“You may want to grab a?—”
Jeremiah’s suggestion could wait; Lincoln’s calls couldn’t. “I’ll be right back!”
He almost stumbled on his way down the library’s steps, not paying attention to his feet as he scrolled through his phone contacts. He caught himself, one-handed, on the railing, drawing curious looks from the couple other passersby, but his mind was racing too fast to care. Ditto caring about the snowflakes that were making his lashes stick and creating wet spots on the face of his phone. He found the contact he was after, hit it, and hustled over to the nearest bench as he waited for the call to connect.
Oliver picked up on the second ring. “Have you found something?”
“Did Ruby or Chase ever mention coming through Apex or a county hospital out here in the past three years?”
“Not that I recall.”
“That’s fine. I didn’t expect they would, but I wanted to check.”
“L, I can tell from your voice that you weren’t calling to confirm a negative. What’ve you got?”
“The first victim in each of Dr. Fear’s cycles passed through the county hospital here in Apex, an exit up from the university. Including Zia.”
“Are you certain?”
“There’s a hospital record for each of them. Short stays, no one longer than thirty-six hours. We need to do some more digging as to how they got there—DMV and police records—but, Ollie, this is the first commonality we’ve found among the victims, aside from death by the thing they feared. This is where each cycle starts.” Glancing up, he saw Carter striding across the quad toward him. Lincoln flagged him to move faster, excited to share the news in person.
“Were any of the other victims through there?” Oliver asked.
“No, it’s just one half of the first set in each cycle.” He scooted over, making room for Carter on the bench next to him. He held the phone up between them, not on speaker but close enough so that they could both speak to and hear Oliver. “Dr. Fear is following them,” Lincoln said. “From Apex to DC, then proceeding from there.”
“That’s one question off the table,” Oliver said, “at least with respect to the start of each cycle. They’re identifying the first kill there, in Apex.”
“So,” Carter said, “stands to reason maybe Dr. Fear is here. They’ve had a connection to this town for at least the past twenty-five years.”
“Stands to reason,” Lincoln agreed. “Ollie, my partner, Agent Carter Warren. Carter, Senator Oliver Kirk.”
“Pleased to speak with you, sir,” Carter said.
“Same, Agent Warren. Thank you for your work on this case already, and for having L’s back in the field there.”
“I won’t tell you which of those tasks has been easier.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” Oliver said.
“Can we get back to the case, please?” Lincoln interrupted, even though he was grateful for the smile he heard in Oliver’s voice. “We need to know why Dr. Fear shifts. Is it as random as we thought or is there a connection between the victims. A to B to C? Maybe this isn’t about you, Ollie. Maybe it’s a connection from Zia or Quinn to Ruby or Chase, and the copycat figured out that connection too.”
“Or maybe,” Carter said, “Dr. Fear started a cycle with Zia and the copycat hijacked it for attention. Copycats usually idolize, in some way, the criminal they are mimicking. What better way to grab his idol’s attention than to make a go at Senator Kirk, the person who last chased Dr. Fear?”
“Let me work on the first question with the team here, see if we can find a connection between A and B.”
“Ollie, you’re too close?—”
“L, you called me, not Beverley—which protocol dictates, by the way—because other than you, I am the other best person to work this case. And fuck knows, I need something to do besides worry.”
He was right; it hadn’t even crossed Lincoln’s mind to call Beverley. He’d face-palm if he could actually feel where his frozen forehead was; he’d rather not give himself a bloody nose, literally or metaphorically. “Okay, you pick up the victims’ thread there, and we’ll home in on suspects here. See who each of the first victims crossed paths with at the hospital and in Apex.”
“I’ll update Bev,” Oliver said. “Good work, agents. Keep us posted.”
Call ended, Lincoln lowered the phone, then lifted his gaze to Carter’s. Credit was due. “You may have cracked this case.”
“I had a good teacher.” He smiled, the soft, genuine grin that made Lincoln’s skin heat for entirely different reasons. “Even if he can’t remember to wear a coat in winter.”
Fuck, Lincoln bet that’s what Jeremiah was going to say before he’d ducked out. Probably also why those passersby had looked at him like he’d lost his mind, on top of almost falling down the stairs.
