Carter hesitated before clicking on Beverley’s contact.
“What is it?” Lincoln asked.
“The premature graying . . . Are we attributing that to Dr. Fear or the copycat, or both?”
Good point. In his excitement at catching a break, Lincoln hadn’t made the distinction. Then again, the copycat wouldn’t want to either. “I think we use it to potentially narrow the suspect pool for Dr. Fear, and going on what you said earlier, let’s assume that a copycat would either find the premature gray a commonality with his idol or he would want to emulate his idol.”
“So we have forensics also check for gray hair dye?”
“I think so.” This time Lincoln forestalled the call to Beverley, a hand on Carter’s knee. “This may be nothing,” he said, reining in their shared enthusiasm. “The gray-hair connection is just a theory. A place for us to start. But a long-term Apex U employee, gray hair or not, could be just as likely.”
Carter’s face fell, a sort of disappointment there so at odds with the normally confident agent that Lincoln probably would have almost fallen off his stool again, if not for Carter’s legs bracing him in. And if not for Carter wiping away the expression the next instant. “Both avenues are more than we had this time yesterday,” he said.
“Agreed.” Lincoln squeezed his knee. “Call Beverley.”
The director picked up right away, conferenced in Oliver, and Lincoln and Carter filled them in on the details. There was agreement on narrowing their suspect search to longtime Apex U employees and Apex founding families, less so on narrowing it further based on the gray hair theory.
“It’s tenuous, at best,” Beverley cautioned.
“It’s one more possibility,” Oliver insisted. “We should at least look back at the past scenes, as they suggest.” He sounded both strung out and excited. Lincoln remembered him sounding the same during Dr. Fear’s last cycle. He also remembered the disappointment as he’d sipped fifty-dollars-a-glass scotch and told Lincoln he was done. Fuck, Lincoln did not want to hear his friend sound like that again—or worse, with Ruby’s life on the line—after this round with Dr. Fear. There was more at stake for him than ever.
“Fine,” Beverley said. “Coordinate with forensics.”
“L, Carter, I’ll keep you two posted. Bev, you’ll get them on the other lead?”
“Got it, Age—Senator Kirk.”
“You’ve got a lead there?” Carter asked.
“One we need you to follow up on in Apex,” Beverley said. “We got the workup on Ruby’s car.” She and Chase had been run off the road and taken out of it. “Managed to isolate a paint sample from the car that hit them.”
“The other car hit them?” Lincoln said. That was news. Evidence at the scene had indicated the attack car had cut them off in front and forced them to fishtail off the road.
“Ruby’s back bumper scraped a wheel well. Probably didn’t even notice it. The paint is custom. Will email you the details. Need you to run it through local records there in Apex. See if any vehicles match.”
“We’re on it,” Carter said, hanging up and swiveling off his stool.
Lincoln missed the closeness immediately. But then Carter was behind him, correct coat open and waiting. “Think I’ll take my coat this time,” he said with a wink. “Two buildings over, I could survive without. But two miles back to the police station, not so much.”
Lincoln stole a few more seconds in the warm oversized leather jacket before surrendering it with a pout. “We’re not walking, are we?”
“It’s not that far.”
“It is in the cold!” Lincoln squawked as he slipped back into his coat.
Carter’s eyes flickered to his feet. “You wore your boots today.”
“Have you seen how many times I’ve almost tripped over them?” He closed his laptop, shoved it into his bag, and slung the strap over his shoulder. “Do we have after-hours access to the station?”
Carter held up a key. “We’re set, and the car’s downstairs.”
“That’s fucking teamwork,” Lincoln singsonged as he followed a laughing Carter out of the lab.
Eight
“How’d the game go?”
Ordinarily, Carter wouldn’t eavesdrop on Lincoln’s phone call with his daughter, but it was impossible not to overhear in the car. And it was impossible not to be drawn in by Lincoln’s enthusiasm as he spoke with Elena about her basketball tournament.
