‘There.’ Mark pointed to the screen. ‘The account is on Pacific time. But incoming messages could still be stamped with the time at the sender’s location.’ He looked up at Scott. ‘Do we believe this? That King’s in San Francisco?’
Scott was standing with his arms crossed, watching Angie on the phone with the Technical Support Unit. ‘No. No way. I don’t know what game he’s playing but he’s here in Atlanta. We tracked him here in Wayne Spicer’s car.’
Eric said quietly, ‘We don’t have a firm ID from the EMT’s or anyone else who saw the driver of the Spicer car.’
Scott gave his partner a withering look and Eric put his hands up in surrender. Just then, Angie turned toward them, a hand raised with a finger in the air as she listened to her phone. They turned toward her expectantly.
‘OK, OK,’ she said, then covered the mouthpiece of the phone as she addressed the three men. ‘The text message was sent from a cell phone today at one-oh-seven p.m.’
Scott walked up to her. ‘Is it turned on right now? Can they track it?’ He all but took the phone from her hand.
‘It doesn’t need to be turned on – hang on.’ She listened to her phone, thanked the person on the other end and then cut the call. ‘OK, the cell doesn’t need to be turned on for the phone company to ping it and get a location within one hundred feet. But first we gotta get a warrant out to the phone company.’
‘This is bullshit!’ Scott fumed. ‘This is high priority, did you tell them that?’
‘We might have another way.’ She exchanged a glance with Mark. ‘Look, the D’s in Missings at Atlanta PD have the technology to ping cells.’
Scott looked at each of the agents in turn. ‘Missing Persons? You know any of those detectives?’
Angie’s mouth was set. ‘I’ve got a couple of favors I can call in. It might not be enough.’
‘If they’re like other detectives I know, they’ll scratch you this time if you’re ready to scratch them next time. What’s it gonna take, Ange?’ Scott implored.
‘Let me make some calls.’ She turned to leave the room.
Eric was hard on her heels. ‘I’ll start the warrant process in case we need it.’ The door slammed behind them.
Scott gave Mark a questioning look.
Mark responded, ‘She’s got some history with the head of that unit.’
‘Personal or on the job?’
‘Both, but that’s not where the favors are. She helped them out on a case so she’s going to be calling that favor in. But because there’s some personal stuff, she’s not going to like doing it. You know Angie.’
‘She left him, then?’
‘Hey, I didn’t say anything.’ Mark gestured at his own chest as he got up. ‘Did you hear me say something?’
‘She’s not going to forget it was me that had her call in the favor, is she?’ Scott grimaced to himself as he followed Mark out of the briefing room.
THIRTY-ONE
Jayne blinked her eyes open and felt total confusion about where she was. Her head hurt and her mouth was dry. She tried to swallow and felt cloth – a gag? – holding her mouth open and wicking her saliva away. She instinctively raised her hands to remove it but discovered she was lying on her arms and they were bound behind her. She looked up and saw a doorway she didn’t recognize. And then it all came back. The motel, Atlanta, Gene. Oh, God. She shivered convulsively and raised her head to look down the length of her body. She saw duct tape binding her ankles and then noticed movement across the room.
Gene was dressed entirely in white Tyvek with the hood pulled over his hair and surgical gloves on his hands, eyes staring wide as he bent over Steelie – Steelie! – stomach-down on the bed, arms tied behind her back, her face turned away from Jayne. And then she registered the sounds. Gene grunting with exertion, the noises coming from lips thinned with effort, interspersed with higher-pitched sounds that had to be coming from Steelie as he tied a gag at the back of her head.
Suddenly, Steelie kicked out at Gene with her bound legs and managed to connect with his lower back. He muttered something and stepped away from the bed to yank at her legs, pulling her backwards. As she slid off the mattress, she twisted to avoid landing on her face and the movement allowed her to see Jayne. They locked eyes and when Jayne saw tears in Steelie’s, her own instantly welled up but the connection was quickly lost as Gene yanked Steelie up to her knees. She bucked and twisted, so he clamped her against him as he groped her body roughly, his fingers spread wide.
Jayne screamed but the sound went nowhere, trapped by her dry throat and truncated by the gag. She frantically rolled to the left but couldn’t get past her own shoulder to get up. She cried out once more in desperation, heart pounding, and craned her neck again. Steelie was trying to slam her head backwards into Gene’s face as he bent over her. Jayne felt a surge of hope. That’s it; get him, get him.
But Gene just strode forward, pulling Steelie on her knees until she was against the edge of the bed. He pushed her over easily, using one hand to keep her head buried in the covers as he used the other to pull open all the snaps on Steelie’s cargo pants. Jayne’s eyes widened. Christ! She had to get him away from Steelie. She looked around wildly and saw the bathroom window was open. Hoping he would follow her if he became afraid she could raise the alarm from the bathroom, she started pushing backwards over the threshold, making as much noise as she could.
She looked back to see if Gene had noticed her and almost stopped breathing when she saw that he was smiling to himself. But then she saw why. He’d located Steelie’s cell phone in one of her pockets. He’d been frisking her – violently – but he’d found what he wanted and had stopped. Dragging her by the neck to the head of the bed, he began tying her to the frame, keeping her face to the wall.
Jayne felt her lungs start to function again and she threw her energy into rolling to the right this time, hoping to get all the way over on to her stomach, but her knees smacked into the side of the bathtub with a loud thud before she completed the revolution. Almost immediately, she felt a foot on her ribcage, rolling her on to her back again.
She tried to yell, ‘Get off me’ but it came out as unintelligible noise so she was left simply glaring at Gene. There was a large bruise between his eyes that had leaked blood into the whites, making his pale irises yet more preternatural.
He smiled down at her, a bag in one hand. ‘Thanks for getting yourself in here. This is exactly where I want you.’
He closed the window and opened the bath taps to full blast. When the water hit the empty tub, the initial noise was deafening and she had a frightening image of Gene drowning first her, then Steelie. But he sat on the tub’s edge, keeping a foot on her while retrieving an object from his bag. Jayne couldn’t see what it was because his hand was clasped around it but the glimpse between his fingers suggested a grenade.
He leaned toward her and held the object to her ear, pressing it to her skin. ‘I will remove your gag. If you start yelling, I pull the pin on this baby, which gives me time to leave and you time to die. Got it?’
The object was cold enough to be metallic but it could have been hard plastic and ‘pins’ only meant grenade to her. She tried to look at what he was holding to her head but he wouldn’t let her. Now she understood that the faucets were blasting in order to cover some conversation he intended to have with her; to get some piece of information from her before killing them like he must have killed all the others. She wanted to cry, to give up. She closed her eyes.