“That also sounds bad,” Wightman said.
“It is,” she replied. “We just don’t know enough about this man toguess which way he might go. Even basic profiling measures don’t narrow it downenough for us to close in on anybody without other indicators.”
“So what can we do?”
That tingle of Riley’s got sharper as an idea started to form inher mind.
She knew they had to accomplish two things.
One was to make sure the killer stuck with his schedule and triedto strike tonight.
The other was to goad him into too much self-confidence so thathe got careless.
She said to Wightman, “The first thing I need is for you to calla news conference at the police station. Call it for this morning, as soon aspossible. My partner and I will drive right over there, and we can talkeverything through.”
Wightman thanked her and ended the call.
Ann Marie’s eyes had widened.
“So what are we going to do?” she asked.
Riley wasn’t ready to say just yet. The idea was still gelling inher mind.
“Come on, let’s head out to the car,” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
The man paced the floor with agitation.
Where is Pan? he wondered.
The god had gone silent yesterday evening, right around the timewhen the man had gotten word that a curfew would be in effect tonight. The manhadn’t heard Pan’s songs or words throughout the whole sleepless night. And nowit was the morning of the Hallowed Eve.
Has Pan abandoned me?
Has he found a more able servant?
Or had Pan decided not to carry out his will, at least nottonight? Perhaps Pan had taken the curfew as a sign that the task would be toodifficult. For one thing, a lack of trick-or-treaters would offer scarcer prey.
For another thing, things had changed a lot during the lastcouple of days. The police had found two bodies, just as Pan had intended. Thissurely meant that the police were more keenly alert now, and that they fullyexpected Pan to strike.
They might even be prepared for it.
Pan might have sensed too much danger in the air.
All the man knew was that he felt isolated and empty andperplexed.
What was he to do if Pan remained silent?
He had no idea, except that he couldn’t act, couldn’t abduct andkill, because he’d never done so by his own will, only by Pan’s.
How could he even go on living without the purpose and meaningPan brought to his empty life?
He cried out aloud, “Pan, you know I am your loyal and adoringservant! Please, please tell me what to do! I beg you!”
The silence that followed was deafening.
He didn’t think he could take it for another minute.
He turned on the TV, just to have some noise in the room.
He was surprised to see Sheriff Wightman standing on the policestation steps talking to a group of reporters. Standing beside him were twowomen, one around forty years old, the other a good bit younger. Wightman wasintroducing them to the reporters.
“I want to thank the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for all theirhelp,” he said. “Specifically, I want to thank Agents Riley Paige and Ann MarieEsmer. We couldn’t have solved this case so quickly without them.”
The FBI was here!
The man felt a flash of satisfaction. The police were obviouslybeginning to grasp the seriousness of what he and Pan were doing. He was surethat Pan was going to be pleased.
But his satisfaction gave way to alarm.
“Solved this case”?
What on earth could the sheriff possibly mean by that?
Surely the foolish sheriff was just trying to put everyone atease. Maybe Pan would actually like that. He loved catching mortals bysurprise. He enjoyed feeling their shock when they realized what was happeningto them.
Another reporter shouted a question, “How many murders have therebeen in all?”
“We know of two,” the sheriff replied.
“But do you believe there were others?” the reporter persisted.
The sheriff quickly turned his attention to another questioner.
The man felt a sudden thrill.
He knows! he thought.
He knows there were earlier victims!
It was gratifying to know those killings had been noticed afterall. But of course, Pan had planned it this way all along. Doubtless the godwould soon dictate further messages leading the police to those bodies.
The reporter he’d called on asked, “So you’re confident that youhave the killer in custody?”
“I didn’t say that,” the sheriff said.
“But you’re not denying that you have a viable suspect,” thereporter said.
“We do have a suspect in custody,” the sheriff said.
“But you won’t release his name?” another reporter said.
The older BAU woman spoke up.
“Not yet. Just be patient, please. We’ll make his identity knownto the public soon, perhaps tomorrow.”
The man noticed that the younger agent was looking at the olderone with dismay. For some reason, she didn’t seem to like what she was hearing.
The man certainly didn’t like it either.
How can they be saying such a thing? he wondered.
The sheriff and the agents all ignored the clamor of reportersasking them why there had to be a delay in learning the suspect’s name.
Shouting above the others, one reporter asked, “So does this meanthat tonight’s curfew has been canceled?”
“No, the curfew is still on,” Wightman said. “The town’s nervesare still on edge, and understandably so. Halloween tends to be chaotic in thebest of times. We don’t want any unnecessary confusion tonight.”
Now the reporters were expressing public dissatisfaction withthis decision.
Wightman smiled and said, “Now let’s not make too much of such asmall matter. Youngsters can still do their usual trick-or-treating. But I wanteverybody inside before dark. I’ll have police on patrol to make sure of that.”
With a slight chuckle Wightman added, “If I had my way, we’d havea curfew every Halloween. Believe me, it would save a lot of trouble in the wayof vandalism and rowdy behavior. But I’m sure we’ll be back to a normalschedule next year.”
Wightman waved his hand as the cacophony of questions resumed.
“That will be all for now,” he said. “Thank you for your time.”
Wightman and the two BAU agents headed back into the station. Alocal TV anchor came onto the screen to restate for viewers what had justhappened.
But what did just happen? the
