Part 13 (1/2)

Like Diane, the marshals didn't gesture with their hands as they spoke. Merrick had his fingers laced together in front of him. Drew had his arms folded.

He sat back comfortably in the chair. Merrick leaned forward slightly. Diane's hands were laced together in front of her also. They looked each other straight in the eye as they spoke. The whole thing reminded her of her visit with Clymene-all trying not to give anything away.

”Rivers wanted to know what the evidence was that convicted Clymene. I went through it with him,”

said Diane.

”And why did he want that information?” asked Merrick.

”He didn't say,” said Diane. ”But Clymene had been a model prisoner and very helpful to the other inmates, according to Rivers. He had heard from her and perhaps from other prisoners that the evidence against her was not very good. I believe he had begun to doubt her guilt. But I don't know that for sure.” ”Do you think he would have helped her escape?”

asked Drew.

”I don't know. I have to tell you, though, Clymene is very gifted. I daresay she could make you like her,”

said Diane.

The two deputy marshals looked mildly startled and greatly skeptical. From the smirks on their faces, Diane knew they thought she greatly overrated the powers of Clymene O'Riley. Diane smiled back at them. ”And how about you?” asked Merrick. ”Do you like her?”

”I don't dislike her. It would be a stretch to say that I like her,” said Diane. ”She is, after all, a calculating, cold-blooded murderer.”

”So, do you think she could have made Rivers help her escape?” said Merrick.

”I don't know. She's not a wizard. She can't make people do things they don't want to do. She can make them predisposed to believe her,” said Diane. ”How does she do that?” asked Drew, frowning now like he seriously wanted to know the source of her power.

”You'll have to ask FBI agent Kingsley. He would know more about the psychology involved. He says she's a natural profiler. She has an uncanny ability to size people up,” said Diane.

”Why didn't you call me after your visit with her, as I requested?” asked DA Riddmann. Diane could see the marshals were annoyed at the interruption. Diane glanced at Riddmann. She could also see he was clearly angry with her. ”Agent Kingsley said he was going to call you,” she said.

”He didn't,” said Riddmann.

”Then something must have come up,” said Diane.

”I'm sure he will.”

”Did Clymene perhaps get to you?” asked Riddmann.

”No,” said Diane.

”Maybe-” he began, but Merrick cut in. ”I understand you had a bit of trouble early this morning?” he said.

Riddmann started to open his mouth, but Merrick cut him a harsh look. Clearly the marshals weren't letting their jurisdiction go just yet. Probably because they didn't have a body. Probably wondering where I Probably wondering where I hid it, Diane decided.

”Yes, I did,” said Diane.

”Would you go over it with us?” asked Merrick. Diane looked surprised only because it would have looked suspicious if she hadn't.

”You think what happened to me has something to do with Clymene?” she asked.

”Just tell us about it,” said Drew.

Diane again repeated the incident of awaking in the wee hours of the morning to the sound of knocking at her door and slipping in the blood.

”Tell me,” said Riddmann, glaring over at the marshals. ”How much blood is in the human body? You would know that, being a forensic anthropologist, right?”

”We each have about ten pints,” said Diane. ”And how much can you lose and still live?” DA Riddmann asked.

”Less than three and a half pints. Any more than that and you are dead,” said Diane.

”How much blood would you say was on your floor?” Riddmann asked, leaning forward. From the glitter in his eyes, Diane could see he was warming to the way he was building up his argument.

”I would say four pints or more,” said Diane not taking her eyes off his.

”Can you distinguish, say, blood from a blood bank from fresh blood?” he asked.

”Yes. An anticoagulant preservative is added to stored blood,” said Diane. ”Among other things.” ”Okay, now . . . ” He sat up in his chair and straightened his tie.

Going in for the kill, thought Diane. What she didn't understand was why. She cast a glance at Garnett while Riddmann's attention was averted to his tie. Garnett was staring at her intently. She knew Garnett would be on her side-at least she thought she did. She did know that Garnett and Riddmann didn't always see eye to eye. In a flash it dawned on her.

Councilman Albin Adler.

Riddmann was a friend and political crony of Adler.

When Adler's mental and physical health forced him to leave politics amid one of Rosewood's worst catastrophes-an explosion that killed more than thirty students-it left a vacuum his political opponents eagerly filled. Diane knew Adler's friends and family believed she had misdirected paramedics, causing Adler to be left in subfreezing temperatures overnight, resulting in severe harm to him. They were wrong. It was not her fault. But they still blamed her. And there was one thing about Adler's gang of friends. They were as vindictive as h.e.l.l.

Chapter 22.

”Can I get any of you something to drink?” said Diane. She wanted to add, while the DA is straightening his tie while the DA is straightening his tie, but didn't. Tie straightening was Riddmann's tell. Diane didn't think he knew it. ”I have a refrigerator in my osteology office.”

There was a round of ”no” from the marshals and Garnett-just enough time to interrupt Riddmann's flow. He glared at her. Diane sat looking at him innocently. He stumbled for words for several moments before continuing.

”What if I told you the blood in your apartment was fresh and belonged to one person,” he said.

”I would say that person is most likely dead,” said Diane.

”What if I said the blood trail leads from your apartment to your car and that a knife from your apartment was found in the trunk along with more of the same blood that was in your apartment?” said Riddmann.

”I would be very surprised,” said Diane. ”Is that what you are saying?”

He didn't answer. Diane didn't think he would. She was starting to resent being treated like a perp. She would stop the whole thing, but Riddmann would probably make Garnett drag her b.u.t.t downtown.

”And what if I told you the blood belonged to Clymene O'Riley?” said Riddman.

Diane didn't say anything and again feigned astonishment. ”Does it? Are you saying that Clymene was in my home?”