Scheer. “Put that shit away. And don’t ask again.”
Both journalists reluctantly shoved their pads and pens into their jackets.
“How can we help?” Allman asked.
Vail stole a look at her BlackBerry, “The text says, ‘Think history. Your answer’s in the place where violence and sleep come under watchful eyes.”
“Isn’t Friedberg the historian?” Scheer asked.
Vail’s gaze flicked over to Father Finelli, then back to Scheer. “That’s right, dipshit. And he’s not here. So what does it mean? Any thoughts?”
No one answered, as all stared off in various directions, working it through.
“What kind of place comes under watchful eyes?” Vail asked.
“A police department,” Burden said.
“Surveillance would qualify as watchful eyes,” Allman said.
Dixon snapped her fingers. “So that’d bring us back to law enforcement. A stakeout. Violence, sleep.”
“Hopefully little of each,” Burden said. “But what do we do with that? Too general.”
Scheer looked up. “Wait a minute. I wrote something like that once. In one of my features, years ago. Something about violence and sleep and watchful eyes.”
Vail stepped forward. “Are you saying this text is a quote from your article?”
Scheer bit his lip, his eyes moving left, right, up and down as he thought. “I can’t remember. Something like that.”
Burden combed through his hair with his fingers. “C’mon, man. We’ve only got eight minutes. Think.”
“I am thinking,” Scheer said slowly, emphasizing each word. “I just-it was a long time ago. It seems like it’s… Yeah, that’s what I wrote. Close.”
“We know the UNSUB’s from around here,” Dixon said. “And if this is the guy who’s killed repeatedly in the Bay Area, as Clay thinks, then he’s likely followed all the newspaper articles on murders and violent crime in the city. Maybe he saw Scheer’s article.”
“What was it about?” Vail asked.
“A bank robbery,” Scheer said. “The robber shot and killed a security guard.”
“What’s sleep got to do with it?”
“The guard had fallen asleep in a back room where they had the surveillance cameras. The gunshot woke him up and he hit the silent alarm, but it was too late. They got away.” Scheer rubbed a hand across his cheek, then continued. “The long delay between the robbers entering the bank and the trip of the alarm was a big problem. The FBI investigated the guard. Like, maybe it was an inside job. They leaned on him pretty hard. He finally admitted he’d fallen asleep. And that was that. No inside job, just-gross incompetence. And they never caught the robbers.” He shrugged. “So, whether it’s an exact quote or not, violence and sleep came under watchful eyes.”
There was quiet. Finally, Vail said, “That’s not exciting me.”
“Me either,” Burden said. “Clay, you got anything?”
“I’m thinking.”
Dixon checked her watch. “Think faster. We’ve only got five minutes.”
“Fuck me,” Burden said, kicking a rock into the slate wall. “How the hell can we figure this shit out under pressure?”
“A sleep lab,” Allman said. “You know, they hook you up to sensors so they can diagnose sleep disorders. Sleep under watchful eyes.”
“No violence,” Dixon said.
“The bank’s not far away,” Scheer said. “A few blocks. Maybe we should go check it out. We can think on the way.”
“I’m with Karen here,” Allman said. “I think that’s a waste of time.”
Burden worked his jaw, then said, “We’ve got four minutes left. Let’s go. If we think of something better on the way, nothing lost.”
“You coming?” Vail asked Carondolet.
“I’ll finish with this DB, you go on ahead and…solve your riddle.”
They ran to Burden’s car and piled in. “Where we going?”
Scheer leaned forward in his seat. “Corner of-” He put his head down.
“Scheer,” Burden yelled. “Now’s not the time to have a brain fart.”
“Presidio and Sacramento. Yeah, that’s it-”
Burden accelerated and spun rubber, then the Taurus rocketed forward, briefly losing grip in its rear wheels on a slick surface before once again grabbing pavement and jolting them on their way. Burden hung a sharp left onto Jackson Street as Vail slapped the flashing light atop the car. “We should be there right at the deadline. Anyone else got any better ideas?”
Vail tried to concentrate, but watching Burden swerve his way down Jackson, she found it hard to think about anything other than surviving the ride. She did not want to close her eyes-but that was the only way she could get her mind to focus.
How’s the offender gonna react if we’re wrong? How will he know? He gave us a ten-minute window to find this place. Wherever it was he wanted us to go, he knew where we were starting out. It had to be in a ten-minute radius. In a city, what is that? A mile? “Not sure this helps, but the place he sent us had to be in a ten-minute radius of Inspiration Point.”
“It doesn’t help,” Allman said. “That’s a shitload of potential places in a city like this.”
“It’s the bank,” Scheer said. “Has to be.”
“Wish I could be so sure,” Burden said under his breath. He screeched the Ford to a stop in front of Sutter Savings Bank. They jumped out and headed toward the corner building.
“Now what?” Dixon asked, rotating her body in a circle.
Vail stood back and took in the entire location. “No idea. Look around. Anything that seems like it might be meant for us-”
“I’m going in,” Burden said. He pushed through the front doors. Dixon followed, leaving Vail with the two journalists.
“See anything?”
“No,” Scheer said. He looked over at Allman and pointed an index finger. “Don’t give me that.”
Allman spread his arms. “Give you what?”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
