He caught Brad's attention. “Have we gotten anything on the tip line yet?”
The detective blew out a breath and dragged a hand across his jaw. “Yeah. I haven’t listened to them yet, but I checked just before I came in here, and there were a hundred and forty-two messages. It’ll take me an hour or two to get through them all. When I’m done, we can split them up and start weeding out the crazies. Doc, do you have anything else for us?”
Suki lowered herself into her chair and closed her notepad. “The only other thing is the pennies. I agree with Sean’s theory that the 1993 date has some significance for the UNSUB, but what that is, we may never know unless he tells us. That’s pretty much it, though I may have more after I receive the rest of the files from Philadelphia.”
Brad pushed back from the table. “In that case, I’m going to update the sheriff, then start on that list of tips.”
As the man left the room, Sean finished scanning through the search results on his laptop. Nothing new surfaced from the parameters he’d entered into the system. Every avenue circled back to the same conclusion.
“There are no other hits in the system. It looks like Philadelphia was his starting point. Now we have to figure out why.” The unanswered question nagged at him. Somewhere in those files was the thread that connected Philadelphia to North Carolina. They just hadn’t found it yet.
For the next hour, Sean and Suki combed through the case files again, comparing details against the notes spread across the table while Brian and Rafe transferred the updated profile and key points onto the whiteboards. Marker squeaks punctuated the room as theories and timelines took shape in broad black strokes.
Just after nine-thirty, an FBI courier arrived with the Philadelphia case files. The thick stack landed on the conference table with a dull thud that seemed to draw everyone’s attention.
Sean and Suki exchanged a look before diving in. Meanwhile, Brian and Rafe headed out to collect the list of tips from Brad and begin sorting through what would no doubt be an exhausting mix of legitimate leads, misunderstandings, and wild speculation.
Hours passed in a blur of reports, notes, and dead ends.
By three o’clock, Sean’s eyes burned from staring at pages and screens. Mental fatigue had begun to wear on him, and he took a few moments away from the chaos to step into the hallway and call Grace.
She answered on the second ring, and the sound of her voice brought an immediate lift to his mood.
“Hi, Sean, how's your day going?"
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Much better now that I'm talking to you. How about you? Was everything delivered on time?”
Her soft laugh drifted through the line. “Yes, the delivery truck showed up at ten o'clock. I now have my chairs, the PT tables, and the washer/dryer. Since there was nothing else to do over there today, I’m helping Bonnie with new inventory at the boutique."
“Great. Listen, Suki will only be here for one more night, and I wanted to invite you over for dinner, so you could get to know her. She's a great person, and I think you two would really like each other. I was going to grab some steaks and throw them on the grill. So what do you say?”
“That sounds good, and I guess I owe her an apology for this morning,” she said with a trace of amusement.
His grin widened. “I wouldn't worry about that—I'm sure she's already forgotten all about it. We should be out of here by five, and we’ll stop at the grocery store on the way home. Why don't you meet us at the beach house at six?”
“Why don't I save you the trouble and go to the grocery store myself? I'll meet you around five thirty then.”
He leaned against the wall outside the conference room, liking that she’d jumped right in without hesitation. “If you don't mind, that’d be great. I’ll call if we’re going to be late. Otherwise, I’ll see you at five-thirty.”
After they said goodbye, Sean lowered the phone and found himself staring at the blank screen for a moment, still hearing her voice. The thought of seeing her later lifted his spirits.
The ladies’ room door opened, and Suki stepped into the hallway, stopping in front of him. “Are you sure you don't mind me staying one more night?”
“Not at all. I'd really like you to get to know Grace anyway. She’s having dinner with us tonight at the beach house.”
A knowing smile crossed Suki’s face. “I like her already—I think she's good for you.”
He held open the door to the conference room for her. “So do I. Let’s get back to work and catch this bastard so I can spend the rest of my vacation getting to know her a lot better.”
Jessica Daly hung up the phone and smiled as she leaned back in her chair. Her source at the sheriff’s department had delivered exactly what she needed.
The newsroom buzzed around her with ringing phones, clacking keyboards, and the steady murmur of reporters chasing their own stories, but she barely noticed. Her attention stayed fixed on the prize now within reach. Once again, she had managed to out-scoop every other reporter in the county.
By the time those badge-wearing fools caught this killer, she’d already have leveraged this story into another raise. Maybe more than that. Maybe this would finally be the break that landed her the anchor position on the six o’clock news—the chair she’d been working toward since the first day she’d stepped into a newsroom.
If she had access to everything the detectives were holding back, she was certain she could solve the case herself. She had instincts most reporters would kill for and a gift for getting people to talk. Over the years, she’d built an impressive network of informants, people willing to share what they knew for the right amount of attention, persuasion, or flattery. Most of them were men, which made the job laughably easy. They were so predictable. A low neckline and a well-placed smile usually loosened their tongues faster than any direct question ever could.
Glancing at the wall clock above the assignment board, she noted the time. It was a little after three. That gave her barely an hour before she needed to be in front of the camera and have her report taped in time for the five-thirty deadline.
