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The man stood up shakily, feeling invigorated by the fight. He picked up the knife from the ground and wiped it on his pants so it wouldn’t rust.
The man looked around, breathing heavily. No one had seen anything. He tucked the knife back into his pocket.
He then bent over and grabbed at the unconscious cop’s form. He had some spare rope in the trunk, and there was an alley across the street with some large dumpsters. He’d have to be quick, of course.
But the fact that this was all outside a police station, and they hadn’t seen a damn thing in the storm, only further excited him.
He moved quickly, grabbing the cop, pushing him into the front seat, and then hastening around the back to grab rope from the trunk.
All the while, he couldn’t help but feel a rising sense of certainty.
They would emerge from the precinct soon.
They would not expect a thing.
And when they came, he’d be waiting.
It was time.
He’d waited long enough, but it was time for it all to be over.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Once inside the evidence room, Rachel approached the desk where the confiscated items were kept, moving hurriedly, her eyes like a hawk’s fixated on her target, neither swiveling to the left nor the right.
She reached the desk and snatched the green, plastic folder with large pockets, dividing the different partitions. She flipped through the folder containing Boyd’s belongings until she found the phone. It was a cheap, old model, but it was still functional. She pressed the power button, and the screen lit up. It prompted her for a passcode.
She hesitated, glanced over her shoulder at the empty hall, then shrugged. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Sometimes it was best not to overthink it, but just to take the damn shot.
She typed 1212.
And waited.
The screen unlocked, and she smirked, feeling a sudden thrill of satisfaction.
She began cycling through the old phone, going into the call logs and searching for past calls. Her eyes took in every detail, not wanting to miss a single thing.
She cycled back to the date when the calls had been placed to their most recent victim.
She paused.
There it was.
He hadn’t even cleared his recent calls.
Three outgoing calls placed. All of them to the same number. Emily Thompson’s number.
“Holy shit,” she said, her hand gripping the device and a grin stretching across her features.
She frowned, though, pausing as she stood there.
What sort of mastermind criminal called someone on their own phone?
Why had similar calls been placed from asecondaddress? She pulled out her own phone.
She entered Boyd’s information and then paused.
“Well… there we go.”
