time, but that’s all right. He wants everything in place first. It takes time to groom the errand boys, time to get the rhythm of the prison, and show what a good boy he is so he gets a few perks. Time to find the partner, start the training. Time to set it all up, so he can move right ahead.”
Roarke saw precisely where she’d landed. “We haven’t been looking back far enough for the location.”
“No. We’ve been looking back a couple of years. Not far enough.”
“A dozen years is a long time, and clever. Who’d look that far back?”
“Not that far.” She laid a finger on Melinda’s picture. “Here, right here. She went to visit him. Whatever plans he made prior, he adjusted. She was the key. A sign from whatever perverted god he worships. He took her—the last he took—and I freed her. Melinda from Dallas. I knew that would trip his switch. I knew it had. How did I miss this?”
“Bollocks. You didn’t miss a thing. You didn’t even suspect he had another hole until yesterday. Why would you?”
He got up, went to her desk. “When did she visit him?”
“August ’fifty-five.”
“Then we start there.”
“New construction. He had plenty of time, why not customize it, get exactly what he wanted?”
She pulled out her ’link, nearly tagged Peabody before she remembered. Dutifully, she contacted Ricchio. “I might have something.”
She let Roarke handle the search while Ricchio set up a team to do the same from his end.
“The feds are about to freeze the accounts,” she told Roarke. “This bought us a couple hours. They’ll hold off that long.”
“But no pressure,” he muttered.
She started to snap back, then got a look at him. Hair tied back, working the comp, a smart screen, data flashing on the wall screen across the room.
But no glass wall, she thought. And no drag of worry and fatigue on his face.
Instead of snapping she walked over, leaned down, and kissed the top of his head.
He glanced up at her. “I haven’t found it yet.”
“But you will. I’m calling Mira in. She may be able to help us. And Feeney. I should let him know where we are.”
“Go do it somewhere else.”
When she brought Mira up, Eve gave Roarke another glance. “Don’t talk to him,” she warned. “He can get bitchy when he’s in this deep. I don’t know if we have any of that tea stuff.”
“I had it stocked, and I don’t get bitchy. Bloody, buggering
Eve just rolled her eyes and got the tea.
“Thanks.”
“We can take this downstairs.”
“No. The board’s helpful to me, too.” But Mira spoke quietly as Roarke switched to Irish and mutters. “He’s devolving.”
“No, he just gets more Irish when he’s frustrated.”
“Not Roarke.” Mira smiled a little. “McQueen. He spent a long time in prison, and as many do, he grew used to the routine, the structure. Freedom after confinement can be frightening, overstimulating, leave you floundering. How do you make a decision when making decisions has been taken away?”
“But he made decisions in prison. He chose a partner, chose a location, chose his first victim with Melinda.”
“Yes, but even those were illogical. He’s first and foremost a pedophile, but he risks his freedom with a plan to kill you.”
“I stopped him. He’s also made of ego.”
“Yes. I would have expected him—and so did you—to go under first, to hunt next, and to come after you last. He put you first. And since he’s been out, he’s acted on impulse, he’s been impatient, broken pattern. His confidence is broken. He denies it, but his actions are rash . . . inelegant. Contacting you today, showing you the video—”
Eve looked Mira in the eye. “I’m okay.”
“Showing you tells me he’s fighting to get his confidence back, to show you how confident he is.”
“Ties and olives.”
Mira simply stared. “I’m sorry?”
“He’s bought a lot of stuff, duplicated it, which doesn’t go with his previous pattern. Like dozens of ties, multiple jars of olives. Other stuff. And Melinda said he went blank for a minute after he got the call from Sylvia. Pulled out the knife, then just went blank. Like he forgot what he wanted to do.”
“It fits.” Mira nodded. “Freedom after a long confinement can be stressful even though deeply desired. Decisions are more difficult. Adjustments when a factor changes unexpectedly, even more so.”
Like Eve she studied the board. “In my opinion, he’ll continue to devolve. His actions will deviate more and more from the pattern he once carefully adhered to. And he’ll become more violent. If he abducts another girl, he’ll be more brutal. He may kill her because the rape and the violence won’t be enough, not for much longer. Nothing will be enough but you. He’ll take greater risks to get to you. As long as you exist, he can’t feel complete. You punished him. In a terrible way, you’re the mother now.”
“Jesus. I’d gotten some of the rest, but I hadn’t gone there.”
“You don’t fit the pattern. You’re not old enough, you’re not an addict, you’re not weak or susceptible to his charms. But. His mother abused him, punished him, and more important, for many years had control of him.”
“So he had to eliminate her, replace her periodically with someone he controls.”
“It’s most probable, and my opinion, you’re the only woman to take control away from him since his mother.”
“And I’m damn well going to do it again.” She glanced at her wrist unit. “Less than an hour till the feds freeze his money. What will he do when—”
“Moot point,” Roarke told her. “I’ve got him.”
“You’ve got some locations that fit all the parameters?”
“No. Do you honestly think it would’ve taken me that long just to pull out possibilities? It’s a wonder I tolerate your insults. I’ve got
“How did you determine?” She rolled her eyes when his narrowed. “I’m not questioning your big, sexy skills. I have to be able to relay to Ricchio and the feds, convince them you’re right.”
“I am right. He put a deposit on a projected two-bedroom, two-anda-half-bath apartment, with gourmet kitchen and private elevator—sixty-sixth floor—in September of ’fifty-five.”
“Why didn’t you see the transfer for the deposit before? It had to be a hefty chunk.”
“Because, as you suspected, he had another account.”
Since she could clearly see he was annoyed he’d missed it the first time, she kept it zipped.
“A corporate brokerage account,” Roarke continued, “and he has a law firm handling the deposits and transfers. A law firm out of Costa Rica. I know that because when I found this location, I did another search, a bloody miserable one,” he added grimly, “and was able to track it back to him. The apartment’s leased by Executive Travel, yet another dummy corporation, which has made him a nice return by renting it to legitimate corporations for overnight or shortterm stays or meetings.”
“Then it’s—”
“However”—Roarke ignored the interruption—“the apartment was taken off the market for refurbishing three months ago. Which is when he added the electronics. It remains unavailable for lease.”
“We got him.”
“As I said. Now, call off the feds, Lieutenant, and call in the dogs. Let’s go finish this.”
22
