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The thought of announcing another serial killing spree to the media turns my stomach. But one more body, and that’s what we’ll have.
My next logical course is to get the dirt on Maddox. Find out his connection to the first vic. I need an ID on the second girl to establish a link to both vics through Maddox, then I’ll have enough to bring him in for questioning.
No reason to spook the lawyer until I can build a case showing he’s good for this. Sadie would advise not to focus on one lead, to look at more than one perp. Which is what I should be doing, but I just feel this one in my gut. If Maddox isn’t our guy, then he damn well knows who is. He’s connected to this somehow.
As I grab the printouts I made of Maddox’s past cases off my desk, my phone beeps.
I look down at the screen: 503 – white van – last seen Arl Blvd
Why am I getting pinged with an auto theft? I put a call in to Carson. He picks up on the first ring. “Where are you?”
Static from the radio crackles in the background. “I’m in pursuit. Two unis radioed in an attack on the bus from the crime scene. It was hijacked.”
A cold blast of fear slaps my face. “And the driver?”
“He’s alive, but doesn’t know much. He reported two perps.”
“Do you have eyes on the bus?” I ask, my feet already taking me out of my office.
“Negative. It went off the grid. I know it’s not my call, but I was in the vicinity. I figured our vic’s on that bus.”
“Good call, Carson.” I point to two unis as I make my way through the bullpen. “That stolen transport van; I want all updates as soon as they come in,” I say to them. Then to Carson: “Keep me posted.”
“What are you thinking?” he asks, catching me off-guard before I hang up.
I blow out a tense breath. Ever since Avery’s confession, I’ve been racking my brain on how to use the information she has while still keeping her safe. I know damn well that some petty car thief didn’t steal that transport van. But why try to hide evidence now? Why not burn the body or toss it into the river beforehand?
Regardless, this case just escalated. And until I know just who and what is involved…Avery’s not safe.
The roiling knot twisting my gut has never steered me wrong, but— “Could be two idiots picked the wrong damn van to steal. They’ll end up on some dumbest criminal show for hijacking a dead body.”
Carson’s laugh lightens my mood some. “So you’re going back to the scene?”
“No,” I say, passing the bank of elevators and taking the stairs, impatient to see Avery. “M.E. lab.”
Silence stretches out over the line, and I hate that he’s picked up on my train of thought. Which I need contradicted. Now. “Just get a visual on that bus, Carson. And drive safe.”
“You’re worried about me, Detective Quinn. That’ so—”
“Shut it, Carson. Do your job.”
“Yes, sir. On it,” he confirms.
I end the call as I reach the hallway. The deathly quiet that fills this floor has always been unsettling, but as I push through the swing doors, that stagnant stillness grips my spine with icy fingers.
“Avery—” I shout, her name a mocking echo in the empty lab.
My chest tight, I head straight for her office. Without conscious effort, I take in the scene. The lights are on, her laptop left out in the open, a stool overturned…and a body on a stretcher.
“Shit.” I pause long enough at the stretcher to confirm it’s the same vic from the crime scene. My heart thunders as I take off toward her office. I yank the door open. She’s not here. And she wouldn’t just leave her office unlocked.
I pull my cell out and click her name. The call goes right to voicemail. “Fuck.”
Fuck!
I call Carson, my question ready as soon as he picks up. “How do you know the vic is on that bus?”
His response is immediate. “The driver was attacked right after he left the scene. It was a pretty good assumption, but—why?”
