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Subject: Your safety
Maggie . . .
This is Matt Payne.
It is critical that you and I communicate.
As you should know, everyone is looking for you.
I’ve been put on the job to ensure that you genuinely are safe. And, with the full force of the police department, to catch whoever is behind the attacks.
We will catch them. But right now I need to establish your safety before this escalates into something worse than it already is.
I can help you. I can protect you.
But I cannot do it without communication. And an e-mail like you sent your parents isn’t enough.
Call me. And if you feel you can’t call, please send real-time proof of how you are. Text or e-mail a photograph of yourself with today’s newspaper or a TV or Internet newscast — something that indicates you are okay right now.
Please, Maggie, take these first steps so we can get your life back to normal. And give your family some peace of mind.
M. M. Payne
Sergeant, Homicide Unit
Philadelphia Police Department
215-555-1010—office
267-555-4898—cell phone
“Appealing to her sense of order might get her to respond,” Matt said, showing it to Amanda. “It’s likely a long shot. But sometimes they pay off.”
—
The aircraft banked, then lined
up with the runway.
Matt discovered he’d left his telephone turned on for the entire flight when it suddenly vibrated at least five times in a row. When he looked at it, still vibrating, there were four new text messages and three new voice-mail messages stacked up. None were from Maggie McCain, and when he checked his e-mail, she had not replied there, either.
There was an e-mail from Kerry Rapier. He reported that the e-mail Maggie McCain had sent to her family that morning was tracked back to an Internet Protocol address of a computer server in India.
India! he thought. That’s nine, ten thousand miles?
That’s more than on the run—that’s impossible.
Kerry added that the server was a portal that had relayed the e-mail, effectively masking the originating address. No one believed it was credible that Maggie was there.
Payne then read a text message from the yacht broker in the Keys that said he had the Viking and Matt’s Porsche secured as they had discussed.
Matt replied: “Keep them both fueled—I’m back ASAP.”
Who am I kidding? I’m stuck here.
I’m going to have to pay a car hauler company to ship the 911 up.
As he hit SEND the aircraft touched down with a chirp of tires.
