“How long did it last?” Vail asked.
“Three minutes.”
“Long enough for him to lure him outside and blindside him,” Burden said.
Dixon slipped the phone in her pocket. “Could be.”
“Any record of those texts the UNSUB was sending us before? The clues?”
“No,” Dixon said. “But those came from different numbers-untraceable disposables.”
Vail’s BlackBerry vibrated. “What do you think-good news or bad?” She looked at the display. “Yeung says Hartman’s car was clean. No phone. But Carondolet got hold of MacNally’s inmate file. Or, at least, part of it.”
“Impressive for this time of night,” Burden said.
Vail yawned. “Sorry. Speaking of this time of night.” She shook off the fatigue and said, “Let’s meet them. They’re back at Pier 33.”
Burden turned over the engine. “On our way.”
WHILE EN ROUTE, VAIL DIALED Clay Allman. He answered with a groggy grunt.
“Clay, Karen Vail.” Another grunt. “Sorry to wake you-”
“Wake me, yeah. What the hell time is-are you out of your mind? It’s…3am?”
“Sounds about right. Listen, we’ve got a question for you. You happen to know where Scheer is?”
“Let me get this straight,” Allman said. “You call me up at three in the morning, looking for the last guy in the world I’d want to talk to. And you’re wondering if I know where he is?”
“Again, that sounds about right.”
“Can I go back to sleep?”
“I take it you haven’t seen or spoken to him.”
Allman groaned. “Not since you dropped him off after our…hang on a minute. If you’re asking about Scheer at this time of night, something’s gotta be up. Where are you?”
“Thanks, Clay. You’ve answered my question.” Vail pressed END.
“You really thought he might know where Scheer was?” Dixon asked.
“No freaking idea, Roxx. I took a shot they were throwing back beers in a bar somewhere in the city. You know, friends become enemies, then enemies become friends again after we bring them together like brothers who’ve had an argument.”
Burden chuckled. “What drug have you been smoking?”
“Like I said, I took a shot.” Vail’s phone began ringing-Allman calling her right back, the diligent reporter taking a shot to pry info from her. She ignored it. Instead, Vail dialed the task force, which, she was told, had thinned since Friedberg’s rescue. But many were still in the office despite the hour, toiling away with several interns who were likely aiming to score points with the inspectors while devouring the thrill of the investigation.
Vail asked them to delve into Stephen Scheer’s background. No detail was too insignificant: she wanted an unfiltered dossier of who this man was, where he came from, what college he attended, and what he did in the years after graduating.
While the volume of information would be less robust than usual because numerous agencies had closed several hours ago, there was still a fair number of online databases and external resources they could access.
Fifteen minutes later, as Burden was pulling up to the parking lot for Pier 33-with signs advertising Alcatraz Cruises-Vail received a return call.
“Karen, it’s Robert.”
“Robert,” she said, sharing a look with Burden. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the station, working with the task force. It wasn’t as bad as they thought-once they pumped in fluids and stitched me up, I was able to get back on my feet. Sort of. I had one of the interns come get me. As long as I don’t get up from the chair too fast, or go chasing our UNSUB down the street, I can function.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” She paused. “I guess that goes for us, too.”
“You asked them to put together a backgrounder on Scheer. They called his wife and got his social and such-which, I gotta tell you, she wasn’t too happy we woke her again-but it was worth it. We hit some interesting stuff, but we just found it and I’m not sure what to make of it.”
“Go on.” She placed her BlackBerry on speaker.
“So Scheer was born and raised in San Mateo. First thing we did was log onto vital records, to start at the beginning and see where it led us. And it stopped us dead.”
“How so?” Burden asked.
“Birdie!” The smile was evident in Friedberg’s tone. “Good to hear your voice. Okay, so the problem is that we found two birth certificates. We’re not sure what to-”
“He was adopted,” Vail said. “When you’re adopted, they assign the adopting parents’ names. Then they destroy the old certificate. But once in a while, the original hangs around. What’s the name on the original one?”
“Baby Markley. Markley would be the mother’s maiden name if she wasn’t married-which might be why she put the kid up for adoption.”
“What does that get us?” Dixon asked.
Burden shrugged. “Not much.”
Vail asked, “Can you pull the court records and see if the mother was married? That’d get us a last name-”
“Already checked,” Friedberg said, the rhythmic tap of a keyboard coming through the speaker. “The records only go back to 1950. I think I might-hang on a second. Yeah. Here’s something.” More clicks. “Hmm. He’s got a sealed juvie record.”
Vail sat forward in her seat. “This is starting to sound interesting. Except that we’ve hit another roadblock.”
“Maybe not,” Burden said. “Sealed file-but there’s no gag order on the investigating detective. Track down the guy who handled that case and we may get an answer as to what Scheer did to land his young ass in jail.”
“I’ll get on it. Call you as soon as we have something.”
They met Carondolet and Yeung in front of the hood of their car. Yeung had his laptop open, and a warden information card filled the screen. A mug shot showed a man wearing a red, white, and black placard around his neck, identifying him as ALCATRAZ 1577. Walton MacNally.
“So this is our guy,” Burden said.
Vail placed both hands on the car’s hood and leaned closer to the PC. The screen’s brightness, amidst the dark parking lot, played harshly across her face. “One of them.”
“You’ve had time to look this over,” Dixon said. “What’s the big picture?”
Carondolet folded his arms across his chest. “They had MacNally pegged as a very bright guy, scored a 135 on a prison IQ test. Resourceful, motivated, hard worker. Did fifteen months at Leavenworth but was involved in two escape attempts and was suspected in the violent assault of two cons. After the second attempt, he was transferred here, where his history of violence continued. His intake card said he was considered a ‘serious escape risk.’”
“What was the original offense?” Burden asked.
“Convicted of two counts of armed robbery and one of kidnapping. Oh, and he’s listed as widowed. Get this-he was arrested and tried for murdering his wife but was ultimately found not guilty.”