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“Bodyguard and date.”
She shot him a dark look. “I don’t need a bodyguard. As for a date, this might surprise you, but most guys ask a woman for one of those. They don’t announce it as a fait accompli.”
“I seem to remember hearing that rule of etiquette somewhere.” Derek shrugged. “Oh, well. I’m not most guys.”
“No kidding.” Sloane slid out from between the sheets and headed for the shower. “It’s a good thing you’re dynamite in bed,” she called over her shoulder. “Otherwise, you’d be out of here on your ass.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Derek followed her into the bathroom. “As luck would have it, I’m also dynamite in the shower.” He leaned past her, reaching into the tiled stall shower and turning on the water. “I’ll give you a quick demonstration while we get ready for our meeting.”
Conference Room 531T
John Jay College of Criminal Justice
New York City
1 P.M.
“Let’s not waste any time,” Derek proposed, glancing around the oval table where Sloane, Elliot, Bob Erwin, and Larry Clark were gathered. “We’ve got a ton of ground to cover. Everyone’s here. Everyone’s been introduced. There are two urns of coffee on the credenza, and two dozen bottles of water in the minifridge next to it.” He waved his arm in that general direction. “Bill, how about you?” he asked, turning his head so his voice was aimed at the speakerphone. “Are you set?”
“Ready to go,” Bill confirmed, projecting loud and clear from the BAU in Quantico.
“Good. Then let’s get started.” Derek flipped through his notes. “To begin with, C-6 has set up surveillance all over Chinatown in the hopes of catching our serial sexual killer, now dubbed ‘The Butcher of East Broadway.’”
“Catchy name,” Bob no
ted drily.
“Yeah, well, that catchy name is all we’ve got so far,” Derek continued, scowling. “We’ve succeeded in relieving the gang pressure in Chinatown. And there’ve been no more murdered prostitutes—yet. But the local residents are nervous. So are the local business owners. The situation’s strung tight as a bowstring. We’re really hoping that our surveillance will spot this guy. It’s our best chance of catching him, since he’s more careless with his prostitutes than he is with his kidnapping victims. Especially this last time. In addition to his usual python coin, he graced us with a DNA sample.”
Whipping out a press release, Derek continued: “Obviously, you’re all aware that two more abductions took place on Sunday, both of which carried our Unsub’s signature style. Just so we’re all on the same page, here are the details.”
He picked up the printout and read directly from it. “Dr. Helen Daniels and her daughter, Abby, were kidnapped sometime between eleven-thirty A.M. and three o’clock P.M. at Stone Valley Recreational Center, which is located fourteen miles from Penn State’s main campus at University Park. Dr. Daniels is a professor of horticulture at the College of Agricultural Sciences. Her daughter, Abby, is a junior at the College of Liberal Arts, working toward a B.A. in crime, law, and justice.”
“That’s the same degree that Sloane…” Elliot started to blurt out the obvious, then fell silent.
“Correct,” Derek told him. “Penn State is Sloane’s alma mater, and her undergraduate degree is exactly the same as the one Abby Daniels is a little over a year away from receiving.”
“I’m sorry I interrupted.” Elliot’s face was flushed.
“No apology necessary,” Derek assured him. “Your point is well taken, and supports our theory that the Unsub is intelligent and well versed in the entirety of Sloane’s life.”
Elliot shot a quick, concerned look at Sloane, who was sitting straight and alert, displaying positively no emotion.
“Back to the kidnappings,” Derek continued. “Helen and Abby Daniels had a weekly ritual of going to church Sunday mornings, then stopping at Stone Valley for a picnic followed by a hike on the trails of Lake Perez, a seventy-two-acre body of water at the recreation center. Abby was supposed to meet her boyfriend at his apartment around three o’clock. Her mother was expected home around the same time by her husband. Neither woman showed. Based on the kidnappings in New York and New Jersey, the campus police jumped right on it, and contacted the FBI field office in Philly. Agents from the State College RA were dispatched, and started an investigation in concert with the state and local police. Their search dogs led them to a wooded area off the hiking trail where there were definite signs of a struggle. Plus, the cops found two discarded hypodermic needles at the scene. The investigation is ongoing, but it’s evident that our Unsub has struck again, making these two cases officially part of our task force.”
“He’s starting to unravel,” Bill asserted from the other end of the phone. “He’s making mistakes, getting careless enough to leave evidence behind. Also, he’s moving out of his comfort zone, which, up until now, has been the New York/New Jersey area. Hopefully, all this will work to our advantage. Careless leads to capture.”
“Agreed.” Derek nodded. “Any other updates?”
“I have two,” Larry announced. “In my investigation of the circumstances surrounding Lydia Halas’s disappearance, I discovered enough unexplained coincidental details to support Sloane’s theory. I’m convinced that Ms. Halas, too, was a victim of our Unsub.”
“Great,” Derek muttered.
Larry passed copies of a stapled report around the table. “In the interest of time, I wrote up the particulars. If anyone has questions, I’m available to answer them.” He turned to Sloane. “My second update relates to that voluminous list of people we came up with, including just about everyone you’ve ever known. In checking out the names, I uncovered something involving Lauren Majors.”
“Who’s Lauren Majors?” Bob asked.
“My mortgage broker,” Sloane responded. “She handled the details of my mortgage when I bought the summerhouse from my parents.” A wary look crossed Sloane’s face as she met Larry’s gaze. “I’m almost afraid to ask. What did you uncover?”
