“What was it about?” Vail asked.
“A bank robbery,” Scheer said. “The robber shot and killed a security guard.”
“What’s sleep got to do with it?”
“The guard had fallen asleep in a back room where they had the surveillance cameras. The gunshot woke him up and he hit the silent alarm, but it was too late. They got away.” Scheer rubbed a hand across his cheek, then continued. “The long delay between the robbers entering the bank and the trip of the alarm was a big problem. The FBI investigated the guard. Like, maybe it was an inside job. They leaned on him pretty hard. He finally admitted he’d fallen asleep. And that was that. No inside job, just-gross incompetence. And they never caught the robbers.” He shrugged. “So, whether it’s an exact quote or not, violence and sleep came under watchful eyes.”
There was quiet. Finally, Vail said, “That’s not exciting me.”
“Me either,” Burden said. “Clay, you got anything?”
“I’m thinking.”
Dixon checked her watch. “Think faster. We’ve only got five minutes.”
“Fuck me,” Burden said, kicking a rock into the slate wall. “How the hell can we figure this shit out under pressure?”
“A sleep lab,” Allman said. “You know, they hook you up to sensors so they can diagnose sleep disorders. Sleep under watchful eyes.”
“No violence,” Dixon said.
“The bank’s not far away,” Scheer said. “A few blocks. Maybe we should go check it out. We can think on the way.”
“I’m with Karen here,” Allman said. “I think that’s a waste of time.”
Burden worked his jaw, then said, “We’ve got four minutes left. Let’s go. If we think of something better on the way, nothing lost.”
“You coming?” Vail asked Carondolet.
“I’ll finish with this DB, you go on ahead and…solve your riddle.”
They ran to Burden’s car and piled in. “Where we going?”
Scheer leaned forward in his seat. “Corner of-” He put his head down.
“Scheer,” Burden yelled. “Now’s not the time to have a brain fart.”
“Presidio and Sacramento. Yeah, that’s it-”
Burden accelerated and spun rubber, then the Taurus rocketed forward, briefly losing grip in its rear wheels on a slick surface before once again grabbing pavement and jolting them on their way. Burden hung a sharp left onto Jackson Street as Vail slapped the flashing light atop the car. “We should be there right at the deadline. Anyone else got any better ideas?”
Vail tried to concentrate, but watching Burden swerve his way down Jackson, she found it hard to think about anything other than surviving the ride. She did not want to close her eyes-but that was the only way she could get her mind to focus.
How’s the offender gonna react if we’re wrong? How will he know? He gave us a ten-minute window to find this place. Wherever it was he wanted us to go, he knew where we were starting out. It had to be in a ten-minute radius. In a city, what is that? A mile? “Not sure this helps, but the place he sent us had to be in a ten-minute radius of Inspiration Point.”
“It doesn’t help,” Allman said. “That’s a shitload of potential places in a city like this.”
“It’s the bank,” Scheer said. “Has to be.”
“Wish I could be so sure,” Burden said under his breath. He screeched the Ford to a stop in front of Sutter Savings Bank. They jumped out and headed toward the corner building.
“Now what?” Dixon asked, rotating her body in a circle.
Vail stood back and took in the entire location. “No idea. Look around. Anything that seems like it might be meant for us-”
“I’m going in,” Burden said. He pushed through the front doors. Dixon followed, leaving Vail with the two journalists.
“See anything?”
“No,” Scheer said. He looked over at Allman and pointed an index finger. “Don’t give me that.”
Allman spread his arms. “Give you what?”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“The only reason you know what I’m thinking, Stephen, is because I already told you this was a waste of time.”
“You didn’t offer anything better. So just-just shut the fuck up.”
Allman shook his head, then waved a hand. “Whatever.”
Scheer walked off, down the block.
Maybe involving these guys wasn’t such a great idea. Vail headed into the bank and locked gazes with Dixon and Burden, who shook their heads. A man in a suit standing with them looked puzzled by all the attention, while several customers at the teller window looked on with concern.
“We got nothing,” Burden said.
Vail’s phone vibrated. I don’t want to look. She pulled it from her belt. Dixon and Burden huddled around her.
no nono
ur friends life depends on it but ur clueless
those intended to heal
may give life but drown truth
cant sink or swim can float
mission st
clocks ticking
figure it out or im done with you
“No.” Burden shook his head. “I’m done playing games.”
“Burden,” Vail said in a low voice. “We talked about this. Psychopaths get off on feeling superior. And they get bored easily. This is a game to him, to prove to us-and to himself-how much smarter he is. By tricking us, he’s able to gloat. It builds him up and knocks us down. At the same time, we’ve gotta make some headway in these clues to hold his interest. If we don’t prove a worthy challenge, we’ll lose him. And if we lose contact with him, we lose any shot at finding Robert.”
“C’mon,” Dixon said, then led the way outside.
Burden slammed the door with his hands and it flew open. He let it swing closed behind him, nearly striking Vail in the face. “Asshole better realize I’m losing patience, too.”
“What’s on Mission?” Vail asked.
Allman and Scheer came jogging over from opposite directions.
Burden threw open his car door. “Lots of things are on Mission.”
“Let’s take a minute, break it down.”
“We get another message?” Allman asked.
Vail held it up for the two reporters to read.
“What’s ‘intended to heal’?” Dixon asked. “A medical clinic? A doctor? Surgeon? Acupuncturist? Chiropractor?”
Burden shook his head. “Probably all of that on Mission. It’s a long freaking street. You’ve got businesses, seedy areas, banks, office buildings, a BART station-”
“Then let’s go to the next clue,” Vail said. “May give life but drown truth. Doctors give life. We’re back to doctors.”