“Special Agent Laurence and I would like to thank the Dallas Police and Security Department and Lieutenant Ricchio for the cooperation and assistance. The Bureau is committed to reapprehending Isaac McQueen, and to the safe return of Melinda Jones. We agree with the bulk of the profile, the data, and the suppositions Lieutenant Dallas related here. One point.”
She held up a finger, paused briefly.
“We do agree the subject is highly goal oriented, and as such our anal and probability ratio skews extremely low on the likelihood the subject will attempt an abduction of a minor at this time. Our focus will be on apprehending the subject with the safe release of his hostage.”
That’s fine, Eve thought. You do that. And she noted Laurence continued to work as his partner addressed the room.
Nikos went on, repaving ground already covered, wasting time in Eve’s opinion. Roarke edged closer, spoke quietly.
“They’ve arrested the prison guard, and they’re working him and Stibble. EDD has all the electronics, looking for any communications to or from McQueen and the partner.”
“Good.”
“I’ve got better. Stibble let McQueen use his pocket ’link on several occasions. McQueen wiped it, but EDD’s on that, too.”
“That’s not better. That’s excellent. I’d interrupt to update, but Nikos is having so much fun boring the cops.”
The faintest smile touched Roarke’s mouth. “She’s a bureaucrat, and less boring than most. Laurence has something.”
Eve looked over, saw Laurence get to his feet. The movement shut Nikos up.
“Got her,” Laurence announced. “Sarajo Whitehead, allegedly assaulted and raped by persons unknown October of last year.”
“I worked that.” Bree rose as well, looked at her partner. “We worked that.”
“I’ve got that, too.” Laurence nodded. “Subject was treated at Mercy Free Clinic, Dr. Hernandez attending, and reported to this precinct’s SVU. Melinda Jones as rape counselor.”
“Let’s see her,” Eve demanded, then backed up. “Sorry.”
“No need.” Laurence offered his PPC to Roarke. “You look to be running this end. Can you interface?”
“I can.”
“She walked into the clinic,” Bree reported. “It’s open round the clock. Her clothes were torn and she had minor bruising on her arms and legs. Exam confirmed recent rough or forced sex, additional bruising on her thighs.” She glanced at her partner for confirmation.
“That’s right.” Annalyn Walker nodded. “She claimed she was assaulted after closing the bar where she worked—ah, the Circle D. It’s about four blocks from the clinic. Said this guy grabbed her, smacked her around, had a knife. Made her take him back in the bar, raped her, took her purse and the jewelry she had on, left.”
“She gave us a description, but it was vague,” Bree continued. “She claimed it was dark. Our investigation confirmed her place of employment and sexual activity on the floor inside the door. We found her empty purse in a recycler two blocks away. Melinda counseled her for several weeks. We never found the alleged rapist.”
“We’ll need to see the case file,” Eve said. “Interview her former employer, coworkers—because she won’t be working there now—talk to regulars. We want to find the guy she had—consensual—sex with.”
“She had tearing,” Detective Walker pointed out. “Bruises.”
“I’m sure she did. But she wasn’t raped. She needed to look as if she was, report she was raped in order to hook up with Melinda.”
She gave Roarke the nod, angled herself for a good look at the screen.
“Minor changes in appearance from her Sister Suzan days. Went two-toned brown and blond, different eye color, a little fuller in the face, reshaped eyebrows.” Eve spoke half to herself as she studied the ID shot. “Something about her rings with me, but I can’t pin it.”
“Bogus ID again.” Roarke held up his own PPC. “The woman with that name and those prints died three years ago in a vehicular accident in Toledo, Ohio.”
“You’re quick,” Laurence commented.
“She’s sticking to pattern and plan. She’ll have a different ID now, a different appearance,” Eve added. “She’ll have used one other than this to set up McQueen’s place here, to acquire the transportation. She may have changed yet again.” Eve nodded, eyes narrowed on the screen image. “She’s good, too. He picked well.”
“We know where she worked,” Ricchio said. “Where she lived last fall. We start there. Annalyn, Bree, you’ve already talked to the people at the bar. Talk to them again, with this new information.”
“I’d like in on that, Lieutenant.”
Ricchio nodded at Eve. “You’ve got it.”
“Laurence and I will take the residence.”
“I’m going to put some officers on the van and the real estate,” Ricchio said. “Look for purchase and registration of previously owned vehicles of the type profiled, and for rentals—apartments and condos with attached parking. Also purchases and installation of residential soundproofing. I’ll see the file on Whitehead is copied to both you and the agents, Lieutenant.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Eve turned to Bree. “We’ll follow you to the bar.”
“Now,” Roarke said when he got behind the wheel, “tell me what you really think.”
“They knew Bree was on duty—had the night shift—when they faked the rape. They wanted her involved. Get a look at how she works, how she is. And they’d play the very good odds she’d tag her sister as counselor. The woman sucked some joker into staying after closing to bang her—make it rough.”
“One of the oldest cons there is,” Roarke agreed.
“Yeah. She makes him suit up. She doesn’t want his DNA, doesn’t want to point the finger at him. Better if it’s person unknown. Now she can connect with Melinda, play on Melinda’s sympathies, engage her, involve her. Plenty of time since last October to watch her, get a solid sense of her routine—hers and her sister’s. Drop away,” Eve added. “I think that’s what we’ll find. The woman dropped away, stopped the counseling. Then she can come back after a nice time lag. She’s had a relapse, or she saw her attacker. Hysterical, needs help. Please, can we talk? I know it’s late, but I need to talk to somebody. The framework’s a basic con. She’ll have done something similar before.”
“It went too smoothly for her to have been a novice.”
Eve agreed. “The sex is just a tool. I don’t think he’d have trusted anybody to fake a rape who hadn’t done it before, or used sex for blackmail and profit.”
Roarke glanced over as he negotiated traffic. “Unlike Nikos, I don’t agree with the bulk of your briefing, but with the whole. They wouldn’t have acquired the van locally.”
“Again, same page. Gotta check, but she’d have found one out of Dallas, driven it in. Not until after they had the place. No point in it before that.”
Roarke shrugged as he swung around a pickup. “I’ll find it.”
“Will you?”
“She wouldn’t have driven for days. Most likely she bought it in Texas. A big state, yes, but still just a state. In-state keeps the registration and transfer less complicated. And unless she’s using up ID like candy, she may have used one we know about. Since she’s going to toss it anyway, why not? I’d vote for Sister Suzan. She seems the used, inexpensive van type, doesn’t she?”
Considering, Eve studied his profile. “That’s good. I hadn’t worked that around yet.”
“You would have. This Ricchio likely will, too. He seems capable.”
“Yeah, he does.” She glanced out the window, noted they’d moved into meaner streets. Streets like the ones she’d wandered in shock as a child.
She turned away, tuned them out. When Roarke touched her hand briefly, she realized he knew.
“I’m not thinking about it.”
Oh, but he knew she was. “No need to.”
“I dealt with it when we came back before. We both did.” She remembered he’d beaten his knuckles bloody on a speed bag when they’d come back from that room where it had happened. Where she’d remembered everything.
“Melinda Jones is what’s important now,” she added.