"He's here! I'm telling you. Geoffrey Shafer the Weasel! He's here somewhere!" she yelled and ran both hands through her hair.

The baby was wailing in his Pack 'n Play. I went over and picked him up. The boy quieted down as soon as he was in my arms. I walked over to Christine and the two patrolmen.

"Tell them about Geoffrey Shafer," Christine pleaded with me. Tell them what's already happened. How crazy he is!"

I told the officers who I was and then the story of Christine's horrific kidnapping more than a year before in Bermuda. I tried to give a short version, and when I was finished they nodded. They got it, understood.

"I remember the case from the newspapers," one of them said. "Trouble is, there's no evidence that anyone was here tonight. We've checked all the doors, windows, and the grounds."

"Would you mind if I took a look around?" I asked.

"Not at all. We'll wait here with Ms Johnson. Take your time, Detective."

I gave the baby over to Christine and then I checked the house very carefully. I looked everywhere, but I didn't find any sign of entry. I walked the grounds, and even though it was wet, saw no evidence of fresh footprints. I doubted that Shafer had been there that night.

When I returned to the living room, Christine and the baby were cuddled up quietly on the couch. The two patrolmen were waiting outside on the front porch. I went out and talked to them.

"Can I be honest?" one of them asked me. "Could Ms Johnson have had a bad dream? It sounds like some kind of nightmare or something. She's sure this guy Shafer was in her house. In the bedroom. We saw nothing to support that, Detective. The doors were locked. The alarm was still on. Does she have nightmares?"

"Sometimes, she does. Lately. Thank you for your help. I'll take it from here."

After the squad cars drove off, I went back inside to be with Christine. She seemed a little calmer now, but her eyes were so damn sad.

"What's happening to me? "she asked," I want my life back. ," can't get away from him."

She wouldn't let me hold her, not even then. She didn't want to hear that she might have been dreaming about Geoffrey Shafer, the Weasel. Christine did thank me for coming, but then she told me to go home.

"There's nothing you can do for me," she said.

I kissed the baby, and then I went home.

Chapter Forty-One

During a robbery, the new members called themselves Mr. Blue, Mr. White, Mr. Red, and Ms Green. That morning at seven precisely, Mr. Blue was in position in the thick fir woods behind a house in the Woodley Park section of Washington.

As he'd done for the past three mornings, the bank manager, Martin Casselman, left his home at around twenty past seven. Casselman peered around the neighborhood before he got into his car. It was possible he was spooked by the recent bank robberies in Maryland and Virginia. Still, most people never really thought it could happen to them.