Seconds turned into minutes, and the only thing that could be heard was an occasional rattle of a keyboard and the associated hum of the laptops. But no one had a theory.
“I don’t have a fucking clue. Anyone?”
Brad looked at me over his shoulder. “I still have to show you the catalog numbers from the museum. Later, once we figure this shit out.”
“Put them up on the screen here,” I said.
Brad paused for a moment.
“A numbers savant could do any one of a million things with these numbers. While I’m guessing the longitude and latitude are part of it, maybe there’s an overlap with other numbers. The stolen artifacts’ catalog numbers are a good place to start.”
Five minutes later, seventeen catalog numbers were listed vertically on the right side of the screen.
Biting my lip, I tried to think what these numbers represented together that they didn’t represent individually.
“Add up all those numbers in the column.”
A moment passed, then the girl said, “Here we go.”
The first two numbers were eighty-four.
“Wait,” Brad said. “Remember, we found two of those items on the Dark Web. There’s a possibility that Peacoat didn’t steal those.” He walked over to the table where his team sat, and a minute later, only fifteen items remained with a new total. The first two numbers were eighty-two.
My mind could suddenly see how this all added up.
“Cool. Now, add the longitude and latitude together for both locations. Then, ignore the negatives and add them together, and then subtract that number from your eighty-two. What do you get?”
A moment passed, and Nick walked over next to me.
“Who’s the Rain Man...I mean, Rain Woman?”
“Let’s see.”
Brad ran his long fingers through his hair as he and Bianca worked the grid from her computer.
I forced myself to breathe, then tried to rock side to side. Seconds felt like minutes—no, hours. I could feel my shoulders tense up again, but not from the cold. The stress of finding a killer, finding my husband, wondering if the two events were connected.
The silence was finally broken by Brad.
“Holy shit.”
I looked up at the big screen, which showed the updated numbers and a third balloon.
Brad said, “We’re left with the coordinates of a third location.” He pointed to a location up the coast near Lynn. “It’s in Nahant Bay.”
Jerry had just walked up, his eyes boring holes in me.
“Jerry, this might be a bit of a stretch, but we need a team to go to this location at Nahant Bay.”
“Alex,” he said somberly.
“Jerry, you’re not moving. What’s going on?” I paused a moment, a cork in my mind plugging my emotional bucket. “It’s about the Lexus and Mark, isn’t it?”
He nodded and tried to reach for me. I took a step back.
“Alex, state police found the Lexus in a hotel parking lot about ten miles north of where you went off the road.”
“And Mark?”
“He wasn’t in the car. The driver had a bullet in the back of his head, and the woman had been knocked unconscious.”
I closed my eyes for a second. My blood ran cold, and a fog began to coat my brain. I wondered if my body might completely shut down. I bit my lip hard, which ignited my senses.
“Have they searched the area? Maybe he’s hurt, looking for help.”
“According to the sergeant I spoke with, his officers said there’s no sign of blood outside the car. But they’ve called out more officers and are conducting a broader search.”
I turned and squeezed Nick’s arm. “Peacoat. It’s him. He targeted Mark for being the lying piece of shit that he is. He must have seen me, maybe knew who I was, and tried to take me out, then hunted down the Lexus and took Mark.”
Brad stepped over. “It’s just crazy to think that he wouldn’t ensure you were dead, or for that matter...” His blue eyes shifted to the floor.
“You mean the other woman,” I said, turning back to my boss. “Jerry, we need an agent at this woman’s bedside the moment she wakes up.”
“Makes sense. I’ll call Kowalski. He lives out that way.” Jerry got on the phone.
I took in a jittery breath, and when I turned around, Brad was standing there with a bottled Diet Coke.
“You used to drink this stuff when we worked late on a case.”
“Thanks, Brad.” I cracked the top and chugged two mouthfuls.
Jerry turned back to me. “Kowalski is on his way to the hospital to talk to the woman. I reached Mason and Silvagni and told them to head to Nahant Bay. And I included Randy on a quick three-way call just to keep him in the loop.”
I muttered a four-letter word under my breath.
“I know,” Jerry said. “We’ll deal with that later as well. Brad, send Mason and Silvagni the exact coordinates.”
“Will do.”
“The road conditions aren’t getting any better,” Jerry said. “So, even if Mason and Silvagni make it that far, who’s to say this Peacoat guy will go through with his whole macabre scene?”
I let Jerry’s words play in my mind, and I tried to think like the person we’d conjured up in our profile.
Jerry padded a couple of steps closer to the big screen. “So we’re basing our theory on catalog numbers from the museum theft with the longitude and latitude of the previous murder scenes?” He pulled at his face like it was made of rubber.
“We think Peacoat is some type of socially-challenged genius. It appears he’s fascinated with patterns.”
“Why the hell would he steal those items from the museum to begin with?”
“Maybe he’s just a colonial buff? Or maybe he did it for someone else?”
“I’ve read all the case notes. I know you considered partner theories when you thought a woman might be pulling the strings, but you seem pretty certain about this Peacoat guy. The guy you saw outside of Monty’s, did he look strong enough to pull this off?”
