“No. I mean in the Christian Bible, angels don’t have wings. This girl does. In other mythologies, like Babylonian, they do. Of course, that’s academic. What they can all agree on is that winged beings are either messengers or, as the Babylonians described them, watchers. Messengers or watchers, take your pick. If she’s not here to tell us something obvious, then logic would dictate she’s watching something. What was she looking at, Jessica?”

She was looking at something? Damn. I spent over an hour at the crime scene and never bothered to think about this. I even stared down at her haunted eyes. I was so focused on figuring out how he did it, I didn’t bother to ask why. None of us did. We forgot the Warlock is trying to tell a story.

The angel herself is the clue.

A text message comes up on my phone from Knoll with a Las Vegas phone number.

Damian sighs. “I can see this didn’t dawn on you and your friends. I’m sure you were all tired. Maybe I’m wrong. But we know I’m not. Either way, if you go have a look to see what your angel is watching, don’t go alone. I think I’m going to have a nap myself. I’ve been up for three days straight. If you call this number, just ask for Mr. Smith. I won’t be here, though. But you’ll get all the proof of my innocence you need. And one more thing . . .”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Put something on. You’ll catch cold.”

He hangs up, leaving me staring at my naked reflection. He’s thousands of miles away, yet he knows me. He knows me better than I know myself.

45

A MINUTE AFTER DAMIAN hangs up on the hotel telephone, Knoll calls me on my mobile.

“We traced it to the Bellagio casino in Las Vegas. We’re sending some uniformed police to pick him up.”

“He won’t be there. He knows you’re coming,” I explain with a sigh.

“It’s worth a try,” Knoll replies tersely. “We’ve told security there too.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Kind of sloppy of him to use a landline like that.”

Knoll doesn’t know Damian. “No. He wants us to know where he is. Call the number back and ask for Mr. Smith.”

“We’re checking on that. See you downstairs in ten,” Knoll says before he hangs up.

I get dressed while I wait for Knoll to call back. I have to see what the angel was looking at. I’m exhausted, but I need to know. I send an e-mail to Ailes describing Damian’s insight, then go down to the lobby to get a cup of coffee and wait for the rest of the team who were in on the phone call.

Three minutes later he steps from the elevator flanked by two of our forensic people from Quantico. Knoll sees me and shakes his head. “Security at the Bellagio said he left right after he hung up on the house phone. They’re going to double check their security footage, but they’re pretty sure the man who made that call is the same person they’ve been watching for the last three days at the poker tables. He only gets up to use the bathroom. Other than that he hasn’t moved more than a hundred feet for seventy-two hours. Nuts.”