''Do that. As I recall, that Pierson woman whom Chris Lorentian stayed with said Chris was in the process of- or had gotten-tickets for both of them to escape Vegas. I had assumed she meant plane tickets, but bus tickets would have done just as well."
"Hey, that's right."
"And there've been buses loading and unloading around us since… well, since Vegas."
"My God. If this is true, the killer took Chris Lorentian's ticket and is traveling on her reservation."
"Contact all the bus lines and run down Lorentian's itinerary, and we may know the killer's next destination. Short of that, check also for anyone with the name Charon or Nessus traveling by bus."
"That might take some time."
Jessica gritted her teeth, but looking across the room, she saw her old friend the tour guide Ronny Ropers. She scooted from the booth seat and rushed for the tour guide, asking, "Where do the buses go from here?"
Ropers, looking confused, his hands in the air, asked, "Which buses? They all go in different directions."
"What's tonight's destination for those heading north?"
"Salt Lake City for some; Pocatello, Idaho, for others; and Rock Springs, Wyoming, for others. Depends on site destinations."
"And those heading south?"
"Where we came from, Zion National Park, Wahweap Lodge, Glen Canyon country, or a straight run to Vegas. Ultimately Vegas for most, Flagstaff for others."
"Salt Lake City," she repeated while Ropers stared at her. It stood out as the largest northerly destination at the moment.
She returned to J. T. "He's headed for Salt Lake. It's a large enough city. We could lose him forever, if he suddenly decides to cut his losses and wishes to disappear, but I doubt that's his plan."
"What do we do?"
She started away, saying over her shoulder, "Follow through on your plan. Check with the bus lines. Run down that ticket."
"And what are you going to do?" he asked, chasing after.
"I'm going ahead to Salt Lake."
"Alone?"
"I'll wire Bishop to meet me there."
"I don't know, Jess. I think we ought to stick together."
"J. T., that information on what bus line he's on will be vital. It will tell us not only his next destination but also the one after that. There's no way you can get that info while traveling to Salt Lake. We need to know Lorentian's proposed itinerary and what hotels she would've been staying at, the same ones we hypothesize that he will be using in her stead."
"But Jess!"
She was making her way across the highway to the helicopter again. "Don't you see? That information is vital now, John. Get it! Meanwhile, I'll organize a strike force in Salt Lake, utilizing FBI headquarters there."
"Are you sure?"
Over her shoulder, she called back, saying, "I'll call you here when I'm set up there."
"But Jess… Jess…"
She had stopped listening and continued her march to the helicopter pad, determined now to be at the killer's next destination before him, glad that she had brought along an overnight bag along with her medical bag.
J. T. discovered that many of the people staying at the hotels at or near national parks such as Bryce Canyon and Zion were indeed on one bus tour or another, that on any given night at least two and perhaps four or five tour buses lodged at Ruby Inn and Lake Powell's Wahweap as well. No surprises there. He also learned that like ships at sea, there were weary-worn routes all the buses took, but that some tours included side trips that others failed to take. All of this he learned from the clique of tour guides hanging about Ruby Inn. He also learned something of the history of the inn, that it was a favorite haunt of cowboy and Western stars from Gene Autry and Roy Rogers to Audie Murphy and John Wayne.
From the bus companies he'd contacted, he had heard from only three of seven so far, and none of them listed a Chris Lorentian, a Charon, or anyone named Nessus in any of various spellings on their manifests. It had been four hours since Jessica had left, and no word. He began to worry when Warren Bishop showed up at the inn, seeking Jessica.
"Where is she?" Bishop asked J. T. where he sat before a phone in the manager's office.
"Salt Lake City."
"Why Salt Lake?"
"We believe-or rather, she believes it will be where he next kills."
"How does she know this?"
"She doesn't, not exactly, but bear with me."
Bishop, exhausted from what appeared lack of sleep, dropped stonelike into a chair beside J. T., who then continued, "He's a killer of opportunity. He bides his time, seeking out the weakest to prey upon, someone lonely or despondent, someone alone, and he pounces."
"I follow you so far."
"Step out to the restaurant with me for a moment."
"I'm not hungry. Get on with it, Dr. Thorpe."
"Please, come along," J. T. gently urged.
Taking a narrow passageway, they came upon the dining area. It was dinnertime, especially for the bus tour crowd staying the night at the inn. "Notice how many of these people around you here at the inn, Bishop, are just that- vulnerable one way or another?"
"They're mostly elderly people-couples, and in packs. What do you mean?"
"Women alone, women traveling with their daughters, single women, single men in search of a mate along with their adventure into the wilderness parks. Sure, there are a lot of couples, but there are also the singles. Melvin Martin was a single man traveling alone, and now this Whitaker woman, a single woman traveling alone."
"Then the killer could still be at this lodge, camouflaged among the bus tour crowds," suggested Bishop. "So, you and Jessica have concluded that he's traveling by bus, I see."
"How do you suppose he learned we-Jess, rather- was staying at Wahweap Lodge when he was here, killing again? He's following a bus route, and he has us marching to his drumbeat, and he knows it."
"Then he's thought this thing through thoroughly, hasn't he?"
"We believe so. As you know, he's been baiting Jessica all along. The creep was milling around in Page while we were there, just.. just to taunt us."
"Yes, Jessica feared her path and his might cross there."
"He knew enough to telephone her there, so he either saw her there or assumed she would follow him there…"
"And if he assumed… Well, either way, he's as shrewd as he is psychotic. I got Jessica's wire, flew out to Page only to discover you had all rushed here."
Bishop's apt description of the Phantom as a shrewd psychotic recalled Mad Matt Matisak to mind, along with a host of other satanic killers whom Jessica had helped, either directly or indirectly, to put down or behind bars, and he wondered, as Repasi had, if the Phantom might not be someone with a long-ago grudge to settle with Jessica. He suggested this to Bishop, who quickly informed him that it was unlikely, since a thorough check of all former such opponents revealed no one missing from lockup.
''But what if someone in lockup is holding the strings, telling this puppet what to do and say to terrify Jessica?"
"Maybe… it's a possibility, but Quantico says no. And Santiva has taken measures to stop all communiquйs going out of federal asylums and federal prisons housing anyone who could conceivably hold a grudge against Jess."
"You should have seen Jessica last night after that bastard telephoned her again, Bishop. Mother wanted her to hear Eloise Whitaker's last screams."
''Lowlife-SOB-motherfreaking-rat-bastard.''
"Yeah, my sentiments exactly."
"Maybe it's possible then, at some point, he was at Wahweap Lodge in Page while you two were there," suggested Bishop, imagining it.
"I suspect our paths crossed. The killer didn't have to wait there long, just long enough for the tour guide to round everyone up, minus Melvin Martin, of course, but then a check with Martin's tour bus company turned up no one traveling as Chris Lorentian, so Melvin may not've been a part of the same tour group as the one the killer is traveling with. Actually, as it happens, Melvin was traveling in exactly the opposite direction when their paths crossed. His tour was passing through the national parks from the north down on a journey for a destination southwest-for Vegas, in fact. And the morning after Chris Lorentian was killed? The hotel parking lot in Vegas was crammed full with touring buses."