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“Lauren Majors disappeared on September twelfth of last year, during a visit to her sister at Rutgers University. She was last seen walking along the Raritan River. The cops were swamped with cases at the time, so her sister chose to hire a PI instead. He came up empty. I retraced his steps, and, in my opinion, this wasn’t a random disappearance. It was an abduction—one that fits the profile of our Unsub.”
“I don’t believe this.” Sloane’s veneer cracked a bit, and she raked a hand through her hair. “It’s like this bastard has invaded every aspect of my life, and helped himself to innocent women along the way, simply because we crossed paths. Why? It makes no sense. Lauren and I barely knew each other. We met four, maybe five times.”
“Since we can’t answer that—at least not yet—and since we all agree that until we do, you’re in perpetual danger, we’ve elicited Professor Lyman’s assistance.” Derek’s tone and expression were grim. “Everyone here has been briefed on the professor’s artificial intelligence system. I’ll let him supply us with the details.” A nod in Elliot’s direction. “The floor’s yours, Professor.”
Elliot had been furiously taking notes as everyone around him shared facts, observations, and gut reactions. More and more he realized the awesome responsibility he held in his hands. This was no longer about proving the merits of his system. It was about saving lives—Sloane’s included. He had no intention of failing.
Tamping down his nerves, he began.
“I realize that what I’m about to describe to you is going to sound like a reach. But every technological advance once fell into that category. All I ask is that you listen with open minds, and an awareness that none of this is meant to diminish the contributions of law enforcement.”
With that, he went on to describe the basics of his system in a succinct and compelling manner, omitting as much “geek speak,” as Sloane called it, as possible.
He concluded by saying, “My computer model emulates the mind of a great detective. I spent countless hours working with New York’s finest to distill their knowledge, experience, and talent into my artificial intelligence system.” A faint smile. “Even with their instincts dulled by six rounds of beer at ‘choir practice,’ the cops I worked with are better than any computer could ever be at solving crimes. But, as I said, with their input, I think my program comes close.”
There were a few chuckles, after which Sloane asked Elliot about his progress.
“The data structure is almost complete,” he replied. “I’ll format the last of the information from this meeting and enter it tonight. From there, I expect to have to fine-tune the system—respond to its questions for direction, provide more information as needed. I can’t promise how long all this will take, and I can’t promise where it will lead us. But my hope is that it will be in the direction of the killer.”
Elliot paused, glancing from person to person. “And, should any of you still think is a bunch of crap, remember that it’s only serving as an augmentation to your classic ongoing investigation. Therefore, we have nothing to lose.”
“I can’t argue with that one,” Bill’s voice resounded through the speaker phone. “I say go with it.”
“I agree.” Bob Erwin nodded. “I was one of the cops whose brain Elliot picked. He’s a brilliant guy. And nothing he’s doing is like a scene out of Alien Encounters.”
Everyone chuckled at that one, and the light moment dissipated some of the tension in the room.
“Elliot’s point is well taken. We do have nothing to lose,” Larry said. “The rest of us will continue our investigation while Elliot runs his. It doesn’t matter who comes out ahead. We all have the same goal—catching this serial killer.”
“So we’re in agreement,” Derek concluded. “We have our m
arching orders. Let’s schedule a follow-up meeting.”
“Lillian’s retirement party is the twenty-eighth,” Sloane noted. “Let’s avoid that date since several of us are attending.”
“I’m off-site and unreachable all day on the twenty-ninth,” Bill supplied. “Does the thirtieth work for everyone?”
“We’ll make it work,” Derek stated flatly. “Same time and place?” He looked around the room for reaction.
Everyone voiced their assent.
“Maybe the meeting will be unnecessary,” Sloane murmured, not sure whether she was trying to convince everybody else in the room or herself. “Maybe by then, Elliot’s system will have nailed the guy.”
“Maybe.” Derek’s jaw was tight. “But until then, we’re tightening security around you.”
Office of Professor Elliot Lyman
John Jay College of Criminal Justice
New York City
9 P.M.
It had been a long day, punctuated by the sheer number of donut crumbs sprinkled around Elliot’s computer, not to mention in between the keys on his keyboard.
The meeting had finished up around four o’clock, after which Elliot had stayed on to talk to Sloane about the Penn State kidnappings, and to thrash around ideas on a search strategy for his program.
It was close to 5:30 by the time he got back to his office. He was operating on overload from all he’d ingested and all he’d explained, not to mention that he was worried sick over Sloane’s safety.
