The Darker Side

'Then move along, go to something else,' Alan prods. 'It'll come.'

I know he's right. Try to remember where you left your keys and you'll never find them.

'What's the next plan of attack, oh Great One?' Callie asks.

'Missing persons,' I say. 'If he's stayed off our radar for this long, he's been hiding the bodies, making sure they wouldn't be found and that we wouldn't know about him until he was good and ready.' I turn and look at the rows of names. Name after name, so many. Too many. 'I'm guessing we're about to break a hundred plus unsolved missing-persons cases in the worst way possible. We need to find out who these people are.'

'Fast,' Alan agrees.

Death's promise isn't on the horizon anymore. It's standing next to us. Every now and then it checks its watch and grins.

26

'PARDON MY FRENCH, AGENT BARRETT, BUT IT SEEMS TO ME like we're now in the middle of a grade-A, eight-cylinder cluster fuck.'

'That's a fair assessment, sir.'

I'd answered my cell phone to find the Director of the FBI at the other end. I'd wondered for a moment how he got my number, but only for a moment. He is the Director of the FBI, after all.

'It's bad, sir, and it's only going to get worse.'

'I guess you missed out on the executive reassurance seminar.'

'I prefer the truth.'

'Fine,' he retorts. 'Dazzle me with some truth.'

'The truth, sir, is that this is huge and messy and I don't envy you the media side of things. But it's also true that this frenzy exists because he came out into the open. He's provided us with a list of his victims' names through the video clips. He's got a unique MO. If we don't catch him with what he's given us, we should all be fired.'

'Don't give me any ideas.' He sighs. 'You're saying by cursing us with his publicity, he's blessed us with the way to catch him.'

'Yep. And a very pithy way to put it too, sir.'

'Leave the smart mouth to Agent Thorne, she does it better.'

'Agreed and understood, sir.'

'Tell me what you see, Smoky. Bottom lines.'

I consider my answer for a moment. This conversation seems simple enough, but I am talking to Sam Rathbun. He's not just the Director of the FBI, it's rumored that he was a gifted interrogator once. Maybe he's being sly, putting me at ease so I'll give him enough verbal rope to hang me with later.

I sigh to myself. I don't have time for Machiavellian strategizing, and I've never been any good at it anyway. I understand evil men, not ruthless ones.

'I see one hundred and forty-three dead women, sir. I see a lot of families that are going to get the worst news possible. I see that he's made a fatal mistake by showing himself. We'll catch him, and we need to do it before he kills again.'

He takes a moment. Mulling things over, I guess.

'Get back to work, Agent Barrett.'

He hangs up before I can get the 'yes, sir' out. I dial AD Jones right away. Politics may not be my strong suit, but even I know this rule: when the boss of bosses talks to you, you let your boss know about it, posthaste.

'What?' he answers.

'Is this a bad time, sir?'

'Yes. But you wouldn't have called without a good reason.'

'I got a call from the Director.'

'He called you personally?'

'Yes, sir.'

I hear him muttering, cursing under his breath.

'What did he want?'

I relay the content of our conversation.

'Okay. I know what's going on there.' He sounds mollified. 'He's got someone asking him questions. Probably the President.'

I thought I was fairly immune to the whole concept of people in powerful positions. They fart in private just like the rest of us, even if it is through silk. The President of the United States, I find, still gives me pause.

'Not sure how I feel about that, sir.'

'Feel nervous, it's an appropriate response. Thanks for the heads-up.'

Again, I'm hung up on before I can get my 'yes, sir' out. Frustrating. I check my watch. It's 7:00 P.M. The night is young. I still have a lot to do, but I want to check in with Bonnie before diving back into the maelstrom.

'Hi, Smoky,' she says. Her voice is troubled.

'Something wrong, babe?'

Silence.

'I watched some of those video clips.'

I sag in my chair. Dear God.

'Oh baby. Why?'

'I--I--just what we talked about before. I want to do what you do. I saw the stuff on the news and I went and found a site that had them and watched some.'

'How many did you see, honey?'

I hear her swallow. 'Just one at first. It was this girl. Her name was April. That guy made her talk about hurting her baby. I got sick. I'm such a dork,' she mumbles. 'I was really upset with myself about getting sick, so then I went back and watched some more.'

'How many more?'

'Maybe thirty.'

'Jesus, Bonnie!'

'Don't be mad, Momma-Smoky. Please don't be mad.'

Mad? That's the last emotion I'm feeling. It hadn't even occurred to me until she mentioned it, but in the midst of my concern, it's an idea that gives me pause. Should I be mad at her?

I realize that I've never really disciplined Bonnie. Not because I've been lax with her, but because she's never needed it. I think maybe, just maybe, she needs it now.

'I'm not mad, Bonnie, but . . .' I think fast, looking for an appropriate punishment. 'I'm going to restrict your computer privileges for a while. You should have asked me or Elaina about this before doing it, and I think you know that.'

She sighs. 'Yeah. I knew.'

'And?'

'I knew you wouldn't let me.'

The honesty of this makes me smile.

'That's generally a tip-off, babe.'

Another sigh. 'I know.'

'Okay, so no Internet other than what you need for schoolwork for the next two weeks. Got it?'

'Yes.'

Okay, okay, enough of that, how is my baby?

'How are you doing, sweetheart? Are you okay?'

'I don't know. I think the thing that bothered me the most was the things he said, that they made sense. That stuff about truth. A man like that, who does things like that, he shouldn't make sense, you know?'

'I do, babe.'

'That's what really stays in my mind. The women, the things they went through, the things they did, sure,