“Absolutely.”
Nick chimed in. “Like you said, Jerry, Peacoat might break his routine because of the weather or because he knows we’re on to him. Who knows where he is? Or who he is? Given what we think we know, he might not have a regular job. Needle in a haystack.”
“With a foot of snow on top,” Brad added.
I chugged some Diet Coke, letting the sizzling carbonation penetrate my senses. Then a lightning bolt shot through my skull.
“Hey, you.” I marched five steps and tapped the pretty girl with the raven-black hair on the shoulder.
She practically jumped out of her seat, jostling her long locks into her face. “Bianca, remember?”
“Sorry. How did parents deal with your brother’s habits and awkwardness?”
Her button eyes looked down for a moment, then she scooted up in her chair. “Now that I think about it, they enrolled him in this group of like-minded kids hoping he’d relate better to people like him. I think it ended up being more of a support group for my parents. My brother just didn’t have a desire to socialize. And when you think about it, this current digital environment makes it even easier for kids to hide behind a computer screen.”
“Do you recall the name of the support group?”
“Math Wizards Extraordinaire. MWE. I think my parents are still involved to a degree.”
“We need access to their database. We need to find a historical list of males living in this area. Guys in their twenties and thirties. Can you do that for me?”
“Uh...” Her eyes shifted to Brad, then Jerry.
I spoke up again. “We don’t have time for negotiation with them, and we sure as hell don’t have time to get a warrant. I need you to make it happen. Talk to your parents, call the president of the organization.”
“At one in the morning?” she asked.
“Does that make a difference if someone is going to die?”
“No, m
a’am.”
She pulled out her phone and was talking to someone in less than twenty seconds. I walked back over to Nick and Brad.
“Nick, I...I think I need to go to Nahant Bay.”
“What? That’s not a good idea, Alex.”
Jerry stuck his belly in the middle of our conversation. “The weather sucks, Alex. Who knows if you can even make it up there, and then we know it’s just a random theory anyway. It’s a waste of your time. You’re better off here, helping us try to find real leads.”
I went over and grabbed my coat, then turned back to the group, wagging my cell phone. “New technology. You can actually call me even when I’m not near a landline.”
I turned to Bianca and opened my arms. She was on the phone, but covered it and said, “I’m working on it.”
Facing my colleagues in the room, I upped my volume to make sure everyone heard me. “I need a list of possible suspects in twenty minutes. Call me to review each one. Is that clear?”
The men and women either nodded or said yes, then quickly got back to work.
I then walked up to Jerry with my hand extended. “I need my gun.”
“You can’t have it.”
“Why not?”
He smacked one beefy hand into the other. “I need the doctor’s note,” he said in perfect rhythm.
“What you really need to see is that my brain is functioning properly. Haven’t you just seen that here, tonight?”
He scratched the back of his head and shuffled in place.
“If you don’t give me my Glock, I’m going to the closest pawn shop and buying the biggest gun I can find.”
Nick had just pulled up next to me. “At least she’s not asking to borrow my backup piece.”
“Crap.” Jerry walked out of the room and returned a minute later with the Glock in my shoulder holster.
I grabbed it, but he didn’t let go. “You’re close to this one, Alex. Too close. They’ll have my ass for breakfast if you fuck this up.”
“Yes sir.”
He stabbed a finger at Nick. “And you don’t let her fuck this up.”
I jogged out of the room, pulling Nick along. Then I yelled back to everyone. “A list of suspects in sixteen minutes and counting.”
21
All I could hear were windshield wipers squeaking against the glass. And voices too. But they were indecipherable. I focused on the repetitive screech and even found myself counting them out loud. Anything to drown out the piercing agony.
The metal edge of my cell phone dug into my fingers. Then a hand touched mine.
Glancing up, I saw Nick’s green eyes. His compassionate, concerned eyes. Rocking in my seat, I could feel a swelling pressure in my chest, trying to bury the news we’d just heard from Mason and Silvagni: Mark’s dead body had just been found floating in the shallow waters of Nahant Bay. Just like Barden. Just like Lepino. But he wasn’t just like Barden and Lepino. He’d been a man I’d married fifteen years ago, and I now knew what he’d meant to me.
The father to our two beautiful children. A patient, kind person. A fun-loving jokester. A best friend and an even better lover. A partner for life, or so I’d thought for the last fifteen years.
My chin quivered like a jackhammer. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t. There were no words to define the blade twisting in my gut. And there was no way to describe how I felt about Mark’s unconscionable betrayal. I must have known about it before my crash. The sense of separation had been festering for months, maybe longer. I couldn’t recall all the details, but I knew he’d emotionally checked out on me and the family long ago. For this other woman, I assumed. Maybe there was more than just one. I wasn’t sure I’d ever find out. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know.
I hated Mark. But I loved him too. It made no sense. We were destined for divorce. And what about Erin and Luke?
A blast of cold air invaded my wet eyes.
“Alex.” A pat on my hand.
I focused my eyes. Nick was trying to ask me a question. Over his shoulder someone was at his window, as snow fell like ashes from an inferno.
