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“Is his meeting in the building?” Sloane interrupted.
“Well…yes, but—”
“Page him,” Sloane instructed. “Tell him I only need three minutes of his time. He can excuse himself to go to the bathroom and be back before everyone’s refilled their coffee cups. I apologize for the inconvenience. But this is an FBI matter. So there’s really no choice.”
“Of course.” The poor girl sounded like she was going to faint. “Can you hold for just a minute? I’ll track him down.”
“Certainly. And thank you.”
“Boy, you’re an even bigger bulldozer than you used to be,” Derek muttered. “That girl’s probably popping a Xanax as we speak.”
“Very funny.” Sloane shot him a look. “We’re talking about catching a serial killer. That trumps whatever’s going on at Merrill Lynch.”
“It’s good you never had dreams of joining corporate America. You’d suck at the politics.”
“So would you.” Sloane’s mouth snapped back down to the receiver as she heard the click that indicated someone had picked up.
“This is Doug Waters.”
“Doug, hi, it’s Sloane Burbank.”
“So my secretary said when she dragged me out of an important client meeting.”
“I’m sorry for that. But the FBI and I have acquired new information on Penny’s disappearance. I’m assuming that finding out what happened to her is more important to you than three minutes of a meeting, no matter how high-powered the client and how many millions your firm will pocket in the process.”
“You know it is.” Doug’s tone changed entirely, the edge gone from his voice. “Have you found her?”
“No. But we believe we’re getting closer. I have one or two questions for you, and then I’ll let you get back to making your next million.”
“Shoot.”
“When you and I last talked, we discussed the Classical Humanities lecture-series seminars given at Richard S
tockton College. I know they were held one Saturday afternoon a month. You mentioned that Penny really got into the academic scene and attended the seminars with some regularity. You also mentioned that she’d written the date of that last seminar—April fourteenth—on the calendar months beforehand. Did she normally do that? And last, since she went to a bunch of these lectures, can you elaborate, give me an idea of her routine—from registration to attendance? Any procedure she usually followed, predominantly on the days of the seminars themselves?”
“Sure. First of all, yes to your first question. Penny was organized. And since she registered in advance, the dates went on our calendar in advance. As for the rest…” Doug was quiet for a moment, obviously gathering his thoughts to give Sloane the most comprehensive answer possible. “I told you when we first talked about this that humanities seminars aren’t my thing. But they definitely were Penny’s. She kept the seminar brochure in her purse so she could juggle other commitments around those dates, if possible. She missed a few of them because of work or other plans, but on the whole, she went to the majority of them.” He paused, blew out a breath. “On those days, she had a distinct routine. She took the same early bus out of the Port Authority. She knew she’d get to Stockton early, but that was her plan. She was a city girl through-and-through. You know that; you grew up with her.”
“You’re right. She was.”
“But every once in a while she liked the fresh air and open spaces of a rural town.”
“Yes. She did,” Sloane replied quietly, memories rushing through her. She and Penny had spent many happy weekends at the cottage in Hunterdon that Sloane now called home. Penny loved apple picking, nature hikes, and marveling at the wildlife that didn’t exist in the city.
“I get bored in the country,” Doug was saying. “So that became part of Penny’s alone time. She used the extra time before the seminar started to take a long walk on campus. She enjoyed the birds, the scenery—that sort of thing. She especially liked that big lake. I don’t recall its name.”
“Fred,” Sloane supplied. “Lake Fred.”
“Right, that was it. She’d either walk around it, or hang out and feed the ducks.”
Sloane squeezed her eyes shut for a second to shake off the nostalgia. Besides, she had her answer. Keeping track of Penny’s routine at Richard Stockton was as easy as keeping track of Cynthia’s or Tina’s. So it was no accident that the Unsub had been lurking in the woods at the same time that Penny was walking around Lake Fred. He knew she’d be there. And he was lying in wait.
“Thank you, Doug,” Sloane said. “You’ve been a big help.”
“I’m glad.” He cleared his throat. “I might not have any right to ask, but would you let me know when the case is solved? Relationships are complicated. Even though Penny’s and mine ended, I still care about her. I want to know what happened—and by whose hand.”
“I understand. I’ll call you personally as soon as I have answers I can share.”
“I appreciate that.”
