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“That gives me an idea,” Ryan said. “Let me call you back. I’m going to try an experiment.”
* * *
Ryan hung up.
He pulled out his iPhone, went to Settings, clicked on iCloud and turned the Find My iPhone service on. Next he grabbed his iPad, downloaded the Find My iPhone app from the app store and installed it.
Having launched the app, he could see his iPhone listed with a green dot. When he clicked and highlighted that line on his iPad, a map appeared with the location of his iPhone. He ran upstairs with both devices, went outside and started to walk down the street. He touched the refresh circle/arrow and watched as the location moved. He walked faster down the street, pausing to refresh again. New location displayed. He sprinted to the corner and turned right, running halfway up the next block. Stop. Refresh. New location.
He had his answer.
* * *
Ryan’s breath was coming fast when he flung himself into his chair at his basement desk. He speed dialed Hutch.
“What took so long?” Hutch asked dryly.
Ryan didn’t laugh. He told him about his experiment—and his conclusions.
“Fisher taped an iPhone to his crotch—plastic-wrapped, no doubt,” he said. “The iPhone reported its location to another iOS device—an iPhone or an iPad. Whoever his accomplice in the truck was—let’s say Jack Fisher—watched his progress in real time as the prison transit van traveled down from the Auburn prison. The kid had no problem preplanning several interception points. When and where the ambush took place depended on which route the van took.”
Ryan paused. “I’ve got to give Fisher kudos for this one. Even I’m impressed by his ingenious application of off-the-shelf technology.”
“Yeah, well, I’m more impressed with his ability to manipulate people—through fear, intimidation and, obviously, raw intelligence. Thanks, Ryan. You clued me in on just how formidable an opponent Glen Fisher is.”
Hutch disconnected the call.
For the first time since this case had begun, he was deeply concerned about Casey’s safety.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Suzanne stopped at her local Starbucks, as Glen had instructed. She was grateful that he’d selected this as her alibi—the location she’d give the police to explain where she’d been for the past hours. It was perfect, for various reasons.
The coffee store was in Midtown. It was jammed, and Suzanne was a newbie there. So no one would remember when she’d arrived. Equally important, she could buy a hot cup of chamomile tea, sit down at a far corner table and just sip the beverage, letting it ease the stinging pain in her throat.
Reflexively, her fingers went to her neck. Glen had been particularly brutal this time. She understood that he’d been without for months on end. So she’d tried to hold back her cries of pain. But he’d felt the dampness of her tears, and it had really pissed him off. Her job was to absorb his needs, and to take them in stride. Usually, she could. Today, she couldn’t.
She took another grateful sip of tea, glancing at her watch as she did.
It was late. Time to head back to her apartment—and the interrogation that would be awaiting her.
She took her cup with her, as planned, and left the store, wincing as she walked home. She’d have to hide the stiffness of her gait. She’d soak in a hot tub later, after the flood of law enforcement had gone.
As she walked, she rehearsed the answers she’d soon be supplying. Pretending wouldn’t be hard. After years of marriage to Glen, playacting was second nature.
She reached the building, and was about to climb the stairs when two men marched over to her.
“Mrs. Fisher?” the taller one said. It really wasn’t a question, just an affirmation. He flashed a badge at her. “I’m Detective Malcolm. This is Detective Rayburn. We’d like to talk with you about your husband.”
Suzanne’s brows lifted slightly. “I don’t understand. I told you everything I could possibly think of the day you searched my apartment.”
Malcolm had a dubious expression on his face. “Are you saying you don’t know?”
“Know what?”
“That your husband escaped yesterday during his transfer to Rikers Island?”
Suzanne’s eyes widened and she started. “What? When did this happen?”
