One Grave Too Many
broadly. “My son’s here. Guest of Kenneth Meyers. He has a summer job working for him. I’d like you to meet him.”
    “I’d like that, Jake. Let me check this out, and I’ll introduce myself. I overheard you talking to Frank yesterday. You must be really proud.”
    “Proud’s putting it mildly. Dylan’s a great kid. It’s hard these days to raise a good kid. I’m proud—and lucky. Was that Frank I saw leaving just now?”
    “He had to leave. Some friends of his were found dead in their home.”
    Jake’s happy expression dissolved into a frown. “Do you know who?”
    “I think their names are George and Louise Boone, and their son, Jay.”
    Jake backed up and leaned against the wall, his mouth open. “George and Louise. I know them. I play poker with George. Are you sure?” He reached for his cell phone. It rang in his hand and he almost dropped it. “Houser here.”
    He paused. Diane watched the frown on his face deepen.
    “I think so.” He held his hand over the mouthpiece.
    “My God, it’s true. George, Louise, Jay too. They need me down at the station. We’re shorthanded. I know you’ve been very flexible with me. . . .”
    “It’s all right. Tell Leonard you’re going. I think I saw him heading for the upper floors not long ago.”
    “Thanks, Doc. Thanks.” He paused, looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead contacted Leonard on his walkie-talkie.
    Diane walked to her office and unlocked her private door. She was just about to punch the play button on her answering machine when the phone rang again. It frightened her. Frank’s, Jake’s, and now hers—a conspiracy of phones bringing bad news? She trembled slightly as she reached for it.
    “Diane Fallon,” she said into the receiver.
    “Diane. I’m glad I found you. I’ve been calling your home.” It was Gregory. “We’ve lost track of Santos, and believe his right-hand man, Joachim, may have entered the United States last week. I’m trying to verify it.”
    Diane’s knees suddenly felt weak, and she sank onto her chair. “You think he’s coming here?”
    “We don’t know that. I don’t even know if the reports are true. You know how hard it is to verify things. I’ll find out. I just wanted to warn you of the possibility. I don’t want you to worry, Diane. I wouldn’t even have called, but I thought you might hear the news from another source.”
    “Is the team still down there?”
    “I’ve called them back . . . temporarily. They think they’ve located two more mass graves, and I don’t want to start excavation until things are a little more settled.”
    So Gregory was more worried than he let on, she thought. “Is something else going on?” she asked.
    “I don’t know. President Valdividia told some of his friends he’s going to take a vacation. You know how unsettled Puerto Barquis has been the past few months.” He paused. “He may be . . . what do you Americans say? Getting the hell out of Dodge.”
    “Something rather disturbing has happened here.”
    “Something to do with Santos? What is it?”
    Diane told him about the museum party, the music and the note.
    There was a long pause before he spoke. “Of course, it could be a coincidence.”
    “It probably is,” she said. “But if it isn’t, what would be the point? What would he gain?”
    “The point might be to put fear into those who took your place.”
    “Of course, if he shows he can reach any of us, wherever we are, that would be an effective weapon of terror. But it may not be him at all. There are other things going on, things related to the museum.” She opened the drawer and fingered the printouts from the fax as she explained the duplicate orders. “I suppose it could be some clumsy attempt to discredit me.”
    “You don’t think that might be related to Santos too?”
    “It hardly seems likely. I’m under pressure to move the museum and sell the property to developers. This probably has more to do with that. I just

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