nodded. “I suppose if we’re theorizing that he’d be willing to steal plates and drive around, why wouldn’t he also be willing to use expired plates?”
Pittman said, “No one would even know as long as he slapped on an up-to-date expiration sticker.”
It was nearly six in the evening, but Sampson tried French again and got him just before he was about to leave.
When we told him Chief Pittman’s idea, the detective balked. “I’ll ask, but I wouldn’t count on this happening quickly.”
I said, “We’ve got a lot of bodies down here, Tommy.”
“As long as it happens eventually, we’re good,” Sampson said.
He sighed. “Where should I begin?”
“Start ten years ago and work your way back.”
French wasn’t exactly thrilled, but he agreed to make the request in the morning.
When I reached home, I found Maria and Damon on thecouch watching TV. My son had his head on his mom’s lap but shot upright when he saw me.