“Are you sure you want to go to the murder scene? According to the officer here, they’ve closed off the roads to pedestrian traffic. They’ll let us by, though, only if you feel like you have to do it.”
I couldn’t say no.
I nodded, then Nick turned his head and said something to the officer. My phone buzzed. I punched it up and put it on speaker.
“Alex, we’ve got the suspect list.” It was Brad, his voice on hyper-drive.
I wiped my eyes and tried to break free from the emotional fog of despair. “Tell me.”
I could hear the suction of the windows closing as Nick put the car in drive. We turned right off 107 and headed east.
“Bianca’s dad got the president of the USAAA on the phone and convinced her to give us temporary access to the database. Bianca ran some queries, and we’ve got a few who fit our profile. Here they are.”
Brad cleared his throat and then I heard a mumbled voice and footsteps. During those few seconds, I could feel Nick’s stare. I said, “If you don’t watch the road, I’ll experience my third crash in the last week.”
“But—”
“Nick, I’m not made of balsa wood. You focus on driving; I’ll focus on the suspects.”
“You there?” Brad asked for clarification.
“Yes. How many are there?”
“We’ve been able to most likely narrow the list down to five.”
“Most likely?”
“You gave us twenty minutes. If we have more time, we could vet the top twenty or so much deeper.”
“Vet tomorrow. I want to catch this maniac tonight. Give me your top five.”
“Alex, I—”
“I know, I know. It comes with a huge caveat. I got it.”
“Yeah, that too. But I just heard from Jerry about...I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”
I swallowed hard. “Thanks, Brad. Now give me the damn list.”
“Number one is thirty-three years old, a painter. But we believe he’s studying at an art school outside of Paris. We just don’t have confirmation. Again, with more time, we could verify if he’s there or if he used that as a ruse while he stayed here and implemented his demented serial-killing plan.”
The age seemed a bit old, and I couldn’t see this guy, Peacoat, as a painter, whether he was in Europe or stateside. “Move on to the next one.”
“Number two works in the math department at Boston College. He’s twenty-seven and was recently arrested for assaulting two male students for sexually harassing a female student.”
“That could be him. Is he in jail? Do we have an address?”
I heard Brad say something to Bianca. “We’re working on that info. Moving on to number three...”
The phone jostled for a few seconds. “Yes, number three. Not much on him, other than he’s thirty-six and works at a grocery in Waltham.”
Too old again, but some people looked much younger than their age, so I couldn’t completely rule him out.
“Do you have mug shots on all of these guys?”
“A few. I’ll have Bianca send you what we have. Number four lives in New York City. He works on Wall Street as a financial analyst. He’s twenty-nine. Still verifying his attendance at work the last several days.”
“Makes sense.”
Nick laid on the horn, and I saw a German shepherd galloping across the snow-filled street.
“Damn dog just flew in out of the dark. Who lets their dogs out in weather like this?” Nick muttered.
I stared back toward the phone.
“Alex, Bianca just hit send. You should see the mug shots in a few seconds.”
“What about number five? You did say you had five suspects, right?”
“I’m getting there. This last guy is just twenty-four. We actually were able to reach his boss and—”
“Where does he work?”
<
br /> “The docks in Gloucester. Boss says he’s a good kid, stays to himself, works hard, gets along with everyone.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?” Brad asked.
“There’s got to be more.”
“Oh, well, he flunked out of two universities before he turned twenty.”
“Which ones?”
“Bunker Hill Community College and...hold on a second.”
More mumbled conversations. I looked up at the tree-lined road. The headlights illuminated branches sagging from the weight of the snow.
“Alex,” Brad said, bringing my attention back to the phone, “the other university was MIT.”
“MIT as in Massachusetts Institute of Technology?”
“I know what you’re thinking, but remember he flunked out.”
“But he got in. People flunk out for various reasons. Doesn’t mean they weren’t smart enough. Remember, this guy was part of that MWE group. Getting through college might have been a very challenging social experience.”
“True.”
“Could have created lots of anxiety, possibly forcing him into very strange behavior.”
“But he’s been the model employee. And it sounds like he’s really into the blue-collar job.”
“Has he been at work every day the last week?”
“Perfect attendance.”
I volleyed the data points around in my mind, even brought my head down and rested it on my hand.
“Alex, you okay?” Nick asked.
“Fine. Just thinking.”
Brad broke my concentration. “Take number two off the list.”
“The professor at Boston College? Why?”
“Killed in a skiing accident a week ago.”
I felt my phone buzz, and I tapped the email from Bianca. It pulled up the camera roll, and I thumbed through mug shots of three guys.
“I looked at the pictures, Brad. My view earlier tonight was quick, across the street and poor lighting, but none of these do it for me. Wish I had the mugs of the other two.”
A slight pause. “You only got three?”
“Tres. Three.”
“Bianca...” and then his voice trailed off.
“Frickin’ weather is making the connection cut in and out,” I said to Nick. When I didn’t hear anything for a few more seconds, I shouted, “Brad!”
The Alex Troutt Thrillers: Books 1-3 (Alex Troutt Thrillers Box Set) Page 24
