“Where did you meet your friend?” Noah asked.
“This sandwich place near the hospital, where I volunteer. It’s called the Deli.”
Barlow’s eyes lit up and Olivia’s pulse picked up pace. “That’s the connection? The Deli?” she asked excitedly and Barlow nodded.
“It’s gotta be. I have Deli charges on both Tomlinson’s and Blunt’s credit cards.”
“And we found a cup from the Deli in the trash at Eric’s,” Micki said. “Somebody could have been sitting next to all of them and intercepted their data. Let’s get the store video, match these dates with the day Mrs. Tomlinson and her friend met and see who pops.” She started to get up, but Noah shook his head.
“The Deli only has a camera on the cash register. Remember, we asked for that seven months ago, when we were looking for Pit-Guy’s victims.”
Micki slumped back in her chair. “You’re right. Well, dammit.”
“I don’t think I noticed who was sitting around me,” Louise said. “I’m sorry. If you want to hypnotize me or something, I’d be good with that.”
Olivia frowned, a thought forming in her mind. No, it couldn’t be. But what if it was?
“Mrs. Tomlinson, thank you for coming in. I need to ask you to wait outside, please.” She motioned to Abbott’s clerk, who quickly hurried over. “Faye, can you get Mrs. Tomlinson a coffee? Thanks.”
When Louise was gone, Olivia grabbed the sketch of the man Austin had seen. It could be. She held it up. “‘Thanks for coming. Buh-bye,’” she said and Micki’s eyes widened.
“No freaking way,” Micki said. “Kirby?”
“No.” Noah shook his head. “Not possible. He helped Eve last year.” Then his eyes closed. “Because of a conversation he overheard. Hell.”
Micki sat back, stunned. “He has free Wi-Fi. I’ve even used it. Oh my God.”
“That could have been him in the brown Explorer,” Noah said. “Right body type.”
“We need units to the Deli,” Olivia said. “If he goes back, we need to be ready.”
Barlow grabbed the phone on Abbott’s desk. “I’ll do it.”
Olivia stared at the sketch. “Austin. We never announced that we picked him up.”
“He may think Austin’s still missing,” Micki said.
“And he wanted him enough to kill Kane.” Olivia closed her eyes, trying to focus but the back of her head throbbed like a bitch. “What if we sent a message from Austin’s phone, asking to meet ‘Kenny’?”
“We could be waiting, catch him,” Noah said.
“Or let him get away again,” Olivia countered evenly. “He might go to Mary.”
“He might go to France,” Micki said flatly. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“You think I do?” Olivia snapped. “He murdered Kane. I want to gut him and watch him bleed and beg for mercy. But Phoebe’s still out there. If you have a better idea, let’s have it.”
“He’s killed five people,” Noah said. “I don’t want Phoebe to be number six. Let’s run it by Abbott. He has to approve it.”
Barlow hung up Abbott’s phone. “No Kirby at the Deli and no brown Explorer. But there is a white van parked around the back.”
Micki’s smile was sharp. “I’ll get a warrant for the van and property. You set the Austin trap. We’ll find a way to track him.”
Olivia pushed herself to her feet. She could see David and Tom standing near her desk, David bandaging Tom’s hand. She could feel his fear from here. Would feel his heartache if she failed. “We can’t lose him. We have to find Mary.”
“Are you going to tell them?” Noah asked, pointing to the two men.
“About Kirby, but not about trying to lure him. I don’t want to get their hopes up.”
Noah patted the shoulder that wasn’t iced down. “I’m going to find Abbott, get this moving. Sit down and rest for a few minutes. I’ll be back.”
“No, we’ll need a positive ID from Austin to get a warrant. I’ll get a six-pack photo array together and get Kirby’s license photo to drop in. I’ll meet you back here.”
Wednesday, September 22, 6:30 p.m.
Mary pointed to a side road. “Stop the car and get out.”
Her bones creaking, Phoebe obeyed. She let out a quiet groan as she tried to straighten her back, then grimaced as she drew a breath. The air was heavy with the stale odor of burned wood. Phoebe couldn’t see the burned condo, but she knew it couldn’t be far. They’d taken so many turns, she had no idea where she was exactly. They were on a lake, but they’d passed a lot of those. Minnesota, she thought, land of ten thousand lakes. She’d thought the brochures had been exaggerating.
“Why are we here?” I’ll never find my way out of here, even if I get away.
Mary shoved the barrel of the gun into her back. “Move.”
They’d parked the car on a side road that appeared not to have been used for some time. The trees were so thick that they hadn’t walked fifty feet before the car was completely hidden. Phoebe’s feet were numb from sitting so long in the car and she had rather pressing needs elsewhere. “Is it far?”
“No,” Mary said tightly. Her hands were shaking. The woman had become increasingly tense as the hours had passed.
“Mary, I need to know. They said you killed those men. Is it true?”
Mary’s chin lifted as she walked. “Yes.”
Phoebe’s blood chilled. “Okay. Why?”
“Eric was going to run away. He was going to leave me and Albert holding the bag. He used me to save his own hide. He thought he knew everything, but in the end he was just a damn coward. Running away to France. Nobody uses me.”
“How did you know?”
“I went to his place because we were supposed to go to Joel’s funeral together. He wasn’t home, but Joel had a key, so I went in.”
“Joel is dead, too?”
Her face twisted. “Yes. It was a car accident.”
Phoebe frowned, trying to remember. “Oh. Joel. I heard about that on the news.” And now pieces she’d overheard David and Glenn muttering about became clearer. “You cared for Joel?”
“Yes. Joel had a thing for causes,” she said bitterly. She was running her free hand up and down her arm in jagged little movements as she walked, a twitch in each step.
“Causes are usually good things.”
“I was his cause. And now he’s dead.”
Her tone made Phoebe’s blood chill a little more. “Did you kill him, too?” Mary said nothing and Phoebe had her answer. “I see. What about the other one?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Albert. That sonofabitch. Said he’d break my neck if I didn’t do what he said. Nobody says that to me. Nobody. Uses. Me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Phoebe said dryly. “What about Lincoln? Did he use you?”
“No.” Her voice abruptly softened. “Lincoln loved me.”
Phoebe thought of the man her son had described as pathetic and tortured. “Did you love him?”
“Not like that. But he thought I did, when he was on his meds.”
“My son said Lincoln is mentally ill.”
“Yes.”
“David said the FBI was interested in Lincoln for an old arson.”
“They couldn’t find him with all their guns and bugs and spycams, but I did,” she boasted. “Yes, I used him. But I won’t let him kill him,” she added.
“What? Him, who?”
Mary blinked, as if surprised she’d said the last thing. “Just… shut up and walk. That’s where we’re going, that cabin.”
Wednesday, September 22, 6:50 p.m.
“It’s just a scrape,” Tom said between clenched teeth. He’d shaved a layer of skin diving to protect two bystanders when the shot that killed Crawford was fired. “Don’t fuss.”
“I have to. It’s keeping me sane.” David finished bandaging Tom’s hand and looked to the window where Olivia stood, watching them. A new shaft of fear pierced him.
“It’s like when there’s turbulence and the flight attendants are scared,” Tom murmured, his eyes on Olivia as well.
David sank into Olivia’s chair, closing his eyes to focus. “Being terrified won’t bring Mom home. What do we know about Mary?”