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“This is Fisher’s idea, and Suzanne’s executing it.” Hutch had moved on from legality to fact. He folded his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Very clever. It keeps Jack’s whereabouts and his communication with his uncle untraceable and off the radar.”
“So Jack’s been in their lives all this time.” Casey stopped pacing to think. “He could very well be his uncle’s protégé. But why disappear to begin with?”
“I can answer that one, too.” Ryan told them about the mob daughter’s attack and Jack’s presence at the crime scene. “I’m sure he vanished to stay alive.”
“And he is alive,” Casey said. “The question is doing what? Hiding out and living on his uncle’s money, or following his uncle’s lead by becoming an even more twisted sexual homicide offender?”
“One more reason to tail Suzanne.” Marc was nursing his cup of coffee. “Not only could she be going out to see her husband, she could be meeting up with Jack. And, if she’s got a hands-on role in their crime spree, she could be scouting victims. We just don’t know how deep she’s in. Or exactly where Glen’s job ends and Jack’s begins.” Marc looked around the table. “We do know that Glen Fisher is a smart SOB. He’ll be expecting us to have eyes on Suzanne. So we’ll have to figure out how to get around that.”
“Yup,” Hutch agreed. “That’s why Suzanne took off for their little tête-à-tête first thing yesterday, before news spread that Fisher had escaped. That way, Suzanne could leave her apartment and go to him, and no one would be watching her yet.” He frowned. “We all know that Fisher doesn’t plan on hanging around upstate. He’s heading for Manhattan. But when? And what’s his agenda? Is he operating alone or teaming up with Jack? Is he going straight for Casey or does he have other interim victims in mind?”
“At least one more interim victim,” Claire supplied in a haunted, faraway tone. “One who’s vivid enough for me to pick up on. I’m not getting much, just a vulnerable, exposed energy. But I do know that Fisher has selected a target and a timetable. Soon. I just can’t sense who or where.”
“Well, it doesn’t take a sixth sense to know where we’re going to find this body.” Marc looked and sounded grim. “I’m the missing link.”
“Bensonhurst,” Hutch muttered. “Somewhere near your place. We’ll share that probability with the task force. Still, it doesn’t give us a hell of a lot to go on.”
“No, it doesn’t. Not to mention that we’d be finding our victim dead, not alive.” Claire swallowed. “What good is that? It’s not the disposal site we want to get a jump on, it’s the assault site. Dammit.” She slammed her fist on the table. “I hate this. I get snatches of energy, but never enough to prevent a crime. Innocent women are dying, and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Claire-voyant,” Ryan said, covering her hand with his and giving it a squeeze. “We’re all still one step behind Fisher. But one thing’s for sure. He’s not getting his hands on Casey. Not on our watch.”
Ryan’s words echoed with confidence.
He just wished the reality was as certain as the intent.
* * *
Glen and Jack Fisher walked down Ninth Avenue right on time.
Their contact was equally prompt.
The streets were dark. Nobody driving by would pay the slightest attention to the three men talking and the one old black Honda Civic parked next to a fire hydrant, engine running.
In mere minutes, the transaction was complete. The duffel bag was handed over, and the money was counted. The car keys were given to Glen. Eddie’s guy strolled off into the night.
Glen and Jack hopped into the car and took off, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.
On the other side of the tunnel was their next victim.
* * *
“You didn’t have to cook dinner for me.” Claire was sitting on Ryan’s sofa, her head leaning back against the cushion. Eyes shut, she sipped the glass of wine he’d poured her. Reflexively, she pulled up her legs and folded them under her in lotus position.
Under the circumstances, this was about as relaxed as she was going to get.
“You needed the break—and the meal,” he said. “I haven’t seen you eat a bite of food all day.” Ryan checked the vegetable lasagna to see if it was cooked enough. Perfect.
“Are you sure you’re not just showing off your culinary talents?”
“Very sure. I wouldn’t get too excited if I were you,” he added, cutting and transferring portions of food onto plates. “I’m not exactly a gourmet. It’s a pretty basic meal. On the other hand, if you thought I ate out of a can every night, you’ll find this very impressive.”
“I’m sure I will.”
Ryan carried the two plates over to the coffee table and put them down. Then he refilled their wineglasses and sat across from Claire. “Voilà.”
“This is lovely.” Having lifted her head, Claire glanced at her plate and smiled. “And not a speck of trail mix to be found. Here I thought I’d finally discovered all your hidden talents. Looks like I was wrong.”
“You were. My talents are limitless.” Ryan gave her a wink, settled in and prepared to eat. “I’m starving. You must be about to faint. Dig in.”
